Among the many experiences of my life, I would say without a doubt the sexual abuse I was forced to endure from about age 7 to age 10 has a great deal of impact on my personality to date. 

This is not something one merely ‘gets over’ nor is it something that goes away with counseling or time.  This type of betrayal is something that infects and festers.  I’m not sure the abusers comprehend the long term damage they cause. 

Here’s where I get honest, so if you don’t care to read the details of my abuse, I suggest you divert yourself to another page instead of reading on.  I’m not afraid of what you might read, I’m happy to share my story.

I’m not sure my Mother was ready to be a mom.  She liked to party, and she always had various boyfriends and friends at the house (I never knew my biological father, he left when I was 6 mos. old).  She bounced from one boyfriend to the next, the men never stuck around for very long.  Just long enough to get what they wanted or needed from her, and then they were off.

I was an only child, and I remember being very sexually motivated even at a young age.  Who knows why this is, maybe because I’m a Scorpio.  I remember playing doctor and touchy feely games even with my girl friends when I was quite young… like 1st grade or something.  We would play with vibrators or like little massage wands.  Who knows how I knew how to masterbate, but I knew quite well and practiced often.  I think I even told my cousins how to do it – they were 2 years younger than me.  I didn’t know what I was doing, just that it felt good if you pushed here or there and squeezed your legs together or when the massager buzzed there your body shivered and it felt good.

One day my Mom’s then live in boyfriend caught me masterbating in my bedroom.  I was MORTIFIED.  I knew I would be in trouble.  Instead of chastising me though, he called me out of my room into their room and asked if he could see me do that again.  What the hell was I gonna say?  No?  I’ve been found out, and it was weird but… if it meant I wouldn’t get in trouble so be it.  Well, it wasn’t long before he was playing with himself, and then asking me to kiss ‘it’ which lead to licking, and… I think you get the picture. 

I was made to perform felatio on this idiot every chance he got.  And his penis was tattoo’d which made it even more creepy.  Mom would say she was going to the store, I knew what that meant.  Mom had to work late, guess who was happy to babysit.  And he would always remind me that I was the one doing the bad thing and that if I ever told anyone that I would be the one that would get in trouble because he wasn’t doing anything bad…. I was.  When you’re 7 or 8 years old and your Mom’s boyfriend’s penis is in your mouth, and you’ve been caught touching yourself, you KNOW you’re doing something bad.  I was definately doing something bad, so I bought that bullshit hook line and sinker.  I was a prisoner in my own home, and in my own mind. 

He never penetrated me, though I believe I can recall him rubbing himself up against me and even tasting me a couple times. He always wanted to masturbate together which led to other things but never intercourse THANK GOD.

They eventually broke up, but continued to work together.  I didn’t tell anyone anything.  He had a daughter roughly my age, I always wondered if he touched her too.  How could I possibly ask her though?  When I was about 14 there was a made for TV special on one evening, I was watching it in my room.  It was about sexual abuse.  I finally broke down and called my mom into my room and said “Bob did that to me.”  What?  I just remember her repeating over and over… What?  Then she got very angry and promised to confront him at work the next day.  Can you believe I was still worried I would get in trouble?  Unbelievable!

Well she came home from work that day like an ostrich with it’s head in the sand.  “He says he doesn’t remember ever doing anything like that… or he said he must have been drunk.”  Oh well, I’m sorry then Mother, that’s a totally valid excuse.  WTF?  And that was that.

I still see the man from time to time.  He and my mother worked together up until he retired 5 years ago or so.  I was always asked to smile and be polite.  After all, it must have just been a misunderstanding that this man’s frog tattoo’d penis was in my 7 yr old mouth… right? 

I had numerous boyfriends threaten to kill the man.  I’m sure some people who are reading this would like to know how I managed to smile and be polite.  Well, vengence is dish served best cold and NOT by me.  See, Bob will have to answer to God someday about what happened all those years, and I don’t think anything I could have done to the man here will compare to the penalty God will have for him on judgement day.

I will also briefly mention that a family Priest also french kissed me when I was 13… seriously… what is the deal?

I spent many years asking that question… why me God?  I’m one of the nice ones, I’m one of the forgiving ones, I’m one of the faithful… why me?  Why allow this conflict in my life?

I spent YEARS asking that question… and then one day I went to read to my daughter’s 2nd grade class.  She was new at that school so I wanted to read a book about getting along and not teasing one another… instill some values into her classmates.  As soon as I entered the room this little girl with shaggy brown hair latched onto me.  “Can I baby sit for you someday?” she asked.  “I’m really good with babies.”  I told her not that week but maybe the next.  She said she would probably be moving by then.  I asked her why thinking it was the usual custody dispute madness.  She beckoned for me to lean down, cupped her hands over my ear and whispered, “Because somebody touched me.” 

At that moment my world came to a screeching halt.  I was, in effect, looking at a reflection of myself at that age.  I was frozen in terror.  My daughter didn’t know anything about my past, and why would this little girl open up to me like this?  What was I supposed to say?  A million scenarios ran through my head, it was like reliving my nightmares all over again.  So I got down on my knees and I looked her square in the eye and put one hand on each of her shoulders and said “you know what sweetie, the same thing happened to me when I was your age, and you’re going to be alright.”

It was like spring had just sprung in her eyes.  I could literally see the relief… that feeling like “you mean it’s not only me?” and “oh my God someone really understands.”  As I was leaving the classroom, I promised to bring McDonald’s back for my daughter and this little girl for lunch.  I said my goodbyes and as I was leaving, the little girl said, “can I talk to you for a second?”  I said sure and she stepped outside the classroom door with me.  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a dollar.  “Do you want this?” she asked.  “It’s all I have but do you want it?”  she insisted.  “No sweetie, you keep your money, I’ll be right back I promise” I said. 

I walked out of the school and thanked God for allowing me the experience and wisdom to be able to help that child.  I got McDonald’s, we all had lunch together.  I spoke with that child’s Mother after school, told her a little bit about my experience.  She said her daughter just kept asking over and over “Mommy did I do something bad?  Am I the bad one?”  I told the Mother I was happy to talk to the child anytime.  Unfortunately the Mother was a lot like mine had been, more focused on herself than her child.  I never heard from them again.

In a few weeks that child moved away like she anticipated, but not until after she testified against the neighbor that touched her and he was sent to prison as he should have been.

Everything works toward the greater good.  I don’t know how much better that child felt knowing she wasn’t alone … knowing that she was going to be okay … knowing that she wasn’t the bad one …. that shit happens to good people…. all I know is, I certainly felt better having my “why me God” question answered.

I still suffer some long term effects of being an Adult Survivor of Childhood Sexual Abuse .  I’m learning little by little to cope and try to get pasts those ghosts, but it’s difficult. 

The RAINN (Rape, Abuse, Incest, National Network) is the nation’s largest anti-sexual assault organization founded in part by Tori Amos, a survivor of rape herself.  It operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 1-800-656-HOPE and is beginning an online pilot program for crisis support online at https://online.rainn.org/. 

There is hope, you can have a voice.  I talk about this as often as I can.  It’s the only way to aleviate the stigma.  I don’t have to feel like I’m the bad guy anymore.  I’m just me.

Survivor Psalm

I have been victimized.
I was in a fight that was not a fair fight.
I did not ask for the fight. 
I lost.
There is no shame in losing such fights.
I have reached the stage of survivor and am no longer a slave of victim status.
I look back with sadness rather than hate.
I look forward with hope rather than despair.
I may never forget, but I need not constantly remember.
I was a victim.
I am a survivor.

© Frank Ochberg, MD & Gift From Within