These are the more recent memories I have had. I appoligize for it being so long. It isn't easy posting this....but I feel that I need to get some of it out. In advance...ty for taking the time to read it. But take note it is VERY TRIGGERING FOR SOME.
I lie here awake. All that goes through my mind is memories.
Memories of that little girl. I would go to sleep at night, praying that he wouldn’t come in and hurt me. My mom was always at work. I don’t think my dad was working. I would listen to the television….This is it. I know he’s coming in soon. I wish I could just go to sleep. But I can’t. I know he’s coming in soon. I’m scared. I wish I could just disappear. Then it happens. He comes in. Sweetheart is what he would call me. Daddy loves you. “You want to make daddy happy don’t u.” I was so scared. I felt so dirty. “Shhhh. Don’t want to wake up your sister.” I would tell him I didn’t want to do those things. He told me to be quiet. It was going to make him happy and love me. It feels good he kept reminding me. It didn’t feel good. It was awful! I hated it. He would tell me that was what my parts were for. I was a big girl and needed to do big girl things. I wanted to throw up. “Your mommy doesn’t love you. I do.” In the beginning, he would touch me as he would touch himself. I told him no. I told him I didn’t like it. He would tell me to shut up. He would always tell me how much he loved me when he was through and to go to sleep now. I hated it. I would bite myself until I would bleed. After a few nights of this, he started putting his fingers inside of me. It hurt so bad. It was like having knives put inside of me. Sometimes I would bleed after. He would then make me touch him. Eventually I had to give him oral sex. This went on for years, and happened almost every night. He then started penetrating me. He told me I was a big girl for this. “You’re a lady now!” He would always tell me not to tell anyone. “They wont believe you.” I once told him I was gonna tell. I was so angry! He told me if I told anyone that he’d make sure I was taken care of and no one would find me. I believed him because my step-sister disappeared and was found dead in NY city. No one knows to this day how she died. She was thought to be beat to death or hit by a car. Long story short it was a closed coffin service. I knew he had something to do with it. I used to run away a lot when I was 6. He said he’d tell everyone that I ran away.
My parents would fight a lot. It would usually end with my mom packing a bag and going somewhere for a few days. Leaving me with HIM. I hated her so much. I hated her all the time. She was never there for me. Oh….but my little sister (the baby) and my brother, her pride and joy…..is all she ever gave a damn about. They could do no wrong in her eyes. Even when I was sick….I still had to do my chores. All I got was ridiculed. “Your such an idiot. Your so stupid. Smarten up. What the hell is wrong with you?” I tried so hard to make her happy. I did my chores as perfect as I could and it was never good enough. She’d always tell me to get out of her sight.
All my mom would do is yell at me and tell me I was good for nothing. If she saw us…..she’d say it’s my own fault. She always said I’d never get anywhere in life. I wanted so bad to make her happy and to love me. Everything was always my fault. I got dumber, or at least that’s what my mom said. I wasn’t aware of much, or anything at all. I couldn’t focus. Especially when she would tell me what to do or yell at me. I wet the bed every night until I was 8 years old. The last time I wet the bed was when she woke me up and beat the ever living shit out of me. I missed school for a week because of it. That was all it took to get me to stop wetting the bed. I couldn’t do anything right according to my mom. I had chores to do. Mop the floor, take out the trash, do the dishes. Mopping the floor required me to do it on my hands and knees. If I missed a spot, she’d make me start all over again. If a dish was dirty, she’d wait till I was in bed sleeping around 2 am when she got home from work and rip my head up by my hair and make me wash every dish over again until they were all clean. She called me a retard. Threatened to take me to a shrink, and that they’d take me away and put me with other retards. One day my mom told my father to take me to a shrink. He didn’t though. He took me to Mc Donalds and let me have anything I wanted to eat. He told me when we got home to act upset. So I did. See my mom wouldn’t let me eat any junk food or sugary food. I was diagnosed with hypoglycemia, and put on a strict diet. Her diet. My dad would give me cakes, cookies, candy bars, anything I wanted, to keep me quiet and happy. I loved him for that. I felt he understood what I was going through. At desert time at home, I would get sent to my room while the rest of the family enjoyed the desert. I would cry and cry, and bang my head against the wall until I felt nothing.
My brother, as far as I can remember, started molesting me when I was 6. When I was 12 he and his friend took turns raping me.
My brother always wrestled with me. A lot of times when we wrestled he would touch me. He would squeeze my breasts and but. He then started taking me into his bedroom and then he would make me take off my pants and underwear, he would cover my face with a pillow and penetrate me. I wouldn’t say a word or make a sound. I would just go away into my own world and pretend it wasn’t happening. I felt so dirty. I felt so used. Everything was taken away from me. I was molested more than once a day. I felt so used up.
