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| Abuse Survivors Stories |
| Obviously writing stories of our abuse is extremely hard. I am not going to put much detail into mine, because I can't do that just yet. I perfectly understand if other people feel the same and only want to give brief outlines of their experience of abuse. I chose this image called "tortured soul" because I think its what all abuse survivors feel at some time. It is also a very strong image though and this represents the STRENGTH IN EVERY ABUSE SURVIVOR. Never forgot that. |
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| Rose's Story I have never once written down all that has happened to me, not like this anyway. It scares me but I'll have to do it sometime and perhaps it will help. I will probably detach myself and dissociate myself from it as I usually do, so it feels as if I am talking about someone else, but I will still be writing it and that is the main thing. I was first abused when I was about 5 years old, by a builder who came round to our house to do some work. It only happened a few times and I can't really remember much about it, almost nothing in fact, just a few bits. I remember it was quite forceful though. I don't think it has affected me much, although I'm not certain, but it was just the start of the long road ahead. I had the next year or so free, free from sexual abuse anyway. Then when I was 7, a family friend started to abuse me. We started to go round there for dinner and that was when it started. It sometimes happened when my parents were virtually in the next room and I also remember going round there on my own, although I'm not sure why or how I got there. It went on for around a year and a half, not that frequently, but the abuse went quite a long way and I think it affected me deeply at the time and afterwards. The worst was yet to come though, the worst for me anyway. A new employee came to work for my parents when I was 10, he lived with us, not in the house but in a room outside, so he was always very close by. Right from day one, he was very nice to me, gave me some attention, which I didn't get from my parents. He quickly formed a friendship with me and I really liked him. I can't bear to say this and I never have actually, but he felt like my dad. He was there for me and did things with me, took me places like a dad should, but which my dad didn't. Then he started to change. He started to become very violent and aggressive. He would hit me and shout at me, and our playing turned into something different, something which hurt me and left me with bruises. After a month or so of this every day, he changed back to his nice self again - but instead started to sexually abuse me. Maybe he was nice to me for a while in between so that I would like him again, and so that he could take advantage of me more easily. He started to take me into his room - at first it was just touching but it quickly progressed to sex. It hurt so much, I thought I would die, but I soon got used to it, I couldn't feel the pain any more, I just "left" my body to go somewhere else. He forced sex on me all the time, more than a couple of times a week. He was employed for over 2 years. There are many things I can't remember, or that I can remember tiny parts of, but not enough to put it all together. I know much more happened though, flashbacks have told me this, I just can't quite get a grip of them yet, my mind won't let me remember. He hurt me in so many ways. He threatened me not to tell and because I was so scared of him I just did what he said. I thought sex was all I was good for, since it was all I had seemed to be good for in the past, so I just let it happen. At least he was giving me some attention, even if it felt bad. He was violent with me, but other times he didn't need to be, I was paralysed with fear and didn't move a muscle. After about two years had passed he lost it in front of everyone and threatened to kill me. He left right after that and I have never seen him since. I told the police about the abuse last year, when I was in hospital and it almost made it to court. It didn't though, and he killed himself in January of this year. So that's the end to it really, although it's not the end inside me. He caused me pain, them he killed himself and left me with it. Despite this though, I still can't hate him, even though I want to because he gave me attention like no one else ever did. Last but not least, I was abused by a family member. I don't know how long he abused me for. I don't know when it started, but I know it ended when I was about 13. I think it went on for years, but only every school holidays. He was very violent with me and always gave me looks and sexual comments when other people were around. I can't remember much of what he did to me, but what I can remember makes me sick. I know there is much more than what my memory allows me. I don't like to talk about what he did, i'm not entirely sure why that is. So thats my story of the childhood abuse I suffered. There is so much I cannot remember. Part of me wants to remember because it is scary not knowing, but another part never wants to know. I don't feel I have even begun to heal from my abuse and although I try, it affects me on a daily basis. I just hope one day I can sort it out and have some sort of good life. |
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