Trust

All right.  I really can't believe I am going to write this blog.  I'm actually nervous just thinking about it.  My hands are shaking, my heart is racing, but I feel like this is the right thing to do.  Let's find out...



    First a little background on why I am writing about this in the first place.  I just recently came back from Pennsylvania.  I visited my "cousin" (quotes only because we are not actually related by blood, but cousins none the less) and we had an incredible time talking and connecting on an incredible level.  I feel that the reason I went back there was to be able to talk with her.  I'm not big on fate, and crap like that.  I want to believe in it, but I think it makes things too easy.  I just think **** happens.  Just random role of the dice crap.  Anyway, I'm digressing all over the place. 



    So while I was having these discussions with my cousin, I discovered many interesting things about myself.  Only by sharing certain things was I able to gain more insight on me.  It was a very good experience.  It's weird to think that in the thirty years I've been around, I can still learn something new about myself. 



    It's time to get to the reason I am writing this blog.  Many of you know a little history about my father.  He was only in my life for a short period of time, from around when I was three to when I was ten.  Some of you may not know the reason he left when I was ten.  I usually tell the stroy that it was because he beat me.  Which is true.  He did beat me, quite severly sometimes, not enough to break anything, or send me to the hospital, but enough to have the police called. 



    Here's the story as I usually tell it.  One day when I was in fith grade, I woke up and just didn't want to go to school.  So I decided that I would tell my mom about how my father was beating me.  The most recent incident had been for a very odd reason.  My father had been complaining about money quite a bit, and it was starting to be a real problem.  So I in my infinite childish wisdom, decided that if I ran away (to my mom's no less, which was all of two miles away) he would be able to save money.  I even wrote out a letter, explaining that he would be able to sell all of my toys, and he could have the big 10 gallon water jug full of coins.  I felt I was being very giving.  I had made it to the point of folding the letter into a paper airplane so that I could throw it at him and have time to make a getaway.  I was ten, cut me some slack.  Well, I didn't go through with it.  I threw the note away into the trash and figured that was that. 



    A few days later, my dad happened upon the note.  I can't tell you what was actually going through his mind, but what he was most mad about... the fact that me allowing him to sell my toys and have the change... yeah, that wouldn't help him.  He punched me and dragged me across the rug, ripping the shirt I had on,  because I had offered up my meager possesions, and it just wasn't enough.  How dumb could I be? 



    I just didn't want to go to school.  I told my mom about this latest incident.  She called the cops, and they sent an officer over to take my statement.  Since there were no marks to speak of, except possibly some rug burn, the officer was not able to do much.  He took everything down, and said they would start an investigation, but that was about it.  So he left, and I realize that I am going to have to go to school.  I had only missed maybe two hours.  What kind of crap is that? 



    It was time to change the course of my life.  I had to tell everything.  So I told my mom about how my dad had been sexually abusing me.  Wow.  Didn't realize how I would feel writing that.  Kind of powerful.  I've been sitting here for two minutes.  Not sure what to write... 



    Guess I should finish the story.  My mom called the police back and they told us to come down to the station.  I remember having to explain to the detective, in a lot of detail, abou the molestation.  They even had anatomicaly correct dolls so that you could show exactly what had happened.  I don't remember much more than that.  Shortly after all this transpired, maybe a few weeks at most, my dad left.  One day he and his friends moved everything out.  Gone.  Done.  Nothing, except for a phone call. 



    Again, my recollection of the timing, is off, but I know the phone call happened during Easter break (spring break if you like.)  I was home by myself and the phone rang.  I answered and my heart dropped.  It was my dad.  Son of a *****.  I didn't do much talking.  I just listened.  I remember one thing quite cleary though.  He told me:  All you had to do was ask me to stop.  Are you f---ing kidding me!  Ten freaking years old, and he was able to make me feel like it was my fault.  All you had to do was ask.  Well, f---.  Was that it?  Life would have been great.  Hey dad, I know things are hectic and all, but I was wondering if you could do me a favor?  What an a--hole. 



    Well there you have it. 



    I want to explain the reason I finally decided to be so public about this.  When I was discussing this with my cousin, I realized I still held on to guilt about it.  I was ashamed about this.  I still, somewhere deep inside, felt like it was my fault.  I know that it is not.  But it's hard to not keep that guilt.  Logically I understand that he did this, it is him as a bad human being that is totally at fault.  But damn, on some emotional level, I still feel it.  Deep down. 



    As I write this, I noticed something else.  I can't tell you how many times people tell me, "Why didn't you just say something?"  I don't mean in response to this, but just in everyday life.  If you want more, just ask.  If your cold, just say something.  I can't explain exactly what I mean.  I'm still formulating the thought.  But I wonder if much of my apprehension about "asking" for something, stems from that last phone call from my dad.  Eh. 



