Lisa
It’s been a long time coming, telling this story. Since moving to the Midwest, I’ve kept it pretty close to the chest. I’ve been reading Violence Unsilenced off and on since a friend posted her story here. There are some days when I cannot bring myself to read here because it is just too much for me to handle.
My friend in real life, Megan, posted here recently. I know how hard it is for her to share it so it finally gave me the courage to decide to write this out. I’m doing this without the support of my loved ones, except my husband, of course. My sister refuses to support this coming out. Maybe one day she’ll understand. This is a place where fear is put on the shelf and our voices ring out. This is a place for people to find courage and if I can help someone find courage, then I need to tell my story. I’m telling this as I remember it. All the stories are separate events, but all connected.
The first thing I remember that just “wasn’t right,” my mom hit me in the grocery store and made me wait out by the car. I’d been asking for something, repetitively as kids do, and she’d lost her patience. So I stood out by the car, alone, at night and waited for her to finish her grocery shopping. Patrons would come out and say “You don’t have to live like that.” All I could think to myself was, “Live like what?” I was seven.
My parents divorced when I was two. My dad was stationed in Germany. Every summer I visited. He and my stepmom would ask me to stay with them. I wanted to say “YES!” so badly, but all that went through my head was the pleas of my mom before I left saying, “You’re all I have. Don’t leave me.”
My dad finally moved to the states and retired from the military. One summer I came back from visiting, and my mom had a new live-in boyfriend. This wasn’t so odd. Mom had lots of boyfriends. This one really tried to gain my trust though.
I should’ve believed her. She was my best friend. The last weekend we spent as friends we’d gone away to the beach for the weekend. She never told me when it happened, but the police came by our house and arrested him for molestation. Her word versus his. She was nine. He was released. I’m SO very, very sorry, friend.
My mom asked me if it was OK if they got married. I wish I’d said “NO!!” I wanted to. But, I said “Yes, if he makes you happy.” What kind of nine year old says that? People pleasing at its finest. (This was after the above memory.)
The winter after I turned 10, I found out that they were having a baby. I felt more at peace in the house because I thought the drinking and the partying would finally end. My sister was born 3 weeks before my 11th birthday. She’s the only thing that makes this whole ordeal worth it. I wouldn’t have her.
The first time it happened, I had a stomach ache. He wanted to rub my back to help me feel better. He rubbed a little too low. I asked him to stop and he did, but not without making me feel guilty for not wanting his help, and reminding me that I wanted him to rub my back. All I thought was, “Did I really ask for this? I guess I did.”
When sister and I started sharing a room, he would come in and touch me. Caress my rear end. Then when I would awaken, he would leap away from the bed and pretend to be consoling a crying baby. At 11, I really thought, “Dude, I’m two feet away, don’t you think I would’ve HEARD that?” I refused to sleep on my back or side from then on. I could “handle” it if it was my butt, but I refused to take the risk that he would touch anywhere else.
I told a friend, she said if I didn’t tell my mom, she would. So I called her. Asked her to come home from a night out of drinking. I had something important to say. I told her. She brought him home, confronted him. He lied. She believed him. I was looking for attention. Too “neglected” after the baby came around. I wish I’d been neglected. I wish I’d been ignored, but I wasn’t.
One day at school, after it had happened time and time again, I wrote a letter to a friend. It dropped. Some other friends found it, read it, and instead of returning it to me, turned it in. I thank God for them. He never would’ve been forced to move out if he hadn’t had the court order.
Of course, my mom made me drop the charges, but not after cashing in all my savings bonds beforehand. I put him in there, I may as well pay to get him out. She told me I’d never see my sister again if I didn’t. She was in trouble too. (Not really, but I was 12 or 13, what did I know?) To this day, she hasn’t admitted she was wrong. She said she made me drop charges because the attorney’s would have ripped me apart. My memory is better than yours mom, it’s not true.
When I was 15 I was suicidal. I mean, friends stopped me just in time multiple times. A friend really. My safe haven. The place I could go for a weekend or a week and pretend my life wasn’t as bad as it was. I’d have moved in if I would have been allowed. It was offered. (I love you all! I miss you “Mom,” I can’t wait to see you again in Heaven.)
