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Finding The Hope to Heal: A Site for Survivors of Sexual Abuse

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The Tears that helped me grow

This is my personal story of my sexual abuse when I was a child. This contains triggering details. Please becareful when you are reading.

From the ages of 1 to 6 life was so awesome. It couldn't have been better. I had wonderful adoptive parents and awesome siblings. At this time I only had one older brother and two older sisters. My oldest sister being my biological sister. We got a long so awesome. All four of us would play together all the time. We were unseparatable. During the summer we used to climb trees, swim, go for hikes, play cars under the deck in the dirt, and yes even played barbies. (Yes even my brother) We didn't have a lot of material things because back then we were poor, but we didn't need material things, we had each other.
Well things changed when I turned 7. That's when I discovered how horrible the people you love the most can be. It started one day when we had gone swimming. Jenny (the oldest) and Megan (next to the oldest) had already gotten dressed. Well it was only my brother and I left. He went into the little playhouse where we would get dressed. He said that I could come in and get dressed to that he wouldn't look. Well he didn't just look but when I was bending over to pick up my clothes, he forced an object in me anally. I had no idea what was going on at all. All I knew was that there was so much pain. A few minutes later I heard mom yell for us to get in the house. She took me aside and asked what we were doing. She took me in her bedroom and I sat on her lap. My heart started racing. I was so scared, because I thought I had done something bad and I was scared that my brother was going to get mad at me for telling. So I told her what he did and that was that. The next thing I remember was him in his room, yelling out the window asking me if I told mom what he did. My reply was "no." I didn't want him to hurt me so I lied. I thought that was the end of him hurting me. Boy was I wrong.
After that, things just got worse. Every other night my brother would sneak down from his room which used to be the attic; and he would come into my room. From there he would rape me. If I cried he would tell me to shut up or he would choke and slap me. I would cry each time. But no one came. I was there to face the devil by myself. I would fight back, but because he was 5 years older then me, he was a lot stronger then I was. I would just end up getting hurt more.
This lasted until I was 15, so for 9 years he raped me. He raped me vaginally, and anally. He would also have me go down on him, but that was never enough so he would still rape me. After each night, I remember running to the bathroom and seeing all the blood. I would get so scared, but I couldn't tell anyone. He had silenced me. He silenced me with his threats, his strength, and the pain that he had forced on me.
We moved when I was 16. We moved far away from South Carolina. Moving was one of the best things that have happened to me. We moved because most of our relatives are up here (in Wisconsin). At this point my parents still didn't know what had happened all those years. I was glad we were moving because that meant no more pain, no more humiliation and no more torture.
During the summer before my senior year, I had to read two books for AP Literature. One was called "The Fountainhead" I had blocked out the abuse until I read that book. Later during my senior year, I emailed my teacher and told her what had happened. The next day we talked privately. I had told her that it was reported and that my family knew. That was a lie. I didn't want to hurt my family. I want to keep everyone happy. Since all those years I acted like nothing happened. I thought everything was safe. Like my family wouldn't find out or anything. So I started talking to the school social worker. Everything was going fine until she asked if it why he was in jail. I told her that he had almost killed a man which was why. She asked if the prison knew about my abuse. I told her no. She said she had to report it by law. So it was up to me to tell mom before some lady she didn't know, caled and told her.
So the next monday I wrote my mom a three page letter telling her what had happened. I left it on the counter and headed to youth group with my friend Melissa. I dreaded going home, but it was something that I had to do. So after youth group, my friend took me home. As I neared the door, my heart raced. I went in, and my parents were in my mom's office crying. That sat me down and we talked. My parent's were both upset that I hadn't told them sooner. I tried to explain. I couldn't even look at my parent's because of how humiliated and ashamed I was. A week later I was in counseling and that was the best thing ever. But I had stopped going for awhile because I thought I was over it.
Well last year was my first year of college. That's when I really opened up and things got really bad. I started cutting and burning myself. I was depressed all the time. I started going to a counselor on campus, but when she found out how serious my problems were she wanted to refer me somewhere off campus. I didnt want to because my mom thought everything was going great. I had put an away message up on AIM and my RA read it and got scared. So she called the police. She thought I was suicidal. At that point it had crossed my mind, but I didn't have a plan or anything. So the Assistant Dean of Student life got invovled and said that if I didn't get help I would be kicked out of school. She said that I was a danger to other students. The only person I would hurt was me. She ended up calling my mom and I never heard the end of it. So I started back in counseling with the same counselor that I had my senior year. And I have to say, it was the best thing that ever happened.
It wasn't until Christmas of last year that I attempted suicide for the first time. Jenny and I were visiting Megan in Madison for a week. Well we all went swimming and I tried to drown myself. However they never picked up on it. Later that night my sister got mad because I wouldn't talk to her about my abuse. It's kind of hard when she was the second person I told and she blamed me for what happened. So we got into an argument. I walked out and she got madder. She ended up punching me in the face because I pushed her out of my way so I could get away from her. Things were finally settled between Jenny and I.
The next semester I attempted to overdose. I was almost put in a hospital but my counselor didn't find out until after a week or so that I had did it. I continued to cut and burn myself. But then something awesome happened to me. I met and awesome guy. His name is Matt. We talked for a few weeks and then started going out. Before I met him, I thought no guy would ever want to date me. I am dirty, used, damaged and disgusting. But he changed that for me.
We dated for 6 months. During those awesome 6 months, we almost broke up because of my cutting. So May 27th I had stopped cutting. But then I developed an eating disorder. Anoerxia. Not to long ago we broke up. For many reasons. It wasn't until then that I started cutting again. I had gone three months without hurting myself.
So that brings me to now. Now I am trying to stop cutting and trying to work on my eating. Its tough but I have faith that things will get better. At night is when it gets the hardest. Because thats when I have most of my flashbacks and nightmares. They seem so real. Like I can feel him on me, in me around me. I can see him and etc. However,  they are getting less and less.
Now I am still in counseling working on my PTSD, depression and self harm and my eating. I still cut to this day and that is something that I am erally working on. It isn't easy. I still have urges to cut each day but the get less and less for the most part. Things get a little better each day. I used to have bad days only, but now I have more good days then bad. I owe it all to my counselor, my roommate (See, you are AWESOME BABE!!!), my friends at After Silence, (you guys are my second family, if I had a big enough dorm room I would invite you all over for dinner), my family and my God.
I know I have had a rough past, but I am willing to use it for good. I am majoring in psychology so I can become a therapist and help other survivors of sexual abuse.
I just want to say, I know that you feel there is no hope for healing or surviving. I know how you feel. I once thought that as well. But there is hope. Your abusers haven't distroyed you. You can survive, but you are going to have to want to for yourself not for anyone else. I am not going to lie. It is not an easy journey, but its a journey that is worth all the pain and hurt.

Let it out
Its healthy