The Abuse

The Abuse
Where do I start? I was 12. I just came back to live with my mom and step dad on a permanent basis; I had been in foster care since I was 7. We left Florida and moved to Texas to be near my grandparents, on my mom's side. My grandma had recently remarried and her new husband had two sons from a previous marriage - Sam and Rocky. Sam was 18 and Rocky was about 14 or 15.

It was decided that we were going to go to the lake to camp. It was a place apparently they went to a lot. The adults slept inside the cabin/house. The kids had tents set up outside. All the older kids were in one tent, the middle ones in another, and the babies were in the house. That left me being the only girl in the older kids tent. I didn't think much about it. I really hadn't ever been camping before - so I looked at it as an adventure. Until the inevitable happened that changed everything.

It was very hot outside and so I was going to sleep on top of my sleeping bag. One of them put his hand inside my pants and started to fondle me. I was terrified! No one had ever done that before. I didn't know what to do. I kicked him away. A few minutes later, he did it again. I crawled out of the tent and went and stood by the adults for a little bit. I was scared. I was 12. Eventually, the adults made me go back into that tent and "sleep". I don't think anything else happened that night; however, it was just the beginning. It was a very long two years living in Texas. I also learned that adults sucked. They didn't listen when you were little and they weren't listening now. I would go to my grandparent's house almost every weekend. And each weekend, I encountered the boys. They were great to hang out with during the day - we rode motorcycles, we went running around - always doing something. the only time during the day that they would mess with me was when we were in the swimming pool or in the lake water. Usually, the adults weren't watching us. The boy's would grab me and hold me close and fondle me through my suit. Then just toss me up, as if they were throwing me out into the water. I guess I just kept going back. They at least paid attention to me. I hated the fact that I had to come back and live with my mom and step-dad. I loved being with my foster family.

There were times when I visited my grandparents house that when we kiss them good-night, that my grandfather used his tongue. I used to think that was really weird. He would hold me tight and close, I couldn't exactly push away. I kind of quit going to him when I would get ready for bed. He used to brush up against my chest as well. I spent 8th grade being driven to school by Sam. He had a really cool red Ford pick up - an old timer's truck. I guess in some ways it was cool to get a ride to school instead of having to take the bus everyday. However, there was a price for it. Of course, I sat in the middle almost every time when I rode with him. It gave him a lot of opportunity to continue "grooming" me. He would always tell me how pretty I looked and complimented me. Of course, he was 17 or 18 by this point. I know he was a senior in high school Of course, after the compliments, came the touching.

Eventually, we moved to Minnesota; closer to my step-dad's family. We moved to Fairmont, MN. I was getting ready to enter into high school. I was away from the guys and no one was going to touch me there. Our first summer there, they came to visit. Us older kids slept outside and everyone else was in the house. Once again, they would fondle me until I would push them off and it would always start up again. It would stop when I would move into the house to sleep. I was 14 by this point.

We stayed in Minnesota for 2 years before moving to Kansas City to meet up with my grandparents; grandma was being transferred by Sprint from Dallas, TX to Overland Park, KS. My parents uprooted us over the Christmas break right before my 16th birthday. We would live with my grandparents and all 3 of their sons (Grandma had a son who was 6 months younger than me) for the first 3 or 4 months. This meant, 3 of us went to school together at the high school nearby. Of course, no one outside the circle of friends, realized we were related. So, Rocky, Jon and I all went to school together. Rocky and I were in the same grade and Jon was a year behind us. This meant we had the same circle of friends and hung out all the time. I did anything to get out of the house. In this house, was 5 adults, 9 kids and 3 dogs. It was a crazy household. So, to get out of the house, I always hung out with Rocky and his friends. It was fine at first. Rocky didn't mess with me much. However, Sam touched me whenever he had the chance; mostly when he was drunk. He would come into my room at night and touch me. I would kick him away and he would eventually leave me be. Sam didn't stay at the house long. He eventually went to live back at his mom's in Oklahoma. Rocky would invite me into his room to watch TV or help him with his homework. Eventually, this led to him fondling me on occasion. He would stop when I would tell him. I didn't want to reject it because he took me places, he got me out of the house. Was this wrong?

Eventually my mom and step-dad found their own place, but I continued to go back and hang out with Rocky and the rest of our friends. I dated a little bit and this is when I found out that the abuse seriously affected other relationships, especially with guys in a physical nature. I didn't put much into at first, but it started to have an impact on everything. I started drinking. Started hanging with people from work who smoked pot, did acid and speed, etc. I had a horrible attitude towards life in general. I think I thought it had more to do with my dysfunctional family life, not the abuse. I was always angry. The abuse only got worse.

