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littlesurvivor
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Posted: Mon Sep 3rd, 2007 02:41 am |
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"...we are whole no matter how broken we feel, and we can recover the experience of our wholeness, no matter our age."
--Jewel
i don't feel very whole. i feel broken, and empty, and hurt. i feel alone. and desperate. theres a flash back. and im afraid. the truth keeps pouring out of me emptiness is all i feel, no pain, guilt, and shame.
i am a little girl. i am wearing pink sandals. they are small and a really deep shade of pink. they are my favorite sandals but they are starting to get too small. i am wearing a summer jumper. i hate this kind of jumper because it buttons in the back and it's hard to get off when i have to pee. i've learned to scoot the shorts and my panties to one side and squat when i need to pee, and not to wait until the last minute. i am looking down at my sandals while he is unbuttoning my outfit. He is breathing hard and i know he is struggling with the buttons. When he is finished unbuttoning me the sleeves fall off my shoulders and the jumper falls down my body. Now i am standing there in my panties and my pink sandals. Instinctively i lay down on the bed, this isn't anything new. his calloused hands are shaky and rough like sandpaper, even though he is trying to be gentle he scratches my skin when he touches me. i don't look at him. in my head i pretend it's not even him, but i know his touch by heart, from memory. he kisses me. his kisses are heavy, he presses his face into mine and our noses rub, his breath is hot and he smells like coffee. no matter what time of day he has coffee on his breath. he sticks his tongue into my mouth and i hold my breath. he kisses me down my neck to my chest. i don't have breast, not even budding breast. nothing. i have nothing. if i had to guess my age i may be 7 or 8. he sucks on my non existent breast and it hurts. i lay perfectly still though, i only move my eyes, i focus on holding my breath. i pretend i am in the water and i am holding my breath. i count the seconds in my head, when my lungs feel as though they are going to burst i take in a deep gulp of air. in my mind its water. im allowing water to enter my lungs. im drowning. his kisses travel down my stomach to my thighs. he removes my panties. he slides them down my legs and then lets them fall to the floor. i imagine my mom yelling at me for not putting my dirty clothes in the hamper. i take in a deep breath of real air, i feel light headed. he kisses me between my legs. his facial hair scratches me. i have that funny feeling in my stomach, like i have to pee, but i know to hold it. everything happens in a certain order. he's preparing me for what comes last. when he is done kissing me between my legs he fondles me. when i finally told about the abuse that's what the social worker called it, fondling. but that sounds so simple, that word, it sounds like something you would do to inanimate object. not a person. not a child. not a little girl. He uses his fingers which are long and thick and rough. he uses one finger. then two, and then three. he is big and i am small so he has to make room. he says how small i am, he has to make room. i know that this hurts, but i've learned to disconnect myself from pain. from all kinds of pain. when my mom is beating me i don't even cry anymore. i bend over and touch my ankles while she paddles me. i know this makes her angry; she likes it when i cry. but i've learned not to cry anymore. tears never solve anything. when he is done making room in my small body for himself he stands up and pulls his pants down. he is already hard. he positions me in a way that is terribly uncomfortable. my knees are on my chest and he tells me to hold this position. i grab the bottoms of my sandals to hold my legs up. i take a deep breath and i hold it and then i feel my world turn upside down. i hear a loud pop followed a by paralyzing pain in my hip. i bite my tongue to hold back the tears; i think my hip is broken. as if him going inside me wasn't painful enough, him coming out felt like he was made of glass. he's tearing my insides. surely this hurts him too. i try to take my mind off the pain between my legs; i imagine i am banging my head. i am banging and banging and banging. i hear a crack and my head splits open and my brain falls out in a tangled bloody mess. i think about how much that would hurt, and how it would feel good at the same time. i can hear myself screaming inside my head but i know im not making a sound because im biting my tongue. when he is done destroying me, when he has released inside of me, and sweat is rolling down his face, landing on my legs, he stands up and limps away. i lay there on my bed clenching my ankles, afraid to move. Afraid if i move the pain will catch up with my brain. i lay there until i get cold and i realize my mom will be home soon, and she will be angry if she see's me lying around like this in the middle of the day. it is hot outside, and i want to go out and play, but i can't seem to get my legs to move properly. i try to sit up but my hip screams at me. it takes me forever to make my way down the hall to the bathroom. when i stand my hip slips out of joint, so i crawl on my hands and knees to the bathroom. i grab a face clothe to clean myself up. I was between my legs, and the soap stings, the water turns pink as i rinse the face clothe out. i manage to put my panties back on and i slip back into my summer jumper. i crawl in my bed and i pull the sheets over my head. Mom will just have to be mad, i think im sick.
