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        This was something I wrote in 1997 when I was at one of the lowest points in my life. I thought I would include it so everyone knows just how low I felt.
 

         It's Sunday night almost Monday everything feels so abstract and far away. I almost feel removed, I do feel removed. I feel like I'm being swept up into a tunnel. Sometimes I find it hard to breath and I wish all the pain would disappear. The problem is I'm not sure what the pain is. I'm having a really hard time justifying my very existence. I need to find some purpose for myself. I wish I knew who I was. I have no clue at this point who I am. I go thru all the day's and the motions but I'm even pretty good at putting on my happy face but deep inside I wonder who is this person. Me what was I like years ago I don't remember. how can I not remember am I trying not to remember? I hate to sleep and I hate waking even more. I wake and it's another day filled with shit. I wish I knew where I    was going. I'm on a path like a mission and I feel like I need this mission but i'm not sure what this mission is. I want the light to come on at the end of the tunnel. I need to see daylight soon. I wish I could just stay in bed all day with the covers up over my head and not see the dayight...this emptiness can drive me crazy. Since my memory is for shit, I tend to dwell on what I do remember. But what is that what do I remember? Where is the little girl I see in pictures. she looks so happy. Why do I feel so sad. How did I get so good at acting that I can fool everyone even myself??????? I wanna scream  I need to know the truth about my life. I need to remember I 'm starting to think about taking things. Like pills not much but enough to numb but I'm afraid the amount I'll need to numb will be to much. Numb me from what?  Why can't I just get to it what do I    need to be numb to? My body ache's I feel like I've been beat up Gotta watch it. It's now 4AM and I'm still awake. Trying to be quiet as to not wake hubby  I can't stand to close my eyes because I know  what the darkness holds. I get so scared so I don't sleep then I get so tired I feel sick. Things pop in and out of my head. Are they real or not? I wish I knew for certain. I want to throw up just thinking about it. Am I imaging this or did I really go thru this? How horrible how utterly disgusting how can I face the day's knowing what was done or was it. I'm still not sure it even happened. Maybe I read it someplace and I took it to my life. Butt why  why would I ?  for attention?  God I wish I knew for sure. The not knowing for me is worse than the knowing. If I was sure it really did happen I could work on it but not knowing how do I work on it? .. I really am glad I found Susan but I wonder if even she can free me from this wall I erected. How can the wall be lifted when I'm not sure what the wall is. I gotta go to bed. I feel so sick of being sick if only there was an easy way out. Outa here move on to a better place.  Sometimes I wonder if I would have the courage to just end it all. But what happens if it follows me into the next life. I want it gone not being my shadow all my life. So tired eyes hurt but I'm forcing myself to stay awake I can't take to many more nights like I've been having of late....I'm so mixed up if only someone would spin me  around and point me in the right direction. Could I have made up this terrible story? How much of an imagination do I have?
Susan said it's not uncommon for people who have survived being raped to believe they made it up. She say's it would be easier if I had made it up. I really do believe I made some parts of it up. Susan does not believe I made this up. She knows all the signs of trauma, oh well I guess she could be wrong to. How could I one day believe this terrible experience really did happen and the next day believe I made it up. back and forth I go. The human mind is so complex that you start doubting yourself. I think I always will live with the notion I made up part of this.

Just reading this I can see how very far I have come. I never
really believed I would heal this much, but I have.
I can see it.

    Through the years no body really talked to me about what happened but I know certain people knew something happened but I’m not sure if I told them or if one of my friends told them. Since no body ever talked about it with me I pushed it further and further into my mind and hopped it never would surface again, WELL WAS I EVER WRONG. It has a life of it’s own. I did not ask for or wish for it to surface I guess it was god’s will, or something but I could not control it. I now wonder this 23 years
later how my life would be different today if I had not stopped my friends from calling the police.
I often wonder if I hurt the rapist and if he’s still alive. I would think that instead of sending men to jail for life for what they did I think they should also have to go through an extensive program of listening to recovered victims and what it has done to there lives. I’m not sure in fact I know such a program
would not be of benefit to everyone but some people would have to get some benefit from
hearing horror stories of how even a 5 minute rape or act of violence can and is damaging to ones
life just as if it were 6 hours. Of course in my case I wish it were only 5 minutes but wishing does not
erase the facts and I can say facts at this moment. I am 100 % sure at this moment that what I
remembered happening did happen maybe not exactly  as I recounted here though. Sure I may
have sequence or even time frames wrong but the bottom line is it HAPPENED.

    Through all this they were not successful at breaking me down totally. I am and will continue to get
stronger, healthier and maybe even happier along the way. I did survive, I feel terrible for those
who died before me and even possibly after me by the hands of this mad man but I am happy I
was not one of the dead……I think about now  Susan would be saying “Thank you god” and I say
the same thing with a bit added “Thank you god and thanks for bringing Susan into my life”
I just wonder how I fell through all the cracks in the sidewalk for all my life. How from
my parents (I’m not putting blame on them), to teachers, to friends, family you name it EVERYONE
did not see the signs. Was I or am I that good of an actress or what? Do I need to get on top of a burning building and yell HELP. Help I NEED HELP apparently I do since nobody noticed anything.
From being overweight, wetting the bed till I was 12, drug use, adult obesity, mood swings and
worse were the splitting episodes. I hope that if nothing else comes from these writings, That 1
person adult or child could get it. Get it that it was not there fault. This is such a big obstacle to get
over. You know on every level that it’s not your fault but over and over we act
as if it is our fault. I really do find it completely mind boggling that nobody saw my signs. Or
did they? People are just so busy in there own lives that I guess it’s almost impossible for
them to notice. But teachers should be trained to see the warning signs. And therapists my god
I never realized there were bad therapists. I’m not sure which is worse not going for therapy at all or
getting a bad therapist. When I went to my last therapist I thought she was ok no maybe I
thought she was good. I made some improvements. Especially compared to the
previous therapist. Now that I see really what a good therapist is I realize it’s hard to know a bad
one until you’ve had a good one. I remember some time after the attack at 19 going to a
man therapist…God what a mistake I remember him asking me to give him details of whatever
I remembered and I thought he was enjoying the account but then again I did not remember much.
I think the violence is something thats very hard to get over..

Gari's Story
Betrayal
Jumbles and Stumbles

Jumbles:

The first year of my life….was very nearly the last……………..

    In the first year of my life, my real father attempted to kill my mother and myself three times, I believe all in the first six months, When  I was six months old he took my Mom and I, across country to Louisiana where all three of us landed in jail for a cross country hot check spree. When I was three, two traumatic things happened. Both are the only memories I’ve ever repressed. One repressed memory, came out when I was five, the other remained a recurring nightmare from age three till I was fifteen, when I  found out it wasn’t just a nightmare, but it really happened……. OK so I’m not sure of the order these two things happened, just that they did happen. I was three and just adored my Grandpa… but, he took me up in the rafter thingie in his garage and there on his steamer trunk, as he bribed me with a stick of gum, he molested me. This is the memory that stayed buried till I was five. In fact I’ve only recently allowed myself to admit that I know who the molester was, you see this will cause the final break between my Mother and I  from age three to fifteen I have one nightmare, every night of my life!
My Nightmare! 
    I’m three, and I’m in a motel room with a really tall very angry man, he is yelling at someone on the phone, and he has this really big knife at my throat.
He slams down the phone and throws me out the door into some bushes, now bang bangs are all around me and my Dad (my lil brothers Dad, but I thought he was my Dad) and the police are out there beyond the bushes, and there are more bang bangs going off!
All I remember of the ending here was the, hold, embrace, hug that my brothers dad gave me …… I was safe. So when I was fifteen, and my real father tried to come back into my life….. I found out, that this wasn’t just a scary nightmare, that it actually happened to me. And my real dad was the man on the phone There aren’t a lot of memories from here until I was five. I don’t think its because I’ve repressed, I think its because I was in a safe place. But from the stories I’ve heard about my behavior i.e. …. Trying to give my lil brother away…… I may have even tried to harm him. I was acting out… from the traumas I had suffered, and someone should have seen the signs.  Instead, to this day when this part of my life is told by others in my  birth family, it’s still told as I was a jealous bad little girl. Anyway, so now I’m five and my mom has remarried again,  my step dad is mean old and ugly, yucky, yucky, yucky! When he first started molesting me, he triggered a flashback (at age5)  I was in the bath tub, and he was bathing me, and he told me I wasn’t a virgin….Yeesh, does a five year old even know what a virgin is? But he explained it in such a way that I flashed to the steamer trunk …. Oh my God, my secret is out! I never told my step dad about the steamer trunk… but he never let me forget that I was never a virgin. He used it to reinforce that I had been born “Bad” I have to keep all these deep dark secrets, so no one finds out that, I was born “Bad”  I was in my preteens, before I stopped wetting the bed and peeing my pants on the way home from school. step dad used a lot of mental, brainwashing…. Not to much violence directed at me…. All he did was in the name of “Love” and what did it matter, I wasn’t even a virgin anyway. His claim was “he was just making sure I learned how to love a man… and to make sure I didn’t grow up with the same hang-ups as my Mother.” He treated me like his mistress, his prostitute… this put me in competition with my Mom.  During those years I learned my lessons well… When it looked as though my lil brother was in trouble …. I’d use my body to distract him. I truly was a prostitute now! He was so bold as to molest me, sometimes while my Mom was right there in the same room. There were so many signs, I have a hard time believing,  my Mom didn’t know! And if she didn’t know why did she treat me the way she did, as if I were a threat, was I really born “Bad?” How could she be in the same room, and Not know? How could she find, ashtrays with tons of butts, in my room, and Not know? How could she, find out from step dad, (at age 11) that I had a lump in one of my breast, and Not know?      AND NOT KNOW? 
This continued till I was fourteen, when I left home over night, and slugged step dad as I left. Knocked him backwards across the trunk of his blue ford fairlane  Yea for me! That was the beginning of having to fight him off… the last time was as he was dying.
When I was eighteen, I found out that he had also been molesting my lil brother. This is when I started telling my secrets, twenty-two years ago! And I‘m NOT going to stop until there is no more abuse! So my brother and I went to our Mom, and told her….She said (still says) we were lying and why did we want to hurt her like this……. After all we know all she ever did was try to protect us from just this…. After all protection for us was the only reason she even married him, in the first place. And we have always known it was her only purpose in life to protect us, after all how many times a day did we here this. ( which is to painful to talk to Mom, cause I can’t cope with the burden of her guilt, too) 
Yeah we know, so thanx soooo much for this heap of guilt, it’s yours, not mine……..
To this day this is extremely painful to talk to Mom about the abuse, when talking about it, my Mom still says IF it really happened. I wonder does she know, this is exactly how “he” said she’d react
I wonder does she know? 
It did, why in the world would anyone, lie about this !
Why would anyone carry the wreckage of this, if it were not
REAL 
To be continued……….
©1998, 1999  gari^..^

