|The Generation I herald from is named Generation Y. It seems ironic to me that my life has been mostly of me asking why?Why was I abused, Why did my family turn their backs on me and support my abuser? Why are the victims made to suffer over and over again? Why do the laws give the abusers chance after chance to re-offend and destroy lives.
I was sexually abused by my cousin from the ages of 2-16. My cousin was adopted by my grandparents, legally making him my uncle. For years it seemed normal to me, I was a child and didn't know any better. When I realized that what he was doing to me was wrong, the threats came in . I'll get you while you sleep, no one will believe you , It seems as if he had a sixth sense on the last one. When I was 14 I told a school counselor. Me and a long time friend made the trip to the counselors office together. It was only recently that I had told her, and in turn she told me her stepfather was making advances toward her. Doing what seemed right at the time, we decided to tell an adult. We sat down across from the counselor and in tears told him our truth, after a minute of slience, he glanced at us both and told us we were lying to get out of class and to go back, that two students coming into his office with the same story of being molested was outrageous. I was hysterical, she was calm, I left his office in a daze. I had finally told someone, trusted them and broke down my fears to be told that he didn't believe me . I didn't tell anyone else till I was married. The abuse stopped when I was 16. My abuser seemed to have lost interest in me , which I thought was wonderful. He had found a girlfriend and she was pregnant and I was finally left alone. But still I kept the secret. Fear that no one would believe me again and fear that my family would fall apart. Fear that shouldn't have been placed on my shoulders. Blame that still is given to me by my family.
I was with my husband three years before he asked me what was wrong, I finally blurted it out to him . He immediately told me I should tell my parents. I couldn't stand to tell them , while he phoned them and gave them the awful news I was vomiting in the bathroom. My father was enraged not at me I think, but at my molestor, he handed the phone to my mother. Mom was shocked, dismayed and hurt. She asked me why I never told her. I don't know why , I was a child , I was taken advantage of . Mom hung up with me and called him and told him to meet her. He actually showed up , acting stupid and wondering what all this was about. She asked him bare face Did you do this to my daughter. He turned on the crocodile tears and lied like Clinton.
From the time I was 19 till 26, my mother and father said I shouldn't tell my grandparents what happened to me. By not telling them I couldn't tell the rest of the family for fear my grandparents would find out. So I lived a lie. I attended family functions and pretended that we were all one big happy family. I felt like some of my family knew but kept it to themselves. My family is beyond dysfunctional. My grandfather was an abusive alchoholic, who beat my grandmother and his children. His oldest son the father of my molestor also molested his own Daughter. He had sex with her and took pictures from the time she was a baby till she moved out at 18. Amber was made to take take care of her sister and clean house and cook, all the time while being raped by her father and treated like a whore. Amber and I were extremely close, almost like sisters. Growing up she never told me of the abuse from her father, but of the abuse from her half brother, my molestor also. At times we were molested together, especailly durning the younger years.
Continued on next page.....