My brother would rape me anytime he could. It got to the point that he would lock my sister out of the house or the bedroom and sometimes in the closet so she wouldn’t see what he was doing to me.
I really don’t know how I survived back then. I used to “daydream” a lot according to my teachers. I would just go away. Not to anywhere in particular. I guess I would die for a short time…or at least wish I was. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. The teachers would talk……I would go away. The kids in school always picked on me. Called me a freak because I had no friends and wouldn’t talk to anyone. My teachers would sometimes ask if I was ok. I’d just tell them that I was tired or didn’t feel well. Which most of the time was true anyway. I wouldn’t sleep at night most of the time. I remember in reading class, I would just stare off….hoping no one would notice. I couldn’t read with everything going on in my life. Sometimes I would think of ways I could run away. Far away. Where would I go? Would anyone even care that I was gone? When I was 6 (I think that’s how old I was) I would run away a lot. I would sometimes go to a park and watch the other kids playing wishing I could trade lives with them.
When I was a teenager I started eating….a lot. Every chance I had, I would eat. Anything I could get my hands on. I would sneak food out of the pantry at home, the frig, the freezer….anywhere. After dinner every night I would eat anything that was left over. It was my job to clean the table, dishes, pots and pans, and the kitchen. My mom eventually caught on that food was missing. She wasn’t home very often. She was either at work or out with my brother or sister. She didn’t like spending time with me, nor did I want to spend time with her sarcasm. She decided to put locks on the kitchen cabinets, freezer, and even the fridge. She said I was supposed to be on a diet, and it was for my own good. Of course my brother and sister said it was my fault. Oh well everyone hated me anyway. I couldn’t get any food at home anymore, except what my mom would give me, which was usually an apple for snack if I was hungry. So my dad would give me money for the sexual deeds I did for him. I would perform oral sex on him anywhere from parking lots, to bathrooms, even in our backyard behind the garage. And I’d walk to the convenient store just down the hill from me and buy chips, ice cream, candy bars, anything I could. I would buy a half galloon of ice cream and sit by the creak and eat the hole thing. It was happiness for me. My brother taught me how to break into my parents room, which was locked too. I would steal change from their change jar and buy more junk food. I started getting really fat. My mom would tell me I was fat and that she was ashamed to take me out in public. She said I’d be wearing my father’s clothes soon. She started making me eat dinner on a small cake plate with a tiny fork (the ones you use to get the meat out of crab legs) and told me I had to chew each bite 20 times before swallowing. See, I used to eat my food really fast, take big bites and only chew a few times before gulping it down. She said it was disgusting and not lady like. Great…..another one (I would think to myself). She took me to the doctors whom said I was overweight and needed to go on a diet, especially with my hypoglycemia that it would turn into diabetes. She didn’t give a shit about my health….which was obvious when I had mono and slept for days and my father argued with her to take me to the doctors and she said I was faking it, that I was just being lazy. My father wasn’t happy about my weight either. He said it looked ugly. I was ugly anyway. He had me taking diet pills. He said it would help. I was ridiculed overnight at dinner. At least until I started working full time with my father. When we weren’t home barely at all. At this point my father was harping me more than my mother. He would weigh me everyday and say he wanted me to look sexy for him. “You want to look sexy so that men notice you…..It’s important.” he would tell me. He had a scale he kept in the back of the van in which he’d weigh me everyday. He said if I lost the weight he’d buy me pretty clothes. Pretty clothes? Really? My mom only bought clothes from the salvation army, and wouldn’t buy me clothes that fit me as I got taller. My shoes came from Woolworth’s and were cloth. All the other kids in school had name brand clothes and shoes and always picked on me for what I wore. A chance to be accepted at school!!!! I wished this so bad!!! I suddenly felt sick with the way I looked. I started making myself throw up. It felt so good to throw up. It made me feel empty. I soon realized that I could eat whatever I wanted and throw up and not have to worry about gaining weight. I started loosing weight!!!! I was happy about this!!!!! I would throw up every time my father, Mary, my step brother, or brother molested me. It made me feel soooo much better. Vomiting was my one and only friend. It got to the point that I would literally get high from vomiting. I would binge eat until I couldn’t eat anymore……and the rush from vomiting was exhilarating. I was high….numb. And I lost a lot of weight. No one at school would call me fat anymore. My dad started buying me better clothes. There was just one problem. I still couldn’t talk to anyone…so they still thought I was a freak.
If I didn’t loose weight it usually led to a beating or more sex. “Sex makes you burn calories and fat.” is what my father kept telling me. My father would weigh me everyday. I couldn’t go over 115 pounds. If I did he would get very angry and rape me repeatedly. There was a difference in rape and molestation with me and my father. When he molested me he would usually say that he loved me, and that I was making him happy. When he was raping me, it was totally different. He would rip my clothes off instead of making me take them off. He would slap me around and throw me on the bed. He wound penetrate me from behind and thrust me so hared that I thought I was going to go head first through the wall. He would call me bitch and whore. I usually bleed more when he raped me. I would bleed so much sometimes that I didn’t know if I was having my period or not.
