B
My mother was 21 when she was raped. She did everything right; went to the hospital right away, reported it to the police. She was alone, off at college without close friends or family nearby, and yet still she dragged her story word by word out of the dark place in her mind so that the man who did it could be caught. Unfortunately, it doesn’t always work this way. They never caught him, and my mother lived in fear that her classmates – the ones she was partying with when it happened – hid a monster in their ranks.
She quit school because of this fear, got a crappy job at a crappy diner, and two months later learned she was pregnant with me. She had no reason to be ashamed of what happened, but she was. She hid her rape from our family, hid her pregnancy from everyone. Until, 8 months pregnant and homeless with no more money, she drove alone across the country to home. I don’t know if she ever told my grandparents all of it.
I tell you this so you understand there was no concerned daddy watching out for me. My mother was all I had, and when she remarried, hoping this man was better than the last that had touched her, she dove in already abused. She had been hurt, violated, and let down by the system that was supposed to protect her. Maybe this is why she ignored the warning signs. She just figured, “this is how it is.” Till the day she died, she never mentioned the abuse, not even in the divorce; I’m not entirely sure I know why she left.
It started with words. Yelling, angry words he slung at her for being lazy, or slow, or a bad cook. She’d just apologize and go on with life. Then he yelled at me, and she wouldn’t stand for it; she’d step in, and up, like she never did for herself. That’s when he started hitting her. I didn’t even know it was odd until I was older, and observed the parents of friends who never hit. By that time, it was ingrained; my stepfather hit, and that was just… life. I don’t know if my mother knew he started hitting me. I played sports, had bruises, a few fractures. Even my pediatrician never suspected abuse.
If it had stopped at hitting, I probably wouldn’t be so messed up. But when I was 8, everything changed. I was beginning to develop; their marriage was cooling off to the point where they rarely even spoke. And he started looking at me differently. High on pain pills for some imaginary back spasm he used to get sympathy from his family – and drugs from his doctor – he came to my room one night, held a hand over my mouth, and touched me. I was lucky; he was flying so high that when he went to take his clothes off, I ran for the bathroom and locked myself in.
He couldn’t exactly break the door down without waking my mother, so he stood by the door and told me all the terrible things he’d do to me, to my mother, if I ever breathed a word. I believe he meant it, even to this day. So I never said anything, and by grace of some higher power, he never tried again. From that day on, I slept with a knife under my mattress, and told my mother I wanted to make my own bed. I learned to climb out my window in 30 seconds, found a neighbor who would take me in at any hour, for any reason, and kept a bag of clothes and a pair of old shoes stashed in a hidey hole by the side of the house.
I learned what no child should have to. I lived for two years past that awful night in the same house with him, terrified that I would have to use my escape route and leave my mother behind to face him alone. My only solace was that neighbor, whose daughters loved me like a sister, and who slept next to a 12 gauge shotgun. I’m thankful every day that I never had to ask him to go rescue my mother from a maniac. I just wish I’d had the guts to speak up then.
Though he never managed to finish what he started, the incident with my stepfather scarred me in ways I wouldn’t understand until I was older. I battled depression, attempted suicides, and massive panic attacks. I was home bound for nearly two years as a teenager. I struggled with my sexual identity; conflicting feelings of shame and desire lead me into dangerous sexual practices, while at the same time left me with no way to connect with my partners emotionally.
Somehow, I managed to get through. Today, though I still struggle with awkwardness towards sex, I have a wonderful relationship with a good man. One I never fear will harm me or our children. I have connected with him as I couldn’t with others, and he has helped me heal. And trust. While I don’t think the aftermath of that night, or the many years of physical and mental abuse will ever fade away completely, I’m whole now. And that means he didn’t win.
30 Responses to “B”
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Do you know what? I think you are beautiful, and I have never laid eyes on you. Thank you for choosing to share with us.
I am so sorry for what you had to go through! No child, or adult, should have to go through this! My thoughts and prayers are with you!
You won, at so many things. You deserve a good life and I’m happy you have it!
When I read this, I heard the voice of you as a young girl, scared, yes, but still smart and strong. You had an escape plan, you asked for help from your neighbor, you were thinking! Maybe you’re a little scared now, as you learn to survive in a different way, with love and support. But you are strong and smart, you’ll make it. Thank you for your story.
You had to grow up so fast, with so little help—and that’s astounding, inspiring, and beautiful.
What happened to your mother, what happened to you; all I can do is shiver and promise over and over again that I will never let those I love—every soul—be hurt.
…and there are tears, too, because I know that the hurt still goes on…
But this, this; telling your story, surviving and loving, it’s a part of the solution.
Bless you. You’re beautiful, and thank you so, so much for sharing…
Thank you for sharing your story with us. I’m so happy to read that you have not let him win!
wow. what an amazing story. thank you SO much for having the courage to share with us! you are so awesome.
Thank you for having the courage to share your story. You have won and you are an inspiration to others.
You won. And I am so very glad for it.
You are so amazing and wonderful. Thank you for sharing both your mother’s and your own story.
Good for you for not letting him win and for having the strength to speak out.
