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sabrina sueSigned on: Wed 18 Apr 2007 15:53:32 EST
hi, i'm 29. i was sexually abused by my stepfather since the age of nine. i believed that he was my real father. he said that he loved me, and he wanted me all for himself. i was never allowed to date, go to friends houses, have friends over, or talk on the phone. i was very isolated as a child and teenager. he made me into what my mother should have been. he made me act like her. he wanted me to carry a baby for them. he would take me to the bar, and if any man talked to me, he would fly off the handle. i wanted to die so many times in high school. i used to take belts and wrap them around my neck and pull as hard as i could. i'd start blacking out, and then i'd let go. i used to hold the guns in my hand up to my head. they were always loaded. i used to take the butcher knives and point them into my chest, but no matter what, i couldn't do it. i wore black so much, people just though i was a freak 
 
i was 19 and in college before i disclosed to anyone. i was working at a factory, and an old friend of my from school also worked there. i told him, and soon, i told my boss. he and i were kind of friends by that point. he helped me call the cops and took me in so i could give a statement. we later ended up married. my trial was a joke. my stepfather, as i found out he was the night i turned him in, was charged with 1st and 3rd degree csc. the first charge was not guilty and the second undecided. i couldn't fathom how there could possibly be an undecided on anything, but their was. i was so drained and so dissillusioned with the whole process, i didn't have it in me to persue the 2nd charge again. its been 11 years since i left home, and each of those years i've been mounting up anger and pure hate toward him. its eating me alive, and i need to find inner peace. i'm told the only way i'll ever find that is to forgive him. that so isn't happening. how do you forgive someone for taking your innocence? your childhood? betraying your trust? destroying any faith you had at all? i need the inner peace, and the clear mind, but i don't know if i need them so much that i can forgive. 
anyways, thats where i am right now. i welcome any and all comments or suggestions on how to forgive. i've read "the courage to heal" a dozen times. i know what i have to do, i just can't do it. 
Aneska GilardiSigned on: Sat 14 Apr 2007 14:34:38 EST
RAPED 
 
Havenít I been there yet enough times?  
Hasnít it hurt till my soul bled?  
Havenít I conquered u so many times, or did I simply assume u were dead?  
 
Oh mind, leave me beÖ 
you are cruel in every way.  
I never want to go back there Ė I donít want to feel that pain! 
 
Oh body stop deceiving meÖ 
Stop reliving whatís in the past.  
Stop making me remember, the feelings that demolished my heart! 
 
A sleeping child, dreaming dreams of pure white snowÖ  
Her tiny little body, ripped apartÖ 
with embedded traces, where the blood has once flown.  
 
Never will she cry again, or give in to memories of themÖ 
This promise she had made herself, as she washed away traces of them. 
Never again will she ever know, the joys of happiness,  
or the sorrows of pain.  
 
All of that will stay locked away, inside her emotionless heart.  
But sometimes, just sometimes, her mind will cause,  
that she suffers yet another broken heart.  
 
She has never been able to say itÖ 
Never been able to share,  
But slowly her flesh keeps reminding her mind,  
That her rapist Ė is still out there!!! 
KateSigned on: Fri 09 Mar 2007 21:23:33 EST
I was sexually abused by my father and some people he knew....don'tknow who they were.I was about 4 when it started,although i think my father abusing me started earlier.It went on to about age 8/9....at 9,i was sexually assaulted by a friends uncle,and i never told anyone.....guess i felt that was normal by then. 
 
