My Story.

In my Depression blog you got to read about my friends, how it was for me in high school, and how I became depressed. But maybe you want to read about who I was before all this. The truth is, I lost that girl I used to be a long time ago. She left when something horrible happened to her. I’d like you all to be involved as much as you’d like. But I must warn you, in order for you to really understand, I have to be honest and it will go into details. I've told my story before.. but it’s always been the easy version. The clean one. I've never really been able to get completely over it, and maybe it’s because I never really talked about it. Just the parts I wanted to say. Maybe its because you can never really get over that sort of thing. Its definitely something I would never wish upon my worst enemy. It’s quite a long story but I hope you stay with me on this. It’s important to me. Because it’s my first time.

Growing up, I never knew my real dad. I had a couple pictures of him and stories from my mom. He beat her, a lot. He drank a lot. My sister was two when he was drunk and pushed her down on the ground. Hard. I was still in the womb when he continued to hit and kick my mom. Sometimes, he hit her in her stomach. I still think a part of him was trying to kill me because he didn't want me. He cheated on her right around the time I was born. She stayed with him. When I was a few months old and my sister was 2, my mom was taking a bath with us, and my dad came in and took a picture. He sent it to DHS and said that my mom was doing bad things to us. Of course it wasn't true but they didn't care. They took us anyway. That foster home beat me and my sister. I was only a couple months old. When it was time for my mom to get us back, I came home with a black eye, and my sister had a burn on her leg from a light bulb. My mom knew then, that it was time to leave my dad.

She had a friend named Burt (name is changed) who was good friends with her for most of her life. She started seeing him and he raised us for our whole life. He was always making jokes and we always had so much fun together. He was the only father I knew. And I loved him. I started to feel okay. I was happy. But of course that didn't last long. Fast forward to me and my sister, now ages 8 and 10, asleep in our room that we shared. He came in our room, and touched us, all over in inappropriate places. This was the first time, but it wasn't the last. We pretended to be asleep because we had no idea what was happening. We didn't even know if it was happening to the other one or not. I didn't know it was happening to her and she didn't know it was happening to me. The next day I talked to my sister, Dory, (name is changed) and asked her if anything happened. Which was harder than I thought it would be. Because I felt embarrassed and like I was to blame for it. We talked about it and said that we would stay up and see if it happened again. We pretended to be asleep, and surely enough it did happen again. That next morning we told our mom. She said, “Are you sure? He plays around with you girls a lot. It could just be a misunderstanding.” We thought about this, and it was a possibility. Besides, we were young. What did we know? Either way, my mom kicked him out so we can work on it.

He was gone for a while. About two years. At 10 my mom asked if it was okay that he comes back. She wouldn't allow him back in unless we were okay with it. In a way, he was still my dad. I was only 8 when it started. What did I know? I didn't know things like this happened and I didn't understand it. It’s not something they teach you about. You don’t learn about these sorts of things, until it happens to you, or to someone you know. But still, he’s the only one I knew. After all we did still love him. So we agreed. My mom gave him a warning though. That if he even looked at us the wrong way, he would never come back. I was in 5th grade right about now. We went a whole good year without any problems. 6th grade rolled around and everything was still good. Dory and I were going to church and things seemed alright. But one night, it happened again. It actually happened every night. Or at least every other night. Now, I was old enough to know that what he was doing was wrong. But I was young enough to still be scared. To not know what would happen if I stopped pretending to be asleep, woke up and told him to stop. He was my dad, but I never knew he could do that to me.. so what else was he capable of? I asked my sister if it happened to her again and she said no. “No it hasn't happened since I was in 4th grade. Why? Did he do it to you again?” She asked me. All I said was, “No. I was just wondering. I just needed assuring.” You’re probably wondering why I didn't tell her. Honestly.. I don’t know. I guess I didn't want to feel less than her. I didn't want to feel beneath her since it was no longer happening to her. I didn't want her to look down on me like I was nothing. Because I felt that way. Why wouldn't she? I felt dirty. And I was ashamed. Why me again? What did I do to deserve this?

