Went to visit people in my home town city, Dayton, Ohio. It was nice to see people, though being in Dayton makes me sick to my stomach. I made the right choice leaving behind the place with the strongest connection to memories and triggers of abuse. I do like to reminisce and sometimes like to check out my home town for happy reasons, but mostly it’s an uncomfortable experience every time I come back here.
The reason for this visit this time? My sister just had a baby. Well, she is not my biological sister. I don’t have any biological sisters, just 3 older brothers. She lived next door to me in my childhood and she has known me since i was about 3. She knew my older brothers too, probably hung out with them several times, even the one that raped me. I think they may have been acquaintances, hanging out because of her boyfriend being the same age. I used to sit outside on the porch, and I’d see her. I’d ask if I could come over. She would show me her toys and I would come over many days to play with them and her all throughout my childhood (though she was a few years older than me, she had many stuffed animals still even as a teenager and I would still be over there playing with them). When I visited her again just recently, we were talking and laughing about how I always tried to ask if I could have her stuffed animals and take them home with me. I think now it was because they reminded me of a safe feeling. I think they reminded me of her and how she made me feel safe. Something I didn’t know at that age, in the middle of being raped almost daily.
So if she isn’t biologically my sister, I obviously call her my sister because she has always been there, just didn’t live with me. She didn’t have to play with me, an annoying weird little girl next door. She as a teen didn’t have to play with a preteen. She could have ignored me. She didn’t. She showed me kindness, like she could feel my loneliness and feel our deep connection.
I don’t remember when I told, I’m pretty sure I was still young, but I told her what my brother did. I don’t know when though. I can’t figure out what age I was. Obviously being next door and having played with me so frequently, and knowing my brothers, she was aware when Jason went away. I was told to lie about what he went away for. I at some point decided to tell her the truth.
I don’t remember what was said, I just know she has always known.
She always was there for me. Even after turning 18 and moving in with her boyfriend, she and I were best friends. She moved right across the street. Since it was so close, and since my mom stayed up late anyway, I was allowed to be over there pretty late sometimes with her as a teenager. She was my best friend and I always sought her for advice. She was what really felt like family. She was a bond that I THOUGHT I had with my mother. In time, later in adulthood, I realized the bond with my mom was forced.
So she is my sister through this bond, because she saw my pain, acknowledged it, and then proceeded to validate my pain. She comforted me and showed me a safe place exists. I realize now, even with all the wonderful motherly things my mom did, she just couldn’t fill this void. This emptiness because, the last thing said about our abuse was not anything that said it was okay for us to be angry. She basically gave me and my alters a vibe that fixing our brother Jason was more important than my fear of him. So I stuffed it down, I dissociate, another alter speaks and lives, seemingly fine because having no recollection of abuse. I mean, if I seemed okay, then that should have been the FIRST SIGN that something was NOT OKAY.
I mean, who is okay after rape? WHO THE FUCK wants to sit down and have Christmas dinner with their rapist?! WHO THE FUCK wants to sit at the family get together while people laugh and joke and show kindness and love to your rapist but treat you like the weirdo for being withdrawn from the celebration? People who call themselves family only see family as a way to glorify themselves: “LOOK WHAT I CAN DO FOR YOU!” and “Look at how nice I am!” And family is just free labor to give you help…Family is a selfish fucking thing….I mean, people were not disturbed by my ability to seem okay and smile and hug my FUCKING RAPIST?! THE FULL GROWN MALE (not “boy”) who FUCKED ME IN MY FUCKING ASS AS 3 YEAR OLD GIRL! WHAT. THE. HOLY. FUCK. Calling yourselves fucking christians….guess you are, because the only religious requirement ever stated is that girls need to be in puberty before wed…although, i wasn’t even FUCKING IN PUBERTY. God damn pedo….no fucking brother of mine…
…..Whoa sorry about that, that was June sneaking in. I’m not erasing it. I’ll leave it there to let her say her piece…Anyway. I have a part of me desperately needing my mother to acknowledge that I was hurt, so that little girl doesn’t feel she did something wrong or that she is wrong for feeling hurt. Connie, the 8 year old alter in here, says she is always in pain, but she refused to share the memories or what she knows about the abuse or why she is in pain. I know some things, but not vividly. Like just having the knowledge not the experience.. Like I read it in a book, and not like I have vivid memories or can feel the event of it. She won’t let anyone touch that part she hides in our mind. She is a little martyr girl, not wanting anyone else to suffer like she does so she keeps it all for herself to protect the rest of us.
