CPM
I want to get it out. All of it. But it’s complicated, and I don’t know where to begin. It was nothing horrific or earth shattering, but it’s there, and I suppose I should stop denying that it affects me. I’ve never really looked at the things that I experienced as anything more than your typical sibling rivalry, strict parents, or overly curious hormonal boys… but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it was something more.
I grew accustomed to being hit pretty early on. Between my parents’ discipline choices and being a seemingly constant target for my brother’s fits of violent rage, I learned there wasn’t much I could do to stop it. Sure, we were all in and out of therapy when I was growing up, in an effort to tame the chaos at home – but little changed over the years other than my brother’s medication.
I remember one Sunday morning, while getting ready for church, my brother and I had been fighting and I was crying because he’d hit me again. It was time to leave and my parents instructed us to get in the car. My oldest brother and I (still sobbing) complied, and my father got into the driver’s seat in front of me while we waited for my mother to placate my brother enough to get him to come to the car. Dad told me to stop crying as he sat behind the wheel seething with anger and irritation, but I couldn’t. I tried, but I couldn’t. So he reached around the seat and slapped me hard enough for his ring to make my cheek bleed. But it stopped before we got to church, so no one knew.
I could usually tell when my brother was about to get ugly. That was my cue to run. Most of the time, I would run to my room. If I was fast enough to beat him there, I would shut the door and put all my weight against it in an effort to keep him out. I’d pray for him to just go away. But he was bigger, and heavier, and so much stronger than me. And the older we got, the bigger and stronger he got. I was so happy when a girl my age moved in across the street. Her parents were more than happy to let me hide there any time I needed to. But don’t get me wrong – I wasn’t the only one he’d let loose on. There was the time when he was 10 and he kicked my mother in the face and gave her a black eye, though that’s not what she told most people had happened. He also once chased our brother through the house with a small bat when we were teenagers, and I was so thankful that my dad was still just a little bigger than him. My parents got quite good at repairing holes in walls. And I got real tired of explaining to my friends that they couldn’t control him when they would ask me, “Why do they let him do that to you?” They just didn’t understand.
I was so scared. I hated him. I remember writing in my diary as a little girl about how much I hated him and how I planned to never let him near any children I might have. Some days I wished that he would just totally lose it and kill me.
I know now that the severe depression that ate away at him was too much for him to handle, and time has healed our relationship. I love him dearly and admire the strong man he has become. But there is still an underlying sense of fear and concern that I don’t think will ever go away. Years ago my sister-in-law brought my darling niece over late one night with bruises on her sweet toddler face and it all came rushing back. I pray for his children, his family, every day. I am thankful that he’s accepted the fact that he needs medication.
But there were other things that happened in my childhood that I’ve told very few people about. Things that, until a year ago, my parents didn’t know about. Things I never even hinted at with the therapists I saw. You see, I was good at keeping secrets.
When I was six, we visited some friends on Easter. I don’t know how I ended up upstairs in a bedroom with the door shut with a boy more than 10 years older than me, and I’m still not certain on whether or not my oldest brother was in the room too… I think he was. This boy, this young man, had been chasing me, playing with me, tickling me, letting me sit in his lap and sing songs all day… gaining my trust. He was so nice, so handsome, and I liked him. It was late in the afternoon now, and the sunlight was beginning to dull as dusk approached.
He sat on his bed and asked me if I knew what being ‘pantsed’ meant. I had no idea what he was talking about. He laughed at me a little and explained that it was when a person pulled someone else’s pants down, or when a boy put his hand in a girl’s pants. He asked if I would let him do that to me. I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea why he’d want to do such a thing, but I liked him and I wanted him to like me too. When I didn’t answer right away, he decided to sweeten the deal and offer me my choice of three of his stuffed animals in exchange. I gave in. What could it hurt, right? He was so nice, and had a lovely smile. He’d easily coerced his way into my six-year-old pants in exchange for a few toys and I still remember the amused look on his face as I pulled away and yanked my pants up. I still don’t like the feeling of someone’s fingers between my legs.
Of course, I couldn’t tell my parents. I was sure to get in trouble if I did and I didn’t want to get spanked. I hated being spanked – and that was before my father had taken his belt to me, and before my mother had broken her spoon on my brother’s rear after years of use.
I don’t know how or when it started with my oldest brother. I can’t remember if it was before that day, or after, but it continued until I was 13. It was a secret between just the two of us. Quiet moments behind closed doors when his tickling would turn to touching and he’d lay on top of me and kiss me. I felt trapped and a little helpless. But that wasn’t new to me. I remember having to button my pants before leaving his room, I remember having to fasten my bra. I remember telling him to stop and him answering, “Stop what?” I don’t remember anything more than that, and I don’t really want to. I still don’t like the feeling of someone else’s tongue in my mouth.