MAGGIEMAY'S  STORY:
I GREW UP IN A TENEMENT SLUM ALONG WITH 3 BROTHERS AND AN ALCOHOLIC MOTHER. THE VERY OLDEST ABUSED ME AND MY BROTHER JUST 1 YR. OLDER THAN ME. GUESS WORD GOT AROUND THAT WE WERE EASY ACCESS SO SEVERAL UNCLES AND COUSINS JOINED IN ON THE ABUSE. WE WERE ONLY 4 AND 5 YEARS OLD. WHEN WE TOLD OUR MOM SHE BEAT US AND TOLD US NEVER TO SAY IT AGAIN TO ANYONE. SHE IDOLIZED THE ABUSIVE SON, NEEDLESS TO SAY HE DIED A VERY HORRIBLE VIOLENT  DEATH, WE NEVER WONDERED WHY. WE DID CELEBRATE IT THOUGH. I COULD ONLY ASK GOD FOR FORGIVENESS BECAUSE I NOT ONLY WISHED HIM DEAD I ALSO HELPED THE KILLERS FIND HIM. HE WAS A DRUGDEALER, KILLER, RUTHLESS SON OF A BITCH. MY MOM BLAMES ME TO THIS DAY FOR HIS DEATH. THE UNCLES HAVE ALSO PASSED ON, FOR THE EXCEPTION OF THE COUSIN TO MY MOM. SHE WILL NEVER DISCLOSE HIS ADDRESS TO US. WE ARE SCARED FOR LIFE. HE TOOK OUR INNOCENCE BUT HE DIDNT BREAK OUR SPIRIT AND WILL TO LIVE, THO QUITE OFTEN I THOUGHT AND EVEN CONTEMPLATED DEATH. IVE MADE CHILDREN MY LIFE. TOOK IN 8 FOSTER CHILDREN WHO WERE ABUSED, AND HAVE 3 OF MY OWN.  IVE BEEN HEALING SLOWLY, AND HAVE MADE THE MOST INCREDIBLE FREINDS ONLINE. IVE EVEN BEEN BLESSED TO MEET 3 OF THEM. THAT IS MY STORY.
MAGGIEMAY

Jackie's Survival Story

Hi, my nickname is "Cherry". My real name is Jackie. I am a 30 year
old survivor. I am doing this page to help others that have been abused or are going through it.  You are not alone and there is help out there. 
My abuse started when I was five years old. At first it was just fondling then as time went on things progressed into him having sex with me and forcing me to do things to him. I honestly don't think he left anything out most of the time he was rough and uncaring, he didn't care if he hurt me he only wanted to feel good. I was so scared, I wanted him to stop but he never did. I wanted someone to help me but how could they help.....no one knew what was going on......I never told, I couldn't or he would kill my mom. That is what he held over my head for my silence. This went on for 25 years. I just could not tell anyone I didn't want to lose my mom I had to protect her. For 25 years I kept that secret and protected my mom. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do, but it was the wrong thing to do....I should have told that was the only way the abuse was going to stop. I was a little girl forced to do things as a woman. Now I am a woman and feel like a scared little girl. I have been a very lonely person all my life, I have never dated. When I was 20 I met this young man through our parents. We talked and got to know each other. He was so nice, and I started to have feelings and he said that he loved me. As time went on we because best friends and I started to feel ok with his company and we got close but still I never told him about my secret. Well when I was 22 and he was 25 he asked me to marry him.......think YES!!!! this is my way out, and I agreed to marry him. We got married and had a beautiful wedding and I moved out. We lived a few minutes from mom and my stepdad. At first it all seem to be working being abuse free, but, then he was at work one day and I was asleep. The next thing I knew someone was touching me and on top of me. I thought it was my
husband then I realized it was my stepdad. I begged him to quit. He told he had to punish me for leaving him.....he raped me and beat me up. He said I was his and I would be sorry that I let my husband touch me....I told him he hadn't and he didn't believe me. That afternoon he made me write a letter to my mom and my husband, a letter stating I had to go away. He took me to a cabin and tied me up and raped me everyday. But..........it was true........I wasn't able to let my husband touch me. After he brought me back
home my husband told me that he needed and wanted to make love to his wife. I couldn't. After a month he moved out and we got divorced. I have never been with a man besides my stepdad. Anyway, I never moved back home but the abuse and rapes continued. He would take the apartment key my mom had and come over as he pleased and take me. I lived in fear all my life never telling a soul but my husband. I don't blame him because he tried to be loving and understanding and part of me will always love him. But "I can't" be with anyone. Well this brings me to getting my computer and discovering the internet and some great people.......people that I felt safe to tell what I have been hiding all these years. I really talked my head off (their heads). As time went on I learned about some channels for survivors and abuse issues. My favorite is called healing-Pyramid......I met one woman there and was talking to her regularly (BunnyLee), and I met another one (JavyB) they were great! Then I met the founder of the channel (Will) and he has to many nicknames to name but they all talked to me for many hours and finally convinced me I had to tell my secret to stop the abuse. So on June 8th 1998, I told my mom about everything. She hung up on me......I never talked to her again.......I thought she hated me........on July 25th 1998, in the middle of the night I got a rude awakening.......my stepdad killed my mom.........I hate it and 6 months later my stepdad is in prison and he is still controlling me..... So see you have to tell now don't hide it!!! I honestly think I will always be alone I regret my mom is gone but I don't regret telling.....Please get help. By the way, my mom didn't die hating me like I thought. He was telling her if she had anything to do with me he would kill me.
So, she was protecting me.
 

Karina's story:

    I was born in December of 1978.  My parents had been married a little under 5 months at the time of my birth.  My father secretly hated my mother for getting pregnant with me, this would come out later.  I don't remember anything for the first year of my life for obvious reasons.  My sister was born in March of 1980.  I guess, the first real memory that I have is of my father pinning my mother against the outside door of our house while my sister and I sat in the car and watched and waited.  I was probably three, then.  I remember being beaten black and blue with belts, boards, vacuum cords, speak wires, shoes and basically any hard object that my parents deemed fit to use on my sister and I.  I didn't fight back, at least, I don't remember fighting back.  My sister, however fought back with her heart and soul from the very beginning.  My father seemed to enjoy the fight she gave him...whatever that was about.
    I started kindergarten when I was 5.  I already knew how to read and I knew all the basic things, so the teacher would let me go down to the first grade class rooms and listen while the teacher read or while the other kids shared their writings and what not.  I remember one time, distinctly that my mother became angry with me for spelling the word "hate" wrong, I was only 5..my god.  She gave me an example, I remember, of what hate was, I still have the scars to prove it.  Anyway, I learned, real quick, to survive in my house I was to keep myself busy and my mouth shut, I did just that.  I remember, though that my sister did not and she was reprimanded for it, quite often.  I, also remember that there was a neighbor man his name was Carl he was probably well into his 70's by this time, his wife was a lot younger and he had no children living at home.  His wife would baby-sit the neighborhood kids while our mothers ran errands and went shopping.  Most of the neighborhood kids went to this man's house on, at least on one occasion.  My sister, My best friend, another friend and I were always at this man's house not, because our parents were always gone, but because his grandchildren were always there and we played with them at the house.  Anyway, this man touched my friends and I for almost a year before my sister and my best friend told my best friend's mother.  I guess, I was the lucky one, if you can call it luck, because I wasn't touched as much as they were.  I know from the police reports now and from memory as I write this that he did hold knives to our throats and drills to our heads.  He was arrested and sent to jail where he died over a decade later.  Anyway, In fourth grade my mother told me something that I still have running through my head this very day...10 years later.  She said that I should've been an abortion and if she had the chance to do it, again she would've terminated her pregnancy in a heartbeat, I learn, then that I would never been good enough for anyone to love or to cherish, so anything said to me would be all a lie..for my mother, the woman who gave birth to me, didn't even want me.  Well, throughout grade school I was the child that sat in the back of the room, never said anything, had perfect grades and when questioned about my bruises I would walk away.  In eighth grade my mother moved my sister and I to a rural county school to take the heat off of her and my dad(the school system was figuring them out).  At this county school I met a friend and she introduced me to a man from another county school.  This man, Aaron and I began dating shortly, thereafter.  He knew that I had previously been sexually active and he wanted to get some of the action, too, I guess.  On an October night he did just that..he raped me.  In the back of a van, while my friend and her boyfriend were in the front, they heard me scream that had to have, yet neither one of them did anything.  Well, after that night, I said nothing for the longest time, I just kept making up "excuses" as to why I was afraid to be touched or I didn't want to go see Aaron or hang around my friends anymore.  Well, anyway, the following year I met another man, his name was Mark, he was loud, obnoxious, basically he was totally outcasted in this small county school, but I took a liking to him.  I was his date to his junior prom..that night he and I got drunk, I don't really remember that night, so I am not totally sure about what did or didn't happen.  Anyway, he and I stopped talking shortly, thereafter.  Well, I went to the county school for two years..we left, because they DID figure it out and threatened to call the authorities more than once.  In tenth grade, the year we moved back, I was in all accelerated classes and I was very quiet.  My friends, however began experimenting with drugs that year..months later I was to follow.  By the end of my tenth grade year I was extremely sexually active, I had many one night stands. I began dating an abusive man, Jason.  He was rich, fairly popular and on the surface he was very caring and gentle.  However, behind closed doors he was anything, but that.  He hit me, but he said that he loved me afterwards, I actually believed him.  Anyway, a close friend of mine figured out what was going on and beat the hell out of Jason..after that he never touched me, again.  Well, after that relationship I got further and further into drugs.  I was, at that point, smoking marijuana, snorting cocaine and shooting up heroin and ingesting LSD.  I would sleep with what ever dealer had the most available drugs...just to get my fix.  I didn't care about myself.  Well, one night one of these dealers took advantage of my cravings for the drugs...He raped me.  I barely remember it, I remember it was outside and at a party, but that's about it.  Supposedly a friend witnessed it, but whatever.  Anyway, by this time I was in a shame spiral, so to speak.  The summer came and went, then I started school, again.  I was still hooked on the drugs and I was still promiscuous. The only thing really different about this year was the fact that I was no longer in accelerated classes, I didn't care about my education anymore.  Things were tense at home..my dad was never home, my mom was always home and my sister and I were constantly at each other's throats.  My mom would slash my hands and arms with knives when she got pissed, so I would rather have just been dead, so I started trying to kill myself, I tried about 100 times, nothing worked.  Well, on August 23, 1996 it finally worked.  I overdosed on excedrin.  I don't remember much of anything.  I know that my friends called the ambulance and I know that I got in a fight with a cop.  I woke up in the Intensive Care Unit 3 days later.  I was, subsequently taken to the psych ward...I was released from there 4 days later.  I was tested for drugs, pregnancy and a bunch of chemical disorders.  This is when I was diagnosed as being bipolar.  I, then started therapy and was placed on medication.  Oh yeah, during this time my father became unfaithful to my mother, he said it was, because I put too much stress on him at home, because of my suicide attempt that he had to find love elsewhere, so, again the fact that my family was falling apart was my fault.  Anyway, I quit therapy on my eighteenth birthday which was 4 months later.  I was, also in drug rehab at this time and I graduated from that 5 months after I overdosed and I was clean for almost a year before I started experimenting, again.  Well, on January 1, 1997 I was raped, again this time by a man that was friend's with one of my other friends.  He held me down, kept telling me that he was what I wanted, I kept screaming NO!  He wouldn't listen.  No one ever listened to me.  I didn't report it, I didn't even know the man's name, well real name, that is.  Anyway, problems at home were getting worse and I didn't want to burden anyone, anyway.  I was eighteen at this point, senior in high school.  My parents were on the verge of a divorce.  Well, my father left the day of my sister's 17th birthday.  He went to live with his girlfriend and her three children.  I started getting heavy back into drugs.  My sister was always staying at her boyfriend's house and my mother was always at the bar 'til all hours.  I missed 62 days of my senior year.  I had no idea what was going through my head, I still don't.  Well, In April of 1997 my dad came back..back with vengeance.  He brutally attacked my mother while my sister and I slept in our beds.  I woke to her screaming and crying and him swinging his belt.  I ran and attempted to save my mother and I got slammed into the entertainment center.  I got up and ran acrossed the street and three o'clock in the morning to my best friend's house and begged them to call the police...they did.  That night my father was released into my grandmother's custody and ordered never to come back to our house.  He came back a few weeks later and told my mother, my sister and I to get out.  My mother and My sister left...she didn't want me with her...no one wanted me.  I left for a few days..I didn't go to school that week.  I barely slept, how could I learn?  Then my dad paged me and told me to come to the house and stay with him...I did just that.  Two days later his girlfriend and her three children moved in.  I started baby-sitting her kids a month later, I guess it was my way of trying to keep peace in the house.  I graduated High School.  I didn't participate in the ceremony.  Well, anyway...a few months past and I rekicked my drug habit.  I didn't talk to my mother or my sister 'til 8 months after their initial leaving.  I started dating Mark, again.  He and I got engaged.  Then I started college.  A month after I started college I got pregnant from a one night stand.  I told Mark and he slapped me acrossed the face.  He was angry and understandably so.  Well, I miscarried that baby.  I was devastated...two months later I quit college.  A few months after that Mark called me and wanted to talk, I agreed and went with him..He raped me, told me it was punishment for cheating on him and getting pregnant.  A few months later I got pushed down a flight of stairs trying to escape an attack from a stranger.  I went to court for that..the guy was let off.  My dad would occasionally still hit me, but I could take it, I was an adult and he had no hold on me or so I thought, but now that I think of it..he has a strangulating hold on me and he knows it.  Well, In January of this year Mark came back and raped me, again.  I deserved it, I screwed him over NOW he wants to screw me up.  The next month he attempted to strangle me, a few weeks after that he raped me, again...this time I got pregnant...now I am currently carrying his child.  I am in therapy, but I do not go regularly and I don't open up to her, like I should, but I am trying.  My father and I still have a shaky relationship.  My mother and I have a strong relationship and she has a new baby.  My sister and I are closer than we ever were and I have found a few great friends on the Internet.
Manyissues
    I was sexually abused by my father for more than ten years.  He also abused me physically and emotionally for many years.  The sexual abuse began when I was 5 years old.  My father would put his finger up inside of me on a regular basis.  Then came the oral sex just a few years later; he would lick my vaginal area and force me to give him blow jobs.  It wasn't that much longer before the raping began when I was twelve.  My father took me with him on his hunting trips, and in many ways, I took my mom's place.  I cooked, cleaned, and let him screw me whenever he wanted it.  At 16, a teacher became concerned about my well-being after reading a poem that I had written.  She reported me to DFACS and a social worker came to see me at school.  I lied and said that nothing was wrong, and they believed me!  I was disappointed that they believed me so easily.
     I began therapy at age thirteen because I was severely anorexic.  I was offered therapy or hospitalization, and I chose therapy.  The raping continued, but I didn't tell my T about it until after I left for college  Two years later, I tried to tell my mom about the sexual abuse.  She denied it at first, but then believed me for a year because it seemed like the explanation for my bizarre behaviors.  Mom lived with my dad for nearly a year before she got the courage to move out.  Two months later, my dad had sweet-talked my mom into believing his version of the story.  My dad convinced my mom that my T had brainwashed me into believing that the incest took place.  This led to my first suicide attempt and in-patient hospitalization.  I was in-patient for three months trying to accept the fact that my family no longer believed me.  They thought I was crazy; in fact, they still think I'm crazy.  But I no longer give a damn.

