I Am Lonely

I Am Lonely

When I was about eight years old, I asked my mother why daddy put his tongue in my mouth when he kissed me. She looked at me with a strange expression and said, “Don’t let him do that anymore.” I left home at 19 once I could afford to be on my own. When I started dating in high school, I realized my father was manipulative and did some really strange things relative to my dating. My mother appeared to be jealous of my father attention toward me. At 22, I moved from the east coast to the west coast and my boyfriend followed. We lived together for ten years and during that time I felt a lot of anger and anxiety. I sought counseling and with the help of self-hypnosis, remembered incidents with my father and began to understand that the feelings I had with my father as a child were not normal. Even though our cuddles felt good to me, they were inappropriate and wrong. I married the boyfriend and had a child. The only time I felt loved by him was when I was pregnant with my daughter. He was controlling and I realized that he was very much like my father. I could not understand how he, or even other friends, could love me. I felt so alone, even though I was with people and had friends. We divorced when my daughter was 10 and I have not had a relationship since. She is now 32. My husband and I visited my parents for the holidays when my daughter was one year old. One afternoon while my daughter was napping, I found my father standing over her with is pants open. I scooped her up and left. I spoke to my two brothers and asked if they had experienced or witnessed my father’s behavior. One brother was totally unaware of any unusual conduct, but my younger brother had. When he was a child, my father had removed my brother’s clothing and tickled and fondled him. My younger brother also revealed that he too was a pedophile. The next day I confronted my father and let him know that what he did to me as a child was wrong and has had a terrible impact on my life. He cursed at me and said I was crazy, stupid and a lot of other nasty things. I said I could not see him again unless he got help. I did not see my parents again for over 10 years. They called every Sunday but I never answered the phone. I hated that phone ringing. After my father died, and my mother could not live on her own,...

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I Tell Myself I’ll be Okay

I Tell Myself I’ll be Okay

As I write this, I weep. The remembrance of all the unwanted, yet strangely wanted, the molestations rush back into my thoughts. I was too young to understand at the time what was going on and why he masturbated in front of me when my mom was gone on the weekends. I was in a position that I could not turn to anyone for support. My sick and twisted stepfather said, “People will tell you this is wrong later on in life, don’t believe them.” He knew the lies would haunt me years later. All the abused started around the age of 7. Not exactly sure of the first time but it didn’t stop until I was 16. I hated myself for not stopping it sooner. Once he even got me to give him a hand job on the highway while he drove. I resent him for that, but mostly myself for agreeing to it. I felt so confined within myself and as if my tongue was cut off from speaking out. This is actually the first time I confess online. Since 2011 my mom has known yet continues to associate with my perpetrator even though they are divorced. I can’t help but feel empty inside. I live in the Orlando area, if anyone knows of a good therapist or wants to offer free advice, I’d greatly appreciate it. My inner child needs healing and I am tried of living in silence. Laura, Orlando,...

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Dysfunctional Childhood

Dysfunctional Childhood

The youngest memory I have of my life is when my Grandmother and her husband was getting a divorce and he came after her with a shovel threatening to kill her — I was three years old. At such a young age, I had an idea how some men were. My biological father seemed to get off on the idea of hurting someone and I was one of them. He would trip me and make me fall, push the swing so high that it would come undone, and let go of the wagon on top of a hill. It’s amazing that I even survived my childhood. Not only did my dad enjoy seeing someone go through pain but he also got off on putting fear in my life. When I was little, apparently I was hungry and I tried to eat a plant, so to keep me from doing it again, he told me that if I got near any more plants, that they would come back and strangle me in my sleep; now I was only four at the time, so I believed him. Well if I did anything wrong, he would put me in the truck, with the windows down, riding through the woods. Now the plants and weeds would come in the truck since the windows were down, so I thought that they were coming alive and that they were after me. I was so terrified and he did this all the time. He even got the kids at church to pretend that they were going to play with me, told me to cover my eyes, and when I opened them, the kids would shove leaves in my face…they all laughed while I was in fear. I remember going to the home of my father’s buddy, dad usually put alcohol in my drink so that I would fall asleep. After a while I would wake up and there would be more guys there than when I went to sleep, which made me uncomfortable. One time he decided that we should go swimming at midnight, so we went to Smith Lake I think. The pool was closed…obviously…so I was the one that had to strip in front of him and his friend so that I could squeeze through the gate to open it. We stayed there until a cop showed up and we then had to sneak out without getting caught. Another time we went to the apartments in Hanceville, and while waiting in the car for his buddy to get home dad passed out drunk. A cop came and knocked on my window and the next thing I remember dad was being hauled off to jail....