I told my mom one time that I was suicidal. She replied, “How do you think I feel, I have kids.” She also told me that I was too fat for any man to love me. I would cry myself to sleep. I scratched myself just to feel. I used to burn things and burn myself.
One time he was drunk, he broke into our house. I awoke to find him caressing my boobs. Only recently had I found the courage to sleep in any other way other than my stomach. It took me years to do it again. I still don’t ever want my butt or boobs played with. It makes me want to puke.
My mom reconnected with an old love. (Mom, if you think I don’t know who he was in your past, you’re mistaken, I know everything. You should have hid those journals better.) I’d met him once when I was 6. She really thought I’d move across the country and live with him? I went to live with my dad, finally. The last day I lived with my mom, I didn’t see her. She was off partying with her coworkers. She came home at one point to pick up more booze. She came home at midnight and brought me food to eat and cried and begged me to stay with her. I said, “No.” But I was thinking, “Who the fuck are you kidding bitch? I’m not even worth your spending time with me.”
I spent a lot of time feeling better after moving in with my dad. Feeling better but not healing. When I turned 19, I thought I had it all together. Moved out, started partying, drinking, drugs. I was staying over at a friend’s. His buddy was there. We started making out. He wanted to have sex. I told him “No, I’ve never done this before, I don’t want to.” He did it anyway and I kept quiet. I thought, “Well, he must really like me if he did it anyway.” It also solidified my belief that sex was all that I was good for. I began sleeping with lots of guys. I just wanted to feel something. Feel loved. I thought that was the only way I could feel loved. No amount of food I ate could hide me from my destiny to be an object to men. I gained weight and hid behind my fat to keep myself away from this belief, but it found me. I was an object after all.
I know better now. I’m married to an amazing man who loves me for me. Sometimes it’s hard for me when he’s eager to show affection. It’s taken a lot of time to understand that he really DOES love me and is trying to show it. I’ve forgiven my mom. It took a lot of time and prayer, but I realize that she was sick with alcoholism and that doesn’t make it OK, but it makes me understand why she reacted in life as she did. My goal now is to raise awareness for abuse and eating disorders. To help women understand that they are worth more than they believe.
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Lisa blogs at Unfiltered Insanity.
35 Responses to “Lisa”
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*BIG HUGE HUGS*
Lisa, you are an amazing, strong, beautiful, BRAVE woman. Thank you so much for sharing your story, and shame on those who don’t believe you. *hugs*
Lisa,
Thank you so much for sharing. Getting it out and voicing your experience helps everyone. Not only do you get everything out (which is great, and I’m so glad you did get it all out and that you understand how your behaviour relates to your experiences), but gives hope to all those that read this site who are going through the exact same as you. Through the same horror and darkness.
Really, thank you so much for sharing.
Lisa, thank you for sharing with us. You are an amazing person with so much to give. I’m glad you found such an amazing man.
Thank you.
I’m so glad you wrote this, Lisa. I’m so proud of you.
*big hugs*
“You’re all I have. Don’t leave me. You’re my world.” It all sounds to good to someone who’s never known true affection doesn’t it?
Alcoholic or not, your mother was/is a master manipulator. Many years ago, a friend of mine described how she tried to escape her abusive husband by attempting suicide. He came to the hospital, doted on her, said all these same things.
And as soon as she was released, he beat her senseless for “trying to leave him”.
It’s all a part of the cycle, and one of the more carefully, cleverly camouflaged parts. Because you want to believe it, it would be so good if it were true. Or so you think at the time, yeah?
With your story, you’ve exposed one of the lies — a big one — that doesn’t get as much attention as some of the more graphic parts of these stories. But it’s no less a part of the package than the bruises, the bleeding, the molestations, and all the visible signs. Ultimately, this may be the cruelest cut of all, because it’s disguised as love and devotion.
What it is, in fact, is betrayal. It’s a lie of the worst sort, because it shifts the blame to you — even in your own mind to a degree.
I’m so glad you’ve uncovered the lie — for yourself, and for the others who haven’t. So glad that you’ve recognized that you have worth as a human being and not just as a walking, breathing “love doll”. Glad that you’ve found someone to accept you with that kind of love that really is true, and gladder still that you’re still able to know it when you see it.
