Choosing to remove yourself from a toxic relationship is such a difficult decision to make, especially if it is from family. I did it, I had to, I had no choice. My family (my kids, my husband and I) had to be the priority now, not them, not the ones who pretended to be family. I had little people to protect and take care of. Would I miss having my mom? Did I ever have a mom? I mean, yeas of course I had a mom, someone had to have given birth to me in order for me to be tyoing this, but was she really my MOM, not really. I never had a connection to her. Hugs weren’t a thing in my house growing up, they were given out freely to other people but not to us, not to me. I remember very few times that there were any means of gentle, loving, physical touch. There was one day that I remember this happening and it was the day that she braided my hair, I couldn’t believe it was happening so I soaked it up and enjoyed it for all it was worth. We were in the parking lot of my school waiting for school to start, it was a private school so there weren’t many cars and not many people around to stop and stare, which is why she probably did it. This never happened again, although I wouldn’t have minded. My parents were more into buying our love than actually showing it. I was actually quite jealous of everyone around me that received all the genuine love and hugs that she gave out. Were my parents incapable of showing it? Clearly they weren’t. They just chose who they showed it to. Were they incapable of showing it to their children? Yes, they were. Thankfully, I never kept this up with my children, actually I am the complete opposite and it sometimes drives them nuts.
“Home is where the heart is” was never a true statement in our house, instead it was “home is where the hate lives”. Evil lives here rang true at our house. Secrets, evil secrets were kept there. Now as an adult I am painfully learning the truth about many of my friends living the same life. Why though, why were we subject to live this way? Why were we forced to ‘sweep everything under the rug’ and pretend it never happened? If you went to church it was even worse for you because the priest/pastor encouraged secrets to remain secret. As a matter of fact, I went to my youth pastor in hopes I could finally be free from the lies and the evil but instead I was met with more evil and pain. I told them that I was being molested and abused and the response THE RESPONSE, was that ‘I must have asked for it because people just don’t molest family members’. Well, there you go, this is the number one reason molestation, rape, and abuse victims just stay silent for years and years. They are just told they must have asked for it, that it’s their fault. Is it really, now, is it?
I would go to my nana and mother and constanly tell them what was happening but each time I was met with ‘well, just stop doing it’ or ‘its a phase’ or ‘it must be your fault’ or ‘well you’re a year older so grow up and stop it’ or my favorite ‘just walk away and say stop’. OH GEEZ…. I never thought to try getting away and stopping, thanks for the dam suggestion. I begged, for years, for help. My whole family knew, friends of the family knew, but yet NO ONE decided to help. NOONE!!! Shame on them!!! Do you want to know why they decided not to help, because my family was just to nice so I must be lying, it could never be true.
The abuse started when I was 11 years old. I was abused by my brother, my father(just not sexually), family friends (young and old). One day I was playing outside and I was playing with a group of kids, boys and girls and one of the boys decided to take a stick and shove it up inside of me to see how far it would go, of course I began to bleed, but when I told my mom what happened there was no punishment for him and no care or love shown towards me. Devastated again. Do you want to know why he wasn’t punished, he had a brother with special needs so he was dealing with a lot of stress at home. What about me? I was the victim of a sex crime, a violent one at that. Did anyone care? Was anyone going to help? NO!
It didn’t stop there, that’s when my brother took over and started to tell me he was going to come in my room at night to see if I wore a bra at night or not (as a married woman, who feels very safe in her home, I just started to sleep without one on about 8 years ago–I’ve been married for almost 20 years). Then the threats of touching, which lead into inappropriate touching. Then, when my family had friends over at night he began to force himself on to me. Every night around 7:00pm, to this day I can not stand the “Wheel of Fortune’ and ‘Jeopardy’ theme songs, because I knew once ‘Wheel of Fortune’ started the abuse would start and once ‘Jeopardy’ ended it would end. I begged people around me for help.I would try to spend time in the kitchen with the adults but only get kicked out. Once I got to high school, I joined ever after school activity possible, every sport possible(even if I sucked at it) just so I didn’t have to go home. One, I didn’t want to see him..two, I couldn’t deal with the abuse…three, I couldn’t stand being around people that didn’t really love me.
I could not COULD NOT wait to graduate so I could leave home. I wanted to be out of there, I wanted to breathe for once. I just wanted one day where I felt free, felt like I could be me, where I could lay in my bed and not be tortured. I even went to a college that was far away, a very strict religious college that I knew I wouldn’t like just so I could get away. I only lasted a year, but that was one year where I felt alive and free.
When i came home I live with some friends, their family took me in. I worked 3 or 4 jobs and took a course at a local college at night. I started to find that depression and anxiety was really taking over because my family was guilt tripping me. They’d say that I was being hateful and ruining their lives by telling people I was choosing not to live at home because I was being abused. OH WELL!!! It was the truth. I had to distance myself, for me. I ended up moving in to my own apartment in Hull, Ma thinking it would change everything and life would be great. But it wasn’t.