I ran away from home when I was 14. We were only gone for two days when the police found us. I gave them a brief and watered down explanation of what my life at home was like. Their main questions were, ‘Does anyone hit you?’ and, ‘Do they leave a mark?’ I thought that that was awfully mild criteria, but what did I know. The told me they’d like to send me to a receiving home, but I insisted on going home with my parents. I missed them. And I love my family, all of them…I really do. Things slowly improved after that, but I know my parents were angry and hurt by what I’d done.
Years later, I would whisper my secrets through tears, on late night phone calls to my best friend. He already knew about my ‘crazy’ brother. But I told him I let a boy stick his hand in my pants in exchange for toys. I told him that I used to make out with my brother. I told him about my dad pushing me on the bed and kicking me after finding me in bed with my boyfriend at 15. It was then that he gently informed me that I had been molested and abused. I still don’t like those words…
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CPM blogs at My Embellished Truth, and tweets as @ChurchPunkMom. She asks that you please keep all comments here on Violence UnSilenced, rather than at her blog.
51 Responses to “CPM”
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I love you so much. It’s not your fault. you didn’t want it and you NEVER asked for it. you are beautiful. I love you
I am so sorry for all that you have endured. Tight hugs. My thoughts are with you. Thanks so much for sharing your story.
I’m always amazed by the posts here. The stories, to me, but the LIFE to the writer, seem beyond comprehension but of course we know it happens all to often to so many people. Megan – I hope you find peace today.
oh megan… my heart hurts for you, but rejoices at the same time because you spoke out.
you are invincible.
Megan,
Very powerful story! Would it be weird for me to say this is beautiful?
Beautiful because you told your story; because you recognize the abuse for what it was.
Beautiful because it will serve to help others who have been through similar and, unfortunately, not uncommon experiences; because of the courage it is taking to tell your story.
And now I am at a loss for words. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate what you wrote here. If I can put words at some point to what I am feeling right now I will comment again.
Don’t worry, it is ALL good. You are an inspiration!
Wow. Your story gives me the chills. It’s so scary to realize how easy it is for a young child to be manipulated. As a parent you never want to think they are really that vulnerable. I understand what you mean about loving your family anyway; my family never hurt me quite like that but my mom did make a lot of mistakes. Ones that have had far-reaching and serious consequences. She’s asked my forgiveness many times, and she has it. There are other people I would like to forgive, if they ever acknowledge their mistakes. I’m not holding my breath though.
I will be praying for you and for your brother’s family as well. I hope you all find peace and healing by God’s grace.
You are a brave brave woman for sharing. I hope you’ve found some solace in writing.
I can post whever I want because I am her husband…
First, I want a pizza!
Next, Everyone gets free passes to a day spa…
Oh wait, this isnt a ransom…
What i was going to say was:
When we first started dating and I heard these things, i was a teenager and didn’t really know what to say, but I thought for sure that her family, knowing who they were and how they acted, knew about the situation and dealt with it accordingly… anyways… it makes it hard to talk with my in-laws… when she tried talking about it to them, they doubted her and made her feel unloved, and she still loves them.
All of your comments are obviously out of love and the support you give to one another is amazing!
Send nice thoughts to her today!
-Aman
I had to close my eyes to hold back tears. My heart is aching for you. I don’t know you , but I’m so proud that you spoke out.
I am so saddened to hear that you were hurt by your family in this way. I am glad that you’ve found some peace with your brother, though I will pray for his family…and for him. From your story here, it seems that he still needs some more help understanding and controlling his anger and depression.
Thank you for sharing your story, not only because it is important and because YOU are important, but also because it shows a very different side of domestic violence, a side that most don’t always immediately associate with domestic violence situations. We hear so often about the woman/mother with the abusive husband/father…. this is a different tale, and no less important for it’s differences. Thank you for giving these survivors a voice.
Megan, you have all my love. Thank you for sharing your story, I wish it wasn’t yours to tell.
Megan, I am so sorry for what you went through. It *is* horrific and earth-shattering.
Thank you for having the courage to speak out here. I wish you much healing for your wounds, and peace in your heart.
you are so brave & so strong, megan. i can’t even imagine what you’ve been through & you have come out of the other side with a great family of your own to lavish love upon and teach them how to love. hugs to you today.
I am so sorry for what you’ve been through. It sickens me. Thank you for sharing this. Who knows how many children you have helped today because you made their parents more aware.
You are so strong for sharing this with us. I’m astonished that you still have a relationship with your brother and I think that speaks a lot to how much people can grow, change, and hopefully improve themselves.