Macrec
    I don't remember when my abuse stated, as a matter of fact I remember very little of my childhood.  I have pieced some  of it together by going through old pictures and a family tree, but much is still missing.  What I do know is, my abuser was my uncle (on my father's side).  I know that I was being abused around the age of 11, right until and possibly into my High School years.  I use to babysit at his house often and that is where most of the abuse took place.  Some of the abuse also took place in the swimming pool where I lived.  He was damn sneaky about it. My home life wasn't a piece of cake either.  There was a lot of emotional abuse taking place.  I do wonder at times, if I turned to him because I was not getting the love and attention that I needed at home. I was basically left to my own and was the "good little girl" that did what she was told so I wouldn't get in trouble.  My sister was able to get away with not always doing what she was suppose to, so I got stuck doing it. 
My parents got divorced when I was in High School.  They didn't even have the nerve to tell my sister and I, they actually had my abuser do it.  They should have gotten divorced years before they did.  It might have saved a lot of pain.  Everyone was worried about how my sister would handle the divorce and that meant they pretty much left me to my own to cope with it.  I coped the best I could, but didn't always make the right choices. 
I started to deal with the abuse in April of 1998.  I always knew it happened, but until then I was able to keep it locked in my mind. It has been a long hard journey to date and I know that it will be tough for awhile.  I have been battling depression and anxiety and the only place that I feel safe is at home, alone. Through all this, I have had to make some very tough decisions in order to be able to take care of myself and help in my healing.  I had to have my daughter go live with her dad and step-mom.  I could not be there for her and she deserved better than that.  All because some Bastard took away my childhood.   I have also had to distance myself from my family of origin.  It was one of the best moves I've ever made.  They were never there for me. And if all this wasn't enough, I have been struggling with the anger.  Learning to get out the anger has to be one of the hardest things going. 
This is no way the end of my story, the journey having just begun.  I am unsure if this story will ever be finished.  It seems to me it will take a life time to heal.

Dorine
  IM 43 AND THAT'S QUITE A LONG TIME TO KEEP SOMETHING BOTTLED UP INSIDE U,,AND NOW IT HAS BEEN RELEASED AND IM FEELING BETTER ABOUT SOME THINGS IN LIFE... >>
34 here. DID diagnosis for 6 years. I was sexually abused by first Doc that Dxed me DID. Have had a hard time trusting another Doctor! I was sexually abused by my mom and her brothers (4 of them) some were nice about it and some brutal. No one listened or helped. It felt like the world knew, just wasn't important enough to them! My mom has tried to kill me, has said she can't love me, no matter how much she tries because I look like my Bio. Dad, he molested me also, just died this past Christmas Eve. Just now having awful memories and nightmares about step father molesting me. I cant help to think that SEX was all I was wanted for. My MOM taught me to be good, had to be able to keep your man "she said," She locked me in closets, basement and bedroom. Now I find myself wanting to be in them a lot, weird!!! I feel safe and comfortable. I have a house full of teddybears, dolls, toys, etc., a little embarrassing to admit.  My mom stalked me, left house made harassing phone calls to me, of course no one believed until I put the phone to their ears and then said, " She's just joking" I don't think so, I have knife scars from her, my brother does to. He went thru a lot of the same as me, and he's 18 and just got a way from family.
WOW, cant believe I told that much. I have others but afraid you will not talk to me. Things my family did!

Janice`s Story

 I was born in June of 1962, to an unwed mother who was too lost in her own pain to be able to love and nurture anyone, including me. The first time I remember being abused, and I didn`t get that memory until I was 30 yrs old, I was 2 years old, my cousin Danny, who is 17 years older than I, was babysitting me, and the memory I have is crystal clear, I was laying on an ironing board and he took my diaper off and raped me, I only remember it happening once, but when I confronted him with it, he said he did it almost weekly for 8 months. I have no memories of the other times, unless they were always carried out in the same way. To this day I believe with all of my heart that there is no way my mom could not have known, she just chose to ignore it.  About 6 months after it stopped I was hospitalize with spinal meningitis and I was isolated from everyone, including my mom, for almost 6 weeks. I remember, like it was yesterday, thinking that they were trying to kill me because of what Danny did to me, I had a spinal tap everyday the entire time I was there and that`s how I thought they were going to kill me, I still remember the pain. I have no memories from 3yrs. until I was 5, and thats when my mom married a man that hated me more than I ever knew it was possible to hate. Around that same time we went to visit my Grandfather, and for whatever reason, my mom wasn`t around so being the pig that he was, my grandfather, he thought it would be fun to put his fingers up inside me, and when he got tired of that he used kitchen utensils and tried to see how deep inside me they would go, I told my mom about it, and her response was to slap me in the face. I remember thinking, "I`m on my own." How strange a 5 yr old would think such a thing, but I never told her another thing. That slap was the first of only two times in my life that I ever remember her touching me, good or bad... The next two years were spent getting beat by my stepfather for things like him finding a cookie under my bed, or walking the same way to my room and making a path in the carpet. Those two things stand out in my mind because he beat me until I was unconscious. When I was 7 I had a friend named Kelly and I use to spend the night at her house a lot, she also had a stepfather, but he was nice or so I thought, until the day he forced me to perform oral sex on him and then swallow it. I don`t remember how many times this happened but it was often for the next 2 yrs. As mean as my stepfather was, I never thought that he had done anything sexual to me, until I was looking at some old pictures of me and I came across 4 pictures of me at 6, 8, 9, naked and crying and I remembered that he use to spray me with the hose and then refuse to let me in the house unless I took all my clothes off and what a coincidence he had his camera right there. Also, he use to make me change my clothes 8 or 10 times before he was happy with what I was wearing, and Nancy, that`s my therapist, tells me that is considered abuse because he was using the guise of making me "presentable" to look far to closely at my body. This happened everyday for 11 yrs. The emotional abuse he gave me was by far the worst, I was scum, stupid, never amount to anything, fat slob, anything he could think of he would say. We had a cabin in the mountains and we went there every weekend, it was about three hours from home, and for one of those hours, we drove on a VERY winding road with severe cliffs next to the road with no guard rails, and he like to play a little game to see how scared he could get me, he would reach over and open my door and pretend, I think, to try to push me out. To this day I am terrified of the mountains. When I was 11 I got hit by a car and had to be taken to the hospital, nothing serious, just some stitches, but when I got home I was beaten so bad I couldn`t get out of bed for 5 days, all because I had cost him $85.00. I got the message that I wasn`t worth $85.00 and I still feel that way. I had an Uncle that I adored, he gave me more love than I had ever known, I felt like I had some worth when I was with him, and I took every chance I could to be with him, he was setting me up to sexually abuse me, of course I didn`t know that then, and he started very slow and year by year he was doing and having me do more and more until at the age of 10 we were having sex. That  continued intermittly until I was 26, and the last time I almost lost my grip on reality, and for what ever reason he never tried anything again. When I was about 12, my friend Kelly and I met an old man, who talked us into  letting him have sex with us, and he would give us money. Can you imagine the guilt I carry with that one, we did that for about a year and then I think he died.
I have no real memories from 12 to 15 probably because I was doing a lot of drugs during that time, but when I was 15 I met a nice guy, or so I thought, on his motorcycle and we talked for a while and he asked me if I wanted a ride, I got on and he didn`t take me where I wanted to go, instead he took me to a deserted park took me into the bathroom and raped me, and as messed up as I was, everytime he would find me I would go where ever he said so he could rape me again, this went on for 2 months until I got pregnant, and that was the last time I ever saw him. I have a 20 yr old son who is clueless about all of this, as was I until about 8 yrs ago. When my stepfather found out I was pregnant, he kicked me out of the house, and I went to live in a girls home, I don`t remember my mom ever saying anything to him about kicking me out or anything else for that matter, but I do remember that when she was angry with me, and that was often, she would refuse to talk to me, the longest being 3 months and that time i was 11yrs. old. So my son and I lived in the girls home for 2 1/2 yrs and then my stepfather died and we went home, 3 yrs later my mom died. For 16 years my mom had a boyfriend that I assume she would have sex with once a week, and right after her death he assumed that I should take her place, so every week on the same day at the same place as he and my mom had, he had sex, and he got off on comparing us while he was on top of me, this went on for 4 months until I couldn`t get high enough to block out what was happening to me and I would throw up everytime I was with him, I guess he couldn`t take that and finally left me alone.
Over the next 5 or 6 years I would let whatever man was on the outskirts of my life at the time, use me. I have had 3 more kids along the way and just got married for the first time 1 year ago.
To a man a lot like my stepfather, verbally abusive, no support about my abuse at all, I think I have made one of the biggest mistakes of my life, but for the time being I am working on my healing, I have a wonderful therapist, and I pray everyday that I can climb out of this prison of walls. Walls that I have built with shame, fear, self hatred, self abuse, weight, drinking, drugs, feelings of no worth, and the inability to trust anyone. One day I hope to be on the other side of all of this, but until then I will keep trying to do whatever it takes to get there no matter how much it hurts. If there is nothing better than this, then there is no point in living, so I hold on to the hope that there is wellness waiting for me after the work is done.