    Well that's enough for now. 



    Kind of hard to end this on a happy note.  So I will end with something of friend of mine says to me when I am feeling nervous or down.



    "Smile it makes your butt tickle."



    Always makes me laugh.
ruru ruru
26-30, M
10 Responses Oct 7, 2006

I admire your courage to tell your story. It has taken me till I was 61years old to tell someone exactly what my father did to me and am slowly making headway with making peace with myself and forgiving myself for the choices I have made throughout my life that were destructive and not well thought out. How can you tell anyone what is going on with the threats of the unknown punishment that telling would incur. At 10 you are a victim and an innocent child. By telling your story you have encouraged and helped many many people who are struggling. Thank you.

You are very brave to share your story I still don't have that courage. It is very hard I've been abused since I was 6 till I was 16 and when I told him I will tell everyone and how much I hated him he stopped. I also feel the guilt I try to convince myself that if I were guilty than not all the countries law would have legally forbidden the sexual relation with an underage girl. But still feel guilty that I never spoke up.

Well I feel your pain as it's taken me into my 40s to even begin to understand the abuse is always so miuch more. The Shame the guilt that you didn't stop it the endless worries about what this horrible secret will do to your family if you told the guilt that you werent wrong enough or loving enough the thought of tryjng to please someone in the wrong way and then when you begin to tell it's not like the movies where the wrath swoops down ans the child is saved I remember trying to bring up the subject with family and friends and being met with indifference almost like no one wants to deal with it so not talking about it not living in the past is better but people don't understand how much of this you carry with you into every aspect of your life. I wish I could say there will be some miracle to take it away but I will say that by saying something you got the ball rolling you can begin to face life with the knowledge you did somerhjng you don't have to walk around with guilt eating at u every day in the form of depression you are courageous and can face life with the knowledge that you told you didn't keep his secret for him which is what I now believe is how they keep it going guilt. You did something about something that was done to u U Should be proud because it takes more courage and persistance than most people can ever understand to even stand up and say anything. Thankyou from those who have been abused every story that gets out there the more it may stop another abuse

i added u to my circle so i am here if u ever want to talk.

It is just so hard to not blame yourself isn't it ?

I know I wouldn't say exactly how u feel but I know more or less how u feel. My dad sexually abused me from the age of 14- 18 and maybe when I was a kid too, I don't remember my childhood at all. I spoke to a friend of my mums once on the internet and after I told her what happened between me and my dad all she did was sing his praise and tell me I must be wrond and 'Paul would never do that you must be confused' well that got me dounting myself and when people say 'you should have told someone' HELLO?! Iam telling someone, I told the police, I told U? Ok, now Iam rambling and shouting at you, I appologise. X <br />
It has been 6 months since the police were involved and my dad isn't charged with anything yet. I feel like Iam losing a battle here. Iam glad you can move on with your life slowly. I just hope all of us can find peace.<br />
X Kitsune Elliott X

I am a child and domestic abuse survivor, as well as a mother of a sexually abused child. I am writing a book about ALL types of abuse to others know they are not alone in their struggle. My intention is to inform others where there is prevention, education, and support.<br />
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Education + Awareness = Prevention. I am inviting you to use my book as a platform share your testimony that will your contribution to spreading awareness. For your help I am giving a book; providing you pay the delivery. Authors may use their real name or be anonymous. I prefer 1200 words but will allow up to 1500.<br />
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I hope you will join me and the many other men, women, and organizations who are assisting me in my quest.<br />
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If you go http://sherry123456789.xanga.com/ I have extensive information, which includes letters of support from other professionals and samples of my writing. Or you may email: burt222@hotmail.com <br />
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I look forward to your reply. <br />
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Respectfully<br />
Sherry Clyburn

Saying it the first time is always the hardest thing to do. You always expect to be struck by lightning (you're Catholic, aren't you?). But it gets easier to share, and often when you tell your story, you give someone else the courage to share their own. And suddenly you know someone who knows how you feel. And that's when you begin your journey toward healing.

Hey, i admire your courage; for speaking up then and posting up here for a community to learn from. Speaking up was definately the right thing to do, or you would have become a statistic (or the lack of it)

wow....that was deep,but u here those kinds of sad stories alot in this world.all i have 2 say is that ur dad was *** hole.pple always say things like that"why didn't u say anything" or "u could of just asked" but we all know life doesn't really work like that. the only reason pple say stuff like that bc they were never in the situation or in ur fathers case trying to take the blam of him self. but in case u don't already know it wasn't ur fault, no child ask 2 be sexually abused.