Tag Archives: abuse

What If?

11 Jan

Last night I talked about how I couldn’t sleep.

I was thinking about grooming behavior.  I was thinking about the signs my mom may have missed.

And then, I had a moment of clarity.

When I went through puberty he began to tell me things.

He used to tell me that he heard me masturbating in my sleep, and I should keep it down at night.  He would tell me that I woke him up again last night. 

The problem is, in the 8 years we have been together my husband has never caught me….the dreams I had those nights were dark, not sexy.  I remember feeling violated every single time he would say it. 

My mind then started wondering, what if he started violating me in my sleep before he did it when I was awake.  I sleep through damn near everything except my crying babies.  I would wake up with no underwear on and I thought I just took them off in my sleep…or my brain convinced me of that to protect me.

If the abuse started before I was 16 would it change that I was abused?

No, a day, a week, or a year is too long for abuse, so the length of time is irrelevant.

Would it make me more of a victim? 


So why am I dwelling on it?  Why do I feel like I need the answer?

Cause I am a masochist? 


Inner Voice

9 Jan


I have read this quote a lot lately, and tonight I feel compelled to write on it.

My stepdad would not have won father of the year awards, even though he was my dad from basically 2 years old up.  

One of the memories that really stand out to me:

My stepfather and mother had a BBQ or camping trip, or something planned.  While my mom was at work, my chore was to make potato salad.  I had no idea how, and this was before the days of computers in MY home.

My mom told me to chop up the potatoes, boil them, and then stick them in the fridge and when they were cooled my step dad would deal with them.  I had never made potato salad, and when my mom cooked potatoes we always did it with the skins on.  

So I chopped up and boiled over 10 pounds of potatoes.  I had to use different pans to cook it all.  I was just straining the first pan, and my step dad walked in the kitchen.  I remember being smacked across the back of the head, and I can still hear his words ring out.

“Are you a fucking idiot? You dont make potato salad with the skins on”
“Dad, I didnt know and mom-“
“Don’t tell me your mom told you to do this with the skins on.  What do you have fucking shit for brains?”
“Peel the skins of every one of these fucking things, now”
“But Dad, its too ho-“
“Should have done it before you cooked it that way”

And then I had to sit at the table and peel all the skins off, my hands were blistering, I didnt have gloves to use, I cried silently as I did it.

Some of his favorite insults were:

Shit for brains
Stupid fucking kid
Lazy ass
Money grubbing brat
A member of the itty-bitty-titty-committee
Acne Factory

And the list goes on…

My inner voice sounds suspiciously like his..

When I get less then a 100 on a test, I remind myself that I really am stupid and this proves it.
Last night when I attempted to make fried chicken and it wasnt perfect, I reminded myself that all I do is fail so why try.
When my house is a mess and I am so depressed I cant move, I remind myself that I am a lazy, good-for-nothing-slob.
I call myself every name he has ever uttered at me, multiple times a day.

I remind myself that I am unlovable and soon my husband will leave me over it.

My boobs are too small, my skin is disgusting, I am fat….

I am not as good as my sister…

I will never amount to anything so why am I wasting money on school?

*I* tore a family apart.  *I* asked for it.  Its *MY* fault.

You know.

The scars from the abuse are gone.  The trauma from the rape is tolerable.  But the complete breakdown of my self esteem is impossible.  I cry all the time over how much I want to love myself, but when you are told things like this, DAILY for over 13 years, its ingrained in you.

Please don’t ruin your children.

Please don’t break their spirit, their soul, their dreams.

Don’t tell them they are nothing, stupid, or ugly.

Build them up, because reprogramming your inner voice is something I have tried to do for many, many long hard years, and I still am not even close to LIKING myself, let alone, loving myself.


8 years ago [may trigger]

4 Jan

On January 4th, 2005 I took my life in my own hands.

I was sexually abused for the last time that day.  I remember, being called home from school because my stepdad claimed I left the heating blanket on and caused a small fire in my room.  The entire ride home I knew he was going to beat me.  I knew I was going to be punished.  I still remember the chill in the air.  The sound of silence as I raced home, terrified. 

I remember walking through the door, the smell of an omelet that he had just cooked.  It had green peppers in it, I remember the remains sitting on the counter.  I had a test in science that day, and needed to get back to class.  The last thing I wanted was to spend my entire day with him.  I walked down the basement steps quietly, controlling my fear and my breathing.  As I reached the bottom I felt a large hand punch me in the chest.  My eyes burned, the tears betrayed me and began to fall.

He grabbed me by the hair and drug me into my bedroom. 

“You see this you little bitch, you almost burned my house down”
“Dad, I, I didn’t mean to leave it on” I knew when I said that, that he was going to hate my answer “I was in a rush to get to school for my test in English first period” I lied.  [I remember praying, begging God not to let him hurt me again]

He pushed me onto the couch I had in my bedroom.  I closed my eyes because I knew what was next.  He grabbed me and told me to “open my fucking eyes”

I wont go into detail, but he raped me then, like he had done countless times before.

When he was done I thanked him, like he had taught me, to avoid another beating.

He got up and said “clean this shit up, I am walking downtown, when you are done, get your ass back to school”  And with that, my monster left.  I never saw him in that house again.  I gathered up all my clothes and threw them in a duffel bag that I had just gotten for Christmas.  I said goodbye to my cat, and my dog.  I went to school and I begged my best friend to take me to the greyhound station in Eau Claire after school.

I revealed to my friends what had been going on.  Most of them were simply disgusted by me.  After all, I let it happen right?  I haven’t really spoken to any of them since.  Most of the things I have heard said about me, breaks my heart.  I miss the friendship I thought I had there.

When I got out of school we went to my job to pick up my check.  I told a coworker what was happening and I remember just crying to her.  She really truly cared what happened to me next.  I love that girl.  We cashed my check and went to Eau Claire to get on the bus.  We got Chinese food and shared our last meal together.  The bus came and I boarded. 

I went to Denver.  I went to the man I had been talking to online.  That man is now my husband.

I lost my family the day I ran away and turned him in.  I lost my credibility, my friends, my home, my pets, my comfort, my everything.  It was worth it.  I wouldn’t give up my family for anything, but I really miss what I thought I had back at home.

Sometimes I wish people understood that when you are raped, more is taken from you then just the physical things you would think.  I lost so much when I decided to turn him in. 

Sometimes, you have to give up what is comfortable to gain safety.