WARNING: This post contains information that some may find offensive for a blog. If you are someone that knows me or knows my parents, please know that this post is not to hurt anyone, but a way for me to have a voice...the only way to be heard. This is a short snip of my story...I will not carry the silent agony any longer. And if you have been a victim of a similar crime, please email me of you have questions or if you need help, or if you would just like to say thank you for being "your" voice. Sometimes knowing we are not the only ones who suffer or have suffered, makes a difference in how we see ourselves.
If you are offended, please be sensitive in that I have suffered through quite a bit and for a very long time & during those times, I have been forced to stay silent through it all and carry the burden of not being heard. I will not be accused of lying anymore...I will not be silent to save the feelings of others while I suffer and I hope you can see that I needed to be heard. I do not believe that by telling my story that I am dishonoring my parents...but I am finally giving my pain a voice and letting it go. No one in my family will hear me, so I choose to be heard the only other way I can...though my blog.
This is a picture I painted about four years ago. I planned to put it on the cover of my book that told my story. I was always too afraid to finish it or have it heard.
Today is my birthday and I have reached a point in my life where I refuse to be a victim any longer. I had a horrible childhood and the last few days I have not been posting because I have been having to sort through some pain. I was officially adopted at the age of 8 and I had survived a drug addict mother and her abuse (no thanks to the system). I was adopted into a good home (I thought) and sure, I had a roof over my head, I had food on the table, but I suffered a silent secret that weighed heavily on my heart. My adopted parents, were both in education and worked tirelessly to make sure they appeared like good parents. Don't get me wrong, no one is perfect and I desperately wanted attention...to the point of trying to be perfect...but even perfect was not perfect and as a teen, I still hadn't felt that I fit in anywhere. My parents were harder on me than their biological children and my younger sister (who is my biological sister). I was molested and raped by their son,
and he took away my childhood. My parents called me unthankful because I felt isolated, but who could I even talk to. One year at a Christian Youth Convention, my heart weighed so heavy carrying this pain that I told a friend...who told a pastor...who told my parents. I was mortified, but the youth counselor kept telling me that it wasn't my fault and that my parents would not be upset (but they did not REALLY know my relationship with my parents). When they came to pick me up, the entire way home I heard how much I had destroyed their reputation and their family.
What an unthankful brat I had been and how they were going to send me to a group home where I deserved to be. They kept telling me how much they had done for me and how they hadn't even wanted to adopt me, but that my drug addict mother didn't want my sister and I separated. So to them, I was worse than the mother who had physically and sexually abused me. I can't even tell you how much that hurt and how worthless and ashamed I felt. Straight A's, clean room, eager to please, and liked by my teachers...but I was a horrible daughter and deserved to be abused. I wanted to cry, wanted to scream,
but I sat silently
Me as a young girl.
and took the verbal abuse just like usual. I did not want to give them the benefit of seeing my pain and watching me cry. My dad jokes today that as a child I was so stubborn that when he spanked me, I wouldn't cry...so he would hit harder just to see that I had feelings. What he didn't know is that I would often be so hurt that I would wet myself and feel ashamed for not being able to handle the pain. I wanted so bad for him to like me.
When we arrived back home, I was told to go straight to my room. My parents immediately told my biological younger sister (who I had raised and protected at the age of four) that I had destroyed and lied about the family. Even my sister looked down on me. They went to their room and talked loud...just to make sure I was hearing everything, called their son and asked him if he had raped me. The room suddenly became silent and I felt like everyone but me had disappeared. My dad walked into my room and said...you're lucky your brother admitted to raping you one time!!! Then shut my door. My mom walked passed me with her head down and said nothing...wouldn't even look at me. The two people I looked up to and tried so hard to get their love and attention were now more hurt that their poor son had done this. My brother said that he was drunk and that it was only one time, but no one asked me. The only thing they said to me was to ask me a question...Do you want YOUR BROTHER to be arrested??? Anyone reading this will know that the question was rhetorical, they didn't want me to answer, I didn't deserve to have a voice because I had ruined their son. What could I say??? I was about 15 years old and I was afraid they would send me to a group home. I said no. My dad wanted to know the details of the rape and even though...to this day, I remember every word he said, what he smelled like, and how frightened I was, I didn't want to give my dad the satisfaction of knowing my pain and enjoying seeing me cry...even for a second! No one knew that one week before my 13th birthday, I was raped by my brother who had molested me for years & I slept in the bathtub the remainder of the night from pain...from fear...and from shame.
