Sylvia's Story

Just wanted to share my story and give others hope…the story can be considered intense ….

I wanted to say that for me one of the worst parts was and is feeling alone. I remember picking up a book about sexual abuse and a lot of the healing was about connecting with my inner child. Unfortunately, there is no memories of me before the abuse. I used to think that I did not exist until after the abuse. I felt like I was created by the abuse. So let me start by saying that I do not remember when the abuse started but my first memory takes place when I was around 4 years old. For sure all I know is that the abuse started before I was 6 years old. I could have been has young as 3 but I I’ll just say 4 years old. My abuse took many forms with various abusers. I think the first abuser was a cousin. I remember him waking me as my family slept in the living room and he took me down the hallway and stopped and pulled down my pants and raped me. I remember feeling a lot of pain and pressure and then it all stopped. I dissociated and saw what was happening below. I remember him trying to get me to give him a blowjob but I completely left. Another memory was when I was a little older, I think I was 5, when the same cousin babysat me and the worst thing was that it was at my insistence. My mom wanted me to go shopping with her but my cousin said to me to tell her that I wanted to stay home. I did knowing that I was going to be raped. Well when my mom left I pulled down my pants and laid down on me and raped me. I felt like a used piece of trash and just laid there. After a few minutes he whispered and said why was I not being a good girl like last time. I don’t remember that “time” he mentioned but at that point I responded how he wanted me to. As the pain and pressure started, I again disassociated and remember the scene initially above my lifeless body and after that I left. I don’t remember the whole event. I don’t know how often the rapes happened but I knew how I needed to respond. I don’t remember when it stopped but it only stopped when my cousin went into the military and that was when his brother started. He did not “rape” me but he did molest me over a period of time. He was a little more vicious and he liked to hurt me. He would molest me with him his fingers and other objects. He would do it by locking me up in the back bedroom as my older brother stood outside upset because of the “attention” my cousin was giving me. The sexual abuse in the back bedroom was not the only place the abuse took place. He also would molest me in the same room that everyone was in. He would put a blanket over me under the pretense that we were cold and at that point I was trained to lay there and show no emotions as he molested me. I could not express any emotions as he began to stick his fingers inside me and in some cases scratch and hurt me because of the position. In the back room he liked me to beg him for the abuse. He then wanted me to struggle against him and then submit to him. If I did not play the game, he would hurt me and make sure I submitted to what he wanted. The hardest part was knowing how he wanted me to act but I played the game. In some cases, I missed the abuse when it wasn’t happened and abused myself because of the feelings it would bring up. It was like there was a me that functioned everyday and the me that “missed” the abuse or wanted to feel the “good” feelings. For years I was wrought with guilt about “wanting” the abuse and also hated myself for responding to the abuse. The last abuser in my life was a stranger at the beach, he touched me but I managed to get away. At that point I thought I was trash that on my forehead was a message that said “loser”. It was then that I thought I deserved it because even a stranger knew that I was “bad” so it must be all over me.

The first time I mentioned to someone that I was sexually abused, they said at least I was not raped which of course caused me not to say anything else for a few years. Finally, my senior year of college had a bit of a breakdown and started going to therapy. Two years of weekly therapy and a couple of good internet buddies and group therapy helped me at least not dissociate at the drop of a dime...I am tormented by my past but it is not like it was when I first started dealing with it 10 years ago…at 34 this does not run my life…there is life after abuse…not just survive.

-Sylvia

PS – email address is stormrunnerwolf@yahoo.com