Incomplete Thoughts

Oct 5, 2017 2 a.m.

 From the beginning of time I've thought that I was special. I never understood why I felt this way. Was it confidence or maybe lack of? Was I just self-absorbed or just feel like I had a purpose? To be honest I’m still confused with why I feel the way I do. Like I can feel people’s pain; look into their eyes and ease their troubles.

In counseling I’m beginning to see my own pain more clearly. Which is probably the reason I can spot others so easily. I’ve been filled with pain before I knew any other emotion. Sadness and confusion have now turned into emptiness and shame. Never knowing or feeling good enough. Always wondering why I deserve happiness. However, instead of helping others for now I’m deciding to take the selfish road and focus on my pain, my needs, my life.

Throughout this process I want to be as honest and straight forward with the memories and feelings I have surpassed, retained, and lingered everyday in the depths of my soul. Some things I remember may or may not be completely 100% and that is okay because what I recall is how it made me feel and has affected me as the woman I am today.

(Image Credit: Naukrinama)

At a very young age I discovered sex. I remember my parents having full out penetrative sex. I mean it wasn’t anything I would consider wild as an adult, but for a child it was horrific. I remember peaking from under my closed eyelids and wondering what they were doing. Was mom happy? Why was she screaming? Was dad hurting her? 

Now I can’t recall years or ages because I’ve suppressed everything for so many years, but in what I imagine now as maybe a couple of years later my parents split up. My dad had a bad drinking problem from what I know now, but definitely did not understand that at the time. So my mom up and left him. I remember us moving into another place not too terribly far away. 

I was sad we were leaving and really wanted to spend time with my dad. My sister, Chrystal who was adopted by my dad at a young age didn’t want to see him. She was a difficult teenager and my father and she did not agree on much. They use to scream at one another. I’m certain he got physical with her although I’m not positive I had witnessed it first hand. My brother T.J. was some sort of a momma’s boy as well so I always felt like my father and I had a special bond. Maybe too special. 

For the past year I had began to have very complex nightmares. Not the kind where you’re riding a rollercoaster and you fall out or some shit like that. Like surreal ideas that someone I thought would protect me and never harm me did just that. 

At first I remembered a blank face touching me and telling me that our secret is safe between us. That it was what people did and that if I said anything I would be in big trouble. In my dreams I could not picture this person. I could only hear their words yet not their voice. I sometimes would feel their breath on me and I would awake soaked in sweat and shivering. Some days I would awake to my hand in my soaked panties.  

 (Image credit: Sott.net)

I’d never understood why I would play with myself before now. I thought I was fucked up and maybe had like sexsomnia or was just a sex addict although I didn’t show signs of being a porn addict or frequent sex with strangers or anything radical. 

Not only had someone hurt me when I was in my early childhood, but again in my early adolescence. My neighbor and best friends older brother took advantage of me when I would stay the night. This was when I first discovered paralysis. He would prey on me while I was asleep. I would awake to his hands in my pants and him poking and prodding at me. I remember trying to tell him to stop. Trying to turn away or get up and run. Scream. Anything. But nothing would ever come out. I always felt that by not defending myself it allowed him to take advantage of me and that it was my fault that he hurt me. I recall trying to scream so loud that little muffled cries came out and I opened my eyes as big as I could. Tears ran down my face. He noticed that time. He stopped. He ran behind a door and didn’t move. I felt stupid. Had I imagined that he was doing that to me?

I finally gained the courage to tell, but felt so ashamed that I couldn’t reach out to my own parents. I was close with the boys family and so I told his mom. She turned away immediately. I knew she didn’t believe me, but I felt so strong for finally mustering up the courage to spill the beans. So I decided to tell my own mom. I don’t recall how either of my parents reacted. I remember them speaking with said boys parents and them deciding he would be punished by strenuous farm chores for the summer.

Since when is sexually assaulting someone punishable by chores? As an adult I’m so disgusted by his ‘sentence’ that anytime I see his face on social media or read his first or last name anywhere I cringe. I cringe because he is a perpetrator. He left me feeling helpless, alone, sad, hurt, confused, disgusted and most of all victimized. I was the victim of his actions. I still feel shame because of his actions. I did not give the okay for him to touch my body. I am the victim. I am the victim. I AM THE VICTIM!