When I was nine, my uncle raped me with a knife at my throat to silence me. My four cousins were in the same room and I think they must have witnessed it. I also think that they were victims. One has since taken her own life. I have not felt strong enough to contact the others, but intend to. This bastard skumbucket of an uncle is still alive. Now I know why I have always been afraid of him and had a creepy feeling around him, as a little girl, and even when I was grown up. I saw him only one time as an adult. He hated me and was angry that I was leaving the state!

There was also something horrible that happened to me when I was about 7 or 8 years old. I cannot tell you about it now. The memories are just starting to come around. I do not want to know, but I now know that I must if I want to survive and get on with my life. But it will be the final death of my childhood.

When I was 11, I was raped ongoing by a minister, threatened with a gun. I was also sodomized by this man...no BEAST. I was given the message that it was my fault and that I would die if I told. It has been torment, to tell. I have feared for my life because I have told. But, I am telling you NOW. I have had a lot of fears and feelings that I deserved to die. I KNOW that I deserve to LIVE and the THRIVE and SO DO YOU. It is not always easy to remember this.

The ages between about 7 and 11, I have no memory of, except the little bit of abuse I have mentioned. I feel deep down inside that there was a lot more. My mother gave me a bath, seemingly trying to scrub off my skin, especially my breast, when I was 11. I still hate her for this, for boundaries crossed. Boundaries were again crossed when I was 17, by another minister. I stopped it, before MY clothes were off. But HIS were already off.

I guess I want to say here that I am presently struggling to believe that all of this is really true, that it happened to ME. "Are they false memories?" I do not want to admit, especially, that my own parents crossed those boundaries. But I remember my mother 'setting me up' for my father's physical, verbal, and emotional abuse. There was NO protection from any of the other things that happened.

I remember wanting to run away, planning it, but having nowhere to go, and knew I would be found and returned home and beaten within an inch of my life. I remember daydreaming that my parents had died, and then crying and feeling guilty for thinking such a thing. I remember telling my mother about all the blood and her shrug of the shoulders, little smile, and telling me that 'it is nothing'. I ask myself now...if none of this really happened, if it is false memories, then WHY do I vomit violently, trying to throw up the 'thing' that was shoved into my mouth? Why do I gag on hard boiled eggs? Why do I trust NO one? Why do I know NOTHING about love? Why do relationships totally terrify me? Why do I crave constantly for someone to reassure me that they really do care and won't leave me? Why the depression? Why the panic attacks? Why the heartrending pain that makes me feel like my heart will break in two...the pain (emotional) that makes me whimper in the night and sob deep inside, with never a tear falling from my eyes. The list goes on-and-on. Why am I diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? Why do I withdraw deep into my shell at the slightest thing? Why have I nearly taken my life on a number of occasions? Why do I claw, breaking skin, causing physical pain--and 'it feels so good'? Do YOU think that I have been abused?

It is so hard to admit that my "perfect family" was so FAR less than even mediocre. And now, as I go through the memories, hitting me, unbidden, unwanted, just keep on coming. My body also remembers, with vomiting, pelvic, pubic pain, rectal pain and bleeding? I ask again: was there abuse in my life?

I DID think of myself as a victim, until not so long ago. I thought I could NEVER call myself a SURVIVOR. I do not even know when I started using that word to describe myself. But I DO. We ARE survivors. We have come through the most horrendous battle, struggle for life. It is not over, but the worst IS over and we lived through it.

Do I always believe this? NO, I DO NOT. Sometimes the pain is so bad, that I know THIS is the worst and it will never end. But, reality is, IT WILL END. The living through it WAS the worst, and that is why we blocked it out. Our bodies went numb (and does, as I remember), and sometimes we left our body behind, separating ourselves from what was happening (I also do this as I remember). But we survived. I share all of this with you, painfully. I want you to know that you are NOT alone. I also want you to know that I CARE about YOU.

I Now know that I was being molested as a baby and the raping continued until I was 19 or 20 years old. This has been very hard to take. Very hard. But I take one day at a time. I WILL Heal!!!

-Cygnet

next: Sexual Assault, Rape Survivor Stories 11