Before I start this, I want to thank you Booman for this wonderful place you have put together here. I want to thank all of the beautiful, strong, courageous, wonderful and amazing women in the pond who have bared their souls around our little pond here. You do more good than you know. And not to forget our wonderful men here. God, really….where we would be without you? So much strength, wit, and thoughtfulness yet…soft and smooshy too. Trust me. That’s a good thing. 😉 Anyway, as they say, let’s get this show on the road.
I was 6 when my mom married my step-dad. Things were so cool then. He was the dad I never had. He always had time for me and my sisters. (There were 3 of us, I being the eldest.) Anytime we wanted to do anything at all…we got to do it. We wanted a new barbie…done. We wanted Mickey D’s…no problem. And on and on…etc. It was insane at the time and yeah I will admit it, I loved it! I thought that he was the greatest person I knew…like a Dad.(The sperm donor was an ass. That’s a whole ‘nother diary!) I got so much attention I didn’t so much as make a squeak when he started to come into my room at night. I didn’t know at the time that all of the gifts…the late night trips to the store, just the two of us, were just a way to gain my trust.
He started to molest me at night I think when I was around 6 or so…that’s the earliest memory I have of it. He woke me up and pulled the covers off of me and just started kissing me. It took me a minute I think to get my bearings. (I am a DEEP sleeper!) When I finally realised what he was doing, I scooted back on the back on the bed to get away from him. He started saying that it’s ok. Don’t be scared, this is how Daddy’s love their little girls. (oh god I just realised that when he got me that waterbed when I was nine…It was probably because that was the bed that he preferred. He and my mom had one.) He didn’t go very far that night, just kissed and fondled. He would come in at night and stay for as long an hour or two about 2 or 3 mights a week. He started to come in my room more and more frequently as time went by.
Then he started to molest my younger sister. I didn’t know it at the time of course. We both found out that He was molesting the other at the same time. We were in Girl Scouts, and we both made these “Secret Books”. They were just a shell of an old book with envelopes glued inside. Well one day, we were both talking about nonsense stuff…really don’t remember what and she said to me….. Wanna see my secret book? And I of course say Sure…why not? Well as you can probably guess by now it was the same secret. The only one both of us had in our books. I was fucking devastated. I always thought to myself after he would come to my room at night….Well, it’s only me. If I keep my mouth shut like he says, maybe he will leave my other sisters alone.
Now we move to when I was almost 10…My mom is 7 or so months pregnant with my brother. He starts coming to my room now almost every night of the week. This is really hard for me to write so I will just be blunt. He molested my and me sister at the same time. It was so horrible. Words really can’t describe. Sorry.
Anyway, We both kept kinda hinting at the other that we should do something…tell mom…anyone. Well, I guess she got tired of me waiting and she told one of our friends as we were walking home one night. She then goes to her mom…who goes to the guidance counselor at school…who then goes to the police…who then calls my mom. Wonderful way for that shit to come out let me tell you. My mom believed us at first. We talked to like 7 different cops that day..both seperately and together. (had to make sure the story was straight…upstanding guy…a Mason…you know.) We were sent to my grandmother’s in Pensacola for a month for things to cool off. He had my mother convinced in 2 weeks that he didn’t do it. That we were lying. So off we went for a bit. We were grilled by the entire family on both sides…his on the phone, mine in my face. It was a horrible few weeks till my aunts came to my grandmother’s and talked to us. They were our saviors. They understood. They believed for fuck’s sake! They alone threatened everyone’s life if he didn’t pay for he what he did. Moving along a bit…
We all started to go counseling. Him with his group. Us with ours…as well indivual and group and family therapy. (4 years and it didn’t do a damn bit of good. For any of us I think.) The whole time he had everyone convinced that he would turn around…be good. He had everyone convinced. We finally went to supervised visitations with him…it was all good. Till he broke into my mom’s safe to get the quick-claim deed to the house. Funny enough she had a copy of it sitting in an open dresser drawer. Go figure.
You know I was just sitting here thinking…(yes I have been sitting here a while!) If it wasn’t for my neighbor Brad…he saved me so many times from him…god I love that man to this day. I was in the house the day that he came to get the deed and as soon as I saw his truck come into the driveway, I locked the front door, scrambled out the back and hopped the fence next door to Brad’s house. I pounded on the screen door and he came to it and he knew…he saw him come up. Bless him.
After that as you can imagine visitation was revoked…he went into a downward spiral, terrorizing my mother…sneaking into the garage while she was on a date. Just waiting for her to get home. Calling her at work…all that. It all finally ends when I end up running away from home for a year. (quite the hellion I turned out to be) 😉 My mother packed up and moved to Pensacola to be closer to my grandmother who had had a stroke…and of course to finally get away from him.
