My Story of Abuse

To my molester:

I have never called you that to anyone. I have told a trusted few what you did to me, but never gave you that title. I don't know why other than I didn't want to admit that I was abused. I didn't like to think about the things you did and certainly not the feelings those things inspired.

You abused me. Sexually and emotionally. For years I felt ugly, broken and worthless. Some days I still do. It's not fair that you get to live your life when you killed the person I was at eight years old. That little girl knew nothing of the world. My life until that point was filled with people who loved me. The person I was could have been anyone. What she wouldn't have been is a victim.

I didn't connect what you did to me as abuse that first time. Probably not the second or third either. My experience with abusers were on television. Men with scraggly beards and white vans who stole children off the street. Not a child that was in my own family. Kids are not abusers, right? How wrong I was. You pretended a hand sliding down my pants as I slept was an accident. I was terrified and confused. Maybe it was an accident. That night brought a lifetime of questioning myself.

I wanted to tell a million people, a million times over the years. But fear and embarrassment kept me silent. When you were sure that I wouldn't tell you didn't pretend anymore. Nightly and eventually during the day. You would force yourself in one way or another to get your rocks off. I begged, cried and pleaded for you stop. I told you it was wrong and what did you often do? You told me that it was either me or my baby sister who was only five when my abuse began.

For my eight year old, then nine, ten, etc. I thought I was protecting her by allowing you to hurt me. One night in particular I remember you telling me to send her away or you were going to "do it to her". I lock her out of the room. She then proceeded to knock on the door pleading for me to open it while you forced oral sex. When it was over I laid on the bed with my eyes closed while you opened the door. She came over to the bed and in that moment as her eyes met mine I thought "she knows". I was mortified and covered for you. I'm not sure but things were different. She didn't come around you as much. My adult self says that you got her as well, but I pray that I saved her. I would hate to think my sacrifice went for not.

The time that scares me the most is a time I do not even remember. You were staying at our house with a friend of yours. Even thought you had been abusing me for three to four years at that point you, I never thought you would do it with my dad in the house. You feared him as much as you claimed to love him. All I remember is waking in the middle of the night with you at my bedside trying to touch and kiss me with my sister in the bed beside me. You boasted as you told me you and your friend had sex with me and that I had liked it. I didn't know what to believed as you and this friend had spied on me in the bathroom in the past. I don't think I was raped that night but I will never know you fucking asshole!!!! Only the sound of restlessness in the next room made you leave but not before getting another go with me. I do remember that and I hate you for it!!!!

I love the Kelly Clarkson song "Because of You". It is how I feel about you. I trust no one completely because of you. I have lived my life never taking risk because of you. I'm constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. I can't stand for people to touch my back because you sick fuck liked to give back rubs and made it part of your game. Because of my hangups I may never have the biological child that I deserve. Why did God allow you to have the family I did not? Where is the fairness in that? Why do you get to get the illusion of happy? Because I know that you are not happy. I know your dirty little secrets, especially your porn addiction that started when you were a kid and has carried over into adulthood. Your ability to find weak willed women and promise them the world only to destroy their lives. You sully everything you touch. I doubt that you will ever change.

You have stolen things from me that I will never get back. My childhood, my innocence, my first kiss, my first sexual experience. But you have stolen more than that. You took my self-esteem. You called me names to lower my self worth. I battle a food addiction in part because of you. The weight keeps men away from me because I fear them hurting me. I ran off a good man and chased a bad boy. I didn't deserve the good one and I thought the bad boy was the best I could get. Guess what? He didn't want me either. I know my weight played a factor in that.

More importantly my weight has given me a health condition that will eventually take my life. Diabetes. There I said it. The only thing I fear as much as I used to fear you. Now I understand that my choices are mine and mine alone but I can't help but wonder if you had never been born would I have needed to eat to soothe the hurt. And believe me I wish you had never been born. Daily. No more so then when I'm forced to take a picture. As if your abuse wasn't enough you forced me into taking pictures so you could abuse me every single time you looked at them. I'm just thankful that my time with you happened before video and cell phone. It makes me sick to think what you would have done with that technology at your fingertips.

This letter is just the beginning of my healing. There are many questions to answer and decisions to be made. This letter share with the whole world may be enough. I'm not sure. I will be telling people my story and who you are in it. I've already told friends who are now my family because of their love and concern for me. Love and concern that you never showed. Other will be decided when and how I choose, but make no mistake. I remember what you did. There is no forgetting or pretending it didn't happen.

I will not be a victim any longer. I have given you over thirty years. I will not give you another year of my life. You don't deserve it.

So To Whom It May Concern...this is my story.

Generations and Time

To Whom It May Concern,

This is not my first attempt at creating a blog. I'm hoping though with choosing to remain anonymous that I will give myself permission to write freely. About any topic that comes into my mind. The reason I'm writing today is because I realize that life is short and time is the most precious thing we as humans have.

From the moment we leave our mother's womb and inhale that first breath we are dying. As children death seems impossible. We are the generation that will live into eternity. We don't respect that time will catch up to us as it did all of our ancestors before. We are no different.

The twenties are a time for discovering who you are NOT. We try new things, discover the world doesn't revolve around us and life is most definitely not fair. The thirties for most is time for settling into routines. Jobs and families dictate most of our time. We are to busy rushing from one place to another to see how quickly life is passing us by.

Now, Generation X, MY generation, has entered their forties. We are too old for the Millennials nd still the young upstarts to the Baby Boomers. As we have matured we have grown into our personalities and expanded not only out minds, but our waistlines as well. While many have turned into the parents they claimed they would never be, other have turned against society's normal. More men and women are single without children. Religion as grown lax as people consider themselves spiritual. A few of my friends are atheists. A belief I find terrifying. Not because I think they will burn in hell. No, I think it brave for them to believe that this one life is it. That we only have one shot to make it count.

To Whom It May Concern....Live life to the fullest, that way you will have no regrets...