I pushed it all out of my head,was a good student at school,then i started getting depressed...i saw the images of abuse in my head and thought i was crazy.To cut a very long story short,i attempted suicide several times,was hospitalised,saw counsellors....i tried to tell my mum but she didn't believe me....she is still with him.At 18,i was raped and then miscarried.....more suicde attempts,self harm etc.I am now 28....i am much better,but started recently having more flashbacks.I want to talk but don't know who to trust.....i just hurt so much.He will not win,i will stay alive...but its so hard. :sigh :cry
MICHAEL OAKLEYSigned on: Tue 06 Mar 2007 21:50:30 EST
AN OCCURENCE ON BURWELL AVENUE 
The old house looked the same,a dismal grey. There were cars parked  
out front. I wonder what the people  
that lived there now would think if they knew of the evil that once walked their floor.  
My child abuse story is a long one. It is shortened due to space. I was the only child. We were very poor. The  
only job my father could hold was as  
a house painter. He would work a week, then stay drunk a week. My mother only had a forth grade education. They both used religion in  
their abuse of me. My mother constantly told me I was going to burst hell wide open. She would hang  
red peppers on the wall on a nail and  
let them dry, which she said made them hotter. She would grab one throw me down and ram it in my mouth,"this is the way it will feel  
when you go to hell, and there will be no water for in hell there you get  
no water". Sometimes If I saw her coming with the pepper, I would run  
jump under the bed. She would go get  
a broom, lie down jab it under the bed while cursing me, till I came out  
so she could put the red pepper in my mouth. There were knotts all over my head where she beat me with the broom stick and she loved to throw hot water out the window on me while I played. She constantly degraded me with verbal abuse.  
My father was a violent alcoholic who  
would beat the windows out of the house. One day he came home from work drunk,said GOD had spoke to him, told him to kill me then take his  
own life. He ran me with a knife. I barely escaped by crawling under the house where I slept that night. He loved to beat me with a fishing rod. A  
fishing rod beating was my christmas present one year. I had a grandmother  
who my fathers brother lived with, who was also an alcoholic. My grandmother only got $65.00 a month  
social security and he paid some of the bills for he got a disability check.  
When I ran away from home, he would only let me stay a day or two. My uncle was so mean,and my grandmother lived in an old house and she  
was always putting out traps for mice,  
She told me my uncle would put bread between her toes while she slept.  
I had a pet squirrell that fell out a tree 
and I raised it as a baby. I came home to find my father had beat it to death.  
"Why did you kill my squirrell?"I asked. My father said,"The reason I  
beat your squirrell to death, was that  
GOD wanted me to remind you of what I could do to you".  
One day we went to visit my first  
cousin,who was about 35 years old. Her and her husband never missed a day in church. I could hear my mother 
tell her in the kitchen,"you know my  
son is retarded and does not treat his mother right". "Then he needs to be  
punished according to scripture," my  
cousin replyed. She grabbed me and drug me down the road where a dead  
dog lay, lifted me upside down, swung me over it, and said", maybe you belong here".  
"The old car crept into the driveway.  
Would my father be drunk again. As I  
peeped out the window, something flew at the window where I stood. I  
leeped back as the window shattered to pieces, He had thrown the jack out of the car at me. Now it was time to  
run, for when he came into the house 
no one could stand before him without getting hurt. His favorate phraise,"You run like a turkey, they all 
run like turkeys before me."  
COLD IT WAS WITHIN THE MANOR, 
WAITING LIKE A WOUNDED SPARROW, 
HELPLESS AND FORGOTTEN.  
ZilSigned on: Tue 06 Mar 2007 21:48:04 EST
I am only just beginning to admit that what happened to me was serious and that I have to face it all and re-live it to begin to be free of the horrible past. 
 
I was abused by my father from the age of 11 or 12 for a period of about 18 months I think. I'm the eldest of 5 children and was born into a very strict Catholic family. My dad was one of the most respected members of the Catholic community - a very clever and successful man.  
At home though he was frequently angry and violent and we all lived in fear of him and his unpredictable moods. 
I kept quiet except for mentioning it to one of my sisters once. He found out and humiliated me. Somehow I found the courage to tell him to stop eventually and when I was 18 I told my mum in an argument one evening. He cried and admitted it, but my mum didn't mention it again and one of my sisters later told me that he had said to her that it was "nothing much" and she chose to believe him. In many ways she was a loving and caring mum but I'm very angry with her for not being able to speak to me about this before she died. 
For years and years I told myself that it was nothing much, but I've always been aware that something was seriously hurting inside me and causing me problems that have increased gradually. I have suffered from bulimia for about 10 years now and I drink far too much. I am a very anxious person and feel that life is an enormous struggle. 
About a year ago, I made a decision to commit properly for the first time to a relationship with a wonderful man who continues to support me as I try to heal. But the decision seemed to make the trauma re-surface and my emotions became extreme and unpredictable. I am often completely out of contol and it seems to happen for no reason. I have self-harmed and have felt complete despair and hopelessness.  
But I think it's changing - I found a therapist and saw her for 9 months. She helped me face a bit of the past. After a while, her approach didn't seem to be getting anywhere and I went to my doctor who agreed that I was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and referred me to a CBT psychologist who I've seen a couple of times and who is helping me face the seriousness of the crime that was inflicted on me and to take positive action to change my life. 
I am consumed with anger the more I understand about the effects of the perverted actions of my dad who was meant to protect me. I am determined to make him pay for what he has done because I have suffered so much and he has never been punished. Somehow as it seems to me that this is the answer for me to reclaim my own life and be free of fear. I understand that the pain never really goes away altogether and I've only just started recovering but this WILL NOT BEAT ME. I have lived with this for 31 years. It's time that my disgusting perverted father had the fear and the guilt and the shame back. It belongs to him, not to me. 
 
I feel honoured to be able to share my story with you all. Thank you for reading this. 
I believe we can all break free and we are all much stronger than we believe. Never give up.
PsycheSigned on: Tue 20 Feb 2007 20:11:56 EST
She cried herself to sleep last night 
while I stood at her door  
The memories she tried to fight 
were so hard to ignore 
 
They crushed her far beyond repair, 
and in that hellís expanse 
she cried for every murdered chance 
and each unanswered prayer 
 
She cried for every waking dream 
you could have lived without 
She cried for every silent scream 
and every voiceless shout 
 
She cried for all those shattered years 
she never will forget 
For every drop of blood and sweet 
she cried a thousand tears 
 
She cried for every broken seam 
where her soul tore apart 
She cried for every fallen beam 
that caved in on her heart 
 
She cried for each forgotten smile 
for each remembered sigh 
for every time she wished to die 
as her heart stood on trial 
 
She cried for every wasted day 
she thought those lies were true, 
"But if the pain all fades away 
what will be left of you?" 
 
