Sexual Abuse Support Group
Sexual abuse is a relative cultural term used to describe sexual relations and behavior between two or more parties which are considered criminally and/or morally offensive. Different types of sexual abuse involve: Non-consensual, forced physical sexual behavior such as rape, incest or sexual assault, or psychological forms of abuse, such as verbal sexual behavior or...
***Please read with discretion. I have included graphic recollections of memories, and I have no desire to cause further pain if you can be triggered by reading things like this.***
I feel better tonight. Still down, weighted down with depression, but I feel stable and hopeful again.
I have yet to write about some memories I've had return. I'm still reeling with pain from what I've seen, the monster that so violently hurt me. Yet, each time I confess it, I know it's true. I know what happened now-- or at least, I understand a bigger part of the puzzle than I ever have before.
I experienced, a couple of weeks ago, a physical memory for the first time since I started regaining memories of my abuse.
It unfurled like a movie in my head, my body aching as it too remembered along with my mind what my uncle had done to me. I felt a sharp pain in my vagina, like someone was stabbing me. It hurt so much, all I could do was hug a pillow and cry, and let the memory come.
He stood in the doorway, framed by the hall light, his purple shirt tucked into his shirt and making his big belly stand out all the more. I trembled beneath my cousin's bed, shaking in fear. I knew what he was going to do. This must not have been the first time. I tried to hide, but I couldn't hide from the monster. My cousin hid too, somewhere else in her house. My uncle grabbed me and jerked me out from beneath the bed and drug me down the hall. I cried and screamed, but he was too strong. He did not persuade me. He drug me down to his bedroom like a ragdoll. He threw me onto his king-size bed, the only light in the room shining from the master bathroom. I laid there weeping, helpless, my little dress pooled about me. He stood before me and slipped his belt off of his waist and wrapped the brown strap around my head, gagging me, suffocating me. He pushed up my dress and tore away my underwear until I lay there gagged and exposed. And (though I don't know if he used an object or his anatomy), he stabbed me, over and over and over. I screamed and cried and writhed. He slapped me and told me to shut up and kept stabbing me. His bearded face hovered over me, staring into my waterlogged eyes as he raped me.
The monster. The fiend. I want to kill him. My inner child calls him "the Dragon". I shudder when I see the color purple because of these memories.
I know what happened now, and I have no doubt that I know who did this to me.
Lord, please forgive him. Though he is a beast, he is a broken sinner, just like me, acting out of selfishness and vile, evil intentions. Vengeance is yours.
There is not much to do now except continuing to deal with the memories as they come. I don't know if I can press charges because it happened so long ago, and I don't have physical evidence. But I'm glad I'm now aware of at least one big part of the puzzle. It's frightening to know the truth, but also a huge relief.
I feel better tonight. Still down, weighted down with depression, but I feel stable and hopeful again.
I have yet to write about some memories I've had return. I'm still reeling with pain from what I've seen, the monster that so violently hurt me. Yet, each time I confess it, I know it's true. I know what happened now-- or at least, I understand a bigger part of the puzzle than I ever have before.
I experienced, a couple of weeks ago, a physical memory for the first time since I started regaining memories of my abuse.
It unfurled like a movie in my head, my body aching as it too remembered along with my mind what my uncle had done to me. I felt a sharp pain in my vagina, like someone was stabbing me. It hurt so much, all I could do was hug a pillow and cry, and let the memory come.
He stood in the doorway, framed by the hall light, his purple shirt tucked into his shirt and making his big belly stand out all the more. I trembled beneath my cousin's bed, shaking in fear. I knew what he was going to do. This must not have been the first time. I tried to hide, but I couldn't hide from the monster. My cousin hid too, somewhere else in her house. My uncle grabbed me and jerked me out from beneath the bed and drug me down the hall. I cried and screamed, but he was too strong. He did not persuade me. He drug me down to his bedroom like a ragdoll. He threw me onto his king-size bed, the only light in the room shining from the master bathroom. I laid there weeping, helpless, my little dress pooled about me. He stood before me and slipped his belt off of his waist and wrapped the brown strap around my head, gagging me, suffocating me. He pushed up my dress and tore away my underwear until I lay there gagged and exposed. And (though I don't know if he used an object or his anatomy), he stabbed me, over and over and over. I screamed and cried and writhed. He slapped me and told me to shut up and kept stabbing me. His bearded face hovered over me, staring into my waterlogged eyes as he raped me.
The monster. The fiend. I want to kill him. My inner child calls him "the Dragon". I shudder when I see the color purple because of these memories.
I know what happened now, and I have no doubt that I know who did this to me.
Lord, please forgive him. Though he is a beast, he is a broken sinner, just like me, acting out of selfishness and vile, evil intentions. Vengeance is yours.
There is not much to do now except continuing to deal with the memories as they come. I don't know if I can press charges because it happened so long ago, and I don't have physical evidence. But I'm glad I'm now aware of at least one big part of the puzzle. It's frightening to know the truth, but also a huge relief.
John 14:27
Peace
I am very sorry for all you have been through. I have very similar memories as what you describe here. I do not remember the face of the man who abused me, I only remember his house. It is so hard when your body is telling you something happened but your mind has not revealed the memory yet. As hard as it is the memory will bring on feelings that must be felt so you can heal. Allow yourself to cry the tears and release the anger and you will heal.
As far as pressing charges...it differs by state. Where I live I can press charges until the day he dies because he abused me as a child prior to the age of 16. You can do some research online or call a lawyer to find out if there is statute of limitation in your state. Just remember, when you press charges it will be up to you to try to prove his guilt and that may not be easy after so much time has passed. And if you are still in the process of healing it could be a very traumatic process for you. I am not saying you should not do it just please consider how traumatic it may be for you.
Take care