When I was 16, I left home for good. I had run away numerous times, but this time I left for good. The only place I could go long term was to my grandparents house. I ended up living with them pretty much until I got married (with the exception of college). However, with my last two years of high school I lived with them. I had a room across from my grandparents room. Rocky and Jon were upstairs and Sam was downstairs in the basement. So, it would start up again, just a matter of time. Sam would take me on motorcycle rides just to get me out of the house. We would hang out on occasion. However, on nights that Sam would go out and drink. He would come back at night and come into my room. I would find him on top of me while I was sleeping. Because he was so drunk, he was heavy and I couldn't move. I would just be stuck with him fondling me and touching my breasts. Eventually, I could push him off. This is when the nightmares started. I couldn't sleep at night anymore, because he came into my room a lot. I couldn't understand how my grandparents who could wake at the sound of the front door opening, didn't know what he was doing to me 20 feet across the hall. No one knew. It continued until Sam left to move back to his mom's again.

The anger continued to build inside. All I wanted to do was drink. And, drink, I did. I drank every weekend from Friday until Sunday. I would come back home and sleep all day Sunday.

On one of these weekends of drinking binges, Rocky and I were at the same gathering of friends. He wanted me to leave with him. I am not even sure where we were going. I think we left to get a pack of cigarettes.

Rocky was very drunk, as was I. Neither one of us should have been out driving. Rocky drove. He drove down the rode and pulled in behind a restaurant in the area. He started just talking and then that led into him wanting oral sex. He wanted me to do this. I told him no. He told me I had to do this or I had to have sex with him. he grabbed my hand and placed it on him and was having me stroke him. I remember crying and asking him to stop. He wouldn't. Eventually he had me laying in the front seat of his car. He had pulled my pants off and was laying on top of me. He tried to force himself inside of me. He tried pushing and I was fighting him to get off. I kept fighting, eventually he stopped. We went home afterwards. I didn't talk to him for days. My grandma was trying to figure it out and I couldn't say anything. I didn't tell anyone.

Impact on my life
How do I even begin to "measure" it's impact on my life? It has affected so much. Here it is almost 20 years later, and I can't get it out of my mind. I think the impact is worse at this point in my life, because I avoided it all these years or kept pushing it away. I drank it away. I tried to kill myself over the memories and the nightmares. I would get high just to relax and make it go away. I used to just plaster my walls in my bedroom with posters and such so that when I would wake up in a nightmare in the middle of the night, I would know where I was at, and would know I was safe. I had so many nightmares over the years.  I sleep a certain way. I used to sleep on my stomach so no one could touch me, including my husband. I would sleep with a pillow in front of me so no one could get to me while I was sleeping. Sometimes I still do. I had nightmares for years. Sometimes I still do. I used to not let myself sleep at night or would just stay up most nights. There was a time right before I got married, Gene and I stayed at my grandma's house in KC for a weekend. Sam came home to see his parents. I barricaded my bedroom door that night, even while Gene was in the same room. I truly thought he was going to come into my room, even with Gene there. For Gene, it was probably one of the first instances of how much the abuse had an impact on me. I didn't know Sam was coming that weekend. Had I known, I wouldn't have come home.

I used to see visions of Sam and Rocky and I would just hit whatever was in front of me - walls, doors, posts, etc. I broke a lot of bones. I had so much anger inside of me. I always wanted to fight. Most people couldn't understand. I guess I couldn't blame them. No one knew. I was 18 before I said anything to anyone and at that - it was still happening.

The biggest impact of the abuse - it hasn't allowed me to be physical with husband without panicking or freaking out. It started with my honeymoon and has continued since. It's been almost 10 years and I haven't had full blown intercourse with my husband. I can't believe I just wrote that. But it's true. I feel like a freak because of it. Who else would be married for a decade and not be able to have sex with their own spouse? I have got to be the only one. I have tried, we have both tried. I get so far - then I go into this "dark hole" and I can't do it. I stop and panic. I just stare into space and I can't function. Sometimes I cry, sometimes I just curl up and sometimes I have such fear in my eyes, that Gene will just stop. He's always been good about that. Gene has never pushed me. However, I know that this has to wear on him. He's a man and he has needs as well - and as his wife - I can't provide for him. I want my own child, and I honestly think I will never be able to achieve that dream because of the abuse and me letting them win this battle.

How do I feel?
I am angry.
I am sad and frustrated.
I am ashamed that I let it happen. I wasn't a 5 yr old being abused by an adult. I should have known better. Why didn't I say anything? Why did I let it continue?
I sometimes wish I were dead.
I am mad at my family for not believing me. I am angry at them for not stopping the abuse.
I am angry with God for allowing it to happen.