M
For twenty-seven years I pretended it hadn’t really mattered. It was just harmless fun. After all, it felt good. I hadn’t spoken up. There was no violence, no force, no penetration. It hadn’t really affected me, right?
But I only ever told two people, and even then spoke of it in such a way that they too thought it had been harmless.
I’ve said for years that my depression began when I was about five. I just couldn’t figure out why. I didn’t want to admit why I was drawn to this website, why there was a chiming of recognition in the stories of pain and scarring. Lately I’ve had to face the truth. I was damaged. And the pattern of my life revealed the reality of what was done to me.
I was molested when I was five years old.
After a few months, my parents discovered she was stealing small things from our house. I never saw her again.
I began to shut down. I had been a bright, bubbly, outgoing child who made friends easily. This changed. I withdrew. I became secretive. I began to build the walls that would keep out the world that had betrayed my innocence, my trust.
The pattern of sexualization was in place. I knew things I should not have known. My best friend in first and second grade and I would play Doctor. I taught her how to take off our underwear and touch and lick Down There, to make each other feel good. My father caught us once. I lied and said we were just curious, we were just looking. I don’t know if he believed me. I think he wanted to. We were never caught again.
I lost my virginity to the boy I started dating my freshman year of college, one month after we started dating. He actually treated me well, at least to begin with. But sex still felt secret and dirty and shameful. Our relationship became mostly about sex. I was capable of orgasms, but started faking them to make it go faster and so that I didn’t have to tell him what would really work. And always, always, even when I enjoyed the sex while we had it, I would feel guilty afterward.
I remember once when we both got high on pot with some friends and he took me back into his room and we had sex and I started crying in the middle of it and he kept going and afterward he asked why and I told him that I was so confused that I thought I was being raped.
I knew it was him. And I still felt like I was being raped. I was no longer in control of my own body, my own mind, my own life.
He had become the center of my world. I never really made any friends in college, other than the friends he already had. I never did go have the semester overseas that I always dreamed of having. I never did a lot of things, because I thought it might threaten our relationship.
And I couldn’t dare threaten the relationship–even though I had already realized, though I didn’t want to admit it, that it was damaged and problematical and probably should have ended. But I was already so tied up with him: financially, physically, sexually, emotionally. I kept pushing the thoughts aside, denying the depression, avoiding the issues. Things became…dysfunctional. He was never physically abusive, and I doubt anyone would have seen him as emotionally abusive. He was controlling, in subtle ways. There was disapproval of anything that didn’t fit his strict concepts of what was okay to do, to think, to be. There were the little comments here and there: I didn’t have much common sense. I was gaining too much weight. I partied too much on the few occasions we even went to parties. There were always strings attached to gifts: expectations for what I would do with them, how I would thank him.
Sex became infrequent. We could go a couple of months without having sex. He complained. I halfheartedly tried, but we were rarely in the mood at the same time, and he never wanted to just make out, to just spend time loving each other without having to fuck every time.
We got married, bought a house, had children. We knew exactly when each child was conceived because there were only those times it could have happened. We had sex perhaps three times total during the two times I was pregnant. I had postpartum depression on top of the “regular” depression, but we were both in denial. He couldn’t fix it, couldn’t fix me, so he became angry and turned away and shut me out. I remember telling him I thought I needed help and him telling me I was being stupid and only weak people go to therapists. I needed to buck up and deal.
He always had a need for girl friends–you know, female friends, “nothing further.” He began an emotional affair with a coworker several months after our second son was born. He told me each agonizing detail, because I was his confidante. I comforted him, stood by him, became best friends with the girl. I started a physical and emotional affair with a married coworker around the same time. I told my husband nothing, lied about who I was meeting on weekend nights, hid the evidence.
The man I had the affair with built up my confidence at first. He listened to me, comforted me, stroked my ego while he stroked my body. He was enthusiastic and long-lived in bed, if not particularly excellent at satisfying me. It turned out I had a high sex drive and a kinky side. I got risky. There were other men. There were one-night stands. I told him about them all. He found it titillating, wanted to make it all part of our affair.
I started making excuses for not making it to the motel. The last two times we made arrangements to meet there, I had sudden “emergencies” with my kids. I broke it off. He sucked me back in with sweet words, twice. Even though we hadn’t had sex in months, I didn’t break things off entirely, finally, completely, until almost ten months after we had started the affair.
I tried to fix things in my marriage. I was willing to do almost anything. He didn’t know the truth, though his gut suspected. I had gotten better at sex, and we were having more of it. He suggested we look into swinging. I said I’d be interested. He took me to a strip club and we spent $200 on a stripper who was willing to get into a serious threesome session back in the filthy little stalls. We did everything you could do with underwear still on. It felt good at the time, and my husband was very excited by it all, and I felt emptier than ever. It was confirmation: I wasn’t enough. I would never be enough.