I pray that telling your story helps release some of the pressure you likely put on yourself. You are a strong person to have made it through this and have the wonderful family that you do.
I admire you and your awesome talents.
God bless.
Megan, you weren’t simply molested and abused. You were betrayed. Betrayed by people you should have been able to trust. Betrayed, in a way, even by those who aided you. Your parents, your siblings, even the family across the street who let you hide out at their house. They sheltered you, but did they do anything to stop the cause? When the police found you at 14, They too let you down. They forced you to make a decision no 14-year-old girl should have to make.
Not “horrific”? I beg to differ. No child should live with that much fear, especially not in her own home. Not “earth shattering”? I think if you read your own words, if you look around you you’ll see that while the physical earth is still on its axis, your world has always been scattered pieces of what it should have been. And to some degree it still is. Could it have been worse? It could have been more physically damaging, that much is certain. You could have had more serious injuries, yes. But it could not have been “worse”. Or more “horrific or earth shattering”. Because there are no varying shades of black.
But the helplessness? It’s a little less crushing, a little less suffocating than it was. You came here, you told it all. You put it in front of the entire world and guess what? You’re still standing. No Great Hand of Doom has come down to smite you. And that friend of yours — the one who first put the words to it that you didn’t want to hear — I want to be first in line to shake his hand. Because he’s the one that made it okay for you to spill it, to purge your soul of the festering secrets it had kept for so long. He gave you a great gift. And I’m glad you passed that gift on in your story, because it tells the ones who come and read that it only takes an audience of one to generate enough power to begin the process.
Thank you Megan. For all those little girls hiding behind flimsy bedroom doors trying to make themselves big enough to keep out the demons on the other side. For all those girls who “don’t really want to but are afraid not to”. For the teenagers who aren’t sure if it’s “bad enough” to tell someone. And for the women who have kept the secrets of these girls locked inside of them for years. Thank you for the fearlessness you’ve shown in telling them they’re not alone, and they’re not at fault. And for telling them that yes, it is bad enough.
I hope that getting the story out here in this forum has given you what you need to begin to free yourself from the chains of what was. Because you deserve that chance, that freedom. And nothing less. So take the comfort that has been and will be offered in these comments. Keep it with you in the times when you doubt. And never, ever forget that what you read here doesn’t go away when your story falls off the front page of this blog. The support you find here is yours now and always.
Megan. I used to think I invited my brother to come into my room late at night by leaving my feet uncovered.
Your brother was bigger than you, and when you don’t have support from your family, when you’re scared of their anger, you can’t tell.
To this day, my mom says things like “We moved to Florida because of all that shit with your brother.” DSS wanted my parents to make my 16 yo brother live with her parents. Yeah. It makes me feel great.
You lived through this, sweetie. And most importantly, you learned. Did you know your tweets to me when I’m losing control of myself with my kids are what keeps me calm? Thank you. {{hugs}}
I love you, but you already know that. You are SO BRAVE for telling your story. I’ve been thinking long and hard about whether or not I have the strength. I imagine it’s healing to write it and tell it. I’ve always admired you, but now even more so. What a strong person you are! Sending big hugs your way!
Megan I am so sorry for all that you have been through. You have definitely walked through the fire of abuse and have the scars from it. You are a brave and strong woman.
Megan – you are so brave and so strong. Thank you for sharing this – I pray that getting it out will bring you peace.
it is so horrible when people have to endure abuse of any kind. i’m so sorry that you had to deal with that. and i’m impressed at the strength and courage it must have taken to write this. to be able to be honest with the internet AND yourself.
good for you!!
Megan… I’ve had the distinct honor and priviledge of becoming a friend with you over the past 9 or 10 months and you have trusted me enough to share this with me before. Yet, I’m still crying as I hear it all again. I’m especially tearful at the outpouring of love that these amazing people, these other survivors have for you and eachother. You may have finally given me the courage to write it all down. I know you’ve asked me to submit before, and you know how hard that is.
You are the most giving person, the most generous with love and life. I find this amazing because of everything you’ve endured. You’re getting a big hug from me the next time I see you!
Your friend
Megan, thank you for sharing your story to hopefully help other women who have been through the same thing and need the inspiration to talk about it. You have inspired me. Maybe I will share my story someday…
You are brave and strong. And I’m in love with you.
The best part? You have stopped the cycle. You have planted your feet and said “NO MORE!”
And that, my dear friend, is power.
You’ve shown an amazing depth for compassion and a boundless heart for love by being able to forgive your family – and try to make a relationship with them work. You’re a much bigger person than I ever could hope to be! They don’t deserve you. (I hope they know that.)