-liv
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Letty
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Posted: Mon Sep 3rd, 2007 06:40 am |
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Liv,
Thank you for sharing. I hope you always feel safe enough to share. When I finally share my memories and say them out loud, they no longer hold the same power over me that they once did. God bless you. May you feel the light and love of this universe surround you. You are innocent. None of this was your fault...none of it!
Although I don't know you, I know you. . .and my heart reaches out to you. May you never be silenced again!
Love, Letty
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Lorus
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Posted: Wed Sep 5th, 2007 03:55 am |
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Your an eloquent writer Liv, Thank You for sharing. God Bless
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littlesurvivor
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Posted: Sun Sep 9th, 2007 11:32 pm |
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| thank you.
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Makwa
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Posted: Tue Oct 2nd, 2007 02:54 pm |
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| This was a powerful read. In part because of a shared experience...I, too, remember the stinging. In the bath. My mom would wash me and I would cry and say no, mommy. don't. it's stings down there. that soap makes me sting down there. and she would wash anyway, as all good moms do. For years i thought it was the soap. I still don't use Ivory, even if it IS 99 and 44/100's per cent pure. Even if it ISN'T the soap that caused the stinging. Horrible. But that's not what took my breath away about your post. It was the way you signed it. Liv. I, too, am called Liv. And it just shook me to my core to see you write like this and sign my name when i am such a coward to speak for myself. Thank you.
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tina marie
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Posted: Sun Oct 7th, 2007 07:14 pm |
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 I'M SO,SO SORRY!
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Mending Soul
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Posted: Sun Oct 21st, 2007 06:08 am |
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Liv,
Keep reaching out...there really is hope...Last edited on Sun Oct 21st, 2007 06:12 am by Mending Soul
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Mending Soul
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Posted: Sun Oct 21st, 2007 06:08 am |
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Liv,
I wish I could hold that torn little girl...I hurt with you...and I know the emptiness...and the lack of feeling...feeling as if I am a wounded empty shell...
One of my memories goes like this...
I can see my footie pajamas...they are yellow...and there are polka dots on the bottoms of my feet all over the white part...the part that feels so funny to my feet...there are snaps going up my legs...and the knees of my jammies stick up funny...from crawling on them all evening...I look up and see that face...the face with with the white forhead...and rough whiskers...the face with the perfect plastic smile that always smells like cigarettes and beer...the face that drys my tears...the face that terrifies me...he says I'm wet and need to be changed...the nice warm feeling in my tummy when I was looking at my footies and looking through my crib railing is running out of my chest...and the big black monster is coming back...I can't breathe...my little chest has bands of iron around it...the hands that hold me and dry my tears make me lie down...the snaps on my jammies won't stay shut and he is touching my pee spot...I didn't pee...he just wanted to touch my pee spot...I hold my breath...and I close my eyes...and he disappears into my mattress...and my soul shatters...I don't cry...I don't cry until later...in the dark...in the cold dark of the nite alone in my crib smelling the sweet smell of my blankie...because if I cry too loud...he'll come back...I hear him...he's back...this time he holds me...because I had a very scary dream...
When I shared this with my sister...and a priest...she told me I use to cry all the time...and only my dad ever came...and she never knew why I cried so much...
It took me 44 years to remember...and I still deal with days and periods of emptiness...I feel the hollow in you...I have a hollow like yours...it's my murdered soul...Thank you for sharing so much hurt...there will come a time when you can feel the hurt you were forced to bury...
I've hated Ivory soap for the same reasons...the burning...
We are here for you.