This brings me to another memory. One of my worst. My nom and sister were staying the weekend with my grandparents because my parents were once again fighting. I remember being in a lot of pain (in my stomach). I thought I was having another bad period. I thought I had to pee because I had so much pressure. I went to the bathroom and gushed blood. I didn’t think it was ever going to stop. I cried and cried. I thought I was going to die. What was wrong with me, I kept thinking. I screamed for my dad. I told him I needed to go to the hospital that I was having a really bad period. He took me to the hospital where they ran a bunch of tests. I was told that I was having a miscarriage. I WAS PREGNANT!!!! WHAT???? WHY????? They did a DNC while I was awake!!!! It was horrifying. At that point I didn’t care if I died. I was kept overnight for observation and sent home the next day. My father told me to not speak a word of this to anyone or he’d kill me. KILL ME!!!! What? I thought he loved me. After that incident it was always tell anyone and I’ll kill you.
I didn’t want to give him the honors. So one day I stole some sleeping pills from the pharmacy. How I did it…I didn’t know. I took the whole box. Well, I didn’t die, though I should have. I just slept for two days. My parents thought I had mono again. Of course I wasn’t taken to the doctors. Why didn’t I die? I should have.
My dad started allowing a woman that he used to work with Janitronics work with us. She was not all there intelligently. She would work with us and watch my father do sexual things to me and visa versa. He eventually had her join in. He would have her do things to me I couldn’t stand. She would perform oral sex with me and I had to do the same to her. I hated it!!!! Her name was Mary. She would come over to our house on weekends and spend the nights there. My parents decided she would live with us because my father told my mother that her father was sexually abusing her. What a bitch!!!!! I had tried to tell my mother that my brother was abusing me and she wouldn’t believe me. But she’ll believe her!!!!!! I knew where I stood. THE LIER!!! This just made things worse. Now instead of being abused by my father,,,he’d have her join in and hold me down, do things to me while he would watch and masturbate. I can’t explain anymore things that happened….It’s too disgusting!!!! I need to throw up now.
Even when my father wasn’t home and it was just me an Mary, she’d make me do things to her. Told me if I didn’t she’d tell my dad. I had no other choice. OMG……I CAN’T STAND IT!!!
I started taking laxatives. Figured they’d help me loose weight. It worked for a while. It got to the point where I had to keep taking more and more just to go to the bathroom. Weird thing happened once. I took a whole box, it did nothing to me. I didn’t even have to go to the bathroom. Useless cause. So I stopped using them. My father wouldn’t give me money anymore for doing sexual things for him since he had a threat to my life. So I no longer had money to buy food all the time. I decided I wont eat anymore. This got pretty easy because I was working full time with my father cleaning places and going to school. That was my days. I would get dropped off to school after we had cleaned Edward’s Food Warehouse parking lot After school I was picked up by my father where we’d go clean St.Mary’s school in Waterford, to the bank in Cohoes, to Adirondack Steel offices, then to Friendly’s to clean and be their security until the morning shift came in. I would have to do sexual things for my father at least twice a day, if not more. At Friendly’s after cleaning the place he would molest me by penetration, like it was the ending of his good day, and he would go to sleep in a booth. I would stay awake and feed the mice that would come out at night. They were my friends. Nobody wanted them and nobody wanted me….we had a connection. I would take the topping for the ice cream and put a few out on the floor and watch them eat. They would look at me and sometimes I swear they would smile at me. They weren’t’ afraid of me as I was able to get very close to them. In the morning we’d have breakfast which I didn’t eat….just played with, and if I did eat it, I’d immediately go to the bathroom and throw up. After breakfast we’d go to Edwards parking lot and clean it….then it was off to school for me.
All of this is not in order…..I am just writing what pops in my head, which is a lot lately. I want it to stop. All of the memories. I don’t even know why I am writing it or even sharing it. I feel like all my life was abuse. So much taken away from me. My childhood, my body, my mind, my spirit. Everything. I feel like a walking corpse sometimes. I feel dead sometimes. I am so hurt and disgusted with myself. How do I make myself human again? How do I live again? Where do I go from here? What am I supposed to do. I cry every night. I feel like hiding, running. Where do I go though? I wish…..I don’t know what I wish for anymore.
It was not easy writing this. I want to give up so bad!!!!!! Sometimes I have visions of just ending it all. Why can’t I just get over it??? Why does this have to haunt me? Everything is a trigger lately. I can’t go into a bathroom, a bank, a restaurant, in public. Who is going to hurt me next? I was raped only 10 years ago. When will the next time be?