I was 4 years old when I first molested by an older relative. At first I didn’t know what was happening, for years I didn’t know how to articulate what even happened to me and so I was silent. Through elementary school, I would be haunted in my dreams about the feeling of silence and being isolated. During the day I remember feeling unclean and I would keep recalling the times I was molested, how I was held down sometimes and told not to speak. Sometimes it was dark and sometimes I was taken to a secluded area of the industrial area where we lived and I would be touched and have to touch, and sometimes it was worse. When I was in middle school my dad’s friends would take notice of how I was developing and make fun of me. A few times we would travel in my dad’s pickup truck and because it was so crowded I would have to sit on the lap of one of these men. Whenever I sat on Randy’s lap, he would take hold of my hips and I would feel something grow beneath me. I would be so scared that I couldn’t even speak. The men would laugh and Randy would push me around on his lap as he rubbed himself and my legs, hips and butt. I remember looking at my dad who wasn’t aware this was going on right in front of him, and I remember feeling so helpless , I couldn’t even speak.
It wasn’t until my twenties that I started to recall all these memories and more of my youth. I still have never talked to my family about the relative or Randy or the others. The older relative is in prison for other charges and Randy had died in a car accident years later.
I can’t be in a normal relationship. I don’t know how to be intimate with someone appropriately, I don’t know how to even start to really love. I can’t trust anyone. I’ve had a few relationships, but each one turned abusive. I’ve been beaten, raped and forced to perform sexual acts as an adult. I can’t get out, these are the guys who pay attention to me. Women don’t understand.
You’re the first person I’ve told.