abadget8917
New Here
I am a survivor. This is my story of abuse, with every graphic detail I can remember. I am journaling it down so that I can gather my thoughts, reflect on how I feel, what I went through, and practice speaking these words. So let’s start at the very beginning.
I was born in Victoria, Texas to a woman named Paula. She had already had three other kids, all of us except my brother Mark and I had different fathers. She had kept all of her kids, until me. I was put up for adoption as soon as I was born, through the Lutheran church, so I was very quickly taken and given a new home. The name given to me at birth was Ilana, a latin name, as I am part colombian. I was taken in by two doctors who had already adopted one other child, a brother for me to have, by the name of Taylor, he was 4 years older than I. They adopted us for countless moral reasons of “let’s save these children” (ironic, yes?) So I was taken in, given a home, and didn’t think twice about my adoption...until later. I had a happy childhood growing up, my brother and I were very close, we played and explored and adventured. And I was happy. We lived in San Antonio, texas for the time being- went to school, had good family times, visited hutchinson kansas (where my aunt and uncle lived)
This is where it gets blurry, It was around the time I was 8 or 9, when things changed…..My brother was a teenager now, and had grown quite a mean streak. I remember, he used to kill animals, and play with their bodies. We found a dead mouse once, and he tortured me with it by pretending to cut off its head, and I was crying, he was laughing, and wouldn’t stop. I didn’t understand because I had so much feeling for that dead mouse. I begged him to stop and ran inside to tell on him. He got on trouble. Then? He grew angry. He started hanging around with people that made me nervous, they did drugs (what little i knew, i knew they were bad) and got rowdy, and had his friends over quite often. He began to become violent towards me, I didn’t understand what I had done wrong to make him so angry. But he started hitting me, not just hitting- I remember one day it was particulary awful. He came up and asked me if he could have 20$ or something (I cant remember the amount) and when I said no- he punched me in the stomach, and as I doubled over, trying to breathe, he brought his knee to meet my chin. I busted my lip, and I wheezed, begging him to stop hitting me. All he said was to shut up- that nobody could hear me. It hurt.
Another time, I remember I was in the bathroom taking a wee. As I flushed and got up to wash my hands, he barged in, laughing ( I suspect he may have been drunk or high at this time) and he told me to stick my head in the toilet. When I obviously resisted, I was struck once on the side of my face, and when I fell, I was picked up, leaned over the toilet, and my head was stuffed into the water. I remember feeling true fear, for the first time in my life, I thought that I would drown, but after what seemed like eternity, he pulled me out, laughing and exclaimed “wasn’t that funny??” then dropped me, and left. I was afraid now. I knew something wasn’t right, and I knew that whatever I was doing was making him mad, so I asked him later, after dinner-why he didn’t play with me anymore. His response? “Because you’re stupid and you’re no fun.” I sat, silenced, because I had no idea what to say. I felt sad, I missed my brother.
Im sure there were moments between the events I’ve mentioned, but I cannot remember everything due to the trauma, and the brain’s natural ability to repress things. But I do remember this afternoon...It must have been a holiday, because my grandparents were in town. My parents and grandma were out, and my grandpa was out working in the yard, probably gardening (He was good at those things) I was in my room, wearing my favorite lion king pj’s, when it happened. My brother came in, with no warning, I was punched in the gut, I doubled over. I was then shoved onto the floor, with my face in the carpet. I began to cry and resist, when I felt him on top of me. I cried and begged him to stop and get off, when he leaned over me and whispered in my ear “Sh, it will all be okay, it will be over soon, you have to be quiet.” I felt something inside of my pj’s, and I knew it was wrong. Mom, dad...where were you…?
quietly asked if we could go watch a movie instead of this “rough-housing” as he called it. Once again, I was silenced. And then it was over.
I hold on to this and it effects me every day.
I was born in Victoria, Texas to a woman named Paula. She had already had three other kids, all of us except my brother Mark and I had different fathers. She had kept all of her kids, until me. I was put up for adoption as soon as I was born, through the Lutheran church, so I was very quickly taken and given a new home. The name given to me at birth was Ilana, a latin name, as I am part colombian. I was taken in by two doctors who had already adopted one other child, a brother for me to have, by the name of Taylor, he was 4 years older than I. They adopted us for countless moral reasons of “let’s save these children” (ironic, yes?) So I was taken in, given a home, and didn’t think twice about my adoption...until later. I had a happy childhood growing up, my brother and I were very close, we played and explored and adventured. And I was happy. We lived in San Antonio, texas for the time being- went to school, had good family times, visited hutchinson kansas (where my aunt and uncle lived)
This is where it gets blurry, It was around the time I was 8 or 9, when things changed…..My brother was a teenager now, and had grown quite a mean streak. I remember, he used to kill animals, and play with their bodies. We found a dead mouse once, and he tortured me with it by pretending to cut off its head, and I was crying, he was laughing, and wouldn’t stop. I didn’t understand because I had so much feeling for that dead mouse. I begged him to stop and ran inside to tell on him. He got on trouble. Then? He grew angry. He started hanging around with people that made me nervous, they did drugs (what little i knew, i knew they were bad) and got rowdy, and had his friends over quite often. He began to become violent towards me, I didn’t understand what I had done wrong to make him so angry. But he started hitting me, not just hitting- I remember one day it was particulary awful. He came up and asked me if he could have 20$ or something (I cant remember the amount) and when I said no- he punched me in the stomach, and as I doubled over, trying to breathe, he brought his knee to meet my chin. I busted my lip, and I wheezed, begging him to stop hitting me. All he said was to shut up- that nobody could hear me. It hurt.
Another time, I remember I was in the bathroom taking a wee. As I flushed and got up to wash my hands, he barged in, laughing ( I suspect he may have been drunk or high at this time) and he told me to stick my head in the toilet. When I obviously resisted, I was struck once on the side of my face, and when I fell, I was picked up, leaned over the toilet, and my head was stuffed into the water. I remember feeling true fear, for the first time in my life, I thought that I would drown, but after what seemed like eternity, he pulled me out, laughing and exclaimed “wasn’t that funny??” then dropped me, and left. I was afraid now. I knew something wasn’t right, and I knew that whatever I was doing was making him mad, so I asked him later, after dinner-why he didn’t play with me anymore. His response? “Because you’re stupid and you’re no fun.” I sat, silenced, because I had no idea what to say. I felt sad, I missed my brother.
Im sure there were moments between the events I’ve mentioned, but I cannot remember everything due to the trauma, and the brain’s natural ability to repress things. But I do remember this afternoon...It must have been a holiday, because my grandparents were in town. My parents and grandma were out, and my grandpa was out working in the yard, probably gardening (He was good at those things) I was in my room, wearing my favorite lion king pj’s, when it happened. My brother came in, with no warning, I was punched in the gut, I doubled over. I was then shoved onto the floor, with my face in the carpet. I began to cry and resist, when I felt him on top of me. I cried and begged him to stop and get off, when he leaned over me and whispered in my ear “Sh, it will all be okay, it will be over soon, you have to be quiet.” I felt something inside of my pj’s, and I knew it was wrong. Mom, dad...where were you…?
quietly asked if we could go watch a movie instead of this “rough-housing” as he called it. Once again, I was silenced. And then it was over.
I hold on to this and it effects me every day.