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Annie
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Posted: Mon Oct 22nd, 2007 03:37 pm |
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| I was number 7 out of 8 kids. I really don't remeber so much obviously. I was mainly abused by an older sibbling. He was 6 years older than I and abused possibly5 sibblings especially us three youngest ones. He was abused by an uncle that was abused by a priest in an orphanage in Ireland. Later my father went to jail for trying to abuse and I was his favorite child. I have no memories of him doing anything. I was also gang raped in the woods at age 6-7 and later kidnaped and attempted rape age 13. So,like most abused kids it is all I ever knew. My two worse memories are the first time I remember being abused and the time my Mother caught my brother sodimizing my other brother. The first time I was abused I had just come home from my first dentist visit at age 3 or 4 and he had given me those cool red tablets you put in your mouth that dissolve and show were the cavities are. I couldn't wait to show my brothers these tablets. They asked me to go upstairs and play Monopoly. I thought it was odd because the only games I ever got to play was 51 card pick up, who won the races, or do you want a hurts donut. Anyway, after only playing for a few minutes I was shown a new secret game. I will never forget how wrong and gross it felt. I can still smell the odors of it. I remeber trying to tell them how bad it was and how I was told that I would be hurt,killed, or he would say it was my fault and I would be beat by my parents and go to hell. He also showed me many missing favorite toys of mine and my sibblings he had hid in the attic. He said he would not only break them but take the rest. Sometimes he let us play with them. The time My mom caught him sodimizing my brother made me realize she not only knew and hid things but she put all of us in the bath tub, scrubbed us for hours and prayed over us. Later she said this never happened. I will never forget because my brother had been crying in the bathroom as his abuser raped him and I didn't know why she punished me when I wasn't even in the bathroom with them, but I seen her open the door and what she found.
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Mending Soul
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Posted: Mon Oct 22nd, 2007 04:13 pm |
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Annie,
My heart and soul weeps for your aloneness, betrayal, abandonment and pain...I too was abused for years as a child...by my father...and later at age 4, by my uncle and in my teens was raped...and molested by cousins...and betrayed by a priest...so I know the horrible feeling of knowing nothing else...and of wanting something better...and the confusion and pain of a religious upbringing at the hands of those who hurt or abandon you...
It's only been by the prayers of others and by miracles that I've been given the gift to love Jesus again...and to know that when He suffered the passion...He bore so very much pain...in the garden...in His perfect body...He took on all the sin of mankind...I can't imagine the emotional, psychological, spiritual pain and the nausea He must have felt...every vile sin ever committed held within His perfect Heart...and body...and then He was tortured in every way a human can be tortured...they beat Him until the flesh came off His body in chunks...they mocked Him...they urinated on Him and forced feces into His mouth...they spit on Him...they crowned Him with thorns so thick, they pierced His brain...they assaulted Him sexually...and then they forced Him...the most pure being in the history of mankind to carry a 200 pound cross to Calvary...when He stumbled and fell, they kicked Him, punched HIm and whipped Him...the people threw their refuse and feces on Him as He passed...when He could go on no more, they had to force someone to help Him carry the Cross...and when they crucified Him...they stripped off all of His clothing and His wounds broke open and bled more...they threw Him down on the cross and pounded a nail through His first wrist...and the blood flowed and bones cracked and He screamed...and then because the other nail was too far away...they pulled until they dislocated both shoulders and He cried out and they nailed His other wrist...and because His feet did not reach the foot rest at the bottom...they pulled until they dislocated His hips and He screamed...and then they placed one foot on top of the other and nailed them together and He sreamed in agony as the flesh gave and the bones were crushed...and then they placed the cross into a hole and when it fell in...it shook His battered and bleeding body and He cried out...and then He hung for 3 hours until He died...and at the moment of His death...the soldier pierced His side and heart to see if He really was dead and His blood and water flowed...He suffered this out of LOVE for You and Me...As the soldiers threw coins for his clothing...and mocked him...He said "Father...forgive them, for they know not what they do..."...The Jesus I now know...Loves me...and suffers with me...and with you.
I only share this...because something in my soul said to write it...I hope I haven't offended anyone...this is the Jesus I know and love because He knows my pain.
My heart and soul holds you Annie in your pain.
