Crime(Stop)

Incest, Rape Survivor Proclaims She Will Heal From Abuse



I will attempt to tell my story, the simplest I can. Much of it i do know , and perhaps are going to be too difficult to inform . Then, i think there's still much of it that I don't yet know. So there'll be some blank areas during this story. I wish it weren't true, but it is. I also want to remind you and myself, as I begin to inform it, that I and YOU survived, and that we CAN and can , together. Also, I reassure YOU and ME that we aren't alone.

Understanding and treating survivors of incest


I suspect that my abuse began once I was about 6 or 7 months old. it had been just me and my mother at that time . Then we were united with my dad. (We had been separated due to his work.) i think that he was jealous of the eye I got. It had been just my mother and that i since i used to be born...and I wasn't 'in the way'...which was the case all of my growing up years, and even maybe until my dad's death a few years ago.

My gut feeling, too, is that i used to be sexually abused at this age. I clearly remember being left alone, abandoned, when almost 3 years old. I remember my terror, and whatever else a touch one feels at that age. i used to be definitely confused. it had been a punishment because i used to be not eating my dinner fast enough to suit them. Strange enough, I didn't eat well. My mother even took me to the Dr. to ascertain if something was wrong with my throat. i'm wondering why? I still have problems eating and swallowing, and even do some vomiting, once I remember what all was shoved into my mouth, that had no business being put there!

When I was left alone that night, I remember wondering 'didn't they love me?' I even have had flashbacks of an time when my mother was sexually abusing me, watching my dad, and laughing i used to be looking down on the bed, at ME, this tiny confused, hurt female child . 'What were they doing to me?'

When I was about 4 or 5 years old, my dad disciplined me by taking me out into the dark night, holding my left within the front entrance , reaching in and locking the door, and slamming it shut on my hand. He ran, while I stood there and screamed. It only caught the ideas of my fingers. But it did something far deeper to the guts of me. Eventually, my mother came to the door and let me in, never commenting on what had happened.

I even have many...TOO MANY to count...memories of beatings with the wire side of a wire hair brush, belts, branches off trees in our yard...that I had to travel get myself. If the branches weren't heavy enough, then I had to travel out and obtain another one, or HE would leave and obtain one. So i might get the most important one that I could find and obtain off the tree. Then I had to attend , and wait, until he decided to return out and use it on my bare skin.

I also remember the metal end of the razor strap...and the sound of it. I remember his left holding my left , to stay me from falling, when he was using it on me. I also maybe a 1 or 2 week wait, knowing he planned to use this on me. (This all is extremely hard to write). The beatings went on until i used to be 11 or 12 years old, when he started kissing me on the mouth. it had been a yucky kiss that I hated and a display of affection that, way down deep in my female child heart, I craved but didn't like, because I knew it had been fake. Finally i ended that.

Since my youngest memories, i used to be told that i used to be not important, was ugly, fat, stupid, in every way that those things might be said. i used to be taught that what i assumed and felt didn't matter. i used to be taught that I had NO needs and NO feelings worth taking note of . i used to be told that i used to be selfish, "stubborn and mad since the minute i used to be born." once I was hurt, I had to cover it. once I was sick, I had to remain within the back bedroom and will not begin . At mealtime, my mother would stick her head within the door and hand me a plate of food. She wouldn't come near me. No comfort, no love. I was ...yuck...sick!

Then there have been the days i used to be hit across the face and head, picked up and shaken, bouncing my leave the wall, as my dad shook me. Another favorite of his, was to slam my brother's head and my head together. i might see stars!

Then there have been the socks crammed with marbles, saved for trips within the car. The sock would come swinging back for my head. All of this discipline was "because i really like you." "It hurts me worse than it does you." the sole time i used to be EVER persisted my parent's lap was when my dad would hold me after just beating the hell out of me. He'd attempt to tell me that he did it because he loved me and since i used to be so bad. (My mother never held me on her lap.) Somehow I never could quite believe it. But I DID believe that i used to be VERY impossibly bad.

My first clear memory of sexual assault , that I even have never forgotten, was once I was around 4 or 5 years old. I feel it started long before this. But, THIS, I even have never forgotten. It went on for a few time, several years. i used to be being raped by a female, 8 years older than me. it had been gruesome and ongoing. I remember spending an evening together with her and sleeping in her bed, trapped between her and therefore the wall, while she raped me. I felt so confused and trapped, and DIRTY....and powerless. i used to be molested by 2 others once I was about 5-6 years old.