Silenced Angel's  story

     The story I am about to tell is not a pretty one.  But then any story of sexual abuse is not pretty.  It will be graphic in it's content.  I am telling it to help in my healing. I hope that it helps in yours as well.  If at some point during this story you become overwhelmed, please stop, take a deep breath and take care of you.  Do not read farther than you can handle.  I do not wish to cause you any pain by telling it.  I just want to heal some of the wounds and this is just one of the ways of healing. I'll start my story how I remember it.  It isn't in chronological order.  I'll start where I can always remember.  It will then jump to the part of my life where the child abuse memories started to come back.  I can remember spending a lot of time with my mother.  She would go to her mother's house every day.  She would spend most of the day there until it was time to go pick up the other kids from school.  Then she would head home to cook supper and spend the rest of the evening with us kids and my father. My grandmother lived in a little house.  Just four rooms.  I remember we weren't allowed in two of the rooms.  She had lots of property.  We were always allowed to go outside and play because the house was set back far from the street and it was on an old country road.  She also owned another house.  It was there on her property as well. But I don't ever remember anybody ever living in it. I don't remember my first years of school.  I still don't remember them to this day.  I do remember some of grade school.  I remember that I did not make friends easily.  I stayed to myself most of the time.  I refused to have any thing to do with any of the other kids.  I was always by myself. I didn't seem to mind.  I actually excelled in being alone.  I poured myself into my school work.  I can remember always doing what I could at school.  I didn't enjoy recess or lunch periods because I did not want to have to go outside with the kids.  I preferred to sit by my self and read during recess and lunch. I remember going to the hospital early in my childhood.  I didn't know what was wrong with me at the time, but I now know that I had kidney failure and almost died.  I was in the hospital for several weeks.  Then I didn't get to go to school for a couple of months afterward.  I stayed at home with my mother.  Visiting at my grandmother's house. When I was nine years old I was having a lot of problems.  I would have horrible cramps in my abdomen.  I didn't know what was wrong.  I would have these almost every month.  My mom took me to a doctor.  He asked me a lot of questions.  I didn't know the answers to most of them.  I remember leaving there with mom and going to a pharmacy.  I was put on birth control that day.  They told me it was because my body would not start on it's own and that I needed a little nudging.  The nudge worked, but I wasn't allowed to stop taking the birth control.  I remember them talking about scar tissue.  They also mentioned surgery at a later date  if needed. When I was only 11 or so I met a friend of my sisters.  He was almost 21.  He showed a huge interest in me.  I used to sit up and talk to him all the time.  His best friend lived across the alley from us.  Whenever he left there he would come by and visit my sister.  But it was always me that he really spent any time with.  He would have me come sit on his lap and we would talk and talk.  He started telling me that he was falling in love with me.  He wanted to spend more and more time with me.  My dad didn't really like it, but he said as long as we were at the house nothing could happen.  (I will call him K in this story so you can distinguish who I am talking about.K would come by every night after he got off work.  He didn't even go to visit his friend any longer.  He would come over and stay until dad would tell him it was time to leave.  Then he would sometimes sit outside in his car and tinker with his stereo.  I would get up to go to the bathroom and look outside and notice that he was still there. All of the family enjoyed skating.  I would often go to the skating rink in town.  My mom and dad would take us every Sunday.  During the summer months dad would let us go skating two to three times a week.  K didn't know how to skate, but he wanted to learn.  He soon started going so that he could spend more time with me.  I actually thought that I liked his attention. As I blossomed into a young teen his attention grew stronger and stronger for me.  I wasn't even thirteen and he told me that he wanted to marry me.  That he wanted me forever and ever.  That no one else should ever have me and that he would have me until the end of my life.  I was actually flattered at the time. Even though my dad didn't really like the idea, he seemed to allow K's visits.  I wasn't allowed to go anywhere with him unless my older brother went with us.  And then it was only to the skating rink or to a ball game.  I got my first job when I was thirteen!
 I was a car hop at a local restaurant.  I used to get a lot of tips.  More so then the other girls.  At one point the owner actually thought that I might have been stealing because of the amount of tips that I got every day.  But he changed his mind was nothing was ever missing and when he realized sales had actually gone up.  At the tender age of thirteen I seemed to know all about sexuality and I used mine to get large tips.  I didn't know how I knew, but I knew and I used it. One night, shortly after my birthday I walked down to a friends.  She lived in the new apartments close to the restaurant that I worked at.  Not all of them were finished.  They were still under construction at the time.  I was supposed to be home before dark, but she was depressed and I stuck around longer.  It was late when I started walking home.  I was only a few blocked from home when it happened.  Someone came up behind me, grabbed me and pulled me into the wooded area by the apartments.  I was scared to death, but in a different way then normal.  He tore my clothes from me.  He forced himself upon me and entered me with such force I started to scream.  He held his hand over my mouth for a moment and then stuffed something in it so I couldn't make any noise any longer.  He pounded into with such force that I was hurting everywhere.  My back was pounding into the brush and rocks on the ground.  I was hurting every where.  I didn't know why this was happening to me. Then he stopped.  I thought it was over, but instead he forced me to take him in my mouth.  He was shoving it so far in that I was choking. I was starting to vomit, but I couldn't get it out.  I thought that I was going to die.  Then I felt him let go inside of me and I knew that it was over.  He threatened to kill me if I screamed or if I told any one.  He told me that he knew that I worked at the restaurant and that he would come back for me if I called the police.  He told me to just lay there for 
30 minutes and then I could go.  I laid there for what seemed like an eternity.  I didn't move. I was barely breathing. I was terrified that he would come back and kill me. When I finally found the courage to get up I could not find my clothes.  They were gone.  I had nothing to wear home.  It was only a few blocks, but I still did not want to run home that way.  I ended running to the pond.  I stayed down there for a long time.  I finally found the courage to go home, but I did not go in through the door.  I climbed in through a window.  I did not want any one to wake up and find me like that.  The first thing I did was call K.  I told him to come immediately and told him that I was raped.  I went to the bathroom and tried cleaning my self up.  I was bloody on parts of my legs and back, but it was only from the scratches. I knew from school that I should have bled, but I did not.  I didn't understand what was going on.  I showered and showered until the water went cold. I still did not feel like I was ready to get out, but I knew K would be there if he wasn't already outside waiting. K had been in such a hurry to get to me that he wrecked his car.  He wasn't mad about that, but he was evil about what had happened to me. He made me go with him and show him the spot.  He searched the area like he might find the guy still.  He was really crazy.  I had never seen him like that before. He kept talking about what he would do to the guy if he ever found him.  He said nothing like that would ever happen to me again.  That he would never let some one take me like that. A few months late K told me he was going into the Marine Corps.  He asked me to wait for him until he got back.  I wasn't sure what to do.  I wasn't really old enough to think about something like that, but I said yes. I actually thought that I was special.  He said he would write to me every week.  I looked forward to his letters.  He talked about how much he loved me.  He talked about how he would take care of me. The tone of his letters started to change.  He started talking about sex in them a lot.  He also wanted me to write to him that way.  I found it hard to do.  Something didn't seem right.  Then one letter really changed the way I felt.  He said he had met prostitute that looked a lot like me.  He started sleeping with her once a week to think of me.  He said he fantasized that he was with me each time.  He would describe it in deep detail. I finally decided to break it off with him.  I was sixteen years old at the time.  I felt all alone, but I felt it was the right thing to do. I still didn't have many friends.  What friends I did have were males.  We were just friends. Nothing more.  But one night one of the guys tried to do something with me.  It pissed me off.  I got out of the car and started to walk home.  He kept saying he was sorry.  It was just the alcohol.  He wouldn't do it again.  Please get back in.  But I wouldn't. He kept following me in his car and wouldn't leave me alone.  This guy on a motorcycle pulled up and asked if I needed help.  I said yeah. Make this jerk leave me alone.  He offered me a ride.  At first I wouldn't accept.  I just kept walking. But it was a long walk and I finally decided to take the ride.  He was really nice.  Took me home and then sat out front and talked to me half the night.  He asked if he could call or come by sometime soon.  I gave him my number.  We started talking all the time and then we started dating.  One thing led to another and I started sleeping with him.  It came really easy for me and I didn't understand how I knew how to respond so well, but I did.  I ended up pregnant.  I was really shocked because I was on birth control.  I had been since I was nine.  As soon as he found out he dumped me.  My mom and dad started pushing for me to marry K.  They felt he could take care of me.  I didn't want to and it wasn't his kid.  I didn't think he would want to.  My mom wrote to him and told him what had happened.  He said nothing had changed, that he still loved me and that he still wanted to marry me.  He came home on leave while I was eight months pregnant.  I didn't really want to marry him, but I was really being pushed into it by mom and dad. I had a really hard pregnancy and almost lost the baby several times.  I had to lay flat on my back during the whole pregnancy.  Was not allowed to walk.  I had to use a wheelchair to go anywhere.  I had to get married in a wheelchair.  He left for his new duty station three days after we got married.  He said he would be back for me after the baby was born.  I had the baby 3 weeks later. K came back for me two months later.  He packed all my stuff and moved me away from every thing and every one I knew.  He moved us into a little trailer court about 15 miles from the base. He let me call home the first night from a pay phone.  He stayed by my side while I made the call.  He didn't let me stay on long.  He said it was because of the finances.  There was something about him that really bothered me.  He seemed to have changed since the first time we met.  I know that the first few months with him were somewhat uneventful.  He never let me do much of anything.  He wouldn't get a phone in the trailer and I couldn't understand why.  When ever I wanted to call home he was always right by my side.  And then he would not let me stay on long.  Then one day the phone company showed up and installed a phone line in the trailer. But he would take the phone with him to work every day.  He wouldn't leave it in the trailer when he was gone.   When I first got there I didn't do much of any or got outside.  But I finally decided to meet my neighbors.The first day he came home and found me outside was the last day I ever went outside by myself again.  He beat me really bad and told me I was a whore.  Told me I was probably looking for another man to get me pregnant again.  He left for about and hour and then came back.  He had bought bolt locks from the store.  I was never allowed to leave the trailer again while he was gone.  He had bars put on the windows the very same week.  I became a prisoner in my own home. My life became very confusing for me after this.  My memory eluded me quite often.  Sometimes I couldn't even remember what I had done the day before.  I knew that something was not right about the way my life was going, but I couldn't figure out what was wrong. There was one thing that stuck out in my head forever.  It concerned K's best friend.  When he would write to me before we got married he would tell me about his best friend that he was stationed with.  He used to tell me that they were so close that they shared everything.  I never really gave it much thought.  One day K came home and told me that his best friend was coming to visit.  He was really excited. He talked about old times and the fun they had.  He said he was going to throw him a party.  He told me that I better be on my best behavior or he would kill me. The first day that his friend arrived I learned what K meant by sharing everything.  I was included in the bargain.  I didn't want to have any thing to do with it, but he beat me until I said okay.  I did what I was told to do.  K stood over us and watched as his best friend had his way with me.  He commanded me to act like I liked it.  To say filthy things and to beg for it.  I held back the tears while his friend raped me over and over and over.  I could barely walk the next day and I could barely stay awake to take care of the baby. That night was K's party.  He said five of the guys from the post were coming with him to party with his best friend.  I had to show all of them a good time he said.  If I didn't I would be sorry.  I refused to have anything to do with it. I tried to stand my ground.  He beat me before they ever got there.  It didn't matter.  I was got gong to allow that to happen. But he broke my will.  He pulled a loaded gun on me and told me that I had a choice.  I could take care of his friends or I could die.  I told him to kill me.  He said that wouldn't be a problem.  But what about the baby?  Maybe they could have fun with her.  I began puking and crying but it didn't matter.  While I allowed his friends to do what they wanted with me I had a loaded gun pointed at my head.  K was getting excited and i was afraid that he would pull the trigger by accident.  After one finished then the next would start.  Then I had more than one on me at the same time. I remember that I was too hurt to move after it was all over.  I just laid there.  I didn't even have the strength to cry. I didn't have any more memories of anything from that point on.  What ever happened to me I buried so deep that I could not even remember what had happened just moments before. I knew nothing of the world around me.  I don't know how I took care of the baby.  My life was a total blank. I will call the next person in my story S.  The next thing I remember was driving to Raliegh-Durham.  I remember that I had to pick up K's friend again.  K could not go because he had to be at base in the middle of the night.  He said he needed his sleep.  He said that I would have to drive to get his friend, but he was sending one of his guys with me to make sure that I didn't do anything stupid. He said I could stop along the road to take care of his guys on the way back if they needed, but not to do anything elseI  remember coming home to an empty house.  K was supposed to be keeping the baby while I picked up his friend.  But the house was empty when we got back.  I don't know what happened, but a neighbor had the baby.  She said she had her husband break into the house because she had seen K leave but could hear the baby screaming.  She asked if any thing was wrong.  K's friend was with me still and I was afraid to tell the!
 truth. Three days later K told me that he had to pull CQ (Charge of Quarters, you had to stay on base for 24 hours) again.  He could not understand why.  He had just pulled it three days ago.  I didn't think about any thing.  I just figured it was the military.  I was wrong.  S, one of K's friends, one of the many who had used me had witnessed my husband abusing our child.  He had more rank than K and had arranged the CQ. He said that what happened to me didn't really affect him.  But when he saw K do what he did to the baby it sickened him and made him reevaluate every thing that was happening.  I had found bruises on the baby and thought that K had hid her.  She was only 8 months at the time.  I couldn't understand how someone could abuse an infant. He broke into the trailer, helped me to pack what was really needed for the baby and a few things for me  and then took me to base to get the truck.  Even though S did things to me that are unspeakable, I thank him for saving  my baby's life.  For getting me away from K.  I moved home with my parents for a couple of months, but then I left there.  K was calling there for me constantly and telling me that he was coming after me.  I gave my baby to my parents and then hid.  I was scared to death of him, but I was really unsure why.  I decided to join the Air Force.  I thought that I would be safe there.  I didn't think that he would be able to find me I was so very wrong.  I was through with my basic training.  It was my first weekend off post.  While walking home from the shopping center on base, K found me.  He had taken leave and came to find me.  He grabbed me, took me to a secluded spot off base and beat me.  He then raped me over and over and over.  He said there was nothing that I could do about it.  He was my husband and he had every right to "make love to me".  He beat me again and raped me again.  I was bleeding really bad.  I begged him to stop and take me to the hospital.  He sai!