The family just completely ignored that it had happened and the next week, my oldest brother was getting married and I was forced to have to stand next to the man that had taken away my childhood and everyone had not even cared. I was humiliated and ashamed standing next to him and I felt as though I would throw up. After that, I became very rebellious (because I had a boyfriend my parents hated & the fact that they hated him made me completely fall in love with him). After telling all their friends, people who had watched me grow up, that I was uncontrollable, I just couldn't stand to look at them sometimes. I kept to myself and I loved school and I loved art and dancing. I wasn't allowed to have a life, I wasn't allowed to wear make-up, and I was never allowed to talk back. I felt like I was in a bubble...just watching everyone else live their lives. One day, we went to a dollar store and I was wearing overalls and a t-shirt underneath (pretty conservative to a high school girl. My mom complained that my side kept showing and she wouldn't stop nagging about it. My side would show a little bit of skin if my shirt became bundled a little bit from bending over or sitting down. My dad became so angry that he drove me over to the store's dumpster and forced me to take off my overalls in front of everyone (my sister, my mom and whoever else was around) and he took them and threw them in the garbage. I had never felt more humiliated and worthless in my entire life. Having to take off my clothes after being through the worse kind of abuse imaginable and made to feel that I was asking for attention. I blamed my mom. I never could look at her without thinking of that moment again. How could she allow a young girl to be humiliated and stripped of humanity in the middle of a parking lot. Mom's are supposed to protect their daughters, but mine made sure to humiliate me for ruining her son.
At 16, my parents told me I needed to stop seeing my boyfriend (who I wasn't even dating at that moment) or leave the house. They had the neighbor, a raging alcoholic, give me a lecture about the poor choices I was making...
I just stayed quiet.
I chose to leave. I moved in with his family and we did start seeing each other again. My dad, within 20 minutes had everything that I owned shoved into a box, placed in the driveway like my life was trash. I sucked up the pain and walked away. My parents didn't even allow my sister to talk to me, but I would draw her pictures and leave them at the front door for her...which she says she did get and made her feel sad.
After my daughter was born I came into contact with my family again and slowly built some sort of relationship to move forward. I continued my education, worked very hard and even had forgiven my brother. The year I received my Masters degree would be the worst year of my life. My biological mother just pushed her way into my life and talked about what a good mother she was.
I just stayed quiet.
Somehow, my sister and I had got into a conversation about my abuse by my brother and she had never known that I had been molested by him from the time I was about 9 to one week before my thirteenth birthday (the day I was raped). I knew he had not been drunk...I knew who he was and what he did, but I did not want to be defined by my abuse. My sister was in shock and called my oldest brother...who was in shock, who called my mom- who was in shock, who called my dad - who was in shock, who called
My parents called me a liar and this one event broke apart the family once again. They believed him over me...again. Everyone was mad at me... here I am...31 years old and I am stilled blamed for being molested and raped by their son!!! I couldn't believe this was happening and I didn't want to have anything to do with anyone. At that moment, all the hurt, the pain, the silence, and the shame...came rushing through the inner most part of my being like a tsunami and I was once again having to re-live the nightmare. I had been talking to my sister and why would I lie about this??? I felt so betrayed and hurt. They didn't talk to me or their grand-kids, saying that they were giving me time!?? When my sister visited this last year, she ended up in the hospital and my mom and dad had to stay with us. I welcomed them into my home like I had never been separated from them. I had a talk with my mom about what had happened and I was appauled by her behavior! She didn't say sorry...she didn't ask me if I was okay...she did; however, tell me that this situation had caused her first born son not to talk to her!!!??? REALLY!? I hugged her and
But the tsunami was beginning to reach the surface with a fury. I said nothing, but I just wanted everyone out of my house. I wasn't going to let them ruin my accomplishments or my self-worth once again! After they left, things went back to normal, but they never called me or my kids anyway. They would send a card, or some money every once in a while because that was easier for them than having to face me I guess.
