Emerging From the Abyss of Abuse
A teen describes hr experience dealing with abuse in her family.
“When I was nine, I had nobody to take care of me. My dad died the year I was born, and my mom had moved to California, leaving me in the care of my teenage sisters in our little Mexican village. But my sisters were always out with their friends. I made my own meals, and I went to school if I felt like it. I missed my mom a lot.
One day my sister’s husband came home early from work. He ordered me to help him feed his cow. Since he was older, I obeyed. We walked to the top of the hills, but I didn’t see any cows. Suddenly he started touching me and kissing me; I was bewildered. Tears came to my eyes, and a strange numbness came over my body. My tears didn’t stop him. He took me to an isolated canyon. There he undressed, and took my small clothes off. He offered me jelly beans and pesos to keep me quiet. I cried, shaking my head. I wanted to shout, “no, no, nooooo!” but the words wouldn’t come out. Finally he stopped his dirty behavior.
I felt too dirty to be a kid
Afterwards I tried to pretend nothing had happened. Outside I didn’t change, but inside, I was filled with shame. I thought it was my fault. I felt I was too dirty to be a kid. I didn’t want to play dolls or go on the swings with the other kids like I used to. I lost all my memories of my childhood. The only thing I could remember clearly was when he molested me.
Three months after the incident, my sister and her husband moved to California. When they left, I tried to forget the abuse by keeping myself busy all the time, helping my aunts clean the house. Eventually I ended up working as a housekeeper at my brother-in-law’s mother’s home. His siblings were really sweet to me. Although I never told them that their own brother attempted to rape me, they helped me deal with my pain by showing me love and care. His sister braided my hair, sat me on her lap and took me to her relatives’ home. She thought of me as part of the family.
I moved to California the next year. Luckily my sister and her husband lived far away. I breathed deeply, sensing a chance for a wonderful new beginning, far away from my awful experience and my abuser, but my relief didn’t last long. My oldest brother got drunk all the time and during his “borracheras,” molested me sexually.
I thought I deserved it
I blamed myself for what men did to me; I thought I deserved it for being dumb and ugly, as my sisters and my mom put it. He not only abused me sexually, he beat me up whenever he could. I confronted my brother right away, but the coward denied it. I complained to my mom, hoping that she would put an end to my nightmare. She just listened doubtfully. I also longed to tell her that my brother-in-law had tried to rape me when she was here, but after this experience, I felt there was no point. She loved my brother above everything and had a flawless image of my brother-in-law, who helped her out when she needed money.
When another sister moved with her three children to live near my abusive brother-in-law, I wanted to warn them. But somehow I couldn’t speak. I just told my oldest niece not to let my brother-in-law hug her.
Finally I decided to visit both my sisters, knowing that I would have to stay at the home of my abuser. I wanted to face him. Before I left, I told my mom the story I had never dared to say out loud. At first she didn’t believe me, as I had suspected. She said “There is no point of digging up the wound, you’ll only make your sister suffer, just forget it.” It was easy for her to say that. How could I leave the secret buried when the inner pain had been growing for years?
I went to visit, but never got a chance to ask him why he had destroyed my childhood. I came back to California deciding to forget that painful experience.
One day my brother and I got into a fist fight for a stupid reason. I called the police and accused him of domestic violence. I’d had enough of his foolish attitude. My brother left the house before the cops arrived. Mom made me drop the charges against my brother. My brother returned, and I left, wishing never to return to that jungle called home.
I started working as a live-in nanny where I took care of a six-year-old. This naive child help me remember my childhood, showed me that kids are pure andinnocent, and helped me stop blaming myself. I also read “The Courage To Heal Workbook” by Laura Davis, a workbook about healing from child abuse. This book helped me understand that I had kept quiet because I felt dirty and ashamed of being abused. It taught me how to deal with my experience step by step until I realized that the little girl who I hated and blamed all these years wasn’t guilty of anything. I had been manipulated by a stronger mind.
I shared my experience with a few of my friends. Some of them surprised me with their own stories. One said she had been abused at the age of six by her dad’s friend. He shut her mouth with money and threatened me to tell my mom that I disobeyed my elders. She also thought she deserved it and grew up full of shame. She told me she’d like to confront her abuser so he could know how much he hurt her.
Another friend said, “I had a friend who was abused by a relative and so was her sister. When her sister’s kids were reaching the age she had been when she was abused, she started recalling her terrible experience and instead of putting it behind her or facing it, she killed herself.”
I decided to confront my abuser
After hearing these two sad stories I decided to confront my brother-in-law, or else my brother-in-law could abuse someone else.
I called my sister and told her that when I had turned her oldest daughter’s age, her husband almost raped me. She confronted him, but he denied it. Later I called and asked to speak to her husband, while she listened on the other phone. After a big argument, my brother-in-law admitted his guilt.
The following week I flew to visit. He looked destroyed and repentant. I enjoyed my confrontation. The man who had treated a little girl like garbage felt like trash and knew how much harm he had caused. As a father, he knew how his daughter would feel if something like that happened to her. I congratulated myself for exposing the obscure secret that had buried me alive. When my mom found out I had spoken up, she got mad at me. I had promised her that I wouldn’t say anything that could cause my sister grief. I felt rejected by her. After all, wasn’t I her daughter also?
Many kids are abused and nobody in the family does anything about it. Sometimes they don’t believe the victim and if they do, they expect the hurt individual to sweep the agony under the carpet. We’re humans. Our grief should be respected, not neglected. If you were ever abused, just be aware of three main points:
1. You didn’t cause the abuse.
2. You have the right to say you were abused and feel sad or angry about it, whatever your feelings are.
3. Go to a psychologist if you think that it will help you to deal with your abuse or read about how to heal yourself and confront your abuser. If you feel you have already dealt with it, walk confidently towards your future. Don’t run to death, drugs, sex, or gangs. Don’t get married, thinking you need to be protected. You’re worth the whole world, you’re wonderful.”