My goodness this has gotten quite long without even talking about the relationship with my mother, which was quite bad for a long time. Although we both got over it a long time ago. We sat down and had good long talk when I finally came home and it’s just gotten sweeter since.
His name is Kenneth Barber by the way. I just noticed that I never once said his name. Boy what does that say? well there’s my title!
I know some of you out there might be a lil tired of this by now…but I had to do it. I say my story so that maybe someone who can’t speak out but desperately want to…maybe they will be encouraged. They are not alone. You girls here the last few are just so damn inspiring to me! I love the whole damn pond…I truly do.
I am not alone.
I’m glad you told your story, CakeD. Why? For you, and for the others.
Others first: Because it is the way a lot of abuse starts, with little girls who don’t realize at first that something is wrong. A big, friendly and appealing adult, who is often someone they know well and even love, slips over from natural affection into something more, a lot more. It’s all there: The special secrecy, the mom who is sick or otherwise unavailable to the perpetrator. The child who is not believed consistently, or who is blamed for breaking up the “wonderful” family. The simmering anger long past the abuse, at not being protected, the worry over younger siblings.
This was not your fault in any way, but many people can have trouble seeing that. They prefer the “stranger-danger” crap, which actually affects very few children (not to diminish the horror of it when it is a stranger). But this, what you’ve told, shows the terrible violation of trust.
And for you. Thanks again, for you, your courage, your own story, and not just as an example!
Oh trust me. I have known for all long time that it wasn’t my fault. 😉 If 4 years of therapy didn’t pound it in my brain, then my husband sure as hell did. The man is god-like with his powers of perception I am telling you!
I tell it because each time I do I find that I remember something else…like the waterbed thing. I also tell it so I can purge myself once every few years. It’s been a while…and I am not sure that quite detailed either. Either way if feels good to. It really does.
For most of it, it takes the telling to do the healing, layer by layer, just like the damage was done, layer by layer. Only then, after lots of healing, can we even begin to trust again, bit by bit. I am so glad you found a trustworthy, loving partner.
Actually…there’s a funny story to that. I didn’t find him. My mother did. 😉 She says that he’s the only decent man she’s ever ran across, and unfortunately he was too young for her! We didn’t really have a choice in the matter…my mother was determined that we would be together…and we have been ever since. 😉
Speaking of the trust issue….
I still don’t trust alot of men. Still. I refuse to be left alone with my husband’s uncle for example. He’s made a few innappropriate comments is all…but it’s like I have my own built-in, custom-made Creepdar.
That’s good. That’s a word we’ll keep and use. Thank you.
And there is no way we are tired of hearing about this. I am deeply saddened that so many of us have shared similiar experiences, but in a way, I am thankful that I am not alone. As weird as that might sound, cuz I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but it’s helpful to me to hear I’m not the only one. As much as I wish I was the only one, it does help to hear it from others. I so wish it was not the norm, but it seems that it is. I love the pond too…
You are not alone.
You do wish that you are the only one. But I am 26 now…and have encountered so many other people, male and female alike, in the same situation. It’s heartbreaking.
Now that I have slept like a stone and done a little more thinking…
WE ARE NOT ALONE. YOU CAN’T WISH US AWAY.
I’m 36 now, half my life has gone by since it happened. I wonder if I’ll ever get to be a mom. But I am so thankful for my ex-hubby/best friend who was able to help me see what happened and how it was affecting me. A few years of counseling, EMDR, ever heard of it? Helped me tremendously… God, all these stories and the past few days… I need a nap now…
EMDR…not sure if I am familiar with that one.
Take your time that’s all I can say really…I didn’t plan on finding the guy I did, or getting married, or even having my son. It just sorta happened that way, I swore it never would…but it did. If you don’t want kids, I certainly wouldn’t blame you…but if you do there’s still time. Don’t worry so much…sometimes time has a way of working things out. You know what they say…dog works in mysterious ways. 😉 Another commenter mentioned that in another of these diaries. Had to steal that one. 😉
Oh thank whichever diety you prefer for those guys like the ones we have both encountered! The men aren’t all assholes. 😉
EMDR is amazing.
Yes it is. It has helped me tremendously…
That’s the thing – we’ve all heard similar stories from many people we’ve known and met throughout our lifetimes, and as Chocolate pointed out last night, (sadly) the volumes come as no surprise.
It’s just the enormity of it all – in seeing so much pain revealed by so many dear blogfriends – people I’ve truly grown to care about. Reliving our personal experiences and reading the endless atrocities committed against others, is just so much to absorb.
