Just feels so…

Before I even publish anything about the challenges I faced due to sexual abuse, I just have to let you all know how I feel today. The day I began writing about things I could remember, it opened a can of worms. This is, however, not a bad thing. These worms have hidden inside long enough. Time to expose and pull them all out.

I felt free ever since I published my first post on the abuse. I still haven’t been able to remember everything that happened in a logical sequence. My mind has numbed certain things out. I have realized I have to just keep writing as the memories come. I may not be able to give you a chronological look into how these events occurred, so please excuse me. Treat it as a movie that comes under the non-linear narrative category.

I have read much about psychology and what one must do to recover from traumatic events. I do not know how long it might take for me to completely recover from the feeling of stress related to the abuse, but one thing I know is I am feeling better. After allowing myself to write about what happened and breaking my promise of silence to the perpetrator of my abuse, I have felt an immense release and joy. Yes, there are days when I feel things I suppressed and today I feel really terrible. But, it’s okay. This is like a chiseling process, which will hurt on some days and will give me joy on some.

The sexual abuse was just one of the many kinds of abuses I pulled through. I will be talking about them too. So, I will switch back and forth. Today, I just feel betrayed. Betrayed by the one man I know is my biological father. I loved him. There are times I can say he was a good father to me. He educated me, fed me and provided. Because of which, I never really reacted too badly to the emotional and verbal abuse he put me through. And then one day, he left all of a sudden. I had to fend for myself and my family. Give up on my dreams and earn enough to support them. Thanks dad! I grew up and this has definitely made me stronger and less naïve. There are days when I do wish I could cry like a little baby and my father would just hold me. But hey he chose to un-father himself.

He died a year ago. I am disappointed. ANGRY!!! I hoped for a chance to tell him some day about all that happened. To understand why he did. He was a pathological liar. LIES! I hate them. He swore on my life when I was 16 that he would never cheat on my mother ever again. We gave him a chance. Only 10 years later, he was allegedly murdered by one of his many mistresses. I feel like even the good times I had with him were a lie. He lied and lied just to keep us from leaving him, so that in society he could portray himself as a family man. Even in his last email a month before he died he wrote to my sister, “There is no woman in my life. I am an old man and unable to have any affair.”

LIES. A month later I find out he died of drug overdose cause someone injected him with an extra dosage of quinine. And his ‘wife’ was with him. I clarified that his wife was in another country. Found out all along he was living with the woman we suspected he was living with. Over a period of a few months, she conveniently changed all nominations on bank accounts on her name and her son’s name (she had this son with her ex-husband, or maybe they remarried after usurping our savings). His last email was filled of fear and a bit of regret. He still did not apologize. This is all by the point. I believed him when he promised me that he would never have an affair again. I thought we would be family again. I am angry with him. But, who can vent on ashes? I pray, God I am so angry, help me. I cannot stand people breathing in the same room as me. Yet, I curb my angry feelings and act normal. The storm inside me rages on. This is how I feel now. I am not going to suppress it. I will write it here and have you all read it. It feels good to let someone know. I can trust you all because I know there is no possibility of betrayal. I am finding it hard to trust anyone today. Jesus help me! I feel so angry I cannot talk to anyone. I will soon be in a room full of people who will ask me why I am not talking much. I dread it. I feel insane. I have to go. It is music practice. I love it. But, I want to be alone. I do not want anyone to ask me what’s wrong. I want to leave from work where I am now, but I am stuck. I will go now to the bathroom and cry. Do not want anyone to know. That’s for now. I will write more later. Hope I get rid of this feeling without suppressing… this sucks!

There’s more to this, but I shall write some other day, or I will break down right here, which is not a good thing. Love and God bless to all of you!

The challenge of sexual abuse – The beginning

Before you go on to read this post. Some of it could get graphic. If you are less than 18 years of age, I suggest you read only up to the part where I clearly tell you it gets graphic. In all honesty, I feel sick in the stomach as I write this. It is time. So here goes…

It all began while we were in a new town. My father just got a new job, a well-paying one in an Arab country. The laws there are so strict, but laws cannot do really much until the victim or an onlooker makes law enforcers aware that a crime has taken place. But hey I was just 12, I had no idea of my rights or laws. No one had told me what sex really was yet. I had a faint idea from a friend who was made aware by an older cousin. I thought she made it up about one body part being jabbed into another. I was grossed out. Little did I know that I would get far more details about the act as compared to my classmates.