As I’m visiting my sister, whom I’ve bonded with and gotten more respect from than my whole family ever gave, I am feeling this is where I belong. I want to cry because I finally don’t feel like I’m the block pulled from the bottom of the JENGA stack that is just going to make the whole thing fall. I’m holding her newborn son, and I love him as much as I did holding any other niece or nephew as a baby. This, this is my family. This is the chemical bond that ties me with love. It never happened like it’s supposed to with blood kin. That bond was interfered with…That bond was feared and rejected. I am just so happy to know, that no matter what I say to my sister about how I feel about my rape, she will never tell me I need to forgive him. I am just so happy to be comfortable being myself…..Or my “selves.” She has always known. She has seen them in my youth. She has actually recorded them and interviewed them, though that video got deleted shortly after. I wish it hadn’t. I’d like to have it to add on to the documentary of my life, as I’m trying to piece my own memories an experiences together.
I am so thankful to have her there. I am so thankful that I was lucky enough to have her live next door. I am thankful that the Universe gave me someone to bond to, while my family unit of blood kin was an illusion. I am probably doing as well as I am because of a few people in my childhood who I bonded with, when needing that family bond.
I also have another woman I consider sister. She was the one who married my rapist brother. As we all lived our lives in this false universe of “forget what Jason did and pretend we are a normal family” and Jason appeared functional, he was able to go about life to manipulate more people. Yes, I said more people. The truth is, my brother manipulated my whole family into believing he was NOT, indeed, an actual pedophile. He convinced them he was not a danger and this was like a simple mistake… He convinced them that he just did it because I “got all this attention” and he was “jealous” of me.
Like OOOPS he fucking slipped and fell with his dick in my ass???! Who would believe this shit?
Damn it June…let me finish…I know you reading this seems like a quick back and forth, but it actually takes me a second to fight back from dissociation. El-oh-el about triggering myself when I try to type this out. I’m getting stronger, eventually I believe the triggers won’t hurt and they won’t be “triggers” firing anymore.
He was a good manipulator indeed. He just robbed everyone of their common sense by batting those eyelashes of those big blue eyes and adding a cutesy “I’m sawwy” so now they pity him. They couldn’t believe he was “bad.” Reality check -You know what you are doing when you have sex, as it takes focus and energy, as the pleasure will allow you to keep doing it. It especially takes some calculating and effort when the victim is arguing and fighting against it or needs coercion to do it.
If you can feel pleasure during someone else’s torment, I’m sorry that makes you a dangerous person. It makes you sociopathic. It means even if you don’t rape, you are okay hurting people in other ways too. In theory anyone who has raped has shown to be the most dangerous of all people. In theory they are capable of as much as killing people without remorse (and possibly even finding pleasure in it) and since it’s children the pedo’s hurt you better believe that they would not have a problem KILLING A CHILD either. Oh you want to try to argue that someone who can rape a child can feel bad about hurting a child and maybe the wouldn’t murder them? Well, if it meant no witness to their crime, and they were in a desperate fear of being caught, you better believe the selfish sociopath would do so. With murder as the worst case scenario, still the most minimal offense is extreme. It will still be a horrific one even if not a violent one, as psychological and emotional abuse is just as damaging as physical at times. Even causing Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Common sense says, that the larger majority of sex offenders will offend again. Statistics and science know that pedophiles don’t stop being pedophiles and once they do it, they are like addicts trying to resist the drug dangled in their face. Science also knows that pedophilia arises with puberty like a sexual orientation, so even children can be pedophiles. Even children are capable of showing signs of being a permanent danger to children. If the world would see these truths, instead of hiding and covering up rape and violence (especially sibling abuse), then we could protect a lot more people, children especially. I want the world to be less squeamish and embarrassed when talking about rape and violence on children, and be more angry.
A child shouldn’t have to grow up feeling like they float outside the universe, like they are an alien without a connection to any other human in this planet. A child should not have to grow up afraid to speak the truth because people make her feel embarrassed about something that really is downright horrifying. It’s not a little “tee-hee” giggle giggle perversion. Stop saying it was sex. It was psychological torture, manipulation, a physically painful assault.