As someone mentioned above (below?) I too, spent a great deal of time typing and deleting and trying to find the appropriate words of comfort as each new story arose. But, at the end of the day, I had deleted far more than I shared, and I wish I had addressed each individual poster who shared their personal stories.
Times like this I feel blessed to be in the presence of people like Tracy and Sherm and Second Nature and Ductape and BooMan and so, so many others – who have thoughtfully listened and responded and supported and encouraged and provided a safe place for the discussions. Damn . . . you folks are really amazing.
Thank you for sharing your diary, Cake. Bless you, and be well. So . . . will someone please share EMDR?
I’ve heard good things about it too, I mean from real people that it helped:
http://www.emdr.com/
You are not alone, Cake or Death… your experience is shared by many sisters here at BT and in the wider world. You are not alone… because you have shared your experience. You are not alone… because you know that it was not your fault. You are not alone… because you have wonderful and courageous sisters who are also survivors. You are not alone, because your aunts believed you. You are not alone… because you have your mother, and she believes you. You are not alone, because you are part of a community of wonderful, strong and clever women at BT. You are not alone, because we love you for your strength and courage…
Oh canberra! Can I just say that you are so thoughtful and wonderful? I have been reading all of the comments you have been making and I feel like I have gotten to know you a lil better.
You are not alone! You are one of the inspirations, and are loved deeply… Thank you for sharing your story. {{{Cake or Death}}}
Thanks for the hug. Thanks for reading.
{{{{olivia}}}}
{{{{Cake or Death}}}}
The true test of any community is how we take the experiences of our “fellow citizens” and weave them into the shared meaning of the community. Thanks for your story. If we relate on a level deeper than our opinions on health care, Bush, Iraq, religion or anything else, then when we have different opinions they’re simply disagreements, not a reason to demonize one another. Because we know we are more than what opinions we have.
If we relate on a level deeper than our opinions on health care, Bush, Iraq, religion or anything else, then when we have different opinions they’re simply disagreements, not a reason to demonize one another. Because we know we are more than what opinions we have.
so good it needed to be said twice.
for sharing your story, for your courage, I don’t know if a lot of kids lurk on blogs like this one, but if there are any, may they also find an aunt. Or a Brad.
I think that we have known that this kind of thing is very common, but seeing the stories told by you and the other brave ones who have come forward, is making it very real, and very impossible to ignore, just how common it is.
In another thread, we talked about how we have all known rapists, dined with them, invited them into our homes. Your story reminds us that we have also dined with child molestors, exchanged pleasantries with them over the fence, at the home improvement store, at the parent’s day at school. And invited them into our homes, where our own children are.
Cake or Death, I am glad you selected a good husband, and I hope that with his help that one day you can complete the process, and liberate yourself completely from this horror. I wish I could give you a hug.
You know I don’t know if alot kids frequent the pond or not. But if they do…I hope all of this helps. More than likely I would assume that it would be adults though honestly and that’s good too. There are alot of adults out there that are still silent…maybe this will help them too.
I wish I could hug you too! I loved your diary…I couldn’t find anything coherent to comment…I would write it out and erase and repeat. 😉 The fact that there are so many men here at the pond like my wonderful husband kind of left me speechless. To me, he’s one of a kind…only to find out in the last few days that I was wrong! I am so happy to be wrong for once!
CoD, I’m so glad that you were finally able to convince somebody about these events. Perhaps these things occur much more than is suspected. Hugs to you.
Well there’s alot more to it…we were locked into my room when we got back from my grandmothers and tape-recorded to see if we would slip-up. My sister found the device in my top dresser drawer. We were so pissed. So we starting to talk about how everyone sucked because they didn’t believe us…we went the whole nine-yards! (god that feels like it was so long ago.) I think that was the real turning point so to speak. If it wasn’t for my Aunts though, they were the ones who really got the ball rolling.
And yeah they do occur more than we know…it’s the silence. Don’t tell your mom or I will leave and then you have will nothing…or I will kill you…you would be amazed at how much that works on a child.
Hugs right back atcha!!
and it will set us free.
Cake or Death all I can do is wrap you in my arms and heart and call you sister. Know you are loved and understood.
Hugs and love with all my heart
Yes that’s exactly it isn’t it? All of them named. I almost put his picture in the diary. That’s what took me so long to write it. I couldn’t decide…and then when I got to the bottom of the thing I realized that I didn’t even name him. That really took me back. So I at least had to say his name.
That also reminds me…I need to write the FDLE and tell them that his profile is wrong. It says victim/s gender UNKOWN. Bullshit. IT’s fucking female. He’s supposed to update it every year. It should be correct I think. 😉
Thanks and hugs to you Sally
{{{Sally}}}
Spellcheck is my friend!Spellcheck is my friend!Spellcheck is my friend!
UNKNOWN