As I mentioned earlier, I always hoped that my brother and I could be friends, partners in crime, tell each other secrets and have a sibling relationship that others would envy. So one afternoon, I sat on a rocking chair that was in a guest house where we were shifted to until we bought a house. It was so nice, I enjoyed rocking myself. I almost fell asleep. When suddenly my brother came and ordered me to get out of the chair. He said, “This is my chair, get out  now or I will throw you from the balcony.”

I did not fear his threat and said mom was asleep just a few rooms away. To which he said, ” She won’t even know.”

I refused to budge to which he retreated and came back after 15 minutes or so. He said, “I am sorry. I would like to play a game with you. We both can share the chair.”

I gladly agreed to sharing the chair. Finally, we were a team, or at least I thought for that moment. So, he sat with me on the chair and we spoke. Then, he said, “Let’s start playing”.

I said, “Okay.”

Before we began ‘playing’, he made me promise that this was a secret game and no one could ever know what happened. Right here, right now, I break that promise, I am telling you all. I promised, not knowing it was going to hurt me, not only physically, but mentally, emotionally and spiritually. I cannot remember many details, but whatever I can, I shall write about. I have not imagined these things. These things actually happened to my body.

He told me that the game involved us touching each other in places like never before. He told me to trust him and that he would teach me fun things. I just looked up to my big brother, and agreed to go along. Physically, I was not a full-grown woman yet and my chest was quite like a child’s. Thankfully, my menstrual cycles had not started yet.

Please do not read further if you are below 18. Thank you!

He began playing with my chest, I was quite tickled all over. I began to giggle. I could not control myself as I giggled. So, he held my mouth, till I could not breathe and I began to kick. He asked me to stay quiet and I said I could not. He, then took me to the bathroom, where there was a tub and lay me in the tub. He then kissed me. My first-ever kiss. This thought haunts me until death, I feel like crying even now. He spoilt the whole dream of being kissed by the man I love, my prince charming. Being a child, I only could barely fathom what was happening. I told him, “I am feeling scared. Please stop.” I began to feel weird and my body was reacting to his every touch. He unzipped and I saw a man’s part for the first time in my life ever. He said that I had to touch him there and keep at it. I did, but was disgusted and told him, I could not. He said, “There is nothing to be scared. Most brothers and sister do this. It is fun. Don’t be a spoil sport. Nothing will happen. Trust me. Okay, now it is my turn.”

So, I let him do what he was doing. It felt wrong, but this was my big brother. I let him do these things to me. He then moved his hands to my womanly parts, down south, and began to caress me with his fingers, slowly. He said, “You are going to love this. Just relax your muscles and enjoy. There is nothing to be afraid.” He asked me to split my legs wide, as he took off my underwear and then used his tongue. And then began to insert his big fingers in harshly. It was so painful, I almost screamed. He stuffed my mouth and began to hold me down with his weight. He kept saying, “Relax your muscles. It is hurting because you are not obeying me.”

I wanted to run, but I couldn’t. Exhausted, I felt something that I never felt before, dirty, stripped. I did not know what was done, but I felt guilty. He commanded, “Go take a bath and do not tell anyone what I did. You will get yourself in trouble. Mom and dad always believe we, even though it is not your fault.” He was right about that. They believed him about other things. Why would they believe me now?

I was scared. I wanted to die. I wanted to run away. I was in pain, but I couldn’t tell mom. I almost did. I wish I had.  Then again, what difference would it have made? I still wonder. I will never know. “Let go,” I tell myself. I still have to convince myself that it was not my fault. I did not know. The fact that I have to, reveals a wound deep inside, yet to be healed. So, I place it before the One I call Healer. He is the only one who hears, listens and understands my pain.

This is the first time I ever told anyone the details, even myself after so many years of shutting it out. If you have read this, thank you so very much. This is our little secret. But an open one, so share it if you think it might help someone else know they are not alone.  I have told others that I was sexually abused, some know by whom, some don’t know that it was him. The most anyone knows is my best friend whom I have grown to love deeply. Yet, he does not know so much, because I was unable to tell him every detail. When I am engaged to marry, I will tell my fiance, I need to tell him. The Lord give me strength.

Peace and blessings to you all. More on this later… Thank you all for following, liking and most of all visiting my blog. Hugs to you all! – Bloggerita