So it's been over a year since I've had a boyfriend... It's been like over two years since my long term boyfriend of years broke up with me over my back. Yet in my head as I am facing the possibility of dating someone new, what tugs at my mind? The incident in which my confidant that I confided all of my secrets about my childhood abuse and molestations, that very first person that I really opened up to and who let me begin to heal, and then when on a normal day I was told to open Firefox to pull up an internet video, but the previous session was restored, and it was child pornography.
Every wound that had begun to close of course was immediately ripped wide open again and maybe even deepened, or at least they began to bleed again. I have no idea why but I keep having nightmarish relivings of memories from my past every night. When I wake I don't even know where I am at first, often I think I am back home near Chicago, and my mother is still alive. That video The Amazing Atheist made didn't start the nightmares, but it certainly has made me waking in the night gasping for air more frequent because someone saying, hey why don't you just stop living in the past? That really doesn't help you get over trauma. Imagine I come and murder your whole family and then ten years later I tell you to just get over it and stop living in the past on the anniversary of their death. Yeah, not so nice is it?
Just again and again and again in my head I keep trying to change what happens in my head. I wish I could stop my sister from taking a part in it especially. She tried to call me about a month ago now, and I never returned the call, and she honestly has no clue why. The whole sexual abuse issue actually came up, and the part about me being sexually abused was mentioned that it caused her trauma and she was the real victim in what went on during those events that she gave her older friend permission to do what ever he wanted to me... Not sure how she was abused there, but my ex-best friend and sister were both adamant that I had nothing to be upset about. Being touched, being forced to touch, being forced to do a LOT more than touching, none of that was I to be upset about, despite my sister taking witness and actually granting her permission several, if not every, time(s).
I don't even know why I keep thinking about this particular abuser... I had several... I had a female friend of my sister's who was older, there was the neighbor medical student, but then there he was, there was Will Doughty... I am writing this now just to get it out of my head I hope. Him taking me to the basement to play, for as far as my mom knew. How he would make me take my clothing off, and I would cry. How I would be chastised if I cried too loudly.
I learned how to cry quietly from my experiences with Will. Well, Will and my sister. It is actually kind of sad, Will would be at a loss when I would start to cry so my sister would be the one to start threatening things to me to get me to be quiet with my tears and sobs, so that her friend could continue his fun. To this day I honestly wonder if she got some sort of sick pleasure out of it all. During our entire childhood and even early adulthood she made it very clear that she despised me, didn't think I was much of a human being at all- without any sort of reasoning, and saw me as the "golden child" she would say, that our parents always would favor me no matter what- because I was perfect and just better for no reason!
My sister seemed to ignore the fact that at our respective ages when she was sleeping around with guys I hadn't even kissed. She was drinking and hanging around with drug users, I was getting honor roll in college classes, had a part time job, was in gifted theatre, and was involved in a lot of church activities. While she flunked a grade, I was like the model child... except that I got a B in one of my classes... ONLY 2 people got A's.... come on...
So maybe my sister got pleasure from watching me suffer at the hands of her friend. All she saw was that I got gratitude from our parents for doing good things, getting good grades, and I didn't get into trouble because I saw her doing bad things and I saw her getting punished and saw that I sure as hell didn't want to do that! Or even a perverse sexual pleasure, but I doubt that, I bet it was either she enjoyed watching me be punished, or that she was jealous that the guy that she liked so much, Will, wanted to do sexual things to her perfect little sister... Which would be a recurring trend in her life with men. They often would want to prey on me instead of, or also her. Which would just piss her off...
How did all of this happen and my sister is oblivious as to why I am reluctant to speak to her... is it her in my head and that is why I keep thinking about what Will did to me? I wish I could banish the memories.... it is odd, it is like specific sets of memories, only ones of events in the basement. I mean things occurred in the forest, in my bedroom, and in my sister's bedroom, too. But it is the basement that I keep remembering, like the first time that he playfully wanted me to do something, with my sister gingerly allowing it..... no it wasn't the first time, it was the first time it was------well that I was forced to use my mouth.
I think she hit me like really hard for crying... something hit my head because I made a noise too loud. My sister was freaking out she was so nervous, so we went into the bathroom that was downstairs-then my memory is blanked out. Once upon a time I didn't remember any of it. But then I got my friend boyfriend and he decided that we should have sex, and try as I might, we had sex, despite my fighting efforts to stop it. That hurt. What was worse was walking home, too, in the freezing weather with just my hoodie, and the sore ache of being raped.
It was after he broke up with me, I realized that he had been abusing me, raping me, and I realized that it hadn't been the first time that I had been raped, the first time that I had been abused. Everything, well a lot of things, came back, like a storm, a terrible storm, I started crying, curled up in a ball and started mumbling things and scared my ex-best friend so much that she called over another friend of ours who just held me as I cried. I cried for about six hours, then stopped and just coldly stated that I remembered things from childhood, and that was it.
Will Doughty is dead now. I remember when my sister told me about it. I was 18, she had told me that he had OD'd on heroine and I said that perhaps it might have been for the better, he had stolen personal property from our family multiple times, he had gotten violent with her, too... and she slapped me, and said, "How dare you!" I don't ever say this lightly, but, I am glad that Hitler is dead, I am glad that Kim Jong Il is dead- thou I wish that his son hadn't replaced him, I am glad that Will Doughty is dead.
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