Purging..........

When I was a girl, I was molested. I say molested and not raped as full penetration did not occur, although that was simply because the boy in question wasn't really sure what he was doing. I can see that now. I was 8, and he would remove my knickers and rub his penis up and down the lips of my labia and moan and heavy breathe. To me it was a really silly game, and I didn't like playing it, but it was the only way I could get to watch the TV show I wanted to watch. This boy was 4 years older than me and a close member of the family.

This went on for about a year on and off. I told my mother, after a long while, she said that it was normal, that all kids experiment and and I should not be all up tight about it. So I stopped watching Dr Who. That way I didn't have to pay the ferry man. (The TV was in his room. My dad watched the news, on the other telly.) 

After that it was an old family friend. He would grab my newly developing breasts, which really hurt to touch, and squeeze them and try and tongue kiss me.  I that was during my  9th -11th years. The odd occasion when I was older, but I became really good at hiding from him. He was OLD. I mean grandpa old. He smelled too, smoker, and had white scum on his mouth all the time. My parents thought it was rude if I didn't greet him hello and good bye. I even got  into trouble, for failing to be polite. They were European  so the kiss on the cheeks and the hug was a normal form of greeting. But what he would do when they were not looking was NOT NORMAL, and I hated it.  I still can see his shaky hands and wobbly head.  He was a dirty old man, and he took full advantage. I would tighten my lips so hard, and he'd push his tongue hard trying to break through, but I wouldn't let him. GROSS! Again I told my mother. "He is an old man and you are a rude little girl with no respect for your elders!" I didn't care, I hid until I couldn't hide any more. "My girl" he call, "You will always be MY GIRL"  Even now it makes me want to puke. 

The others were much the same type of thing, and one man managed  to get his hand down my pants and played with my clitoris  and I was not sure what to do, but it all so felt good, but I was too young to understand what he was trying to do.  My mother was in the house, and when he stopped suddenly, I remember feeling that something was wrong about this game. Later, when I was a young teen, this guy offered me $20 for a blow job. I told him to FUCK OFF. But I had to ask my brothers girlfriend what a blow job was, as I wasn't sure if it was sexual or something to do with his hair?? It coincided with a boy at school who teased me about 'oral'. He said I bet you don't know what 'Oral' is! I thought talking dirty.... thank goodness for older girls.  My brother's current girlfriend drew me a picture and I remember swearing that "I WOULD NEVER DO THAT! EWE!"  Well I guess with the right person it isn't ewe, but it was totally EWE at 13.

The last time I was 15 and another family friend. The family friend who was behind the reason why we moved 1000 kms across the country to start a new life. The one who  was trying to hurt my daughter, he would have, no question. He returned back to my house after dropping my mother and his wife at the fruit market. He used some lame excuse that he had forgotten his keys. Then he tried to get me talking about masturbation. I didn't even know what that was. Honestly. I was like this mushroom. I can't believe how naive I was. I was brought up Catholic and sex was not a topic to be discussed. 

He came behind me and placed his hands on my breasts and I lost it. I went ape shit, and I threw him out. I don't even know where I got my voice from that day. I never fort before. I was always so stunned when it was happening. But that day something snapped.

NEVER AGAIN was that happening again.

I wanted someone to LOVE me, NOT just want to FUCK me.

Some how I managed to keep myself pure enough for the man who would really appreciate it. For the man who wanted me, ALL OF ME, not just my assets.

I am glad of that. 

It is NEVER OK . CHILD ABUSE is wrong, and needs to be STOPPED.

My mother chose a known child molester over her own flesh and blood. She chose him, over me and my daughter. She made me go, and then lied about why  I had abandon her. I was the bad child. It didn't matter what I had done up till this day to help her. To take care of her. To love her. I only ever wanted her love. For her to be proud of me. She just didn't know how to love me. She loved the boys. My brothers. But us girls never really got the same love.

I guess all these things have bubbled to the surface because I went back into my past. I scratched the scab, and made it bleed. 

Not all my child hood was bad. I had many good things happen too. I have many happy memories. Much to be very grateful for.

Even with the child abuse, it helped me become this strong woman I am now. It is what makes me fight. Stand my ground. Fight for the weak, and for what is right.

I am grateful for that. 

It also made me a better mother. I broke the chain. NO MORE. NEVER AGAIN. My children are safe and happy, and INNOCENT. That makes me proud.

You can go to church and talk the talk, and walk the walk. But if you are a bad person on the inside, no amount of church going will fix that. I wonder what "God" will do to people like that?

Not my place to judge. I forgive them. I wont forget them. Karma will catch them I am sure. My job is to be a better person, friend, mother, wife. That is all I need to concern myself with.

So yes on occasion my inner child has hissy fits, and I have to step in and sort out her fears, and help her understand she is safe now. 

It is all in the past. What matters now is TODAY. So I SMILE.  I smile because I won. I don't need drugs or booze to mask the hurt. I faced it. I did nothing wrong. I was a child. I was innocent. I hold my head high, and I am grateful for my husband, and my 3 wonderful kids. I have every reason to be happy today.

Do not feel sorry for me. Instead join the fight to STOP CHILD ABUSE for good. Break the chain. Break the silence.