Disclaimer: This entry is deeply personal, and gets into things that happened in my past. It is MY story...ugly...but still mine. I'm not looking for any ones pity, I just need to get this out, and maybe the night terrors will stop. I'm ok with talking about this...so, if you have any questions, or want to talk about anything else that comes to mind, please ask, don't assume. That being said....
My name is Rebekah, and I'm a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. My abuser was my sperm donor, although he will never admit to it. Oh well...kids don't make this shit up, not in the detail that I remember. I won't get into to much of that here, as some of it is just plain disturbing. If you want to know, I'll tell ya, but on a more personal level. From what I can remember, it started when I was about 4, and didn't stop until my parents divorce when I was 8, and even occasionally after that during our "visitation" with him every other Sunday. That man put such a fear in me. Always told me that he was going to hurt my mom and brothers if I told anybody. That I was put here to make him happy, and to do things that would make him proud of me. If you have children, or know children then you know that deep down that's all they want to do. Make mom and dad proud, and happy.
For a while, I felt like it was my fault. Not sure what I was doing wrong, but that didn't matter. The guilt out weighed everything else. I know now that it was not my fault. Granted it took many years of therapy, but that's not the point, I got there. Now, when I think about it, I still wonder why. Why would a grown man feel the need to do that to a young child, let alone his own daughter? I don't except the reasons "it was done to me," or "I didn't know any better." How the hell could you not know better? You're a grown man. A VERY selfish grown man. He took advantage of me. Took something from me that wasn't his to take...my innocence.
So much of what he did affected the future years of my life. I was so screwed up when it came to love. As a late teen and into my early 20's, I thought that to get love I had to give myself. Not something I'm particularly fond of. I craved the love of a man, so I'm sure you can guess what happened. I'm VERY thankful that I never got pregnant, or something worse.
I remember the feel of the canvas material that he would lay on the cold, maroon, cement floor in the basement. The way he would close the french doors that were covered with windows. Can't stand the feel of canvas. I remember the smell of the oil on his skin from his work covered by the sickening scent of Old Spice. Yup, another thing I can't stand. Most of all, I remember the look on my big brothers face the day he was caught. The look of terror that this was happening to his little sister. My mom, brothers and I left that day, and never went back.
To be in that house now, everything has changed. Doors have been removed, steps taken out and floor filled in. But, to me, it is now, and will always be the way it was when I was a child. And him, well, I don't have a choice, he will always be my sperm donor, but he will never be my dad. That title is a right, and a privilege that is not given, but must be earned.
I'm not exactly sure why I decided to write about this now. I'm not sure what is going on with me that has made the night terrors return. When I sleep, I relive all of it. I guess you could say that man is still scaring me. Not sure exactly how to get it to stop for good. Maybe I can't, maybe I'm doomed to have to deal with it for the rest of my life. Tis the life of a survivor I guess. Just another thing on this road of my life to make me a little stronger.
I will say this in conclusion. I have the worlds most beautiful daughter (yeah, I'm bias...I'm supposed to be), and I REALLY feel sorry for anyone that hurts her. The abuse stops with me. I will protect her as any momma bear would her cubs.