d he would do one better. He said he would drop me off at the military police station so I could report it.  He laughed because he said they would not even do any thing about it.  He was right.  They said we were still married legally and that they had no jurisdiction in a domestic case. I conceived that night.  I don't know how, but I was pregnant.  I miscarried three months later.  I was bleeding profusely and they could barely stop it.  I told them about that night, but they still would not do anything.  They said there was a lot of scar tissue and that I needed surgery.  I consented and that is the last thing I remember. My life was really messed up.  I came home on leave to visit with my family.  It was a happy reunion.  I got to see my baby girl.  She was growing by leaps and bounds.  I heard that K had finally gotten out of the Marine Corps.  I didn't think a lot about it.  I didn't want to be reminded of the things he had done.  Then one night while I was at the club I saw him.  I immediately left.  I was terrified.  I wouldn't go anywhere the rest of me leave.  The day that I was leaving he was just down the street from my parents house.  He followed me to the airport.  I wouldn't get out of the car until some one came to escort me in.  I boarded the plane and thought it was over.  But then he boarded too.  I shook the whole way back to Texas. I was re stationed to Indiana.  I was close enough to home that I would come home every other weekend.  It was about the sixth month at Indiana that K found me again.  He said he wanted me one last time before our divorce was final.  I was hurt so bad that I was put into the hospital.  He gave me vd.  He said that I deserved that.  That I was nothing but a whore and a slut.  The hospital treated me for the vd.  Then I was sick a lot.  I thought that I was pregnant again.  They said I wasn't.  But I felt like I was.  Then one day I was rushed to the hospital.  I had been pregnant. I had a tubal pregnancy.  There was so much scar tissue the eggs couldn't get to the uterus.  I lost the baby and almost died as well.  They said I would never be able to get pregnant again.  There was so much scar tissue, I had only one tube now and one ovary was now dead.  They sent me home to recover.  The physical was healing, but the mental was deteriorating. I couldn't take life any more and I was on a path of self destruction.  I took a medical discharge from the military and crawled home.  I moved into an apartment by myself.  I didn't want to do much of anything.  I got a job to support myself.  Then two jobs.  Then I ran into an old friend.  He had just been kicked out by his girl friend.  I told him that he could crash at my house if wanted.  I worked nights, he worked days.  It wouldn't be a problem. I'd know him all through school.  We barely saw each other.  Only in passing.  Then one night I got sent home early.  We were dead.  I decided to get drunk.  My friend came home drunk.  One thing led to another and once again I was pregnant.  I do know how, but I carried the child full term.  I gave birth to a little boy.  We ended up staying together because of our son.  Then I got pregnant again.  A little girl.  Then again with a little boy. Even uterus this guy was no good for me I stayed with him because of the children.  He was forever abusing me mentally.  He drank a lot and would slap me around.  It didn't seem all that bad.  Then one day he decided to move out.  I thought it was the best thing to ever happen to me. I went back to work.  My life was starting to look better.  I went to college and life was actually good.  I had three beautiful children, I was working and going to college.  I didn't care about men.  Didn't even want to be bothered with them. Then it happened.  I met the man of my dreams.  Literally. I met him through letters.  It started as a friendship during the war.  But it moved into something better than that. He was really good to me and for me.  He was open and honest.  We ended up getting married.  Things were really working out for me.  Life was good.  Then he got orders to go to Germany.  The father of the children did not want them leaving the states and took me to court for custody.  Even uterus he was never there for them the judge gave him temporary custody while I moved to Germany with my husband.  Then my daughter who I had given to my parents decided to come live with me again.  She came with me to Germany.  I was depressed over losing the kids, but I still had my daughter.  Then she decided she wanted to go back to the states.  I was beginning to get depressed over that as well. Then the first memory came.  It came as a "body memory".  I didn't know what it was at first.  I felt this horrible pain in my right breast.  It was like someone just shoved something through it. I could feel a burning pain like I when I pierced my ears as a teenager.  I would not go away.  I  was shaking and hurting and scared.  I didn't know what was going on.  I was at a military party with my husband and I told him I wanted to go home.  He said okay, said his good byes and took me home.  I couldn't explain what it was or why.  Then two days later it happened again.  Only this time it came with the memory.  I then realized what triggered it. While at the party some of the couples were talking about a woman who had her nipples pierced.   They said she would go to the gym with her tee shirt cut out so it didn't catch on the nipple ring.  Shortly after that conversation, a lady changing her baby's diaper stuck the baby with a pin.  The baby screamed.  That's when the "body memory" came.  When it came with the memory I realized it was from the baby being stuck.  When my baby was just a few months old I had accidently stuck her with a diaper pin while changing her.  K grabbed one of the diaper pins and stabbed it into me.  Then he stabbed it through me and told me I could wear it like that until I learned not to stick the baby any more.  I wore that pin in me until the day I left him.  It healed over and I could put an earring in there today if I wanted.  I cried and cried and cried as I realized what had happened. I started getting really bad headaches.  I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me.  I was going crazy inside.  Then something different would happen.  I would be wide awake, but yet I could see something.  Like I was dreaming or watching TV.  Yet it was happening to me. So how could I be seeing it happen? I thought that I was losing my mind.  I was afraid to tell my husband.  I thought he might think that I was crazy. Memories of K's abuse started flooding into me.  Memories of the nights when his friends would do what they wanted to me.  Then the beatings because I let them.  I remembered a time when I heard the baby crying and wanted to go take care of her.  He wouldn't let me.  I tried to get up to take care of her.  I remember him tying me splay legged over a saw horse and let his friends pound into me.  They would make me have oral sex with them.  K would would call me names and tell me I was worthless.  He would tell me I was a slut. Only a slut would have allowed someone to do what I allowed them to do that day I got raped.  He used bondage on me all the time.  He started using different things on me.  He would let the guys force things in me.  One time he raped me with a loaded pistol.  The site tore into me and I bled really bad from it.  He just rubbed the blood in my face.  Then he became fascinated with peeing on me.  He would make me swallow it sometimes.  Sometimes he would wipe feces on me.  I would be left like that all night long.  In the morning he would let me shower, but I could not get the smell of it off of me.  Another night the baby was trying to nurse.  I was sore from being beaten.  I could barely nurse her and she seemed to be really stressed.  I was trying to make a bottle for her.  She was screaming by this time.  K got mad at me.  He started slapping me around.  The bottle over heated and I was trying to cool it down.  I thought I had it cool enough, but I didn't.  The baby screamed.  I quickly tried to quiet her.  But it was too late.  K said he would punish me for it later.  After the baby was asleep, K re warmed her bottle.  He heated it up really hot and then made me lay down.  He tied me to the bed and then started trusting the hot bottle in and out of me.  I was screaming because it was a glass bottle and it was burning me inside.  He stuffed something in my mouth and just kept raping me with my baby's bottle.  Then he beat me until I passed out.  When I woke up I was still tied to the bed.  He had strapped the bottle inside of me.   He was gone.  The baby was gone.  I didn't know where they were or when he would be back. After that night he started raping me with a baseball bat.  He would make me suck him while he raped me with the bat.  He would dress me up like a tramp and then take me out in his truck.  He would pull up beside truckers on the interstate and he would turn on the cab lights.  He would make me masturbate in front of the truckers.  Then he would make me use objects on myself.  He would pull over at the truck stops to see if the truckers would stop.  Some time they would and he would let them have sex with me.  He would masturbate in my face while the truckers had sex with me. It started happening more and more often.  Every week he would take me out and have me do things with truckers.  One night he took me to a strip bar.  He made slip dollar bills in the g strings of the female dancers.  What I feared was going to happen did.  He watched while I had sex with another female.  If I didn't act like I would enjoy it, then he would beat me up after wards.  His abuse continued for several months I started having body memories again.  I could smell rope at first.  Then  could feel the pain of rope burns.  At first I could only feel in on my arms and my legs.  Then I started feeling in on my neck and back.  I could smell the oil in the rope it was so real.  As the memories came I would huddle in a corner of the room and scream and scream and scream.  I was falling to pieces inside.  I couldn't believe what was happening to me.  I felt the pain all over again.  I could watch it like I was watching a TV screen.  I could feel it like it was happening all over again. The last memory I had before I finally sought help from a doctor was of my little girl.  While I was tied over a saw horse being abused by one of his friends, K started doing things to my little girl.  He was rubbing her in her privates.  Then he started to rub himself on her.  He would rub himself on her lips and then on her privates.  I watched in horror as he put his finger in her first.  Just one.  Then he put another inside her. He laid her on the floor right in front of me and told me that she was going to grow up to be a slut just like me.  He said that he would teach her how to be a better slut then her mother.  I watched in horror as he started sliding another finger in her and then another.  He was making her scream and I couldn't do anything about it. He was masturbating near her face and I started screaming at him to stop. He put her closer to my face so I could really see.  Then he asked me if I wanted to watch him while he gave our baby what all women want.  She was barely eighth months old.  It was at that time that S walked into the trailer.  K had three of his fingers inside of our baby.  He had his penis close to her mouth.  She was screaming.  I was screaming.  S walked over to K and hit him right in the mouth as hard as he could.  They started fighting.  The guy that had been there for awhile got up and left.  Somehow I got kicked in the head and knocked out.  I woke up in a hospital room.  S drove me there and said that we were out  four wheeling and that I hit my head on the window after a hard turn and drop.  They believed it.I don't remember how long I spent in the hospital.But they finally released me after several nights. It was two days later that I drove to Raliegh-Durham.  Then just three days later S rescued me. With all the memories coming back my life was pure hell.  I started seeing a doctor 2 times a week.  I was plummeting into a deep depression.  They were talking about admitting me to the hospital.  They were afraid that I was becoming suicidal.  Through out all of it my husband stood by my side.  He was there for me when I needed him and he would back away when I felt like I needed my space.  I thought the worst of the memories were over.  But it was only the beginning. One morning I got up and started my household chores.  I had a feeling of foreboding hanging over me all morning.  I didn't know what was wrong with me, but I was major upset most of the day.  I started getting a really bad headache.  I knew that I was not going to get it to go away on its own so I went to the hospital.  They gave me a shot of demeral and a shot of visteril and sent me home.  As the medication started to work on me my mind started to fade away from me.  I started dreaming, but the dreams were strange and unreal.  When I woke up the next day I had foggy memories, but nothing that I could comprehend.  My sister happened to call that day and we talked. I don't know what brought the conversation up, but she asked me out of the clear blue if I was a victim of incest.  I laughed and said no. She said she just wondered.  Then we talked of other things.  But that question opened up aPandora'ss box for me.  All day long I had memories of the dreams the night before.  I couldn't place the house that I was in or where I was.  It was very strange for me. The next morning I got up and started working in the garden.  I worked in it most of the day.  Later in the afternoon I walked down to the store that was just a few blocks away.  I was actually feeling very good.  Later that evening my husband and I took a drive.  I don't even remember where it was.  When we returned there was an abandoned puppy in our fenced in yard.  It even had a food dish and a leash still attached to it's collar.  Something frightened me, but I didn't know what it was.  All night I was nervous about something, but could not place it.   The next morning I started having flash backs of the incest.  I remember my uncle taking me down to see the puppies.  Letting me pet them.  Then he would take me to show me his "special puppy".  I started remembering how he would pick me up and give me real tight hugs.  How he would pull me close to him when I was just a little girl.  I remembered sitting on his lap and feeling him bounce me up and down on his knee.  I would feel him bounce me up and down more on his lap.  And then he would hold me there real tight.  I could feel him squirm a little underneath me.  I didn't know what he was doing, but I would just sit there in his lap.  Eventually the memories flooded through me.  I started remembering him fondling me.  Touching me under my panties.  He would rub me and ask me if I liked it.  The first time and told him no.  He told me that I was being bad and that my mother would be mad at me for being a bad little girl.  He told me to say yes, to say it felt good.  I would tell him it did, but I didn't like it.  At first he would just touch me under the panties and rub me down there.  He sometimes would kiss me on my chest and on my belly button.  Then one day he went farther with me.  He put his fingers between my legs and started to spread me open.  I started to cry.  He told me that I shouldn't cry.  He said that I should be happy that my uncle loved me that much to make me feel good.  He told me to tell him thank you.  When he started to push deeper inside of me I started to cry again.  He told me he would quit, but he was going right down to tell my mother that I was being bad.  He said that he was going to watch her spank me.  I didn't want that.  He said my mom wouldn't love me any more if she knew that I was being disrespectful.  I laid there and let him do what he wanted to me.  After a while he unzipped his pants and made me touch him.  He said it was just like the little puppies I liked to pet.  He told me that I could pet that for awhile.  I didn't like the feel of it and started to pull away.  He held my hand real tight and helped me to pet him the way he wanted petted.  Then he pulled my face closed to him and I felt something wet in my face.  He rubbed it off with his fingers and then told me to lick his fingers.  He said that was a special kiss just from him.  He told me I couldn't tell anybody because they would be jealous that I got his special attention.  He said I couldn't tell my mom or dad because I had been disrespectful and they would not love me any more.   If I  kept it a secret, then they would still love me and I could still be his favorite niece. With each time that I spent with my uncle he would become rougher with his touch.  He started pulling himself out right away instead of waiting.  He would rub himself on my face and my chest.  He would rub it through the curls in my hair.  Sometimes he would lay me on my stomach and rub him self between my butt.  I could feel the wetness afterwards.  Then he would just wipe it off and make me lick his hand.   One day he took me in the big house.  He showed me a hole in the wall.  He said that if I ever told what he was doing to me that he would stick me in that hole and he would nail a board over it.  No one would ever be able to find me.  Then that day he took me upstairs in the attic and laid me down on a stinky old mattress.  He removed me clothes and laid them on the floor.  He started like he always started, but then he changed. He used three fingers on me.  I could feel him  moving me and stretching me.  I was hurting and I started to cry.  He shoved himself in my mouth and held it there until I couldn't breathe.  Then he pulled it out. He said crying was a sign of weakness.  That my daddy didn't like weakness. He said my daddy was a strong man and wouldn't want a little girl who was weak.  He said my daddy really wanted boys, but if he had to have little girls then they needed to be strong.  He said he was going to make me strong.  He said every time I cried he would put his puppy back in my mouth and I could suck on it just like a little baby.  