I finally told my husband the truth about the original affair. Things fell apart. He was filled with rage. He had been honest about his emotional affair, which now he wouldn’t even admit was an affair. How could I have lied? How could I have betrayed him? How could I have stopped being his little virginal whore? Within a month I hated myself so much that I tried to commit suicide and ended up in the psych ward. He hated me for that, couldn’t understand how I could leave my children. I told him the truth: I was convinced that all I did was cause people pain, that they would all be better off without me, that they could just mourn my death and move on.
It was in the hospital that I began the long, slow process towards truth and healing. I stopped lying to myself, stopped lying to other people. I discovered people did and could love me for who I really am. I discovered I could stop running. I realized that God forgave me. I realized I could forgive myself. The walls began to crumble. I made friends, found a loving and supportive church where I felt comfortable, began writing with openness and honesty.
He couldn’t handle it. He said he didn’t know who I was any more. It was a final betrayal.
We’re almost near the end of the divorce process now. We’re civil. I’m finally healing. I’ve discovered there is Joy in the world. I’ve discovered I can actually love my children, love my friends, love myself. I’m finally facing the truth: most of what I’ve believed about myself was lies that people told me.
I have started telling family and friends the truth about the molestation. My parents were horrified that it had happened under their noses. They had never had the slightest inkling about what she had done. And then my mother told me that she had wondered for years if something had happened to me when I was young, because she had seen the warning signs. She just never asked. I don’t know if I would have told her the truth. I was so accustomed to lying.Because of telling the truth, I found out that several of my friends, friends with whom I had a mysterious and almost instant connection, were also molested as children. Dysfunction calls to dysfunction; damage cries out to damage. We’re connected, these other survivors and I, connected through our pain and our scars and our survival.
And I can’t help but wonder: what did that young girl suffer in her own life that made her so sexually aware, that made her want to do such things with little girls, that made her steal compulsively? I too was sexually aware. I too introduced other little girls to my knowledge. I too stole and lied compulsively.
I can be angry about what she did, but I find that I can’t feel anything but pity for her. She was as much a victim as I.
Maybe someday I’ll be able to tell my story on my own blog, openly. For now, it’s enough to put the truth out there. I may be quiet, but I am no longer silent.
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M writes at Diapers and Dragons. She asks that you please keep all comments here on VU, rather than over on her blog.
37 Responses to “M”
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M~
I’m glad you’re healing. Every time I read here, I’m working up more courage to tell my own.
~S
M –
Isn’t it strange, eye-opening, and oddly freeing to see the patterns that tell our stories? It makes us more aware of just how many survivors there are out there. We are often so alike. I also have discovered that many of my friends are also survivors and we’ve shared our stories with each other. I’m so glad you shared your story. It came at one of those moments for me.. doubt is trying to swallow me up. Doubt and denial. Hearing stories like yours, that are similar to mine.. seeing myself in someone else’s shoes. It helps.
Thank you.
Thank you for being brave enough to share your story.
Thank you for sharing your story with us. Putting a name to it, saying it outloud makes it so much more real, doesn’t it? It did/does for me.
(((u)))
You have amazing courage – thank you for telling your story.
Quiet but no longer silent.
So true! Thank you for sharing!
Courage and compassion after everything you have made it through. Thank you for sharing your story here. Wishing you the best.
Thank you for sharing your story, these puzzle pieces of your life, with us. Sending thoughts of healing, hope and light in your direction- may your backpack be a little lighter on this journey, knowing that you don’t have to walk alone.
I am so happy you have found healing! Your story touched my heart so much, there were so many feelings I have felt. God bless you for sharing!!
YOU DID IT! (You sneak. You didn’t tell me.)
I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am to see this story here today.
You did it. You spoke out.
Good job!
Your very first sentence could have come out of my mouth. I understand keeping a decades old secret. I hope that sharing your story here today is as healthy and liberating for you, my friend, as it was for me, and is for so many other people.
Well done!
We are so impressionable, so vulnerable, so innocent at 5. It is beyond comprehension to me how others seem to disregard that, to not appreciate it and celebrate it, choosing instead to destroy it for their own means.
It’s a credit to you that you have been able to share and been able to recognize what was done to you AND to deal with it. So much of our lives can be wasted and lost by ignoring the source, choosing to deny, refusing to at least try to tackle and evict the demons within. And that you have such a depth of compassion for the girl who abused you … that says so much about you. It says what a good person you are in spite of the abuse that was done to you.
There has to be some gratification in knowing that your story will help others. (In reading the other comments, I see that it already has!) Maybe they’ll be able to find the courage and strength to face it down. It’s the only real way to making those demons go away.
Don’t let the past consume you. I hope that you find the peace and happiness you so richly deserve. It sounds like you are on that path. Amen!
Thank-you for sharing and having the courage to confront your past and begin to heal.
{hugs}
it is apparent just from the above comments that you have a strong network of support.
i applaud your strength not only to speak out, but to realize you can forgive yourself. to this day, i struggle with that.
i wish you peace in your continued healing and survivorship.
thank you for sharing your story.
I felt like I was reading my own story. I am shellshocked sitting here.
Thank you for being brave enough to tell the story some of us can’t share yet.
