Within my heart hides pain, within my mind lies fear. With every day that passes I feel a little more lost and another small piece of me disappears. Memories of the past consume nearly every waking minute and attack my soul in my sleep. My life has been governed by heartache and grief and today I am taking some of that control back. This is my story...
I was abused by two 'boys' who lived in my street from 9-10 years of age. They were both still in high school and travelled on the same bus that I took home from school once a week. This was the day that my mum could not pick us up straight away after school and would meet us at home.
It began one Sunday afternoon in winter when I was playing football with the boys. One of them lived over the back fence and I was thrilled to be asked to play.
It ended in me being on the ground.
Every week after - when I got off the bus - it continued - in a garage of the house that the other boy lived in (it was on the way home from the bus stop). They threatend to 'get to' my little sister and so I did what I was told - whatever I was told. I didn't want my sister to be hurt in any way.
It stopped when they left high school and no longer caught the bus.
Around the same time - at home my father was becoming more aggressive and was drinking more and more. I started to step in between him and my mother - as a consequence I copped the brunt of his aggression. I became very good at covering up the bruises and hiding the pain. It was also an excuse for my behaviour and no-one knew that it wasn't just the treatment I was receiving from my father that was causing me to withdraw and 'hide away' in my room but also what I was going through outside of the home.
On one occassion when my father had hit my sister - I was so angry and upset that I fought back and copped it - I stayed on the floor crying for hours - all my mother said was "you know how he get's so why did you have to say anything?"
To escape any 'punishment' from my father I shut myself away and only came out for school and sport. I threw myself into being the best I could be at both. I trained hard and when I was home I was always studying or reading.
I continued to be hurt over several years when 'I was in the way' or stood up to him. It finally stopped in my early 20's when he came home one night drunk - I confronted him and was hurt again. This was the last time - I told him I would call the police if it ever happened again - it never did!
During my late teens and early 20's I was also in a nearly 9 year on and off relationship. We would be together for a while and then he would move for work. Everytime we would say 'goodbye' and try to move on but we just seemed to find our way back together again. He would always become quite 'nasty' before he would leave - and I started to realise that was his way to cope with separating again - so it didn't hurt me as much after a couple of times.
After several years of doing this he made the decision to return permanently. He found a job, packed up his things and came home.When I picked him up I barely recognised him. He had become heavily involved in taking drugs and drinking and he seemed like a different person. This should have been the first warning sign for me!
Over the next two years there were many times that I felt like that 9 year old girl again. He became extremely abusive, possesive and violent - threatenting my with whatever was at hand. I could not do anything without 'answering' to him. I had no way out as I was too scared.
During tthis time I somehow managed to continue with my studies and sport - at was successful at both. It was like I was living in two totally different worlds!
The beginning of the end came when we attended a birthday party of one of my teammates. The drinks were initially catered for but when they ran out 'he' wanted more. When I said I didn't have any money left he started yelling at me and then threw a glass. He left the room and was 'bashed' by two men who had seen everything.
He was taken unconscious to hospital and I wanted to walk away then... but I didn't. I begrudgingly agreed to let him stay with me after he was discharged ... but only until he could drive himself again. BIG MISTAKE...
For the first two nights he slept on the couch and everything was ok - we talked about the relationship being over and I went to sleep at peace that we were on the same page and that he had accepted this.
The next morning I woke feeling unable to breathe, everything went dark as I lost consciousness. Not only did he abuse me but he also tried to end my life. I do not know why I am still alive and why he stopped but when I eventually woke it was daylight and he was asleep next to me. I hoped it had all been a nightmare but the pain told me otherwise. I got out of bed and showered until the water ran cold, dressed and went to Uni - as if it was just another day. I didn't know what else to do.
When I got home he was gone. I lived in fear every day that he would come back but he never did. I would like to think that it was because he knew what he had done but I will never really know what went through his mind - and I really don't care!
This has been part of my story...
So... what lies within me is the fear and pain of the past. I am unable to sleep because I fear the nightmares and reliving the abuse (all of it) and I have a fear that if I do sleep I may never wake up - that I will be back in that morning and this time I will not survive. The nightmares and flashbacks are terrifying and so real that I am constantly reliving past abuse. The smallest little thing - a word, a song, a noise etc. can trigger a memory unexpectedly. The hurt is both emotional and physical. I feel the pain in my body - I relive it as if it is happening again...
I have shut down most of my life so as to not let it destroy me and in doing so I have shut out the world and of having any meaningful life. I do not know how I am ever going to get past 'just existing' as the scars seem too deep to heal. My only way forward seems to be by not feeling and by not feeling I am trapped in the past.
As a result I suffer from GAD, depression and CPTSD. I do not know how I have got through each day and I do not know what the future holds. What I do know is that I am still here and I hope that I can continue to fight... and maybe one day start 'living'.
Reading everything you have gone through makes me cry for you; for that little 9 yr old. And it made me wonder - why 9 yrs old? I was the same age when sexually abused and I think others on here too were the same age.