At the beginning of the week I was talking with my sister and I was sad that my parents never called, but had sent the kids a Valentine's Card - as if that was some sort of a relationship. During the conversation I found out that my parents had let Chad move back with him...the man who fathered tons of kids he never supports, has abused women, struggled with drugs, and suffers from bi-polar disorder (gee, I wonder why..) and he was now living in their home!!! The same people who rarely talk to me, blamed me for being abused, and have treated me like I was nothing...were rubbing the pain in even deeper! I have been pretty withdrawn the last couple of days and I have been once again, SILENT...
Yesterday, I chose NOT TO BE SILENT EVER AGAIN! I DESERVE TO HAVE A VOICE & I WILL BE HEARD! I had called my mom because my marriage has been rocky and I just needed some comfort (most girls call their mom...I should have known better). She told me to call her back and when I did, she didn't answer. A day went by and she didn't even call to see if I was okay. I began to hurt again and wondered how it is possible for a mother to raise a child and then completely make them feel like nothing??? But I wasn't her biological daughter; however, in my mind she was my mother! I never got to choose my mother, so why should I be punished that she resents adopting me. I was an abused innocent little girl! I sent her a text the day before my birthday...I wasn't going to live even one more day without a voice. In the text, I told her that I was hurt that she didn't call me and I told her how painful it felt that she had ignored me, but is letting a man who molested and raped an innocent little girl who lived in her home...live with them...and support him. I told them that he is no prodigal son! A prodigal son, comes back, repents (admits his sin and asks for forgiveness) and turns his life around. Chad, is not a prodigal son. He is a manipulator & everyone who helps him ALWAYS regrets the decision!!! I told her that she ever only cared about me if someone else she knew had said something nice about me, but behind closed doors, she was horrible. I longed for the mother everyone thought she was. When people would say...OH, your mom is so wonderful...I just thought of how ignorant they were, but blessed that they didn't know her like I knew her. I never said anything about my mom or dad because I never wanted them to hurt or to be humiliated, or ashamed - the way they had made me feel all of those years. I don't like hurting anyone, but I am tired of not having a voice! My sister called to say Happy B-day this morning and I asked her if things had become bad because pf my message. She said she didn't want to say anything to spare me the pain, but I asked her anyway. My mom told everyone that I had cursed at her and was rude...I called to ask her for help...in tears...and needing a mother...I am sure she would feel better if I had cursed at her...then she would have a real reason to be so cruel. I was so hurt that I wanted to have a voice and tell everyone she had lied! I knew it wouldn't matter...that it was pointless, but I didn't care...I do have a voice and I refuse to be a victim anymore!
I called and the phone rang, I felt a little relief in thinking no one would answer, but my dad did. I said I just wanted you to know that I never cursed at mom, I called because I needed someone to talk to...and he said to me word for word...on my birthday...
YOU SENT YOUR MOTHER HATE MAIL!!!
and hung up on me. I spoke up for once in my life and said only the truth and I was apparently sending hate mail. All I can say is that I refuse to be a victim and I will be heard...even if I have to tell the whole world what happened to me and have to deal with the shame...I will be heard!
I am going to start a blog called, This is my life...I hope it helps other girls who are going through or have been through extreme abuse and trauma and have people in their lives who are supposed to love them, protect them and care...completely blame them. I know that anyone can survive and that if I do not have to be defined by the sin of others, then neither does any other girl or boy..have to define themselves by the abuse that they are suffering through or have barely made it through...still breathing...and with your head held high!!!
I am sorry for this post. If you feel offended in any way, that was not my intention. It was also not my intention to bash my parents...I longed for their love and attention and I wanted to be just like them when I was younger. The purpose of this post is to show that I do have a voice! Everyone has a voice! No one should ever have to feel ashamed for any abuse they suffer! I will not be silent ever again!!
For those of you who are loving the art, know that my art was my therapy. I loved to express myself without words because no one could tell my painting or my drawings to be quiet! I thank you for the encouragement and for following my blog. I needed this post on my 33rd birthday to show that I will not be defeated by the sin of others anymore & I will be back up and posting my freebies and happy thoughts from now on. If you would like to read my story, I will be posting a link to the new blog in the next few days. I will not be censored, I will not hold back, and I will finally not carry the shame that has dragged behind me for years. If you are sensitive, please do not read the new blog. If you are someone who knows my parents, I do not want you to think less of them. They are wonderful in their work-place and they love what they do. I forgive them because THEY KNOW NOT WHAT THEY DO!
This birthday...I gave myself a gift...A VOICE.