Issa
We met the first time when I was six, when his mother started dating my father. (Our parents lived together for a few years and married when I was eleven.) We didn’t see much of each other that first year, because our weekends rarely coincided. When we were around each other, I found him to be really touchy. He hugged me too often and I didn’t like him. I found him to be an annoying pain in the ass.
When I was seven he invented a game called “married,” which he wanted me to play. Not house, not doctor… “married.” Seeing how the alternative was follow around my younger annoying brothers, or his older sister who wanted nothing to do with me, I agreed. Playing married wasn’t a huge deal at first. It started out really small. The touching. The asking to see if I had boobies. The rubbing up against me. The fake kissing. The over-showing of his penis. I had two brothers, I’d seen penises, so I just never saw what was wrong with it. After awhile, he went a bit farther. He basically dry humped me. I had no idea what he was doing and it didn’t last longer than a minute or two, so I ignored it. I’d pretend I was somewhere else, not there with him. I think he took that as a sign that I enjoyed it.
Here’s where it gets tricky. He was not older than me. He was not some bully picking on a younger child. He was my age. Exactly my age, in fact. He is a day younger than me. I was quiet and embarrassingly shy. I didn’t know how to make him stop. I knew I didn’t like what he was doing, but I didn’t have the words to explain to anyone what was going on. In some ways, I was scared of him. I shouldn’t have been, but I was.
This went on for years. I wanted to tell my mom, but I just couldn’t make myself form the words. I tried, but I couldn’t. Each time I went to my dad’s house, I swore I’d stay away from him, but I wasn’t ever able too. He’d corner me anywhere and push me to the ground. He’d put his hands all over me. He’d hump my leg. He’d try and kiss me for reals. When I’d ask him to stop. Whenever I told him I didn’t like this, he’d tell me I did. He’d tell me he’d kill me if I told anyone. He told me if I didn’t like him, I’d have stopped letting him touch me years ago. It was too late now.
When I was twelve and we were on a camping trip, he took to the place of no return. He sneaked into my tent in the middle of the night and I woke up after he’d removed my sweatpants and panties. He would have raped me that time, but he had no idea what he was doing. He raped my leg. I tried to push him off of me, but I wasn’t able to. It was over as quick as it started.
After that I swore I’d tell my mom. Then the unthinkable happened. My innocent baby brother was molested by our uncle. He told my mom and it tore our family apart. I wanted to tell her what had happened to me, but I knew everyone would think I just wanted attention. I decided then that I’d never tell a soul. I also decided that day to sleep with a knife while at my dad’s house. It was a small knife, a pocket knife.
For awhile I got lucky. I barely saw him for the next year or two and when I did, I made sure I wasn’t ever alone with him. I’d go to sleep at friends’ houses whenever I had to go to my dad’s. At fourteen he cornered me in a bathroom and yet again raped my leg.
He only entered me once and to this day I would tell you, he couldn’t tell the difference. I did though. I knew. He held his hand over my mouth, so I couldn’t scream.
When school started that year, I thought I’d hit the freaking lottery: his parents decided to send him to boarding school. When I’d see him on school breaks I made sure to stay far away from him. I’d made my baby brother teach me how to defend myself, but the opportunity never presented itself again.
At a Christmas party one year, when I was seventeen, he asked me if I wanted to come cuddle and watch a movie later. My boyfriend (now my husband) saw the way I cringed and balled my fists, each time he talked to me. Later, I told my husband most of what had happened. I’m not sure what he did to my step-brother, but I know he’s never tried anything again.
I’ve told two people this story. One is my husband and the other my best friend, who I told in a drunken moment when I was nineteen. I will never tell my parents. I haven’t told my younger brother, someone who would understand. I avoid my dad’s house on holidays like the plague. I visit on random times and never for longer than a few days. I go years between visits. I do this for many reasons, but one is so I won’t have to see him. I have never allowed my children to be alone with him in a room. In fact, he’s only seen my girls a handful of times. Mostly at weddings and funerals.