When I was nine, my uncle raped me with a knife at my throat to silence me. My four cousins were within the same room and that i think they need to have witnessed it. I also think that they were victims. One has since taken her own life. I even have not felt strong enough to contact the others, but shall . This bastard skumbucket of an uncle remains alive. Now i do know why I even have always been scared of him and had a creepy feeling around him, as a touch girl, and even once I was grown up. I saw him just one time as an adult. He hated me and was angry that i used to be leaving the state!

There was also something horrible that happened to me once I was about 7 or 8 years old. I cannot tell you about it now. The memories are just beginning to come around. I don't want to understand , but I now know that i need to if i would like to survive and obtain on with my life. But it'll be the ultimate death of my childhood.

When I was 11, i used to be raped ongoing by a minister, threatened with a gun. i used to be also sodomized by this man...no BEAST. i used to be given the message that it had been my fault which i might die if I told. it's been torment, to tell. I even have feared for my life because I even have told. But, i'm telling you NOW. I even have had tons of fears and feelings that I deserved to die. i do know that I need to LIVE and therefore the THRIVE then does one . it's not always easy to recollect this.

The ages between about 7 and 11, I even have no memory of, except the small little bit of abuse I even have mentioned. I feel at heart inside that there was tons more. My mother gave me a shower , seemingly trying to wash off my skin, especially my breast, once I was 11. I still hate her for this, for boundaries crossed. Boundaries were again crossed once I was 17, by another minister. i ended it, before MY clothes were off. But HIS were already off.

I guess i would like to mention here that i'm presently struggling to believe that each one of this is often really true, that it happened to ME. "Are they false memories?" I don't want to admit, especially, that my very own parents crossed those boundaries. But I remember my mother 'setting me up' for my father's physical, verbal, and emotional abuse. There was NO protection from any of the opposite things that happened.

I remember eager to run away, planning it, but having nowhere to travel , and knew i might be found and returned home and beaten within an in. of my life. I remember daydreaming that my parents had died, then crying and feeling guilty for thinking such a thing. I remember telling my mother about all the blood and her shrug of the shoulders, little smile, and telling me that 'it is nothing'. I ask myself now...if none of this really happened, if it's false memories, then WHY do I vomit violently, trying to present the 'thing' that was shoved into my mouth? Why do I gag on hard boiled eggs? Why do I trust NO one? Why do i do know NOTHING about love? Why do relationships totally terrify me? Why do I crave constantly for somebody to reassure me that they really do care and won't leave me? Why the depression? Why the panic attacks? Why the heartrending pain that creates me desire my heart will break in two...the pain (emotional) that creates me whimper within the night and sob deep inside, with never a tear falling from my eyes. The list goes on-and-on. Why am I diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? Why do I withdraw deep into my shell at the slightest thing? Why have I nearly taken my life on variety of occasions? Why do I claw, breaking skin, causing physical pain--and 'it feels so good'? does one think that I even have been abused?

It is so hard to admit that my "perfect family" was thus far but even mediocre. And now, as i'm going through the memories, hitting me, unbidden, unwanted, just keep it up coming. My body also remembers, with vomiting, pelvic, pubic pain, rectal pain and bleeding? I ask again: was there abuse in my life?

I DID consider myself as a victim, until not goodbye ago. i assumed I could NEVER call myself a SURVIVOR. I don't even know once I started using that word to explain myself. But I DO. We ARE survivors. we've come through the foremost horrendous battle, struggle for all times . it's not over, but the worst IS over and that we lived through it.

Do I always believe this? NO, I DO NOT. Sometimes the pain is so bad, that i do know this is often the worst and it'll never end. But, reality is, it'll END. The living through it had been the worst, which is why we blocked it out. Our bodies went numb (and does, as I remember), and sometimes we left our body behind, separating ourselves from what was happening (I also do that as I remember). But we survived. I share all of this with you, painfully. i would like you to understand that you simply aren't alone. I also want you to understand that I CARE about YOU.

I Now know that i used to be being molested as a baby and therefore the raping continued until i used to be 19 or 20 years old. This has been very hard to require . Very hard. But I take at some point at a time. i will be able to Heal!!!