Then he started forcing himself inside me.  I felt like my body was ripping open.  I was all wet and I thought that he had caused it.  I thought that he was going to stop, but he didn't.  He lifted me up, sat up and sat me on his lap.  He pushed into me again and he lifted me up and down.  I could feel the wetness and started crying.  He pulled me off of him and threw me down on the mattress again.  When he went to stick it in my mouth I saw blood on him.  I started to scream but couldn't.  Then he was inside of me and he was pushing himself in and out of me so hard that I was choking.  I could taste the blood and it was making me sick.  Then I felt him let loose of something in my mouth.  I didn't know what it was and I would not swallow it.  When he pulled out I spit it out.  He slapped me and told me to never to it again.  He said that he was going straight down to tell my mom.  I starting crying to not tell.  He said that I had to make him feel better then. He said that I was acting just like a little baby and therefore I could suck on him just like a baby.  I didn't know what to do.  He put it in my mouth and told me to suck on it.  I tried, but I didn't do what he wanted.  He stopped, got his belt and started spanking me.  He asked me if I was going to behave.  I said yes and that I would be good.  Then he put himself in my mouth again.  He told me when the time comes that I better not spit it out again.  He said that a good little girl would want all of his special ice cream.  Every time after that he would force me to suck on him.  Sometimes he would put his fingers in me.  Sometimes he would put them between my cheeks and rub my anus.  Then one day he started licking me down there.  I just laid there frozen in fear.  He would bite me and it would hurt.  Then he started licking on my anus.  He then started rubbing his penis between my legs and then between my butt cheeks.  I felt the wetness and thought it was over.  But instead he rubbed it on my anus and then he put one of his fingers inside of it.  I wanted to scream, but couldn't.  Instead I just laughed and laughed.  He didn't like that and he forced another one inside of me.  I couldn't cry any more so I just laughed.  If I didn't cry I thought I wouldn't have to suck on him.  He pushed and pushed into me and I could hear his breathing going really fast.  Then he pulled them out and put his penis between me and forced himself into me.  I couldn't scream. I tried but I couldn't. I hurt too much.  I felt like I had to go to the bathroom and I tried to push away, but he just held himself inside of me and he shook and shook and shook.  I could feel him grab a hold of me and shove me towards him.  He shook for the longest time and then it was over.  Then he passed out on top of me.  I was squished beneath the weight of him.  I could smell the stench of beer on his breath.  His breath was hot and he was breathing in my face as he slept on top of me.  I laid there for a long time trying to be still.  Then I started to try and push him away, but I couldn't. He was to heavy.  He was drooling on me as he slept.  After a long time I started to cry.  I had tried to hold it in, but I started to cry.  I don't know how long I cried, but it seems like forever.  Then he woke up.  I tried to stop myself, but I couldn't.  He said he was going to tell my dad.  I tried to stop crying, but I couldn't.  I tried really hard.  I quit making the crying sounds, but the tears still came.  He called me a little baby.  A disrespectful little baby.  He told me to go ahead and suck it like a baby.  It was soft and yucky feeling.  It was dirty.  I could see feces on it and some blood, but he made me lick it any way.  I started throwing up because it tasted horrible.  I couldn't stop wrenching.  He grabbed me by my throat and started choking me.  He threw me down on the floor and then he picked me up again.  He started to call me names that I didn't understand.  I couldn't quit puking and crying.  He grabbed me and started forcing himself into me again.  He told me if I quit crying he would take me back to grandma's.  I started to calm down.  He said he was sorry for choking me.  He said he didn't mean to hurt me.  He said that he would make me feel better.  He started kissing me and rubbing on me.  Then he took me downstairs and ran a bath.  He cleaned me up as best as he could.  My hair was a mess and I didn't like it.  Then he said he would let me go pet the puppies if I was a good girl for him.  I shook my head that I would.  He helped me get dressed and then we went to see the puppies.  While I was petting the puppies he picked up some of the puppy poop and rubbed in on my face and then rubbed it on my dress.  Then he took the puppy away and threw me in the dirt.  He said to get up. That we were going to walk back to grandma's.  While we were walking I felt him push me in the rocks.  I scraped my knees and my hands really bad.  He shoved me into the ground and he said that I was to tell mom that I fell in the puppy cage.  If I didn't then he would tell my dad that I was a crybaby.  When we got there mom came running to me.  I told her the puppies knocked me down.  She took me home and cleaned me up. I didn't get to see my uncle the next couple of times that I was over there.  I didn't get to go see the puppies either.  But I didn't want to see them either.  Then I saw my uncle coming one day.  I started running to the little house be he caught up to me.  He said he would be nice to me.  That I would get to see the puppies. Just the puppies.  That he wouldn't make me touch his.  So I went with him.  But he lied to me.  While I was petting the puppies he started rubbing on me and then he started rubbing his penis in my hair. He rubbed it all over me.  He put it close to my mouth, but he didn't make me suck on it.  I didn't cry.  I just sat there and petted the puppies.  Then he took the puppy away, pulled my pants down and started rubbing himself in and out of my legs.  He took my hand and put my hand on it and made me rub it up and down.  I just sat there and let him do it.  Then he put himself close to me and let himself get wet on my lips.  I still just sat there.  I didn't move or cry.  Then he gave me the puppy and let me play with it again.  Sometime later he took me back to my mom's.  For the next few times all he did was rub on me.  And wet on my.  Then one day he took me to the big house again. I started screaming when I saw where he was taking me.  He put me in the hole and told me that I fit in there real well.  Then he took me out.  He said we were going down to the basement to get the board and the hammer.  He said that he thought I told my mommy.  I said I didn't but he didn't believe me.  He took be to the basement.  He handed me the hammer and told me to carry it upstairs while he carried the board.  He put me back in the hole and he laid the board up against the wall.  He was digging in his pockets and then I saw him holding a couple of nails.  I promised him over and over that I would never tell anybody.  I told him that I would be a good girl.  I said I would never cry and he could make me strong.  He held the board over the hole and started to nail me in.  I kept begging him to stop. He asked me if I would ever tell my mom or my dad.  I told him no.  He asked if I wanted him to treat me like a good girl. At first I said no, but he started hammering again. So I said yes.  Then he asked me if I would do anything thing that he told me to do.  I told him I would be good.  I would let him.  He pulled the board down and helped me out of the hole.  Then we went upstairs to the attic.  He raped me in front and then in back. When he was finished he spread my legs apart and started rubbing me.  He asked me if I liked it and I told him yes.  He placed his fingers inside of me and rubbed me inside while he kissed on my tummy.  He said to talk to him.  Tell him that it feels good.  I didn't know what he meant.  He stopped what he was doing, picked up the hammer and handed it to me and said come on then.  So I told him I liked it.  He asked me what I felt like, but I didn't know.  He said, tell me you like it.  Tell me to rub you hard down there.  Tell me to stick my fingers in you and pound them into you.  Call me daddy and tell me it  feels good.  I talked to him and told him I liked it.  I told him it felt good.  He asked me if I wanted his fingers in my ass.  I said yes.  He spit on them and then rubbed the spit on me.  Then he put them in me.  He rubbed them in and out and he rubbed me in front with his thumb.  Then I licked his fingers for him.  It tasted horrible.  Then he was licking me down there. He was licking me all over and I couldn't lay still.  I didn't know what my body was doing.  He said it's because I liked it.  He said that my body like what he was doing and to tell him so.  He started sticking his tongue in my anus and then back to the front of me.  He would move his tongue around.  Then I felt his fingers again. They were moving in and out while he was licking me.  I started shaking and I couldn't stop shaking.  I thought that I was sick or something.  Then he quit.  He took my hand and put it between my legs.  He had me feel around.  He made me rub on myself while he watched.  Then he put my fingers on a spot of me that was sticking out some. He said it was called a love bump.  He told me to rub my love bump back and forth. I did what he said.  He made me do it back and forth. And then he took himself in his hand while I touched myself. He said that it's okay to do that to myself if I liked it. He said that my mommy did it to herself and that my daddy probably helped her do it to.  He said that I could do that to myself all the time if I wanted. I don't know how long me uncle did this to me, but I remember it happening a lot.  He would wink at me and give me a special smile and I knew that I was to go to the big house.  I would always go.  Sometimes I would see him in the yard with a hammer in his hand and then I would just go to the big house.  I always went and then I would go play with the puppies afterwards.  One day I saw my uncle taking the puppies to the big house.  I didn't know what he was going to do with them.  I went down to see. He told me he was sticking them in the hole because they were bad. They were like I used to be.  Whiny babies he said.  He said they whined too much.  I didn't want the puppy to go in the hole.  He told me that puppies had love bumps too.  He asked me if I knew that.  I said no. He told me he would show me where their love bumps were. He put my hand between the legs of one of the puppies and moved it around.  He asked me if I could feel it yet.  I said no.  He moved my hand around a little until I found the puppies love bump.  Then he told me to play with it like I play with mine.  I did.  But the puppies bump starting sticking out.  It wasn't like mine and I thought I hurt it.  But he told me that puppies just liked it more and to keep doing it.  He watched me pet the puppies love bump and then he took him self out and started to play with it.  Then he told me to put the puppy down and to lick on him.  I did.  After a while he took my clothes off of me and he rubbed the puppies nose on me.  It was cold and wet and I didn't like it.  Then he rubbed something on me down there and the puppy started licking me.  When the puppy would stop he would rub it on me again and then the puppy would lick me again.  I don't know what he kept putting on me.  He just kept putting it on me and then the puppy would lick me.  The he stuffed something inside of me.  I could feel it, but I couldn't see what it was.  I just  laid there and then he put his fingers in my anus and started rubbing me inside.  I could feel something inside of me while he rubbed me in my behind.  Then he rubbed something on me again and the puppy came back over.  Then he rolled me over and rubbed in on my anus.  He held my butt apart and the puppy licked and licked.  Then I felt him slide something inside of my anus.  The puppy was trying to lick what ever it was.  It wouldn't stop.  Then he put himself in my mouth and told me to suck on it.  I said I wasn't being a baby, but he said the puppies were and it was my fault.  He said I had to teach the puppies how to be strong.  So I sucked on him until I felt his wetness.  And then he let me go play with the puppy. The next time I saw him he brought the puppy, but he also brought the big dog to.  He let the dog lick on me and then he lifted me up and rubbed me on the dog.  The big dog was trying to do to me what my uncle had done before.  His love bump was sticking out like the puppies had stuck out.  My uncle let the big dog keep rubbing on me.  Then he put himself inside of me and pushed in and out real hard.  He was pushing harder than he normally did.  It was hurting more than before.  All of his weight was on top of me and I couldn't breathe.  Then I felt his grab my bottom and moved me closer.  He put his fingers in my anus while he was inside of me.  He was panting.  He told me to say yes daddy.  I just kept saying it.  He said to say hurt me daddy cause I'm bad.  And I would say that too.  When I would quit talking he would yell at me to say it again.  So I did.  I started laughing and he got mad at me.  I wouldn't cry any more.  I would just laugh.  He pulled out of me and stuck it in my anus.  Then he told me to say I want to suck it daddy.  But I didn't.  He slapped me and said to say it and so I did.  He said to say it like I really wanted to.  Say it like I said it to my mommy when I wanted her to buy me something.  He said to beg him like I begged my mommy.  So I did.  I said it over and over and over.  And then he pulled it out and shoved it in mouth so hard it hurt me in my throat.  I couldn't breathe. I was gagging.  I could feel my throat contracting trying to vomit.  But he held my head in place and wouldn't let loose.  He just tried to push it in deeper and deeper.  And then he shook and shook and shook and then I could feel him oozing down my throat and I couldn't swallow it because he was so far in.  Then he let go.  I took a deep breath and starting choking and coughing.  And then I just laughed. Laughed, laughed, laughed.  The tears were right behind my eyes, but I could only laugh. That was the last time that my uncle touched me.  I didn't see him for a long time.  My mom said that he had to go to the doctor's because he got sick.  She said that when he was better he would get to come home.  I don't know how long it had been, but one day when we went to grandma's the big house was torn down.  It was gone.  Grandma had one of my other uncles come over and put some rocks where the house used to sit.  Then one day there was this big shiny thing in the rocks.  My mom told me it was a clock. That the sun told it the time.  I know now it was a sundial.  Shortly after that she got rid of the dogs and the puppies too.  She sold them all.  They were too hard for her to take care of them she said.  She said that my uncle used to take care of them, but he was too sick to take care of them and so she got rid of them. When I look back on my life I am saddened.  My mind can rationalize why I did some of the things I did.  But my heart is another matter.  I have always tried to understand why I was so different.  I couldn't understand how I knew things the other children didn't.  During a session in sex education I busted out laughing.  The teacher said it was inappropriate and sent me to the office.  I didn't think it was funny.  I didn't know why I laughed.  But I laughed and laughed. My attitude on sex was different than most.  And SEX was love.  Or was love SEX?  Either way it was different then it should be I am sure.  How I reacted to it was different as well.  My thoughts and views were very different than most people I knew.  I felt like I was a freak when ever the topic of sex came up. I had this belief that I was here to pleasure men.  It didn't matter if I enjoyed it as long as they did.  I didn't care how many times they hurt me.  That was okay.  That was love.  Or was it sex. If you didn't hurt me in some way then you didn't really love me.  YOU were abnormal.  There was something wrong with YOU.  All you had to do was tell me what to do and I was right there doing it.  It didn't matter if it was degrading.  That was my position in life.  Use me. Hurt me.  That was love. I know that I dressed differently.  Mostly for shock value I think.  Or for attention.  I'm not sure which one. It didn't matter.  I know that I turned eyes quite often.  I couldn't hear, but I could see the whispers about me.  That was okay. That is what my life was about.  My circle of friends were different to.  I chose them for a reason.  Because then I would fit in.  I didn't seem to be the freak anymore.  They were bigger freaks then me and it lessoned my disgust in myself.  I could look at the lot of them and think, you aren't so bad.  But it was all a charade.  I was bad.  I was the cry baby.  The whiny bratty child who only laughed.  I laughed at pain.  I laughed at sickness.  I laughed at discipline.  I laughed at death.  I laughed. I laughed. I laugh. Go hurt yourself and watch me laugh. I don't have tears.  I only have laughter.  Weakness.  It's just a sign of weakness and I could not be weak.  I could not be a child. What do you say to the police officers right after you have been brutally raped.  You don't.  You just laugh. Or tell them it's okay.  That's my destiny in life.  With another laugh of course. That's what I live for.  Didn't they know that.  Another laugh. What's wrong with YOU? That's what we're here for isn't it.  To take care of men like you. And oh was I proud of what I could do.  What I knew.  How well I could do it.  The best.  And it didn't matter what it was.  I could do it.  And I could make you think that I enjoyed it.  I could make you think that you were the best.  I could beg you if I needed to.  I could talk dirty if I needed to.  I could do and be whatever it was that you wanted me to be.  All you had to do was say so. But it wasn't life.  It was hell.  My own living hell.  Created for me by disgusting uncle who turned me into a sick person just like himself.  By an abusive husband who trained me to do what was best for men.  No matter what costs.  I was just a toy to inflict your desires onto.  Take me how you wanted me. Make me do what you enjoyed. Who cared.  Certainly I didn't.  All I could do was laugh.

