Welcome to Gaia! ::

I hope to help or even

inspire anyone I can through my stories, although the one that is most profound to me is the

second one. So it's time now to inform you on my young life!


There is a history of serious abuse on my father's side, so it's no wonder he's the one that

molested me. I don't remember that much, most likely because I blocked it out, but I do

remember little snippets. I think it really started in the second grade when I was 7. My

parents had gotten a divorce not long before so I believe the stress had something to do

with my dad's urge. I'm not trying to lessen the offense, because I do know that it is a

very serious offense, it is just my opinion that it is a small reason for his actions.
Being so young I didn't really have much emotion in it other than being uncomfortable

and confused. I knew that it wasn't right but I couldn't bring myself to tell him to stop so

I went to the next best thing and told my mom. I will never forget that day. I must've been

contemplating it for quite some time and finally decided one night to tell her, so I just

walked into her room and told her something along the lines of 'Daddy has been touching me

funny' and she said that she'd take care of it and that I was a very brave girl for telling

her. Within days my dad was arrested and I was being interviewed by police. For the longest

time I felt I was at fault, all I had to do was tell my dad to stop and he would have. I

broke up the family, ruined whatever role model and mentor my brother had, and destroyed my

dad's life.
A procession of disasters soon followed when a close friend of my mother's started

spying on me like a hawk thinking that I would harm her children. Finally Mom got fed up

with her accusing me of being a bad child and told her off, and with this the woman told

everyone in the neighborhood whose children played with me and I was no longer allowed to

play with any of my friends. Good times... Even still I was a strong child and went on with

life not mentioning my dad unless my therapist probed me a bit. My family and I frayed from

the subject because it was still too raw and there wasn't anything any of us knew to say.

I didn't actually start to realise the depth of the pain until my last boyfriend. I met him

in sixth grade but stopped hanging out with him when he asked me out because he was too

creepy. I didn't talk to him until eighth grade and couldn't understand why he was all of a

sudden my best friend. Finally someone told me that he really liked me and wanted to be my

boyfriend and then of course he said so himself. I said yes, but I didn't see him as

anything more than a friend and it ended almost as soon as it started. It was too awkward

for me to be in a relationship with him. When we came back from winter break (since I went

out with him the week before it started and broke up with him in the same week) friends of

his and mine would come up to me and say it was low of me to do that to him, that he was

becoming depressed and suicidal not having anything to live for. With that guilt I finally

caved in to it.
I finally got used to the boyfriend-girlfriend thing we had, though it took awhile and

it still didn't feel as natural as I would have hoped. There were already signs that it was

going to be a controlling relationship within the first month when he guilted me in to

kissing him. (I liked taking things much slower.) The manipulation just kept getting worse

from french kissing, fingering, oral sex, intercourse, as well as many other things I was

not willing to do. All of it was mind play and guilt trips to get me to do things for him.

There were a few times that stick out in my mind.
I remember being really angry one day and it became worse when I got a horrible rash from

wet jeans. (we've all been there. >.<) Mom was being very sympathetic and was about to take

me to the store to buy me a new pair of jeans since I'd been needing more anyway, he

randomly showed up wanting to take me to the movies. I really wasn't in the mood but I felt

bad that he had his sister drive all that way so I decided to go. It was a double date with

one of his friends and his girlfriend. Once we got there we realised we were too late for

the show we meant to see and decided to wait for the next one, in the mean time going to the

mall right across the street. Finally when we had finished the movie we went back to his

friend's house and I called my mom to check up on her. Apparently we heard two different

times and she was furious with me for not calling her. She threatened to call the police if

I didn't get home within the next half hour and I was thouroughly distressed at the thought

that I was in so much trouble since I never made Mom so angry. I went out back away from

everyone so they didn't see me crying and my boyfriend came out with me. Instead of

comforting me though, he said that he wanted to french kiss me and that I promised we would

that day. He looked so hurt and betrayed when I told him I wasn't in the mood that I hated

myself for days for ruining his day. How could he stand being with someone as horrible as

me? I'm a worthless piece of s**t that shouldn't even be blessed enough to live. I was so

distrought over the whole incident and stubbornly decided that it was all of my fault for

hurting him like that. That was the way the relationship went.
Another time was when he wanted to finger me and I had already told him many times that

wasn't a boundary I was willing to cross. He kept pushing it one day but I was firm with my

decision. Finally before he left we made out and during this session he forced my legs apart

and fingered me hard. Once he had done that he left. I was kind of stunned that he had taken

force on me like that. It hurt so bad and when I found out he made me bleed I wept on the

bathroom floor. I cursed myself and screamed of what I slut I had become. I couldn't believe

I had done all of these things with him. After he had gotten home and called me we kind of

talked about it and I asked him why he did it. His consolation for his action was that I was

the first girl he had ever fingered.
There was one time I remember that disturbs me even to this day. We were sitting on my

bed one day talking about getting married. (I never liked the idea but he never stopped

talking about it. He would even call me by the name of Future Wife.) It was on the topic of

my father coming to the wedding or not and he said something to the effect of "I'd tell your

dad that at least your daughter lets me touch her." That haunted me for a long time. I

couldn't believe that he would say that about such a delicate subject.
I could go on with little stories like that but honestly the rest was a blur. The best

way to describe it was being in a dark hole filled with shades of gray and black. I was

drifting, not even a human being anymore, but a zombie. Every day past in the same way. I

had a few laughs with friends, but not the way I used to. I had grown retarded, like a part

of my brain had shut down. Food had no real taste; clothes had no real warmth or comfort;

the smell of flowers had no real scent; and saying the words "I love you" were more of a

chore than a from-the-heart expression. I had no spirit. Mom finally got me a therapist when

she noticed the cuts on my wrists and up my arms, and realised I had been purging when the

toilet became clogged.
It was a very slow and gradual process realising this wasn't the relationship for me and

once I broke up with him, things only became worse. He told all our friends, since

unfortunately we had the same friends, and they all frowned on my decision. I did tell a few

close friends about some of the things he did and for the most part they stuck by me, but

there were still others that still hung out with him even though they wanted to stay friends

with me. He would find ways to get to me, even when I changed my path when going to

different classes, or asking friends about what was new with me and then calling me up and

talking about it to freak me out that he knew so much. I finally cracked when he joined an

after school programme that was my passion for three years, even though several months

earlier he was saying that it was a stupid group and made fun of me for being in it. It got

even worse when the leader ranted and raved about what an amazingly sweet person he was and

I just got sick to my stomach and quit. He was cutting me off from everything I had ever

found any comfort in. He even faked a suicide attempt although I didn't believe it until he

called me after school and convinced me in the sound of his voice.
It took me three years to get over all that happened and realise that I am worth living;

as well as forgive him and even thank him for what he did- though not to his face duh-

because if it wasn't for him I wouldn't be as strong as I am today. I now plan on becoming a

therapist or some sort of mentor to help other people in need of someone to take care of

them, as well as any volunteer work to make people realise they have a voice in the matter,

and can rise above the pain and be in control of their lives. In a way I kind of take pity

on my ex because he will never know true happiness and be content with himself. I know where

I stand and plan on becoming a very successful person who will change the world, or as much

of it as I can. I love who I am and I thank every person in my life who has done me wrong

because without them I wouldn't become the person I am now, and the person I plan on being.