When I had my own apartment, it meant I had freedom but it also meant I was alone. I am not good at being alone. I wanted, actually I needed to be needed. I also was so used to being ‘used’ every single day of my life and to be honest with you I felt like I was supposed to just be doing it, like as if it was my duty. (sounds weird right) Unfortunately, there are so many people out there feeling the exact same way. They feel like they are supposed to just be having sex with whoever says they want it because that’s what they are used to. It’s an awful feeling and an awful way to go through life. It was almost ritualistic behavior though. While living in the apartment on my own I used dating apps to meet up with guys, guys I didn’t even know….total strangers. I was willing to sleep with anyone willing to be with me and pretend they cared. Fake love was better than no love, at least that’s how I saw it. I went crazy, I slept with way to many guys, I was so out of control. My mental health and physical health were at risk but I didn’t care. I just wanted to be ‘loved’. Through these crazy charades though, I would end up meeting my future husband. He would rescue me from this life, he would show me true love, but I would not believe it right away.
In 2000, I was working many jobs at once, one being a babysitting job in Rowley, MA. It watched a little boy who was about 4 years old. He was so sweet and his parents were very nice too. His dad was worked as a scientist searching for a cure for cancer, his mom worked in business. I had been babysitting one night and stayed later than usual, the mom gave me a ride to the local train station so I could get back to my car which was at my local train station in Braintree, MA. While on the train, a few people said hello in passing, nothing unusual, but then these two guys got on and started talking to me. Now, I am a chatter, a friendly person so of course I said hi and struck up a conversation with them. They seemed harmless, no reason to back away. We talked about the weather, where we were from, high schools we attended and years we graduated. We went to the same school, they were a little older. Hindsight now tells me that they were probably lying about the school, but I don’t read minds. One guy got off a few stops before mine, the other stayed, we continued chatting here and there. My stop was the last one, as I got off the other guy got off too of course, I noticed that where I went he was following but I figured that maybe his car was in the same lot. As I got close to my car, he asked if I could give him a ride home, it wasn’t too far, me being so dam friendly and stupid said ok. He got in the front seat before I could grab my cell phone which I had left under the front seat. We started to drive, there was a set of lights right down the hill from the parking lot and as we approached the lights turned red, I wish they hadn’t. That’s when he grabbed me around the neck and aggressively told me I had to go wherever he said and do whatever he said. Well, I wasn’t about to argue or put up a fight there. I did however tell him that I needed gas, he believed me, and I went in to pay for the gas, I tried to tell the attendant but the words wouldn’t come out “HELP ME”… I couldn’t say them to her. I was terrified. After we got gas he got impatient, he made me drive to an apartment complex up the street and park near a set of dumpsters and that’s where he raped me. He wore a condom…why I have no clue except to hide evidence. Then he made me drive him home, now I knew where he lived, but it wouldn’t make a difference. I tried to hold myself together during that drive, it wasn’t easy. He kept saying, ‘are we ok’ ‘are you good’ ‘you liked it right’. The answers to all of these questions were NO! No dammit I wasn’t okay!! Not even close!! You just VIOLATED ME!!!!!!!!
I called the mom of the child who I had just been babysitting, she refused to help me, then I called my mom who I thought for sure would hep, she absolutely refused and said I got what I deserved, so she wasn’t coming and to be honest I didn’t expect it. Then I went to a ‘friends’ house to try to calm down and make sense of it all. They told me to go to the police station so that night I went, alone. I walked in with swollen tear-filled eyes, trying to hold myself up. I told them what happened and they led me in to a room to be questioned by a detective. I was then put in a room, the detective came in and talked to me they asked me to write down my story. I coudn’t remember every detail, it was all too much. Then they fingerprinted me like I was a criminal, took photos of me too. Then they brought me to the hospital for a rape kit, WOW is this invasive. Then another detective came in, more questions, more people not believing me. I kept telling them that he made me drop him off at his house, but they wouldn’t listen. I felt like no one believed me. When I got to the hospital and they performed the rape kit, they asked if I wanted to call anyone to come bring me a change of clothes and to be there for me. I remember calling my mom first, instinct set in, but she told me I probably got what I deserved and she wasn’t coming. I sobbed. Then I called a few other people who were unavailable, I mean it was understandable as it was very late. I clearly saved the best for last, I called my now husband to come help. Without hesitation he arrived, no judgement, no ‘you owe me’ looks, no frustration, the only thing I was met with was compassion and love. That’s all I needed. We had only known each other for a short time too so he wasn’t obligated to show up but he did. A true friend. Sadly though, the one person that was supposed to show up, didn’t. No empathy on their part.
I am still told to this day that I chose the life I have and everything that happened to me was my doing. I am told this by my mother. It’s painful.
I chose to keep my mother, brother and sister out of my life because of the toxicity that would show up when they were around me. I would literally become a different person, my kids and husband hated it. I hated it. The last straw was when I made it VERY clear that my kids were not to be around my brother, but I came to see them once and my mom offered to watch the girls, well when I came to get them, my mom and sister were gone leaving the girls with him and some other guy. I was furious! I yelled at themj and told them they’d never see the girls or me again, and I kept my promise. I don’t know if anything happened, clearly I questioned them but they said no. I had to keep my family safe.
Every year for my birthday or christmas sometimes both I’ll receive things in the mail from them. It is usually accompanied by a letter telling me I am in the wrong, they did nothing wrong and that I need to get over it. But I can’t. The stress from it all can be unbearable.
Everyone should have a mother that loves them, cares for them and is truly concerned about their well-being. Do I wish I could have my mom in my life? Yes of course but I can’t. I can’t bring myself to that level. Do I forgive them? Sure…but I’LL NEVER FORGET.
Walking away was the safest and healthiest things I have ever done.
If you need to walk away, you can. You are in control. You’re in charge of your life.
Talk, Be Heard 