Mysti's Story 
     On August 2, 1997, I was raped by someone who was supposed to be my best friend.  DAVID H********* was my best friend for 8 years, and I trusted him wholeheartedly.  There was nothing different about the day that he beat and raped me.  I didn't do or say anything different, i guess he just picked out that day.  I'd really like to talk to some other survivors (Because we are
survivors, we are NOT victims.  Victims do not get to come home)  There 
isn't really anyone else I can talk to about this.
          Mysti..................

Gypsy

My stepfather began abusing me when I was 11 years old. His marriage to my mother was beginning to sour, so when she took my sisters out to dance classes he began abusing me. It started off with just tickling. You know playing around. But soon he was walking in on me in the shower and he would undress and get in with me. He would fondle my body and make me perform oral sex. We never had vaginal sex. I think maybe he was a fraid that I would become pregnant. I started menynstrating and developing at avery early age. I didn't know what to do. I was so ashamed, because he kept saying that I wanted it otherwise I wouldn't do it. Finally when I got the courage to demand he stop(3 years later) I thought it was all over. Then one day whilst on summer holidays, my mother came up and told me they were getting a divorce. I was very happy. my older sister was acting strange, but she had always been difficult, it didn't occur to me anything was wrong. Then about 6 months later, in a very intense arguement my sister told us she had been raped by my father 7 months beforehand. I felt sickened to the stomach. It was only 3 weeks after I had told him to leave me alone. So he had gone after my sister. I couldn't tell mum she was devastated by what had happened to my sister. It never went to court because mum didn't think that my sister could take it. So my stepfather has visiting rights to me and my younger sister. I have never told anyone and my stepfather just pretends it never happened. But I have confided in a close friend and he has been my saviour as such. I am 16 years old  and only now beginning to be a normal teenager. But I am a survivor. And someday when I know I have the strength I will stand up to my stepfather.

Stephen 

I have been struggerling with my own demons time and time again for many years.  I have a loving family and had a gradmother that doted on me as a child, that isn't the problem.  The problems started when I was mis diagnosed as retarded and was sent to the childs burns clinic in the UK.  I know I was pinned down there.  I have seen a boy thrown up in the air and his head hit the concreate.  A female sat on my shoulders, a man came in and said do you need any help, well I don't think she did as I was 7 years of age and very vunerable.
I know that there was a woman there who I was particulary frightened of, but I don't know why as painfull memories have been blotted from my mind soaking up the truth of my torment.  I can remember her standing over me, towering over me with a strange grin on her face. My Mother had adopted a girl at the time as well, and she had been abused, although nobody told my mom that, she took it upon herself to abuse me, she used to sit on me and masterbate me.  It was only recently that I got the courage to tell people.  I finally got the help I wanted, or so I thought! 

All the Psychologist went on about was bounderies and relating to people, the real issues have been masked, the real torment still remains.  I would love to join you group.

Steve
COMMENTS: I want to know about other survivors of female sexual abuse, as I seem to keep banging my head up against a brick wall.  It seems all ears are closed when it comes to this subject.