-Cygnet

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Incest, Rape Survivor Proclaims She Will Heal From Abuse



I will attempt to tell my story, the simplest I can. Much of it i do know , and perhaps are going to be too difficult to inform . Then, i think there's still much of it that I don't yet know. So there'll be some blank areas during this story. I wish it weren't true, but it is. I also want to remind you and myself, as I begin to inform it, that I and YOU survived, and that we CAN and can , together. Also, I reassure YOU and ME that we aren't alone.

Understanding and treating survivors of incest


I suspect that my abuse began once I was about 6 or 7 months old. it had been just me and my mother at that time . Then we were united with my dad. (We had been separated due to his work.) i think that he was jealous of the eye I got. It had been just my mother and that i since i used to be born...and I wasn't 'in the way'...which was the case all of my growing up years, and even maybe until my dad's death a few years ago.

My gut feeling, too, is that i used to be sexually abused at this age. I clearly remember being left alone, abandoned, when almost 3 years old. I remember my terror, and whatever else a touch one feels at that age. i used to be definitely confused. it had been a punishment because i used to be not eating my dinner fast enough to suit them. Strange enough, I didn't eat well. My mother even took me to the Dr. to ascertain if something was wrong with my throat. i'm wondering why? I still have problems eating and swallowing, and even do some vomiting, once I remember what all was shoved into my mouth, that had no business being put there!

When I was left alone that night, I remember wondering 'didn't they love me?' I even have had flashbacks of an time when my mother was sexually abusing me, watching my dad, and laughing i used to be looking down on the bed, at ME, this tiny confused, hurt female child . 'What were they doing to me?'

When I was about 4 or 5 years old, my dad disciplined me by taking me out into the dark night, holding my left within the front entrance , reaching in and locking the door, and slamming it shut on my hand. He ran, while I stood there and screamed. It only caught the ideas of my fingers. But it did something far deeper to the guts of me. Eventually, my mother came to the door and let me in, never commenting on what had happened.

I even have many...TOO MANY to count...memories of beatings with the wire side of a wire hair brush, belts, branches off trees in our yard...that I had to travel get myself. If the branches weren't heavy enough, then I had to travel out and obtain another one, or HE would leave and obtain one. So i might get the most important one that I could find and obtain off the tree. Then I had to attend , and wait, until he decided to return out and use it on my bare skin.

I also remember the metal end of the razor strap...and the sound of it. I remember his left holding my left , to stay me from falling, when he was using it on me. I also maybe a 1 or 2 week wait, knowing he planned to use this on me. (This all is extremely hard to write). The beatings went on until i used to be 11 or 12 years old, when he started kissing me on the mouth. it had been a yucky kiss that I hated and a display of affection that, way down deep in my female child heart, I craved but didn't like, because I knew it had been fake. Finally i ended that.

Since my youngest memories, i used to be told that i used to be not important, was ugly, fat, stupid, in every way that those things might be said. i used to be taught that what i assumed and felt didn't matter. i used to be taught that I had NO needs and NO feelings worth taking note of . i used to be told that i used to be selfish, "stubborn and mad since the minute i used to be born." once I was hurt, I had to cover it. once I was sick, I had to remain within the back bedroom and will not begin . At mealtime, my mother would stick her head within the door and hand me a plate of food. She wouldn't come near me. No comfort, no love. I was ...yuck...sick!

Then there have been the days i used to be hit across the face and head, picked up and shaken, bouncing my leave the wall, as my dad shook me. Another favorite of his, was to slam my brother's head and my head together. i might see stars!

Then there have been the socks crammed with marbles, saved for trips within the car. The sock would come swinging back for my head. All of this discipline was "because i really like you." "It hurts me worse than it does you." the sole time i used to be EVER persisted my parent's lap was when my dad would hold me after just beating the hell out of me. He'd attempt to tell me that he did it because he loved me and since i used to be so bad. (My mother never held me on her lap.) Somehow I never could quite believe it. But I DID believe that i used to be VERY impossibly bad.

My first clear memory of sexual assault , that I even have never forgotten, was once I was around 4 or 5 years old. I feel it started long before this. But, THIS, I even have never forgotten. It went on for a few time, several years. i used to be being raped by a female, 8 years older than me. it had been gruesome and ongoing. I remember spending an evening together with her and sleeping in her bed, trapped between her and therefore the wall, while she raped me. I felt so confused and trapped, and DIRTY....and powerless. i used to be molested by 2 others once I was about 5-6 years old.