Back to the woman married my rapist….She was now my sister in law. I tried to warn her before. One of the others came out, I’m guessing it was Connie or June, trying to ask her if she was SURE she wanted to marry Jason. I have this memory of a conversation I was physically there for, but was not consciously aware. The person speaking asks the fiancee’ if she knows everything. She says, yes. They persist, “No, do you know EVERYTHING.” She insists, yes I know EVERYTHING. So then, with a deep breath, they go to the next level to ask, “do you know what Jason did when we were younger?” She said, “Yes, I know about you and Jason and what he did.” I can see we went silent for a moment. I don’t know what was going on…..maybe this was another switch… We talked about how he has become a better guy and well, at least he was honest with her about it, so maybe that was a good sign…
This is the ridiculous brainwashed mess that I was speaking. The same rhetoric I–still TO THIS DAY–hear my mother retort back at me. How well Jason is doing, how he’s back on the wagon, how she’s so PROUD of how good he is doing. How he learned his lesson and he just has some issues and is a good man. Yeah, we don’t care to hear any of that. Now though, I finally understand where it came from, inside my mind, to accept Jason back in our life as if he didn’t *mean to* hurt us. Like some how he didn’t understand he was hurting us before and SUDDENLY now somebody explained it and—OOOH! LIGHT BULB! NOW it makes sense that he shouldn’t have done that. And he said sorry, and he wasn’t thinking right, and he was on drugs…excuse excuse minimize me minimize my abuse I’ve no right to complain or be upset now because it’s really “no big deal” now is it?
Well, I tried to warn my sister-in-law. A part of me wanted the truth to come out and stop living this lie. I was prevented from doing so. These others were prevented from speaking up too. We tried…I couldn’t fight through dissociation though, not with the constant psychological torture and other abuse going on in my life (my other brother physically assaulted me on a regular basis and my mom did nothing to protect me from that, even prevented me from calling the police on him when I was 16 and he was 18 because he’d go to jail then as an adult….and god-forbid, we ruing the lives of our abusers, right?)
My mom, I get her, she wanted her family. However, my mom had a distorted view. She came from a broken abusive situation. She thought family was sticking together no matter what, except for a mother who neglects or abandons her kids. I feel my mom felt abandoned by her own mother, so she couldn’t allow herself to “give up on” or “abandon” her sons, even though they were abusive and dangerous. She thought herself to be viewed as a bad parent, and ultimately it seems people care more about how they look to the world as parents, rather than actually being a good parent.
As a parent, it is your responsibility to hold your children accountable for their actions and teach them of consequences. That should also include, making them pay for their crimes, with an adequate punishment equal to it. Children don’t know they can go to jail, I feel that’s why there are so many bad kids. I mean, some how we need to start informing children of law and prison in their youth. I mean, we need to add more info on the local laws for local schools and everything. Most people grow up never understanding law.
I tried to warn my sister-in-law but the indoctrination that allowed me to “forgive” my abuser was the same thing that stopped me from pressing it more, to prevent the wedding. She then got pregnant….My heart caught in my throat, I remember…I remember hearing a terrified child inside….It was before I understood I had D.I.D. but I knew that they were there. I used to interact with them when really young, but as I got older I learned people thought I was crazy when they saw how I talked to myself and how I played by just sitting there talking to myself. I remember I was gone for a really long period of time after I found out. Then, I remember her being really pregnant. And finding out it was a boy…I was relieved. Life goes on…fast forward…pregnant again…this time its a girl…
I know my life was really hard during this time. I know I was cutting my arms, I was skipping school and about to drop out during this time. Maybe this had something to do with it? I felt always afraid, I felt like there was an ominous cloud over me about to poor down acid rain. I knew something was wrong. I was missing days at a time during high school. I don’t remember so many things in my childhood.
I will never exactly know, but I have some memories and some feelings that say, my brother may have molested his own daughter. I cannot ask her, she is likely to not have that memory. She just reminds me so much of me…It’s like me, in high school, all over again. I love her so much. It is for her I also am writing. If she has some feeling or some memories, I will be the one to tell her that it doesn’t change who you are. To remember, no matter what happened in the past, you are safe and in control now. I mean, of course the world isn’t 100% safe, but you get what I mean. We can do more to protect ourselves now. We can cut toxic people out of our lives. We can expose them to the world so they can have the knowledge to protect themselves too. Especially in those cases where the people who should have protected you first continually discount your trauma, the world needs to know there are people out there who see the truth.
Shame on the abusers and their flying monkeys who protect the abuser because they want to protect themselves from being associated with said abuser.
It’s not your fault, world, when you don’t see the manipulation. That’s how manipulation works.
Needless to say, without drudging out this any longer, the marriage did not last. My brother “fell off the wagon” and started doing drugs again and being abusive. It is during this time I fear he had sexually abused his own daughter too. I have this period of my life kind of blocked. Can’t really remember. Needless to say, my brother has had very little and limited interaction with his children since the divorce. Happy to say, she remarried a nice guy who took the position of dad when he didn’t have to, and gave these two kids a strong foundation of a home. My niece now just turned 18, and my nephew is 20. They are doing so well and I am so proud of them. I wish I had been able to be there more for them. I lost touch with them after the divorce….I lost touch with a lot of people during this time because of my own abuse and violence going on. Oh, the great thing about never healing a wound from childhood abuse is, when you are an adult you seek out and stay with the same kind of abuse….
