I still feel alone.

When I was a kid, I was molested by my older brother’s best friend. I don’t know how old I was, or for how long it went on. I’m not even sure what all was exactly done to me. I began having flashbacks when I was in an emotionally abusive relationship when I was 14. I guess we can call him A. He was a few years older than me, and I was depressed and shy. I have been diagnosed with anxiety and depression, but at the time I wasn’t sure why. Although this guy I was in a relationship with never physically harmed me, he would say awful, disgusting things to me, and threaten me, if I didn’t do what he said. After a year, I finally conjured up the courage to leave him. Nothing happened to me like he promised would if I ever left him. A year wasted. But because of this abuse, I began to remember the abuse from my childhood.

Flashbacks would come as nightmares, so I just stopped sleeping. I was too afraid to. I wasn’t sure what I was remembering and what to do with the memories. Sleeping during the day when everyone was awake was easier for me. But at night, when things were quiet, I was able to think and remember. I never told anyone what my relationship was like with A, I was afraid of sounding stupid since I was so young. And since it was only emotional abuse I thought no one would really care that much. So I was afraid these flashbacks I were getting were a way to make me feel justified for being so hurt from this relationship I had with A. But these memories, these flashbacks, were so real. It’s a strange phenomenon to begin remembering suppressed memories. I’m sure anyone who has experienced this can relate to me. It’s like you’ve known it your whole life, have seen these snapshots racing through your head, but its all new information at the same time. Anyways, it was stuff like being in the pool with him and my brothers and mom, and then everyone would go inside to eat but I would want to stay and swim with my barbie dolls, and he would volunteer to stay and watch me. And he would ask to play tag with me, and when he would catch me, he would tickle me, then I remember going under the water and he started to touch me in weird places and cover my mouth, and then everything goes black. Or how he chased me into my bedroom and threw me onto my bed and held my wrists above my head and covered my mouth, then everything would go black.

I’m never able to remember the whole flashbacks. But I was finally able to confirm these flashbacks when I became a freshmen in high school. He was a senior, although he had been held back for a couple years. Once I saw his face every day, walked by him in halls, saw him at concerts, one time he actually hugged me, I knew. I felt wrong around him. Still, five years after remembering my abuse, I doubt it. I still don’t know more than the couple memories I have. But about a year ago I went looking through my old childhood things and found a pile of ripped children’s underwear, some with blood stains, and a swim suit that was ripped at the straps and in the waist, hidden in a box I put barbies in. Still I doubt my memories. And whenever I allow myself to remember more, I quickly repress the memories. It’s too much. That’s how powerful our brains are.

I see a therapist, she says it’s amazing what our brains will do for us to survive. If I actually processed what happened to me when it did, how could I have possibly survived? There are clues in my flashbacks and in the clothing I found that have me believe my abuse was over a span of years. My abuser still lives in the same town as I do. He is into a lot of terrible things. I told my family three years ago about my abuse. Things have settled down since then with the family, and therapy is the best thing I ever did for myself. I was in a relationship for three years, just recently ended, for lots of reasons. But if I never told anyone and went to therapy, my life would have been completely different. There is a lot of good in my story. I have a wonderful mentor and friend who’s story is almost uncanny in comparison to mine, and she has been a beautiful light to my life, leading me to a path where I live for Jesus.

But at the end of the day, I still feel very alone. I know there is a light at the end of this tunnel, but a lot of times, I just want to close my eyes and lie down on the path and stop trying. It’s the most difficult tunnel to get through, and I’m going to be honest, forgiving this son of a bitch is the hardest thing I will ever have to do. I haven’t yet, and I don’t know how. He ruined a lot of me. He tore my family up for awhile. I could have been different. Better. And no matter how much support I have, I still feel alone. And I want to be there for people who feel the same way. Because the loneliness part of this healing process is probably the worst of it all. You just constantly feel crazy and that nobody else knows what it feels like. There is so much that is wrong with me because of what he did that I could never possibly put it into one story. All I know is that you have to keep going, you can’t give up.

Thanks for letting me share. I hope the way I feel isn’t so alone.

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