 Kelly
 I am twenty-eight years old now, though currently I feel like a kid. 
     I am really just in the beginning stages of really dealing with all of this right now, though I have known some time that I was molested.  There are a lot of words I don't like.  "Safe, survivor" those key words I guess I will hear forever. They are important words, mind you, but one that keeps reminding me that what I think normal is, I probably won't get to be that.
     I'm still trying to piece together everything which is difficult, but this is what I know so far.  My mother was unplanned child.  My grandparents were 21 and 45, when they married.  My mother claims she nearly did not survive for a year because my grandmother starved her, or something like that.  Then my grandparents got a divorce, so my mother was sent to live with her grandparents.  They were a poor family in England.  Well, apparently my grandmother remarried and had a son, but my mother was never invited to live with them.  When I think of her family, the word "desolate" comes to mind. I try not to think of them. 
     She met my father when he was in the A.F. and they married in '65, but had problems from the start.  They were separated, and remained that way until my uncle died in '70.  My mother and father were individually invited to his funeral, which they attended, and voila...I was conceived.  So, I shattered my mother's plans, I guess of returning to England.  When I was born, she had nervous breakdowns, and my father kept calling my aunt to help take care of me.  I only know one thing from my aunt that happened, and that is my mother kept getting angry with me for crying, and when Aunt Bobbie finally came, she saw I was crying because my shoes were too small for my feet.  I can only imagine what the rest of my life was like then.  It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out your child's foot can't go into a shoe.      My sister was born in 1973, and I don't know what happened.  My best assumption is that she recreated her own life and abandoned me.  Not physically, just emotionally.  I don't know when she started to molest me, but I had to pretty young, since my memories of her touching me go back pretty far.  I also think she allowed me to be repeatedly abused by a neighbor starting when I was two. That ended when I was five I guess, but even back then I was finding ways to injure myself.  My sister, though two years younger, physically injured me from the time she was old enough to do so.  If I fought back, I was punished.  I wasn't spanked, just berated and sent to my room.  Eventually I did not fight back, and I find myself in that pattern of behavior today.  I feel as if I have no control over anything.
     All I can say to describe my life, is that I was born, and then left.  Most people who write about sexual abuse seemed as if they were beaten, too, but in my life when I look back, I just see a black expanse.  Nothing at all.  Except screaming, because I was screamed at about once a week for an hour or so. Right now, I feel kind of numb and can't really remember my thoughts or I would describe more, but for now, I will leave this post as it is.

katiebear

I was raped and sexually abused by a former friend of my dad's.  He is 22 years older than I am.  I was 13 when it started and 26 when I finally told him to get out of my life and stay out. I see a priest once a month for spiritual counseling, because that is important to me.  I am healing.  I have many, many more good days than bad.  I still do not feel completetly good about myself, and have occasional flashbacks that are awful, since they are at the core of what happened.  He was sexually sadistic, and it still scares me.  I have been seeing a shrink for 4 years now, and am taking daily medication.  I had counseling for about 4 years in my 20's, and had more for about a year when I started seeing a shrink.  I currently have begun to see a psychologist for EMDR treatments, which if you haven't done it, they have relieved so much anger and rage.  I want other women (and men!) to know they are not alone.  I KNOW what you are going through at all stages.  May God bless you and keep you until we meet again...

Nadine 
I am a survivor of incest, my father abused me from age 5 to age 12. My younger brother witnessed many accounts of the sexual abuse. He was  physically abused in other ways. Not only hit and thrown against walls but emotionally and verbally assaulted. I am 32 years old now and am  happy to say that Ive come a long way in my healing. Years of therapy
helped me stand up and press charges against my Father. He didnt spend long in jail, but finally his world was affected and aware of what he did. My brother has yet to stand up to him, he was always so afraid of him. Just recently my father phoned me to apologize! After 12 years
he had enough guts to be a Man and admit his illness. He says therapy has helped open his eyes. I am still unsure of my feelings, but I do know my brother is suffering deeply, waiting for the same validation. I hate what has happened to us, and I will no longer be a victim. 
I survived!! Now I have a wonderful husband and two beautiful boys. Thats my story, and some good news for fellow survivors, who struggle
with feeling normal... It does happen! 
Nadine
 

Kaz
This story may get graphic in spots.  I am writting this to help put things in order. 
When I was 20 years old I became friends with a guy named F 4 years older than me.  I really didn't like him but I was at a low point in my life.  I was almost raped at 15 by my step father.  He is still my step father and I have forgiven him.  Anyway when I was 20 I had heard about this guy.  I was feeling like I had no reason to go on living and he acted like a friend.  I was hanging out with him and another guy one night.  We all decided to go home.  Since this guy and I lived on the same road we took the other guy home first.  We didn't go home.  We went to his parents house in a different town.  We started making out and it got out of hand.  I said no but he didn't stop.  He pulled my pants down and forced himself into me.  I continued to say no.  When it was over he told me that no one would believe me if I told and that if I liked the way my life was going than I would just shut up about it.  The next day he was with another girl.  Stupid me, who should have known better after the rape, couldn't take this.  I pestered him.  If I wasn't so down on myself it may have been different.  I don't know.  For some reason I had to have this guy.  Okay so maybe I needed real help.  We started going out and my life just got worse.  I was drinking all the time.  I couldn't stand to be around my family.  I had no friends unless they were his.  I wasn't allowed to do anything unless he said so.  I lived with my grandmother.  He would come in at night and tell me to get ready for bed but to make sure I didn't have underwear on.  He would tell me to go to sleep and then he would force me to take it up the butt.  He knew I wouldn't scream or fight because my grandmother was in the other room. 
My only bright spot in the whole thing was H my now husband.  He was my friend through the whole thing and didn't try to tell me what to do.  He was married at the time that I lost it for the first time.  I broke up with the jerk.  I was talking to H and in came F' sister and her boyfriend.  They gave me this sob story about how upset he was.  So I went back.  I spent over 2 years with F.  I finally had enough when he started cheating on me right in front of me.  I knew I was better than that.  I totally lost it and gained my life back.  There is a lot more he did to me but I have dealt with it and it is no longer an issue in my life.  I married H and we have a son together.  He has a daughter from his 1st marriage that lives with us.  I still have problems in the bedroom but they are getting less and less.  If this story helps someone I am glad I wrote it.
 
 

HANA
Well, this is a big step for me as I have never  really done  this before.  I have never talked to anyone in dept about  my past.  I even find it hard to say the word "abuse".  But I guess  that is what  it is and from all I have read and heard, this is something  you have to talk about to heal.  And I desperately want to heal from the past events of my life and the effects those events have had on  me.   I'm not sure how to start this, should I go into  details about the abuse?  Do I try to figure out my feelings about what  happened? Because, well, as far as feelings go, I burried those very  deep many many years ago and have no idea how to drag them back out  again. That is one of the many things I will have to work on.   The abuse started, I think, around the age of 8 and  continued  up to at least until i was 21.  I was abused by a few of my  cousins,  9 or 10 of them, all male.  Also by my best friends father.  I was  abused by a close friend of the family.  In fact, I can barely remember when I wasn't being abused.      This is my story or at least the parts I remember of  it as most of the memories haven't resurfaced as yet.  I recall a  fall day as I was walking home from school.  I think I was 8 or in  3rd grade  at the time.  My cousin was in his garage/woodshop.  There  was a box under the workbench and as I walked into the room I heard a  faint "meow".  I walked over to the box and picked up the cutest  yellow fur ball. My cousin knelt down beside me took the kitten and placed it back into the the box.  He took my hand and placed it "there" and told me he had something else he wanted me to pet.   Bare in mind that I have  grown up in a small town  there everyone knows everyone else  and they  all know everyone else's business.  However, I don't recall the word sex ever being mentioned and I know it was never mentioned  at home. Anyway, he put my hand there and one thing lead to another.   He put my face there after he removed his pants.  I still gag to this day  even if I  put a toothpick in my mouth.  He pushed me to the floor and  tied my hands with some cords that were hanging from the wall.  Then he raped me. I had no idea what was happening, I only know it hurt.  I  don't  remember if I tried to fight him off or if I was too scared to move.I don't remember walking home from there.  I do remember him telling me that I couldn't tell anyone what happened.  And I never  did.  However, I don't he kept the secret, because it wasn't very  long until his brother started do things to me too.  I was out riding  my bike one summer day, probably the next summer.  He asked me if I  would like to go to the farm with him to feed the animals.  As I had repressed the events from before and I really love nimals and being on the farm, I  readily agreed to go.  We were in the hayloft throwing hay  down to the cows and all the sudden he grabs a handful of hay and  stuffs it down my shorts.  And so the game began.  When we were tired of  throwing hay at each other, he pretended to start to remove the hay from  my hair and from inside my shirt and shorts.  He pulled my shorts down  and he pushed me back onto the hay and lay down beside me putting  his heavy legs on top of mine.  He started touching me and kissing me  and licking my breasts.  I was confused, he was so gentle, unlike his  brother. He told me that God made us to do this as his finger entered  me.  God did that ?  I couldn't believe what I was hearing.  Then he  said actually, God made boys and girls differently so they could do other things.  And that was the way we were suppose to show each other how  much we loved each other.  So he loved me....right there in the hay  when I was maybe 10 years old.  He continued to follow me everywhere I went for the next few years.  He was there everytime I turned  around. I thought I had a secret hiding place, but he followed me  there also. Everytime he wanted to do something,  and everytime, he did  what he  wanted.  He made sure I knew that I could not hide from him  and that I could do nothing to stop him.  I believed him.  He always  got what he wanted.  When I was 17 I moved in with my best friend and her parents. Her father started molesting me soon afterward.  He took me right there in the basement.  He took me in the car.  The  worst part about being molested by him, was that he was crippled on  his right  side.  I think I should have been able to stop him, and  feel like I  deserved what I got, because I didn't stop him, and I was  an adult at this time, well, almost anyway.  One evening we were in the  basement and his wife came down stairs and caught him rubbing my back, something he really liked to do before "it" happened.  She kindly  asked me to   leave and she turned and walked away.  The hardest part about that situation is when she became ill with cancer about 5 years later, she called and asked me to come and help take care of her. That was the  hardest thing I have ever done.  To walk into her home, knowing what had happened and feeling all the shame for it, to have to look her in the eye and she never  mentioned it, never asked for confirmation or denial of what happened.  I think she knew, I think she asked me to leave for my own sake, before things had gone too far.  I like to think that anyway.  Maybe she knew things had already gone too far, but it was never spoken of. I'm not sure if writing this out has done me any good.  I don't  really feel anything  now that it is written.  Like I said, I have buried my feelings very deep and have not been able to reclaim them. I have gone to therapy off and on, but never long enough to do any    good.  I have no support system except chat rooms I have
found on the net, which I am very thankful for and have made some good loyal friends here.  But it isn't  like they can reach out and hold you or give you a hug when  you need one, and believe me, I could use one every once in a while. I do have 3 teenagers at home, they are very supportive and they  know that I was abused and are very patient with me when I go to one  of my chat rooms, most the time anyway.  They give me hugs when I need them, and I love them very much.  I probably wouldn't still be here on this earth right now if it weren't for them.  They were my only reason to live and even that didn't stop me from making the attempt a few times.  Thank goodness I wasn't successful. Well this is some parts of my story.  I am sure there will be  more someday.  I just never know when.  Another part of this that I  hate is the flashbacks, the memories that are totally new, they really throw me for a loop.  It really messes with my head for days at a time. But I know I will get through this somehow, someday.  And I hope that anyone who has been through this has a good support system. I think that would be the most helpful thing to have in time of crisis.  I also would like to wish you all a  speedy recovery and  pray that the things of the past would fade away and not be a  consideration for the future generation.  However, I know this is unrealistic but that is my wish.
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