When I was nine, my uncle raped me with a knife at my throat to silence me. My four cousins were within the same room and that i think they need to have witnessed it. I also think that they were victims. One has since taken her own life. I even have not felt strong enough to contact the others, but shall . This bastard skumbucket of an uncle remains alive. Now i do know why I even have always been scared of him and had a creepy feeling around him, as a touch girl, and even once I was grown up. I saw him just one time as an adult. He hated me and was angry that i used to be leaving the state!

There was also something horrible that happened to me once I was about 7 or 8 years old. I cannot tell you about it now. The memories are just beginning to come around. I don't want to understand , but I now know that i need to if i would like to survive and obtain on with my life. But it'll be the ultimate death of my childhood.

When I was 11, i used to be raped ongoing by a minister, threatened with a gun. i used to be also sodomized by this man...no BEAST. i used to be given the message that it had been my fault which i might die if I told. it's been torment, to tell. I even have feared for my life because I even have told. But, i'm telling you NOW. I even have had tons of fears and feelings that I deserved to die. i do know that I need to LIVE and therefore the THRIVE then does one . it's not always easy to recollect this.

The ages between about 7 and 11, I even have no memory of, except the small little bit of abuse I even have mentioned. I feel at heart inside that there was tons more. My mother gave me a shower , seemingly trying to wash off my skin, especially my breast, once I was 11. I still hate her for this, for boundaries crossed. Boundaries were again crossed once I was 17, by another minister. i ended it, before MY clothes were off. But HIS were already off.

I guess i would like to mention here that i'm presently struggling to believe that each one of this is often really true, that it happened to ME. "Are they false memories?" I don't want to admit, especially, that my very own parents crossed those boundaries. But I remember my mother 'setting me up' for my father's physical, verbal, and emotional abuse. There was NO protection from any of the opposite things that happened.

I remember eager to run away, planning it, but having nowhere to travel , and knew i might be found and returned home and beaten within an in. of my life. I remember daydreaming that my parents had died, then crying and feeling guilty for thinking such a thing. I remember telling my mother about all the blood and her shrug of the shoulders, little smile, and telling me that 'it is nothing'. I ask myself now...if none of this really happened, if it's false memories, then WHY do I vomit violently, trying to present the 'thing' that was shoved into my mouth? Why do I gag on hard boiled eggs? Why do I trust NO one? Why do i do know NOTHING about love? Why do relationships totally terrify me? Why do I crave constantly for somebody to reassure me that they really do care and won't leave me? Why the depression? Why the panic attacks? Why the heartrending pain that creates me desire my heart will break in two...the pain (emotional) that creates me whimper within the night and sob deep inside, with never a tear falling from my eyes. The list goes on-and-on. Why am I diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? Why do I withdraw deep into my shell at the slightest thing? Why have I nearly taken my life on variety of occasions? Why do I claw, breaking skin, causing physical pain--and 'it feels so good'? does one think that I even have been abused?

It is so hard to admit that my "perfect family" was thus far but even mediocre. And now, as i'm going through the memories, hitting me, unbidden, unwanted, just keep it up coming. My body also remembers, with vomiting, pelvic, pubic pain, rectal pain and bleeding? I ask again: was there abuse in my life?

I DID consider myself as a victim, until not goodbye ago. i assumed I could NEVER call myself a SURVIVOR. I don't even know once I started using that word to explain myself. But I DO. We ARE survivors. we've come through the foremost horrendous battle, struggle for all times . it's not over, but the worst IS over and that we lived through it.

Do I always believe this? NO, I DO NOT. Sometimes the pain is so bad, that i do know this is often the worst and it'll never end. But, reality is, it'll END. The living through it had been the worst, which is why we blocked it out. Our bodies went numb (and does, as I remember), and sometimes we left our body behind, separating ourselves from what was happening (I also do that as I remember). But we survived. I share all of this with you, painfully. i would like you to understand that you simply aren't alone. I also want you to understand that I CARE about YOU.

I Now know that i used to be being molested as a baby and therefore the raping continued until i used to be 19 or 20 years old. This has been very hard to require . Very hard. But I take at some point at a time. i will be able to Heal!!!

-Cygnet
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