One day me and Dory went to stay with my grandma. We had a long talk about a lot of things. And somehow we got onto the subject of getting hurt. I remember her saying, “Don’t let anyone hurt you.” & just the way she said it… I started tearing up, just thinking about it and she looked at me and asked, “T- Has someone hurt you?” But she already knew the answer. I knew right then, that I couldn't let this go. It’s gone on for too long. I told her who, and a brief description of what happened. She was pissed. She called my mom at around 1 in the morning and said, “Is he there? Is Burt there? He needs to get his a** out of that bed and out of my house.” My mom had no idea what was going on since I didn't tell her but my grandma was pretty convincing. “Lucy (name is changed) if you do not get him out of that house this minute, I will get my gun, and shoot him myself!” My mom, still oblivious to what was going on, agreed and threw him and his stuff out. After a while she finally figured out what happened.

I uh, always had a thought in the back of my mind about how this happened. I know now that my mom was not to blame and that if she had known, she would have killed him herself. But back then, being in 6th grade and not really having any answers, I wondered… How did this happen? How do you not know this is happening to your little girl? And how can someone be so naive? I was scared.

He got kicked out the summer of 7th grade or around there. It was just me, my sister and my mom. We had moved out of one house, and into a trailer. I was still depressed and angry at everything. & then around the end of November, he popped back up. He wasn't living with us, but he was coming around often. He would drop by for dinner, or take us out to dinner or some bullshit way to try to buy us back. I knew what he was doing. But I was the only one who cared. My mom and sister were both warming back up to him. In a way… I understood why. He wasn't doing it to my sister anymore. He only did it to her those two times when she was in 4th grade, (now in 8th) and she hasn't had a problem with him since. But I did. & shouldn't they care that he never stopped. He was staying at our house one day, and he made a joke about something and I laughed, but it just came out. Apparently though, that made him think that I forgave him. & even if I had… I never forgot.

We spent Christmas with him and eventually he moved back in. It didn’t happen after that. I actually thought he had changed. But one night I heard a noise so I opened my eyes and saw him leaving my room. This scared me. He didn’t do anything but I knew that if I hadn’t woken up, something would have happened. This was towards the end of 8th grade (March-May). One Wednesday night I was going to church alone because my sister was actually with her bf at his church. So my grandma picked me up early so we could have dinner. We sat in her car and talked while we ate. I was feeling depressed again and didn’t really feel like going to church, so I told her that… & she knew something was up, because I loved church.

She asked if he had touched me again and I said no, which was the truth, but I told her that he did come in my room, but left when I woke up. This made her angry but said that this was the perfect time to go to church. So she dropped me off and I sat alone & cried but no one cared. I wasn’t looking for attention. I was looking for help. I wanted someone to stop and not ask what was wrong but to just sit there and pray for me. Cause I really needed it. Finally the youth leader came up to talk to me and I started to tell him. He said that he would get a woman for me to talk to. So I talked to her.. told her everything from the time I was 8 to that night.

She said the first thing I should do is call my mom and tell her and then go home and talk to her. I was scared because I didn’t want her to be mad that I didn’t come to her first or mad that I was starting trouble. But I called her and she said that I needed to get home and that we were going to talk about it. I also called my sister because I needed her to be there for me. She came home and by the time I got there, everyone was sitting in the living room waiting and my grandma and I sat down ready to explain.

I told them that he was in my room but didn't touch me. He claimed that he was only in there to turn off the TV and my light which were both off but… No one was really taking this seriously and my sister kept asking me if anything happened and by this point everyone was angry and was screaming at everyone. I yelled at her and said “I don’t know if he touched me or not. I was asleep. All I know is that i’m terrified to sleep in this house. Im terrified that every night when I close my eyes, he will be there. I am absolutely terrified that it will happen again. & I wont be able to stop it.” Its been happening since I was 8. Yet, the bastard kept getting chances. & At this point I felt like they didn’t believe me. I was broken.

-TMarie ❤