It looks like your story has a happy ending though. I saw that your husband commented. Sounds to me like a guy who loves you very much and knows what he’s got. I can’t blame him for feeling conflicted about your family; he loves you in a way they can’t fathom.
Kudos to you for standing up and speaking out. I truly appreciate how hard it is to dredge it all up and then, to read what you wrote. Your story is bound to strike a chord with others so you’ve done some good for you and them. Wishing you peace and happiness.
I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through. Big hugs to you, lady.
I’m so sorry
I’m so sorry, Megan. Thank you for telling your story.
Thank you for having the courage to share your story.
I’m so sorry you had to endure all that. Thank you for sharing your story!!
You are so, so brave.
It was brave of you to write all that down. I can’t imagine the pain you live with day to day. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that.
I’m very happy that you have a loving husband who supports you and all you’ve been through. I wish you continued peace and love.
Awwww, honey. I’m so sorry for all of this. Thank you for sharing.
I’m so sorry for all you have gone through, you are so brave for telling your story
Brave.
Strong.
Beautiful.
That took grace and courage, and thank you for posting it. You did a big, good thing…and i bow to the divinity within you.
Peace, kiddo.
IG
I hope you’ll keep telling your story, keep writing it, until the very last word is out. It takes as long as it takes, and this is a very brave and strong step you’ve taken here. It breaks my heart to hear all you’ve gone through, but I hope it helps to hear the comments in this place and to know that you’re not alone. And that so many of us understand.
Thank you so much for being so courageous and sharing your story.
oh, i want to weep for you, who carried the weight of such a family
There are no words to heal the broken places.
All I know for sure, as I read your story, is that even if you don’t feel it’s so – not yet – is that where we break, we’re stronger in the broken places. That you have gone on to become a wife and mother and break the cycle of violence make you exceptional – make you MORE than exceptional, since you would be so even without the pain.
Please know how much I respect you, how fond I have grown of you as a friend, a woman, a mother, a person to whom I look for… a lot of things. I know that might surprise you, since we haven’t known each other long. An open heart, though, knows a lifeline when it sees one. You’ve been climbing a lifeline out of this hole for a long time – thank you for your bravery, for the good example of your life, for the love this world would be so much dimmer without.
You already know that only you can heal yourself; one can’t look to the abuser for healing or closure (if there even is such a thing). I’m so proud of how hard you work every day to do just that.
truly,
Kristen
Thanks for sharing your story. You are very strong to do that. It wasn’t your fault! Keep telling yourself that until you believe it. You were betrayed by those who are supposed to protect and care for you. That’s hard to come to terms with, but it’s important to accept, so you can stop blaming yourself and move forward. You have been strong and a real survivor. Now make sure you find and develop a good equal relationship that really lets you be yourself and brings you the love you deserve and enables you to give the same kind of love. You can do it.
Anne http://www.equalcouples.com
I’m so sorry. Your story hurts and nauseates me; I suspect there is a little resonance underlying that for me. Thanks for sharing.
You are not alone. So many people don’t even realize that they have been molested, abused, that they’ve been raped or are in a domestic violence situation until they tell someone else and that person is shocked. It happens all the time, unfortunately. I’m so glad that someone finally told you, and that you’ve been able to find help and support in your life. I’m so sorry you needed to.
thank you so much.. all of you.
your words mean so much.
Thank you for sharing your story.
Megan, Thank you for sharing this with us. You are blessed and you are a blessing. You were molested. You were abused. It has affected you but you have shown that you are strong and brave, capable of overcoming.
I’m filled with joy that your voice speaks out for others to “see the light.” Here, yes – but even more so in “No Place Like Home.” Keep up the good work!
Oh Megan. My heart goes out to you/
Megan, my heart truly breaks for you. Hang on and tell your story do what you need to do to reach that healing that you must have.
Megan
I really appreciate your sharing this! I am glad you found the strength to write it out. I’ve got to say you are the first person I have ever read that has a similar background, not that it is a good thing because I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. However, it does make me feel ,for the first time, that I am not alone!
I identify all too well with keeping secrets like these and feeling afraid to tell for fear of punishment. I also understand the love that is still there.
It is a long, rough road and I wish you all the best!
Megan, so much of your story is similar to my own. Thank you for being brave and writing it out for us.
You are worthy.
You are a beautiful person.
What happened to you was wrong, but it was not your fault at all.
You are a strong person and I am sending you a warm hug & my admiration.
I’m so sorry you were hurt and betrayed so deeply by those who should have loved and protected you.
Megan, I am SO glad that you shared this here.
Voicing it, writing it, takes away some of the power it has over you. You don’t have to like the words (I don’t either) but that doesn’t mean they aren’t true.
You’ve come so far from that little girl that you were – your strength is amazing.