I know logically it’s not my fault. However I also know I could have stopped it, had I had any courage. I was not raped, not in the way most people are. I let a little boy, my step-brother, a kid who was my age do this too me. I know what he did was wrong, I do. Truly. I also know, as an adult, how I could have stopped him. Adult logic however, isn’t little girl logic. I am thankful every day that my girls are stronger than me. I know if someone looked at them wrong, they’d not hesitate to tell me.
My husband understands. He knows, he gets it. He learned long ago not to rub up against me without me knowing he was there and what he was doing. My own husband has to announce when he wants to get all touchy. Ten years of marriage and he still has to do this. He is a saint.
I never wanted to tell this story. I’ve been asked many times over the years if I was abused as a kid. I’ve lied to my mother, to my friends and to therapists. I can’t seem to figure out why I am telling this now. I think its because last week a little boy told my seven year old that he had a boner. I had to explain to her what that meant. She knew what he said wasn’t okay and she told a teacher and me. She did the right thing in telling and all he did was say the word to her. But I had to explain to my seven year old child what a boner is. I can’t seem to stop thinking about this, since that day.
I am hyper-vigilant when it comes to who is around my children. I know it can be anyone though. Any one can take a child’s innocence away. I lost mine when I was seven.
I wish I could get it back.
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Issa blogs at Issa’s Crazy World. This post was originally written six months ago. Issa asks that you keep all comments here on VU, rather than on her own blog.
84 Responses to “Issa”
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Hugs Issa. You’re braver and stronger than you know.
i’m sorry issa. i’m sorry that you are having to revisit this in your life right now.
i wish you peace and continued strength in your survivorship.
Issa, you are an amazing woman. Telling your story can and will help so many. You are courageous and strong.
XOXO
I know that guilt-that we should be stronger. I “let” a man, who was physically handicapped, abuse me. But I was a child. I COULDN’T stop him.
You got through it. You ARE strong.
I’m sorry you’ve never been able to share before and so glad you were able to speak out here.
You are just as strong as any other girl – and what you survived is equally horrifying. No little girl should have her childhood ruined that way. You are a brave, brave woman for sharing your story. Thank you.
“However I also know I could have stopped it, had I had any courage.”
Issa, you are 100% not guilty for anything that was done to you by this young man. He is 100% guilty for everything that he did to you. You were involved in circumstances that were far, far out of your control when you were ill equipped to deal with them. I encourage you not to hold yourself responsible for any of this.
“I can’t seem to figure out why I am telling this now.”
Victims need to regain their voice. It is an important step in the healing process. You were silent for years. Now you have spoken out. Congratulations on taking this important first step!
Keep growing, keep healing, keep sharing! Thank you for telling your story.
Thank you for sharing–sharing is hard–as you know.
The measure of your courage is in how you live life now, not in what happened then. The fact that you and your husband have raised little girls who know exactly what to do and how to handle these situations is the proof that you have done what needs to be done to make sure this doesn’t happen to them, to the best of your ability.
You ARE strong. You ARE courageous. Never doubt it.
Oh, Issa. I’m so sorry. Love you, lady. xoxo
Sending you love, Issa.
Thank you for sharing your story, Issa.
((hugs))
Oh Issa, I’m so sorry that happened to you. You are a wonderfully brave and strong and amazing woman. I hope you feel a little better for having the courage to put this out there, to tell your story.
Huge hugs
i think you’re so brave for posting this. i love you. ((HUGS))
Oh god. Something very similar happened to one of my close friends. To this day she has only ever told two people. Thank you for being so brave and sharing your story.
Oh sweet girl. I wish…oh I wish so many things for you. I wish you’d never had to go through that.
You are so brave, love. So very very freaking brave. I am so proud of you.
Hugs Issa. You are a strong and amazing woman and wonderful mom. I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m proud of you for sharing your story.
Thinking of you, my dear, dear friend.
Sending you love and light.