The silence there was so profound 
I couldnít help but weep 
and as she cried herself to sleep 
she didnít make a sound 
 
 
cynthiaSigned on: Tue 06 Feb 2007 04:29:03 EST
here is my story i wa abused by my mother and father for as young as i can remeber some of the abuse is too horrifice for me to post right now.however on incident I can say is when my mother tried to catch me on fire.At the age of nine i was put into a foster home where i was sexually abused for five years.at the age of 14 I was placed in another foster home,where i stayed until i was 21,then her and i became real close and i stayed with her off and on until she passed away three years ago.I was in a very abusive marriage and when i divorced him my foster mother was there for me.maybe later i will gain trust and tell you more of the abuse i survered growing up.
atariSigned on: Tue 16 Jan 2007 22:31:50 EST
my story is simple. At the age of nine I was raped by a foster kid at a friends house. I stayed up all night. No one knows. At 13, my teacher raped me at my school. No one knows. And so on until I was 15, he raped me after school as a math tutoring ploy. I was devistated. I miscarried his child. I told the police. They laughed at me. He still teaches. And he still rapes. He has been doing this since his sophomore year of college. I dropped out of school and never told anyone why. I hated my parents for not knowing. And on top of all of it, My mom beat the hell out of me. All the time. DFS never helped. They laughed at me too. Now I am 18. I was cocky that I had survived but I had blinded myself. I cut to get rid of the memories and the pain. Since I was 9 I cut myself. I am a recovering anorexic and I am another rape victim. In June of 2006 I was raped again by another man. This time I went to the police and they tried to pursure my case. It lacked sufficient evidence and was dismissed. My life has suffered now. I was kicked out of my parents house last January and I have been on my own ever since. I have truly lost everything. I turn 19 in a month and am at the point of giving up. Who will save me?????
PhoenixSigned on: Tue 16 Jan 2007 22:29:20 EST
 
Here is a little of my story of abuse and how Iím recovering., This story is very edited because I donít as yet, feel safe enough to put everything on the web that happened to me Iím a survivor of ritual abuse, and I am DID. 
I was born in May 1970. Iím the oldest of two children. My sister is two years younger than me. I canít remember what age I was when the abuse started, but it went as far back as I can remember. My parents and immediate family were involved. 
At the age of eight my dad died. I was devastated, but coped by pretending it hadnít happened. He did hurt me, but I believe it wasnít all his choice. I miss my dad and I miss the fact that we didnít get to have an adult relationship. My way of seeing him will always be through a childís eyes. I didnít have to just deal with his death, but with moving house and area because the house came with his job. So within three months my world was turned upside down. I remember when I started my first day at my new primary school I want up to the teacher and told; her my dad had just died. Everyone thought this was strange and that I didnít care about my dad. I did, but I couldnít cope with people asking me about him, so I told them before they could ask me. 
By the time I started secondary school at the age of eleven I was just so shy. Academically I was well behind for my age. Indeed I didnít learn to read and write until I went to secondary school, and was always in the remedial section of the school. I was badly bullied by the other kids because I was so shy. I hated all of my time at secondary school, but hated home much more. 
My home life has deteriorated so much too. I was been hurt at least twice a week . At the age of fifteen, I took my first overdose. Iíd just had a baby girl, who died. I ended up in hospital having my stomach pumped. We were assigned a social worker who came to do family therapy to discuss the problem; which was me! I was never asked if I was been hurt but when I read my social work file as an adult for when I was a child it said they thought something was going on, but didnít have enough evidence! Iím sorry but I donít think they looked too hard! 
My mum died in 2001. I hadnít seen her for years before she died, which I regret. I regret the fact that we didnít get change to put things right between us. Whatever she was like she was still my mum and I loved her. 
I left home as soon as I could. I entered the adult psychiatric service at eighteen and fourteen years later Iím still there. Iíve had various diagnosisís over the years . I am presently getting good mental health care after years of mis-diagnosis and non treatment. 
Iím also now in therapy with a therapist who is giving me the change to turn my life around. She listens to my story and the pain and helps me to make some sense of it all. 
Despite abuse my heat will go on beating, it will go reaching out to others, and seeing the good in the world. Abuse has had devastating effects on my life, but one day I will turn it around. Itís not easy, but I will do it 
 
iHEARTuSigned on: Sat 06 Jan 2007 20:40:02 EST
This broken heart 
shattered on the ground 
bleeding like hell 
savior to be found 
and all those blood i've just waist 
revenge you'll have to face 
 
you made me cry 
you made me bleed 
you've left me with nothing to succeed 
now i'm all alone 
talking on my own 
and screaming my lungs out to you 
 
days pass by 
i spoke to you 
and you didnt even reply 
i sit and cry 
and wonder why 
all you did is lie
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