When I was little, my mother had many boyfriends.. There were also many men who, i thought were boyfriends because they would come around but they didnt stay. She cried herself to sleep a lot, and drank like a sailor with a death wish.
When i was about 6, after living in care for a few years i was returned to my mother. She had a new man living with her, and i would soon call him Dad. He did everything with me. He took me in his snow plow and ate doughnuts early in the morning, he watched shows with us. He ate a bag of chips, 2L of pepsi and smoked 2 packs of players red every day. He was severely obese, and miserable.
Sometimes his kids would visit. Mostly only his son. His daughter would come once every few years; to yell at him, hit him and demand he give her money. Later we would learn there was more to that story, but every perpatrator seems innocent at first.
My mother and step father were alcoholics and drinking every day. Childrens aid would visit, he would hide the booze and we would lie to them. To protect our parents. My mother would rage when she would drink ; throwing things, yelling, pushing people and agging him on to hit her. Im sure it crossed his mind often, though he only acted on that every few months or so.
The year he left, he was different. He told me things like "you should wear skirts, i like my girls to wear skirts". My sister also had a young girl move in, she moved out quickly after he allegedly touched her leg and asked her for sex. No one believed her and she was terribly embarassed.
The day my step father moved out was devastating, as he had an easier time seeming sober and holding conversation whike he was piss drunk. I knew we would loose our house and that my mother would be at a new low. As i was begging him to stay he assured me he would pick me up for visits.
The day came for my visit, 2 weeks later, and i was excited. He showed up drunk, which was common for him. When he got to his bachelor pad there was one bed and hardly any room to move around. When i questioned the sleeping arrangment he told me him and his son had shared the bed, so it wouldnt be a problem. This didnt make me any more comfortable with the arrangment. I knew there were others living in the building and that if anything happened they would hear me scream. All of the sudden i wanted to leap to the door and run. My instincts were screaming for me to junp off the bed and run and not look back. I couldnt keep my eyes off the door. He went to have a shower with a purple towel rapped around him, hardly covering him. I was watching the hockey game on his small tv, thinking this would be the time to escape.
When he came out of the shower he sat beside me and touched my leg. I knew this was the beginning of a traumatic event and i began again staring at the door as if i might jump out of ny seat running. I was still. He told me that no one would be around to teach me sexual education, so that he should assume that responsibility because it was important. He asked me if i had ever seen a mans penis. I had seen some of my moms partners, otherwise i was 9 and pretty unfamiliar. He ubwrapped himself from his towel and stood in front of me. My mind remembers him as only a black blurr. He made me watch him touch himself until he got off all over the spot beside me on the bed. I removed myself from my mind at that moment. He knew i would not sleep and generously drove me home. He had me promise to tell noone. My sister was awake when i got there and very confused as to why i had come home ; though she remembered the story of her friend, and of course that his owb daughter despised him. I never spoke to any one of this until years later in a counselling office and then to the police who didnt believe me. For some reason, no one told my doctor and he gave me condolences when he had passed away in his 40s from his unhealthy lifestyle. I was confused when the doctor offered me this condolence as i was glad he was dead. I was shocked no one informed him his minor patient had been sexually interfeered with. The system yet again failed when he dies a free man. The police meerely asked him if it had happened, he said no and i was made a liar. We know our truths; we are not victims, we are innocent people.They are invaders. When i remember this story unwillingly, i pinch my leg to make it go away
Helga Bloodaxe
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STOPTerrible story, one that needs to be heard to spread awareness. I assume that is what you are trying to do here even though you dont want to think about it. In that regards, assuming you dont share this often...did it feel good getting this out?
Thanks! I have way too many stories like this. It does feel good to share, though i never know how people will react to these stories. If its "too much"
As long as it feels good to share, it shouldnt really matter how people will react. It shouldnt be about them, it should be about how it makes you feel
Hi I'm following you too because you seem like a kind person who was genuinely offering support to @helgabloodaxe :) :) Kayleigh
Thank you Kayleigh, followed you as well :)
You're very welcome and thank you !!! :) :)
Hey that's an interesting post. I'll follow your account to see how you doing :). Please follow me @barteksiama.
Hi Helga...I'm sorry that happened to you...something quite similar happened to me too at the age of 7 but it was by my best friends father...I never told anybody until I was 13 and hospitalized for suicide attempts. I have many stories of abuse that I also worry how people will react...I posted my first one last night..it was mild to the reader...far worse in reality ...but I was testing the waters...but like @thephotoguide said ..it feels good to talk about it ...especially when you don't have to look them in the eyes...wondering what they think of you...following sending healing prayers and positive vibes your way :) :) Kayleigh