I received a comment a few days ago from Anonymous that I felt was so powerful I wanted to make certain everyone had a chance to read it. It’s longer than our normal posts, so we’ll post it in two parts.
I was sexually abused at such a young age that I honestly had no words for what had happened. I was traumatized and deeply unhappy but I didn't say a word because I felt sick and ashamed.
I was as afraid of myself as I was of my abuser.
A few years later I realized exactly what had happened and I was furious and mortified.
I was never, ever going to tell a soul as long as I lived.
I tried to kill myself when I was 21 with a combination of vodka and painkillers, but I told my parents that it was an accident and they believed me.
I had begun to drink heavily in college and kept it up after I graduated, so it did not require a great leap of the imagination to picture me getting too drunk to know what I was doing.
In two seperate drunken stupors, I told both my boyfriend (I'm a woman and I hope that's okay!) and my best friend what had happened.
I remember telling my boyfriend but I told my best friend while I was blacked out.
One morning I woke up in her bed with her sitting next to me. I had shown up the night before and told her everything. She said I kept repeating that I was "so sorry" and that I wished that I were "normal."
Over and over again. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Normal, normal, normal.
My boyfriend dumped soon after, largely because of my drinking. I was miserable, so what did I do? I made drinking a daily activity.
My friend and I went to a club one night and I got so drunk I blacked out yet again.
She took me home and I told my parents what had happened to me that night. I still don't remember it, but I woke up the next morning and they wanted to talk about it.
I was as afraid of myself as I was of my abuser.
A few years later I realized exactly what had happened and I was furious and mortified.
I was never, ever going to tell a soul as long as I lived.
I tried to kill myself when I was 21 with a combination of vodka and painkillers, but I told my parents that it was an accident and they believed me.
I had begun to drink heavily in college and kept it up after I graduated, so it did not require a great leap of the imagination to picture me getting too drunk to know what I was doing.
In two seperate drunken stupors, I told both my boyfriend (I'm a woman and I hope that's okay!) and my best friend what had happened.
I remember telling my boyfriend but I told my best friend while I was blacked out.
One morning I woke up in her bed with her sitting next to me. I had shown up the night before and told her everything. She said I kept repeating that I was "so sorry" and that I wished that I were "normal."
Over and over again. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Normal, normal, normal.
My boyfriend dumped soon after, largely because of my drinking. I was miserable, so what did I do? I made drinking a daily activity.
My friend and I went to a club one night and I got so drunk I blacked out yet again.
She took me home and I told my parents what had happened to me that night. I still don't remember it, but I woke up the next morning and they wanted to talk about it.
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SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT
Hidden Tragedy: Male Victims of Domestic Abuse and the Women Who Abuse Them
I am writing a book about domestic violence that focuses on men who are physically, verbally, and mentally abused, and the women who abuse them.
I'm currently seeking stories from men or women who are or were involved in this type of situation. If you're willing to share your story through your own words or through an interview, or know someone who is, please email me: tracyruckman@yahoo.com. I will protect your privacy.
1 comment:
Wow, thank you for sharing from your heart. As one who has been abused, also a female, I understand being afraid of myself. I too wondered what I did wrong to cause my abuse. I felt sorry, and feared I was abnormal. My abuse began at a young age too. My parents, the abusers, systematically terrified me so I would obey them, even when what they were doing hurt.
The truth is, my abusers abused me. I did not do anything to cause it. It took years for me to realize and believe that. I also went on a drug, sex, and alcohol rampage, sabotaging anything good in my life and lost relationships by sharing my abuse.
I'm glad you were able to talk with your parents. I pray for you that you will find peace that passes all understanding in the midst of your pain. I am glad you have a friend who sticks with you. God bless you and thank you for sharing.
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