As hard as it was to write this, as scary as it was to submit it, you are paying back those friends who turned in your letter. You’re doing the same thing for someone else by coming forward to add your voice to the others. And I hope with all my heart that in the process you’ve forgiven that 7-, 9-, 11-, 15-year-old girl who endured far more than she ever should have had to.
I hope you find peace — for all of you.
lisa- i’m proud of you. you are a strong and amazing woman. your husband is lucky to have you in his life, as you are to have him.
may your sharing bring you peace and continued strength.
thank you.
I am so proud of you for sharing your story and for having the courage to move forward. Hugs.
my darling,
I love you. I’m so proud of you. You are such a courageous, strong woman. Keep you the healing honey!
I can’t imagine how scared and bereft it must leave a child to be so betrayed by the people who are supposed to protect her. But, I am so impressed by the strength and resilience you’ve shown in sharing your story. Thank you.
Wishing you peace.
Thank you for sharing your story, Lisa. I’m so glad you have true friends and a husband who loves you for who you are!
What a brave, strong, and beautiful person you are. Thanks for sharing. *hugs*
I can’t help repeating words others have said about your words: brave and beautiful.
You’ve shown amazing courage here today. THAT is who you are, a brave, strong, empowered woman. I’m in awe of you, today.
angi
Thank you for sharing your story and for being so courageous. If only children weren’t so scared to “tell” – but that’s the sad part, they’re children and shouldn’t be harmed or taken advantage of. Peace to you!
You are so brave for sharing. Thank you.
I’m glad you found your voice.
I was molested around 8 or so, and even now, there is a certain way a man can touch my breasts that triggers a massive panic attack, and that feeling of sick. I hate him so much for that, and all of them for all of us who have to feel it.
I have to say that my support is often silent because I am usually trying to type through tears. I find these stories hard to read, also, and I know the amazing courage it took for you to write about it. You are in my heart.
Is it any wonder there are so many messed up adults in the world? Why wouldn’t they be? None of us ever know what and how they endured as kids.
I’m glad you spoke out in spite of the objections. In doing so, you’ve turned your back on denial and stared down the demons of childhood. (Something that so few people have the strength to do.) I’m glad it has empowered you to reach out to and to help others.
Much peace and happiness to you. God knows you deserve it.
Hugs to you. My stomach turns to think of the ways you were abused. I am glad you have found true love.
Thank you for sharing your story.
Congratulations on telling your story. You are an inspiration to many. Keep praying. Keep healing. Keep sharing. Continue growing.
Good for you, you brave soul, for sharing this with us.
much love.
I can’t get over how much strength it must have taken to write this. You are a brave soul, thank you so much for sharing with all of us.
i really hope your sister reads this and begins to understand why staying silent is such a dangerous place to be.
you are so brave to stand up and speak your truth.
thank you for sharing.
My sister demands silence, too. And like you, I know that silence is complicity. Thank you for speaking.
You are brave, you are good. Thank you for being loud. No more silence
My mother was a lot like yours. I’m so sorry you went through that. You are very brave to share your story. Thank you. xoxo
Thank you so much for your courage!!
when i saw the link to this site light up in my bloglines this morning, i was unsure if today i could handle reading the story that was shared. i, like you, struggle at times with the pain within while reading of others pain.
thank you for sharing with us.
many blessings and much peace.
Thank you so much for sharing this story – it really resonated for me. I am so thankful that you have found kind and loving people to fill your life, and who hopefully, will help you in your quest to heal.
Thank you so much for sharing. I’m glad you found an amazing, supportive man who loves you for the beautiful, strong, incredible woman you are. Hugs, hugs, and more hugs!
Lisa, thank you for sharing your story here.
I am so deeply sorry for the trauma you went through, time and time again. Your fortitude and forgiveness astound me.
You are strong and tremendous and amazing. Sending you only peace and happiness from here on out.
Thank you for sharing something so scary, and so hard to write about.
My heart breaks for the girl that had to endure so much. But it also cheers for the amazing woman, that now strives to bring awareness to others.
So glad you are loved… because you know what… you’re so worth it.
Lisa- I will echo everyone else here and say thank you for telling your story. Only by brave people like you speaking out will education and awareness happen. I look forward to watching your message spread, in hopes that more happiness and healing comes your way.
Thank you for having the courage to survive and to share your story.