You are so very brave for posting this. Thank you, for sharing your story and your hurt. You are extremely lucky to have a husband who understands what you have gone through and what you will continue to go through. Thank you, sending hugs your way.
Issa, how frightening! Wonderful of you to share it here.
Hugs Issa. Hugs.
Oh, dear heart. I love you so very much and I’m so very proud of you.
It takes such courage to share a private pain like this. Heroic courage.
Issa – hugs and support to you. My wife is also an abuse survivor, and we struggle with the unannounced “getting all touchy” thing as well. It took me longer than your husband to get it, though. I tended to take it personally. I understand now and do what I can not to surprise her.
Oh honey you DO have courage. Giant, soppy hugs to you, sweetface.
Issa,
I’m so proud of you for sharing your story after all these years. I do however want to stress the importance of sharing what happened with your therapists. If you don’t trust the therapist you now see, find one you do. You will find that there are so many ways to enjoy life more fully that your therapist can help you with.
You are an amazingly strong woman and your children are fortunate to have a mother who seeks to protect them. Pat yourself on the back knowing that, even imperfect, your love for your children will help them handle what the world throws at them.
You have an amazing courage to have shared this. I am so, so, sorry that your childhood was taken away from you. Thank you for letting us know what can happen so that we can hopefully protect our own children just that little more. Hugs and thank you for your honesty. You should be proud for speaking out. I hope it brings you peace of some sort.
Tricia xoxo
You are both strong & courageous. Never doubt that.
I don’t even have the words.
Right now I am very thankful for you AND that have such a wonderful guy next to you that understands.
Big fat hugs, beautiful. xoxo
Big hugs to you, Issa. You can’t go back to change what happened. But I hope that by sharing it here, you gain strength and support to leave it in your past. We are here, holding your hand, because you hold so many of ours in your own.
I can totally relate to suddenly being hyper aware not only of your own past but the present risk to your own kids.. I had the same ‘awakening’ of sorts just a couple years ago.
Thank you for sharing, Issa. I pray that this brings you some peace and healing. It takes A LOT of courage to share your story. Please remember, it wasn’t your fault and there was little, if anything, that you could have done to stop it.
You did a BIG GOOD thing by opening up and letting it out. *hugs* to you, dear one.
Issa, thank you for sharing your story here. I am so sorry for what happened to you.
I echo Arby, above, in saying this *was not your fault.* You did have courage – you survived it, you kept going, you grew to be a wife and a mother and a strong woman.
Peace.
Thank you for sharing this Issa. Your words will help more people than you may ever know. The strength and courage you’ve shown by sharing your story is immeasurable. I am so happy you’ve found a wonderful husband who truly understands and respects you. You deserve all the happiness in the world. Continue to take care of yourself. I admire your resilience.
You are so brave. You are strong. hugs and love to you Issa.
Every little girl should feel safe and secure. I’m sorry that was taken from you, but I’m happy your daughters have you to protect them.
I think sometimes that people who have been abused need to be given ‘permission’ to heal, because we carry all this guilt and shame that isn’t even ours.
I give you permission, Issa….you can heal. I give you permission to be outraged, to speak your truth without fear. You earned it the second he crossed the line.
Thank you so much for giving voice to your hurts and fears. This takes great courage!
I love you sweetheart. And age, or what you could have done… none of it makes your story less important than any other. I’m so glad you are teaching your girls to stand up for themselves. No one should have to feel that way.
Oh, honey. *HUGS*
Not Your Fault. I’m so sorry that your stepbrother stole your innocence.
I’m so glad you have a wonderful husband.
I, too, hope you find a therapist you can trust with this – sharing hurts DOES help.
xox
Oh god, I’m so sorry. Sorry that you had to live like that, sorry that it still affects you now, sorry that your brother was hurt too.
You are still innocent – innocent of having done anything wrong.