Getting it out there is so very liberating. Freeing. It’s not your burden to carry.
I’m so glad that you’re speaking out and getting the help that you need. Much love to you as you continue to heal. xoxo
Wow. I sit here with tears. One day I hope to have the courage you have shown by sharing your story. You put into words, what I have felt and could not. Thank you for helping me find some words.
I am so sorry you went through what you did. I know the guilt of introducing it to another…and the pity you feel for your abuser. You are not alone. You are not alone. Thank you for showing me that neither am I.
I hope you are able to have this time to heal and be the amazing person you deserve to be.
Thank you!
Thank you for sharing your story. I am so sorry for what you had to go through and I am so impressed with your bravery. It is inspiring me to take one step closer to telling my own.
Thank you for sharing. Your strength and courage make us all stronger.
Thank you so much for sharing your story. You should be so proud of yourself for speaking out, and for forgiving yourself. That is true strength.
it’s possible to crawl out of some very deep holes.
I’m so GLAD you are. Congratulations.
M
An incredible story, beautifully told. I ache for you – for all those years that you were silent and unwittingly self-sabotaging almost everything about your life. Thanks for revealing your authentic story, exposing your barest thoughts and experiences. It certainly helps to explain why you are such a gifted writer and why I have felt so connected to you. You are bravery personified and should be so proud of yourself for writing something so raw and revealing and brutally honest. It makes me admire you all the more.
Nicola xx
That is some story. You are unbelievably brave for sharing it and breaking your silence. I have nothing but respect for you. I hope that by writing it and sharing it, it helps you to find a way to continue your healing. Big hugs. xxx
damn brave
damn courageous
and the healing continues…
You are amazing! Congratulations for finding your way out of the darkness and recognizing that you are a wonderful person and DESERVE to be loved and respected.
Thank you for sharing, and starting the process of healing for so many others.
This story hits so close to home for me that I don’t know what to say. I just know you did the right thing by letting it out. God bless you.
Good for you! YOu’re peeling the layers back and getting at the truth. That’s awesome.
Dear heart of mine,
Oh, that I would have been strong enough to share your burdens when it would have helped! I’m glad to know it’s not too late, never too late to be honest friends, and I’m only always a phone call or email away.
Love always…
Thank you so much for sharing your pain and your survival. It is so important for those reading who may not be able to put words to theirs quite yet.
I don’t know how to express how grateful I am for the comments you have been leaving here. I’ll admit that when Maggie told me my story would be going up on Monday, I nearly had a panic attack, even though I wanted it.
Go figure.
Reading your comments, feeling the support, seeing that my story is helping others just as so many other people’s stories here helped me: it’s moving me further along the path of healing. I wasn’t able to tell some of my friends who don’t read here regularly or my boyfriend that my story was going up until I started reading the comments. Now they know. The love and support keeps rolling in.
So thank you, thank you, thank you. And may God bless you all and grant you healing as well.
–M (a.k.a. “TeacherMommy”)
Thank you so much for your story. As I was reading, I started to wonder if you were a childhood friend of mine, though in all honesty, I doubt you were. Your story could be my own. Thank you for being brave enough to share it and I am so glad you are finding healing.
My heart breaks for you. Hopefully, you’re beginning to understand that you are enough, that you deserve to be able to heal.
Hugs.
I don’t always come visit this site, as it can be quite harrowing since I have a story to tell that I don’t quite want to deal with, and I don’t always have it in me to read the other stories, but something told me to stop by here tonight. I wish I could give you a big warm hug and some of my homemade macaroni and cheese. I am so glad you are finding ways to heal, and that this is one of the things that you can do for yourself to improve things in your life. It is terrible to be robbed of your innocence and I am so saddened that this happened to you, and that you punished yourself in all these ways and for all this time. I hope your healing continues in every way, on every level, especially learning to love yourself, because you do indeed deserve that love. Bless you, honey.
I identify with so much of what you’ve said here… feeling not enough… like all I seem to do is cause pain… I’ve gotten better over the past year, but am amazed at how much further along you are then I am. I look forward to a day when I truly believe people are capable of loving me for who I am. Some days it seems like such a long road… thank you for showing me a little further down the path. You’ve come a long way, you are strong, you are worthy of love and I am honored to know you through your story here. Thank you so much for sharing it. Best wishes for peace and love from here on out.
Wow, this is truly a worthwhile story to tell. In spite of everything that happened to you, you made it to the other side. I applaud you for that. You will be an inspiration to many that have walked in your shoes and those that haven’t.
What was done to you as a child breaks my heart. No child deserves to experience that.
But I can’t help but marvel at how amazing you have grown up to be. It might have taken a lot of time and a tremendous amount of effort and pain to reach, but you have become someone so amazing. Being so understanding and compassionate with the girl who did this, it takes someone so great to be able to say that.
You are amazing! Never forget that.
You told your story with grace. I honour you for your strength in finding a way through, for your courage in breaking free of a harmful relationship with your husband, and in telling your story here.