Abused And Emotionally Neglected In My Family

by Anonymous

I'm not sure how young I was when the sexual abuse started. I remember my birth father only vaguely. My parents divorced when I was about 18 months old. I know that when I saw him again at age 37 he scared me so badly that I left his house. His wife called me the next day and asked, "What did he do to you when you were young?" I didn't have words for what happened. I still don't.

After my parents divorced, my mom worked two jobs. That left me alone with my brother who was 10 years older than me and he was dying from Cystic Fibrosis. My sister and other brother went to live with my birth father. My brother was in charge of changing me, bathing me, basically caring for me when my mother wasn't home. It left me vulnerable and he molested me every day. Every day. I didn't think I could say no because my mom said that we all had to do whatever it took to keep him alive.

He died when I was 11. I didn't cry at his funeral. My mother thought it was because I was so upset. I felt nothing. I've felt nothing inside all my life.

By age 11 my sister was also living with us again and so was my other brother. They both drank and did drugs and introduced me to pot and acid. My mom and stepfather both drank. My stepfather was an okay guy. I think he could have been a good dad to me if my mom hadn't been really mean and angry and controlling.

They fought so much and so loud that I could hear them when I was down the street on my bike. They both were mean drunks and were only happy with each other when they were outside the house with their friends.

My sister is probably borderline. She's easily angered and then happy when she gets her way because of her manipulation. She's always been that way. My brother committed suicide at age 39. No need to say he was mentally messed up. None of us seemed to have a chance. I drank from age 11 to 27. During that time I was raped more than once. That's what happens when you pass out at parties with strangers. I was raped and got pregnant at age 19. I was attacked by a guy because I was gay and he thought he'd show me what I was missing. I had an abortion. And a suicide attempt.

I have had a hard life. I didn't lack for the material things. We had a house and cars and food and clothes. My parents were upper middle class. My stepfather worked as an aeronautics engineer. My parents paid for my sister's college education.

Because I was gay and the black sheep, I was kicked out of the house so I eventually put myself through college. Getting kicked out of the house is probably what saved my life. I didn't have to endure my mother's vicious verbal attacks or my sister's abuse either.

I was only 18 and didn't think I'd be on my own. I thought my parents would have sent me to college. My mom said she thought I'd get married and have kids. Yeah, right. I'm gay. It's not likely. Well, it wasn't likely back in 1975.

The bottom line is this: I didn't remember about the sexual abuse by my dad and my brother until a few years ago when I had a mental "breakthrough" after visiting my mom and sister. It had been an especially emotionally abusive thanksgiving. I'd worked hard to be level-headed and keep boundaries in place. It just didn't help.

They pushed me over the edge. When I got home I knew something had shifted inside me. I broke apart into a million pieces. I shattered inside. And when I looked at the shards, I saw images I didn't want to see. I remembered pieces of childhood I'd pushed back and away.

I pushed back and away like I wish I could have pushed back and away as that little girl. The little me was reflected in those shards and I hadn't seen her, or talked to her, in decades. That was two and a half years ago and I'm just now learning how to accept those memories as reality and be with that little Me.

I have a very good therapist. The work is intense and difficult. Sometimes the work is okay and I can feel the results of the healing process.

I've thought about writing my story down for quite some time. This is the first time I've done so. Thank you for the opportunity to open up and just say what wanted to be said.