Well, I have regained some strength and I have reconnected with my now-ex-sister-in-law and we are so bonded through this pain of my brother’s abusive sociopath ways. While I came to Dayton to visit my sister who had her baby, I also made time to see this other sister and my niece. My nephew wasn’t there, as he’s moved to Kentucky. I hope to catch him on a visit some time soon. We talked on the phone a long time recently though. Every time I see these kids I just get happier and happier. This is why I live. There are great new things to live for, and children are always a reason to live for.
My abuse in my childhood made me not be able to protect my own child and she was ripped away from me. I still go on, knowing I will see her again. I will take her away from this abuse and show her what a real family bond is. I will not let them win. I will show the world that we won’t be victims anymore and my daughter will see the warrior her mother is.
I have now renounced my rapist as my brother. He is my rapist, nothing more, plain and simple. I now reclaim his ex wife as my sister. She is my sister who gave birth to my niece and nephew. He doesn’t exist anymore to me. My nieces and nephews are my blood bonds, something great for me to cling on to. They need a good auntie to show them how to be tough and survive all the psycho bullshit this family tries to throw out. I will be the good example for the next generation of our genes. I will show them no one, especially not even family, has the right to hurt you.
I have since lost the familial bond I felt as a child. It was the illusion that helped me survive. I no longer need that illusion. These people don’t have to be in my life and they never really were a part of it more than superficially, for family gatherings and holidays. Family is the play we act out to pretend our life is “normal, perfect, happy, human living.” It’s an illusion, we work so hard to protect. We protect the family name, not the actual family members. Because we need society to believe we are normal humans, following the mindless drone of human life just like them.
This makes everybody feel “safe.” Things are predictable and therefore controllable.
It took me some time to figure out that dissociation is my problem, while people tried to treat my syndrome as a different type of mental illness it resembled. It took me some time to figure out that I needed meds to calm me, but just long enough to rebuild my strength. It took me time, but now I face my trauma. Not fearlessly, but confidently. I know it will hurt, I know I get triggered and I’m gone them I’m back. I know this world is worth fighting for. It took me time to figure this out because the ones who should have known were not educated to educate me.
I see now, the abuse in my family. I see now, I owe them no pity or gentleness, I only owe it to myself to get away and go on with my life. I had one brother rape me for five years daily of my early life…I had another brother violently punch and kick and preform wrestling moves, who sat his 180 lbs on my 80 pound body so I couldn’t easily breath under the weight and another time he actually suffocated me unconscious with a pillow. This is what originally defined what my “family” was. Now I see it as I’ve discarded these fake brothers, and gained two real sisters.
If it had not been for my two sisters, who also had suffered abuse in their life, I don’t know if I could have made it as far as I have. I think that little bonding I was lucky to have and keep is what humans need to survive. A baby can literally die of neglect because you don’t hold or cuddle it. Imagine what a child growing up being abused by those who should love will do. I was lucky to have my sisters. Although we’ve had our disagreements and “blow ups” like any family can have (because people care), it’s true we work it out. Yes, we are there for each other. No judgement, just love and support. That’s what real family is.
We were lucky. They both know we all exist now and it makes a lot of things make sense. They support us on our journey as a multiple and speaking our story. They both said if I ever need them to speak up and share anything too, they’ll be there by my side. I am starting to heal. I can feel the others inside me start to heal. I’m sorry I have to be all these people and it gets annoying, but it’s just who I am. I don’t want to hide or lie about anything in my life anymore.
You are the only one uncomfortable.
Don’t try to force that negativity on me.
I’ll just laugh.
My life is a messs, but god I’ll keep laughing no matter what.
Why? Because funny shit is always funny no matter what.
And my sisters know, we are a weird bunch of funnies here.
My nieces and nephews know, their auntie is a goof and it’s why they enjoy my eccentric ass when I show up. See how I end this? This had some tough stuff to talk about in here yet I walk away in a good mood. Still smiling.
That’s what will be on my tomb stone someday: “Still Smiling!”
Somebody, make that happen for me, okay? I don’t feel I will be available, unless I am lucky enough to be the zombie I have spent all this time killing in video games LOL. And our dark humor keeps us alive…Still smiling. 😉