Issa –
Whatever happens to trigger the telling just IS. It wasn’t something you were okay sharing with anyone but the closest few until you wrote this. I get that. Please don’t try to approach what happened with the logic and knowledge of an adult, because it didn’t happen to an adult… it happened to you, as a little girl who coped the best she possibly could at the time. And now? You’ve spoken out, and are teaching YOUR girls to stand up for themselves so they never have to feel the way you did. Thank you for sharing your story here… it takes courage.
[...] is Issa’s story. It’s heart wrenching. And painful. And one of the most dramatic reality checks that I have [...]
Thank you for sharing your story. You’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for.
And that knowing you should have stopped it is also adult logic. You were trapped, and you did what you had to do to get through.
Trust your instincts.
Thank you for sharing your story–it will help anyone who reads it to understand the many shades of gray surround abuse.
Ann
The more stories I read here, the more I realize that abuse and assault is happening all around us. Your story is heightening someone else’s awareness. Your telling will help someone protect their child, to spot a problem, to listen to a survivor-friend.
None of that was your fault. And you can grieve it or be angered by it without a scale of assault as the context. It doesn’t matter if other people have had it worse. You were sexually abused, assaulted, betrayed and you need the chance to heal. You deserve our ears as a survivor telling her story, and you deserve the chance to feel the range of emotions, and to heal.
I wish for peace for you. (Hugs and love.)
Oh Issa… You are so brave to tell us all your story. I hope you find some peace. Know that you’ve hopefully helped someone with your words.
I’m so sorry that you have been carrying around this pain for so long. You are a strong woman, a brave woman and deserving woman of love and understanding.
Hugs to you!
I’m so sorry. 7 should be an age of dreams, hopes and magic. I hate that someone took that away from you. Thank you for sharing your story with us. You have amazing strength, courage and resilience. Keeping you and yours in my thoughts and prayers. Love to you!!
I love you Issa.
You are one tough cookie, m’lady.
Issa I am so sorry you had to endure this, and for so long. The best thing you can do is consider to arm your girls with the tools they need that you wish you had. I hate this person so much. I want your childhood back for you. Some people have to endure so much. You are so strong girlfriend, you have NO idea.
Obviously, lots of love in here for you. I’m so sorry you endured this but here you are. Strong? Yes. Most certainly.
(((u)))
Hang in there, Issa. You are a strong women who will get through this. I’ll be praying for you.
Sending you best wishes. I know sometimes dirty ponds are better left undredged, especially when families are involved. I’m glad you found an outlet and I hope your healing continues.
Issa – thank you so much for sharing your story. You are so strong and so brave. Your husband sounds like a wonderful man and your kids are very blessed to have you as their mother. Best wishes for you and your continued healing.
Oh hon, hugs. I am sorry that you had to deal with this. You are strong. Your girls are lucky that you are their mom. I love you, dear friend.
you are a phenomenal mother and a force to be reckoned with. Bless your heart, sweet girl
The one thing you cannot do, must not do, is blame yourself.
Even if he was a child, you were too! Fear, shame and the very awkwardness of it all are things that molestors — of any age — count on. This boy was no different.
It’s a good thing that your girls have you.
How very scary for a young girl. I’m so glad you decided to share your story. Soldier on my friend, you have an army of friends holding you up.
Issa, I’m so glad that you came here and shared your story. My heart goes out to you as you navigate the aftermath. Bless you, many times over, for sharing your story.
Issa, he took something from you — that is true. But it wasn’t your innocence. That you still have, no matter what he might have told you. It doesn’t matter that he wasn’t bigger or older, bullies are all small on the inside.
You cannot expect a girl of seven or eleven or thirteen or even seventeen to make adult decisions. You wouldn’t expect it of your children, why would expect it of yourself? What you’ve done though, is give your own children the thing you didn’t have. The assurance that they can come to you and tell you if anyone behaves this way with them. They know it’s okay because you taught them. I’m sure your mother thought that you’d confide in her, but you know it.
I’m glad you have someone now who understands. Someone who’s sensitive to those things that haunt you. I hope there comes a day that you’re free of the haunting, and perhaps that’s why you came here to tell your story now. To name the beast and thereby slay it.
