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Please stay safe when reading. It may trigger and I don't use spoilers on this site.......... When I was six years old my uncle locked me in my Grandmothers bathroom, pulled down my pants and stuck his fingers inside me. I was so afraid even at that early age I knew it was wrong for him to do that to me. He silenced me quickly by telling me that it was our secret and if I told no one would believe me. That kind of thing happened every couple of weeks, whenever he could get me on my own. He would sit me on his knee and abuse me when my baby cousins were in the room. Then it changed. He made me perform sex acts on him. I had to touch his penis and then he would make me perform oral sex on him. If I tried to get away he would overpower me and thrust objects and his fingers into me until it hurt so much I could hardly walk. He would rub his penis all over my body until he was ready to ejaculate and then he would cum on my face. If I cried he would hurt me again and again. I soon learned to control my crying so that it would be over sooner. The older I got the worse the abuse became. My mind was tortured with knowing what he did was wrong but I was to afraid to say anything to anyone. When i was nine he tried to have sex with me but I was so afraid and so tiny that he could not manage to have full sex with me. He became so angry, he hit me. He told me if he couldn't do things to me then he would have to hurt my mother, he said I had to do better. I honestly believed then that by keeping my silence I was protecting my mother from the same pain as I was suffering. I felt I was helping her. The first time he raped me I think i was nearly ten years old. He forced me to perform oral sex on him, then he forced himself into me. When he had finished with me I was bleeding and in so much pain. He left me alone. I was shaking and crying. I put toilet paper in my knickers so I wouldn't bleed on my clothes, I thought the pain would last forever. I started throwing up and he came back. He stood over me and laughed and laughed. When I started my periods at about twelve he said that it was OK because he couldn't make me pregnant. He could do what he wanted, when he wanted and there was nothing I could do about it, my uncle was destroying me. In between the rapes he still made me perform sex acts on him some which even now I cant talk about. He used me as his personal plaything until I was nearly 14 years old. I'm not sure if the way he made me feel was worse than the actual acts of abuse he inflicted on me. I would sit for hours in the bath in boiling water scrubbing myself. I tried so hard to make myself feel clean but it never worked. I could feel him on me, smell his breath and feel the pain. I always felt filthy. My uncle had plenty of ways to justify what he did. He would tell me he was doing me a favour, that he was getting me ready to be a grown up. I learned never to argue back with him because it only ever brought more hurt, more pain. He caused me to hate myself. I thought I was worthless. I began to cut myself with razors. I'd cut my arms, Legs and stomach. When I cut my pain eased a little. Watching the blood run down my skin helped me feel so I did it more and more until I couldnt go a single day with self harming. One day I was watching myself bleed and I knew I needed help. I thought I needed to die. As far as I could see I had two choices, I could kill myself and the pain would stop or I could tell and see what happened. I took the first option. I swallowed handfuls of pills and went to bed. The next morning I woke up feeling ill and being sick. I thought then that maybe i wasn't meant to die. I went to school and told a teacher. She believed me. I felt so free, I was scared but i knew then that I wasn't alone. Sometimes I think maybe death would have been easier but I know my final choice was the right one for me................. |
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Healing yourself is connected with healing others.
Yoko Ono
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