Trigger warning: Before reading this post, please be aware that it contains references to childhood rape, other forms of violence and abuse.
when I was a toddler I was molested, beaten, starved, and basically tortured. I was drowned, forced to labor, forced to eat candy for food because in my family we had no food. and while my mother had to work her boyfriend and “family members’ who were really just close family friends were the ones who molested and beaten me and my sisters. I don’t even know how long this went on, but as a kid It felt like forever. I don’t blame my mom, she never new what was going on until years later. She was trying to do her best to provide for us, and she had no one to care for us other than these people. I remember being molested by my older sister who was mentally not there, she did not have treatment either, she was taught that this was ok, and I can’t blame her because of the environment we grew up in. But what scarred me the most was being beaten as a kid. When this guy who I will not name, came into the picture he had wooden paddle. He would take the wooden paddle and beat us on the leg, and then take his hand to our face and pushed to the ground and tell us to get back up just to go through the process again. and if it was not the paddle, then it was going to the creek where we had to make a damn with them, and if we did something remotely wrong then this guy would take us to the deepest part of the water. He would then drown us over and over until we couldn’t breathe. this is the form of torture I am talking about this. til this day no one know the pain I still relive with the memories. I say I am ok, but not. I still have scars. I still have pain. I still have anxiety.
I went into foster care at the age of 4, and even then I was beat. I was glad I had escape being molested, but I still endured being tortured at only 4 years old. when I finally got adopted around 6 or 7, my first step mom died. not only did endure the pain of being molested and beaten, but I had lost my first step mom who was like a real mom to me a year later at the age of 8. I had finally started feeling complete, in a family that loved. a mother who loved me. My dad got remarried not even a couple of months later, to a women who I will not name, but she was a mother role to me very early on. She had 6 kids at the time, and my step Dad had the 3 of us at the time, which made 9 kids. and then they had one kid together making 10 kids all together. keep in mind that I also have 5 siblings biologically. and so when my 2 step mom adopted me by law, I ended up having 15 siblings altogether. im not going to get into the logistics of it because it is complicated where all my siblings came from.
fast forward to the age of about 9-12. One night I was asleep while the rest of my family was watching a movie down stairs. I have many brothers, but one of them was the trouble maker of the family. The trouble maker came to my room one night, and he sat on the bed. he asked me if he could touch, and I said no I was uncomfortable, yet he proceeded to do it anyways. as a kid obviously I was scared to say anything. scared of what my family would think of it. and when I outed him a couple days my step mom did nothing. all she did was make she that we were never in the same room for a couple of months and that was it. she made me stay in my room pretty much secluded. she allowed him to roam the house while I had to be confined to my room. people who bring me my food as if I was some kind of hostage. she didn’t get law enforcement no one to involved. and after a few months went by it was as if nothing ever happened. I was scared from this, how could someone not do anything about this? but of Course the step mom would not do anything because its her child. right?
a few months later again, we were on the road trip to Florida. we had family in Florida. I sat in the back with the trouble maker of a step brother. and again there were blankets in the back and my brother covers my lap and his lap. he laid me down on the seat in front of him with blankets on top of us and he stuck his fingers in me and started to masterbate me. again I didn’t know what to do. I was only a kid. my parents were in the front seat and so were my siblings and no on new what was going to right in the back of them. in the same car. how? how could you not know? once we got to Florida we were staying with my grandmother. eventually I ended up spill to her what happened, and she was the only one who cared what happened and she took it to my step mom once again. but nothing happened even after that. she did not take action or do anything about it. It turned out to be that the focus went on what “supposedly” happened to him as a kid. he claimed that his birth father who lived in Florida had molested him, and the took it back, and then claimed again he molested his father. and the attention was taken off me and they just cared about what was happening to him. I was a fu***** innocent and no one even cared accept my grandmother. and til this he has never taken responsibility for what happened.
fast forward to when I just had turned 19 and about to get married. right before the days leading up to my wedding my step mom said to me ” you can never tell your husband what happened you know that right? and not know what to say I just said yes” she said after that” after all you guys were just kids and it was not real molestation” so she denied the fact that he actually touched me. what kind of mother does that. I have never forgave her for that. and I still carry this with me until this day.
about a year into my marriage my sister who I am the closest new about all of this, and she finally told me that no one can tell me how to live my life and no one can’t tell me who I can and cannot tell about what happened to me. SO after being encouraged I finally had the courage to tell my husband what happened. And as I was sobbing telling this he held me and told me he was so sorry for what happened. Ever since then he has been the rock through everything.
there is so much more that has happened in my life but I write this because I was people to know that if you have gone thought stuff like this, know that there is always a silver lining. there is hope, and there. are people who can help you. Don’t be afraid to reach out for help, because there are people out there willing to help you. dont be ashamed! you are worth it, I Promise!!