“I just wish I’d had the guts to speak up then.”
See this is what gets to me every time. Somebody somewhere decided to change the job description for 8-year-old girls to include “referee” or “intermediary”. You’re not the first one I’ve heard say something like this, and I’m mystified by it. You were supposed to be a kid, not an adult that just hadn’t gotten tall yet. But somebody took that away from you.
And yet, despite all that, you did everything right. Your planning, your forethought, all of it is exactly what the experts would tell you to do if you faced that situation. But they’d be telling this to you as an adult, not as an 8-year-old child. These are the things that they’d tell a grown woman to do. To be prepared, to be safe, to have a plan.
Don’t waste one more minute second guessing that girl who had to work out for herself at 8 what most women would need help with at 38. And don’t waste one more gram of energy thinking you lacked “guts”. You had then, and have now, enough guts for four people. It’s why you’re here, telling this story.
And it’s why he didn’t win.
Much love.
Thank you for sharing this tale – a tragedy, yes, but also a story of strength and courage. Bless you for the inspiration you offer to others. Claiming victory is a powerful thing.
You are a born survivor. That’s what kept running through my head as I read your story. Thank you for sharing, not only what you survived as a child, but how you survived it.
I am deeply touched by your bravery and your mother’s. I am so proud of that 8 year old girl who knew how to plan her escape if necessary (no child should EVER have to figure that out) and have a special place in my heart for your mother, her own courage is something that I’ll never forget.
Thank you for sharing this.
I agree with Mojo, kids shouldn’t have to worry about being brave enough to speak out at that age – at any age. This story speaks of strength above and beyond. You and I can’t change the past, all we can do is make a better tomorrow. We do that when we speak out and finally tell our stories. Every word hits home to those who would deny how often this type of abuse is prevalent in homes. No not all homes, but far more than there should be.
Thank You! I find you to have been the bravest 8 year old I know. (Hugs)Indigo
I am so sorry for both your mother’s and your experiences. Glad you made it through and that you found someone to love and trust in the end. It sounds like you have a wonderful husband. Thanks for sharing and showing others there is a light at the end of the tunnel. You are so strong! Prayers for a calm and peaceful life.
Thank you for having the courage to survive and to share your story.
I’m just so sorry that you had to go through that. Your story sounds so close to what someone who I loved so dearly went through that my jaw dropped wide open. She was killed by her abuser (her step-dad) when she was 19. I still miss her every day. I’m so, so glad your story has a happy ending.
You’re so strong and I’m so proud of you.
you are such a survivor. in the greatest possible sense. you didn’t just get through. you’re getting around it, out from under it. speaking up here, acknowledging it…you’re stopping the cycle from continuing.
i understand your position all too well. being the daughter of an abused woman who ended up marring an abusive man and being subjected to that man’s whims. we’ve got the power to make damn sure our children don’t have to go through the same thing. no secrets.
xo
Your story is amazing, hopefully it’ll help someone else in that situation know that it is possible to get through it. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that though, and your mother. Thank you so much for being so brave to share your story.
You are a beautiful woman full of strength and courage. I am glad you are well on your way to healing. Remember (look at the comments of this page and the family you now have) you are never alone. We believe you, and you are stronger and better than that man’s weakness and violence. Hugs to you, Lisa
I thank each and every one of you for your comments, and your support. It was hard to write this, but I honestly think it’ll help me in the end. And I really hope it’ll help others too.
Much love to you all, and to anyone who is in the same position my mother or I used to be, please… don’t be afraid. You can survive, you can get out, and life CAN get better.
Thank you for sharing your story here. Good for you for declaring that he didn’t win, because he didn’t. Thankfully your children will not have to deal with the same pain you did growing up. Good for you!
He didn’t win. YOU did — by getting to reclaim your life and by finding someone wonderful to love and having children of your own.
That kind of fear and uncertainty is bad enough to live through as an adult, much less at 8.
You’re stronger than you know. That’s why you need to try to tuck your 8-year-old self in safely for the night … and leave her there. It’s not easy to do, and you may not always be able to leave her there, but it will get easier.
Much peace and happiness to you. You certainly deserve it.
Children in abusive situations have to figure out for themselves how to navigate a world that they are entirely unprepared for. You did so remarkably well and yet such a situation cannot do anything but leave scars that have to be dealt with for years. You continue to do so remarkably well. You are one hundred percent innocent in the situation with your step-father. Your step-father is one hundred percent guilty for everything that was done to you and to your mother. I am very to read that you have moved on to a better life. Well done!
My heart aches for the child you were, who couldn’t BE a child, who had to grow up too fast and learn to protect herself. Bless you, and thank you for sharing your story.
Oh, B. My heart ached reading this. I am so sorry for what you and your mother went through, and for all your years of pain.
You were a truly brave girl and it’s obvious you are still a truly brave woman. I commend you for all you have accomplished, and for your healing perhaps most of all.
Thank you for sharing your story here. Peace to you.
You and your mother both sound like strong women, true survivors. Thanks for sharing, and best wishes for continuing strength and light as you journey forward.
You were a resourceful little girl! Good for you. A survivor!