My earliest memories of my mother are good. I remember wanting to be just like her when I grew up. She was perfect in my eyes. People would get mad at her all of the time for reasons that I did not understand, and of course I stood on my mothers side. The first time that my view of her began to change I was five years old. She was talking to me about her sexual escapades. If you are thinking that this is inappropriate, you have no idea. She went into explicit detail. I knew everything about sex at the age of five. I wanted to do it, because my mother made it sound so wonderful. It was a way to express love and I wanted to be loved. I never felt like I was loved enough as a child. Yes, my family loved me, but I wanted to be loved by everyone. If that meant that I had to do sexual things I was ok with that, because that would make them love me.
My mother soon after, married a man that I was proud to call daddy. I did not really know my own father, and having a father figure was great. I even had the bonus of a new sister and brother! I was on top of the world. Things were wonderful, for a time. The first time that something was wrong was when I had a nightmare one night. I was terrified to be alone in my bedroom. I ran upstairs and crept tippy toed down the hallway to my parent's room. I could hear sounds coming from in there, so I knew that they were awake. I opened the door, and they both jumped up like I had scared them to death. Not realizing it at the time, I had walked in on them making love. Of course they yelled at me to go back downstairs, even after I explained that I had a nightmare.
I did not want to go back to my bedroom so I did the next thing I could think of. Surely, my new big brother would protect me. So I crept back downstairs and I went to his room, waking him up. I explained to him how afraid I was to sleep alone and I asked to sleep in his bed. He agreed, and with a sinister smile he said to me, "you can sleep in bed with me, as long as I can do what i want." I was elated. I wasn't going to have to sleep alone. I crawled into bed. Before I knew it he was lying on top of me, his stinking breath in my face, "You said I could do what I wanted, remember." I remembered, and I wanted to make him happy and love me so that I did not have to sleep alone so I laid there. He began to kiss me, in weird places. Places that I had never been kissed before. I recognized what was happening because of the things that my mother had told me two years earlier I felt something hard pushing against my legs and he began moving up and down and back and forth. I did not know exactly what was happening, all I knew was that I did not like it. I also knew that I did not want to sleep alone in my room so I froze.
He continued for some time, and then when he was done he rolled off of me and went to sleep. Thankfully it was over and I was safe. It hadn't been that bad after all. Or so I thought. The more I thought about it the next day, the more I felt uncomfortable about what had happened. I decided that I needed to tell my mommy and my daddy. We were sitting in front of the tv and I turned back to them. "****** kissed me in weird places and he was sucking on my face mommy." I told her. I saw my mom and dad look at each other and smile. "No he didn't honey, you watch too many movies." that was the end of it. I learned never to bring it up again, they did not believe me.
That was the first time that I realized that I would not trust my family. I returned to my brothers room twice after that, hoping that he would protect me from my nightmares and not do the disgusting things that had occurred that first night. This was not to be. He escalated his actions, and I was raped for the first time. I was terrified and I froze yet again. I ran back to my room, I knew that I could not tell my mother, she would not believe me. Why would she? She didn't believe me before. I never went back to his room.
When he realized that I was not coming to his room, he began coming to mine. Things continued for several months until my mother and step father divorced. I could not have been happier. I would no longer have to endure the pain and the disgusting scent of his breath on my face. I kept this a secret. The first of many. This was the beginning of my downfall. I felt used, not loved. I felt disgusting not beautiful. All of the things that my mother told me about sex was a lie. She lied to me, and she did not believe me when I would tell her things. I could not trust her. This was the beginning of a long journey of trauma for me.
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