I don’t know if it worked, only you’ll know that — and not right away. But I hope it did. And I admire the courage it took to write it out loud.
Much love.
I’m so sorry no once else saw your balled-up fists or your discomfort when this person was near you. I’m so sorry for all of it, but mostly that you had to keep this to yourself.
Can’t imagine what it must be like, to be on your guard at age 7 onwards… Bless you and your family.. and yeah, your husband sure must be a gem of a person… *hugs* to all of you…
You are strong. You are awesome. You opened up here when you didn’t have to. I wish I could kick your step brother’s ass, but if I could have done that I wouldn’t have lived with what I went through.
You will help someone with your story. And if you need me, you know I am always here.
Much love Issa, much love
You are so brave for talking about it, Issa. This step was HUGE!
I am so, so sorry this happened to you, and even more sorry that you feel somehow responsible – YOU are NOT. HE is.
Much love to you.
You are going to be ok. I love you sweetheart!
I’m in awe of your bravery and strength. Sending you tons of love. xo
Thank you for sharing this. I wish you didnt feel guilty.. I wish I could make you not feel that.
You are amazing, for talking, for surviving. Also, though I know you know this, the fact that he was the same age as you is not important. It doesn’t make what happened different somehow from other people’s abuse stories. It’s the power differential that makes victims and it doesn’t matter if the one with the power is eleven or seven or forty seven. Love to you.
I am so sad for you and also angry that no adult intervened. When he was 7, this boy probably had no idea what he was doing, and an adult could have put an end to it then and there. Instead, he was allowed to grow into a monster (who did know what he was doing) who victimized you.
Thank you, Issa. You have given me the strength and courage to finally share my own experiences.
I know it is not easy to share your story and revisit the past but you are a strong, strong woman and your daughters are blessed to have you to guide & protect them.
I’m so in awe of you being able to tell this story so honestly. And so very angry at that guy. I don’t even know what to say. Big hugs!!!
I think you are very brave putting your story out. I’m sure it will help others and hopefully you too.
Thank you for sharing this. Yours is a story that is more common than anyone wants to realize. I am so thankful for your courage and strength, and the fact that your child did the right thing and told…….blessings to you and your family.
Thank you for having the courage to survive and to share your story.
This kind of thing happens so often. And it is so painful to think about. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you for sharing your story.
Issa, I have to disagree when you say you were not raped. I think you were. You did not want this history, you were victimized. It doesn’t matter how old the perp was. I am glad you told your story. I hope you share your story with your little brother sometime; I think it would bring some healing. I wish you didn’t feel any guilt over this…it wasn’t your fault.
I know the sense of shame, and the fear that you allowed it somehow. Abusers can be master manipulators. I don’t know if it helps to hear this from a stranger: it was not your fault. You are not responsible. The shame belongs to him, not you. Sorry if I sound bossy; it’s not that helpful when someone standing outside your experience glibly tells you how you should feel. I just wish I could lift the burden of guilt and sadness from you.
Stop it? This borders on blaming yourself and I hope at some point you’ll be able to understand that, and stop saying it or thinking it.
I agree with everything that Colleen has said above me. You are an awesome person, and I’m glad you found a man that respects you. Good for you for keeping your girls safe.
Good luck in your journey. Head held high.
Thank you for sharing your story. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy choice to make, but I’m grateful that you did. <3
this is the first time i have ever spoken out, my half brother did the same thing to me, only i was 3. my mom saw it and never said a word. i remember if vividally. she came in, caught him AND NEVER SAID A F-ING WORD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Adult logic however, isn’t little girl logic. ” Exactly. You don’t have to go to events where he is going to be, not because he’s family, not because you don’t want to rock the boat-not for any reason, do you have to go. You owe no one anything. Put your health and your future, first. (((((hugs!)))))))
I am so glad you were able to share this. Even if it’s only an ounce off of your chest, it’s an ounce that is gone.