More than almost three decades later I still vividly remember when it started. I remember being paralyzed with fear and unable to say a word. My very favorite thing to do was go swimming in our pool. I remember one time wanting to swim so badly that I went in at 70 degrees. I remember my mom saying that my lips were blue, but in the water I was weightless, I could do anything. Sometimes my mom would trust my brother, who was three years older than me, to supervise me. It was the summer between first and second grade, I had just gotten my ears pierced. My brother was always rough with me, he would slap and scratch me, he always convinced our parents that I deserved it. What could a little girl do that would justify choking her? He groomed my parents to think I was a liar. Then that one day in the pool he was unconventionally sweet to me. He offered to pick me up in the water and to piggyback me. Then all of a sudden I felt a finger in a place where I had never felt anything before. I froze. I didn’t know what to do. He didn’t say a word. As soon as my body allowed me, I made my way to the ladder.
My mom volunteered at school a lot. She was a stay at home mom, helping at school was her outlet. It was nice knowing that my mom was at school even though I didn’t see her. She didn’t believe in babysitters, sometimes she would leave us alone so that she could help at school. She would take us to the video store beforehand, the television was our babysitter. Only, the television can’t say that it saw my brother come up to me and pull down my pants and everything that followed. Eventually it progressed to oral sex and penetration. This went on frequently for years. I remember being in third grade and helping my teacher after school, wanting to tell her what happened at home. My brother would tell me that if I told anyone “they” would come and take me away and it would be so much worse. I didn’t know who “they” were but the fear was enough to keep me silent. I almost told my band teacher. He was so kind and really cared about me.
The abuse stopped when my brother was born. I was twelve. I made it my mission to ensure that my brother was safe. I didn’t find the courage to tell my parents until I was 19, they didn’t believe me. Looking back I understand because I allowed an abusive boyfriend to manipulate me into telling, he hoped that my parents would just throw some money at me. He was a narcissistic prick. The silver lining is that I finally spilled my guts as it were. They still blame me that their family is fractured. Though they say they finally believe me.
I’ve studied all of this yet I still manage to become a statistic, allowing terrible people to control me. So much more has happened, it’s like a domino effect. I just happened to be one of the persons who had their dominos fall, it can still be a lovely sight to behold. Also, I can rebuild. I love this site and what it stands for. So I wanted to share my story. 🙂