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A Horrible Chapter

A Horrible Chapter

My story begins when I was 6 years old. When people looked at me they thought I was the best child and that I got everything that I wanted it seemed like a had a prefect life but little did everyone know that behind that smile of mine was a horrible story to be told. For nine years I put up with child abuse and was sexually abused by my father. He would beat me for no apparent reason, even if I had hurt myself he hated to hear me cry. I lost my innocence at the age of 6. He didn’t care what he had done or who it affected, I never lived a normal childhood. He would slap me if I didn’t do what he wanted me to do or beat me half to death if I tried to get help. At the age of 12 I was told that I was pregnant, but my father took me back to the doctor to get an abortion. Finally at the age of 14 I had enough courage to get help. I was putting myself at risk but I didn’t care as long as my mom and brother didn’t have to live with him I didn’t care if I lost my life. It was a tragic day for my mom because she didn’t know what to do. Sadly she didn’t believe me at first and I was left alone to try and escape from danger. I was homeless for 5 months with no help at all. It was a horrible struggle. After those six months I learned that my mom had turned my dad in because he beat her and was looking for me. Since I had missed school no one knew about me except one friend. Eventually I came back home and things were finally turning good but I was wrong. My cousin ended up doing the exact same thing to me as my father had done. I did not trust any male whatsoever. I struggle for 2 years until I finally got the trust back, but I still live with the haunting memory of all the pain my dad has caused. And my father has gotten out of jail and is somewhere out there causing more pain and I feel responsible for it because I let him lose. I feel guilty but one thing I’m for sure is that it will end soon. I’m strong and will find a way to end this miserable chapter of my life that I opened. I will shut it and end it for good. Don’t say you can’t handle your life because if I have survived this and I am here...

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Chocolates and Flowers

Chocolates and Flowers

Twenty years ago may seem like forever to some, but to me the pain feels like yesterday. I was a single mother of two young boys and struggling in low-income apartments to just get by. My children had two different fathers, my oldest son’s father died in an auto accident. I was trying to get off welfare and become a financially secure so I was attending school during the day and working as a cocktail waitress in the evenings. This made me exhausted as I struggled to give quality time to my two boys. It was like heaven sent that ‘Tim’ came into our lives to help me, I knew he had a huge crush on me, because he hung around our apartment all the time if he wasn’t inside visiting. He mostly gave attention to my oldest son, ‘Matthew,’ who adored him as ‘Dan’ would take him to school, babysit him and take him on special outings, just the two of them. One day, ‘Matthew’ shocked me when he said, “Mommy, I don’t like it when ‘Tim’ makes me suck his penis.” I got so angry at ‘Matthew’ that I screamed, “‘Tim’ would never do such a thing, he goes to our church and helps mommy with everything!” I also took away all my son’s action figures for saying such an awful thing about ‘Tim.’ Nevertheless, I decided to tell ‘Tim’ that we needed a break, not because of what my son had said but because I was tired of my son crying when I left him alone with ‘Tim’ to go to work. I eventually had to get a restraining order against ‘Tim’ because he was always lingering around our apartment. A few weeks passed and ‘Matthew’ again cried, this time because he couldn’t urinate. I took him to the E.R. and that’s when I was told my son had STD, he was 6. It took me twenty years to be able to even talk about my son’s molestation and I knew I would write a book about it never realizing that in doing so, my own haunting childhood memories would take over and write for me. It was the worst year (writing) in my life as I was suicidal but something happened when the book was published, I recovered and have accepted the fact that I could not have done anything differently. I wanted to share my story so that readers would know not to make the same mistakes I did as a parent. Speaking about horrific crimes is difficult but being silent is what pedophiles count on and a child never lies about being sexually abuse. Boys are just as likely as girls to be...

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