Cathie
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Annie
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Posted: Mon Oct 22nd, 2007 05:32 pm |
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| Thank You Cathie. I never publically wrote about it before. Only recently have I started telling all family members because of the hurt and pain of loosing my brother, the one he sodimized. I feel like he never had a voice and I feel like the abuser keeps on abusing and manipulating his victims. You remind me of my cousin Cathy and her story. I am sorry for you too and feel like you really understand how much it hurts when it is supposed to be people you love and trust and are suppose to respect. It makes you feel like your whole life was a joke. In the name of religion many of young souls have been abused, but you are right it wasn't our father, our lord Jesus Christ the one who unconditionally loves us it was our human fathers. Love,Anne
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Mending Soul
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Posted: Mon Oct 22nd, 2007 06:19 pm |
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Annie,
My heart embraces yours as you reach out to recovery...I have been struggling so much with my own recovery...and the many walls I've hidden behind...and the many years I've searched for self...I'm thinking about entering a program for abuse victims...I don't know if I will be able to as I am too poor...but if it's the will of my Higher Power...He will find a way...otherwise...he will find another way...
I'm just so very tired lately...of the continued pain...the continued behaviors I have that are so self-defeating...the continued abusive relationships in my life that keep me 'in place'...I so desperately want to escape the prison I constructed to survive all the abuse and trauma...and don't seem to be able to find the tools to get out...and I am so very, very tired...
Not only of the abuse and PSDT...but I also have had 10 years of chronic illness and multiple surgeries...and my body is so very tired...I've spent most of the last year in bed due to ruptured lumbar disks, my second spine surgery and then detoxing off narcotics I was on for pain issues for 5 years...I've never felt so sick...or so drained...or so alone...or so hopeless as I have these past few months...and yet, my soul and spirit...will not give in...Jesus gives me something...something inside my heart to keep getting up...to keep searching for help...
So even if today is another hard day...I know He will find a way for me to get through it...I really believe I need some sort of intensive therapy to re-claim me....I just am not sure where to find it as I did the 'secular' and 'christian' and 12-step circles for over 30 years...and here I am...at 49...finally feeling the tears...and the unbearable sorrow of my life and all the abuse...not only sexual abuse...but employment abuse...domestic abuse...medical abuse and malpractice...legal abuse...my life has been a litany of living the same way over and over...and I am so very tired...so I am very carefully searching for places that work with people like me...I want to be finished with the 'victim' in me and move on to living...I just don't know how yet...
I certainly don't wish to continue my life the way it has been...I want so badly to be whole...to re-claim the self in me that has been destroyed and locked away...so, if you get a chance...pray for me...
Keep reaching out Annie...it's where you will find your healing...I know I am still on the way...this year has just been very hard...
My heart and arms are holding you and you are in my prayers...
Cathie
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Annie
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Posted: Mon Oct 22nd, 2007 10:01 pm |
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Cathie,
You are so very right in what you say and feel. Even programs that are supposed to be for the abused like mocsa or local mental health clinics cost too much money for the poor. They don't seem to understand anyway. We live it every single day in our relationships,jobs and current relationships. We keep on being the victim. We don't know any other way. They broke us along time ago and our physical bodies have given out. I too am ill and I was a nurse until I had a heart attack with 5 stints put in and a crippling arthritis of my spine and hips not to mention female problems and severe diabetes. I too feel your all over pain and exhaustion. Don't give up. Jesus does love us and I love all of you. We all need to love that child inside us that never got to know what a first kiss or date felt like or to be a virgin and make the decision on our own someday. We were not protected by our Mothers like we should of been. I know they were only human too and back then there was not the help there is now but still they had to of known and to go through life and blame us the victim is wrong. We were all good little girls who tried our best with the cards we were dealt. It's like our abuser put a big red dot on our head that read " abuse us some more" and every body and their brother did. It is so very hard to sort it all out and to know how much of it is real and how it has affected us. But your not crazy,none of us our and we are all tired from fighting back against all odds. WE would of never made it this far if God wasn't with us and we were not fighters. We should start our own local chapters that are free to abused victims. I also think more legislation needs to be in place to make more people accountable for what happens to children. Claiming you didn't know shouldn't be an excuse. The perpetrators need harsher punishment and the statute of limitations should be much longer because a whole life time of events can happen before you realize how you got there. Like you said we are both in our 40's now and look how it directed our course in life. God Bless You, Anne
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