| This is me... |
| I was born on November 18, 1981. I don't remember much in my childhood, which scares me. From what I remember, it wasn't too good, but I always wonder what I've blocked out. When I was young, I don't remember how old, but I know it was before second grade, I was traumatized by three Individuals. I say traumatized because I don't really know what to call it' it seems that "molestation" and "abuse" don't fit. Well this is what happened... My mother worked a lot, I think she had two jobs, so I was left with my next-door neighbors. They were a family of one mother, one grandmother, and three children. The kids were all older than me, the boy was one year older and the girls were 11-13 years old, I think that's about right. So all day we were under the "supervision" of the grandmother. I remember me really trying to fit in with them but I never really succeeded. Even after I had done everything they had asked, I still wasn't good enough for them. I don't know how it started, but I vividly remember one day and one certain conversation. We were in the mother's bedroom and watching one of her porno tapes for some reason. I had no idea that there was anything wrong with what we were doing. So we're watching the tape and I remember it being named "Seduce Me Tonight" I wasn't uncomfortable there, so it wasn't the first time. So we're all sitting on the bed and one of the girls tells me to imitate the scene on the video with their little brother. This wasn’t the first time, but this was a time when I protested. "Why don't one of you do it?" "Because he's our brother and that would be nasty." I knew they wouldn't be my friends anymore if I didn't do it, they told me this. So it was up to me. And I did it, whatever it was that they demanded I did and they watched. I was a child and so didn't feel anything. It went way beyond touching and kissing, the brother and I ended up having sex in front of them with them instructing us. And always if I resisted, they would say they wouldn't be my friends anymore. At five or six, they were the only friends I had ever had and so I couldn't lose them. This went on for years, we kissed for them and had sex in different places in the house. Whenever we played house, the bother, Kevin (I even remember the smell of his breath) and I would always be the husband and wife and had to carry out our duties to act like real grown-ups. I remember me always trying to please them and never getting anywhere. I never told anyone because I didn't know what was going on. I guess I thought this was the way you were supposed to play. My mother and their mother were best friends and so I was with them for years, until I was in about the fifth grade. I don't know when it all stopped or why, but it was never talked about. I know I was there for a long time, but I don't remember much else over those years. While all this was going on, I remember my mother never being home and reading the pages of a porn magazine I found under her bed. I remember playing with the kids outside and them telling me that a specific flower was called a pseudonym for a specific female body part. I remember the family having a baby, Robert, whom everybody loved. I remember hearing my mother crudely talk to the other mother, Faye, about the how the baby got there. I remember almost burning a pot in their kitchen. I remember their basement was dirty and smelly. I remember something sexual happening down there, but not clearly. I maybe remember two minutes of all those years in my own house. A long time after the sex had stopped, they had a college age cousin, Wendy staying with them. When we were in her room she said something to the effect of "So I heard that when you were little, you and Kevin used to "jooky-jam"", which was our code word for sex, which I remember the grown-ups talking explicitly about... a lot. They all laughed. I don't think she realized the magnitude of what she was saying. She probably thought it was childish curiosity, but I can't imagine how any adult could joke about something like that. My mother, I think is still friends with their family. Fay used to call us a lot. When I moved away, around second grade, I was somewhat of an outcast in school, but I did well and my teachers said I was smart. When I was in grade school, I lived with my mother and she had a lot of male friends. One's name was Dan, she liked him a lot and they used to go away together to Atlantic City. One night he was over and they were playing cards in the kitchen, I think there were other guys there too. I was in my bed, and then in came Dan. He was a big man, tall and round. He came over to my bed and started talking to me. I don't remember what happened, but I know was trying to touch me. He asked if he could take off my pants, if he could touch me there. I kept saying "NO" and eventually he got the point. He left. Soon after, I told my mother about it and she didn't believe me. My father came to live with us when I was in about fourth grade and I think that was a lot worse than anything that happened with the family. Before he came, my mother was never home in the first place, which left me not only alone in the house, but in charge of myself in everything. I ate when I wanted, watched what I wanted and entertained myself. She was not strict at all; she didn't have time to be. That all changed when my father came around. He was big and scary and he hit me. He was very strict, very demanding and very controlling. I was not at all used to any of it, I wasn't even used to bathing regularly; no one had ever told me to. So his presence was a shock, but I couldn't do anything about it. Over the next ten or so years I was physically and emotionally abused. I never did anything right, he told me this. I was worthless, lazy and stupid he said. Because I couldn't cook or clean no man would ever want me, he made sure I knew this. Now growing up with no father is one thing, but the suddenly having one who hates everything about you is another. This was supposed to be the man who loved and took care of me. One day, when I was about fourteen, he burst into my room, ripped the phone that I was using out of the wall, and beat me with the cord. He was under the mistaken influence that I was talking badly about him to my friend. How stupid did he think I was? I knew he listened to all my conversations; I knew he was standing outside the door, why on earth would I give him another reason to hurt me? The next morning I showed my mother the welts on my legs and told her what had happened. I asked her what was the difference between abuse and disciple. She told me to not even think about it. One day he made me cry for some reason (I always cried when he yelled at me) and told him I thought he didn't love me. He told me, "I don't care if you love me or not, or if you think I don't love you. I don't want to have a relationship with you. The only relationship I want is this: You are my dog and I am the master. If I say jump you jump, and that's it," Around the same time I asked my mother if she loved me. She said "I love you when you make me happy; when you do what I say." I asked if she meant that she only loved me when I pleased her. "Yes," she answered, "so make sure you do good things so I can love you." |