BlueEyedGirl2014
New Here
This is so hard to kind of type out... I mean I am so scared to say any of this stuff because I've never said any of this stuff to anyone.
My cousin, at the age of 27, passed away. Well, he was shot and killed during an investigation by the police about the possession of child pornography. In the news article I read they claimed he was reaching for a gun and that he had already admitted to being in possession and sending out a bunch of child pornography and abusing the children of "friends of friends." At the time he passed away I was 19. So, an 8 year difference. I always fought on his side, "he NEVER did any of it, he would NEVER have done that to a child!" I think that so many times. SO MANY TIMES. I even miss him, I love him. He was the one I was closest to out of all of my cousins. He was born in 1984, there were 3 other cousins in between us and then I was born in 1991. I was the baby of the family until my sister was born 5 years later. Well, I guess this doesn't matter, but it's just what I've been thinking. Through the past few years (it's been 3 since the incident) I've defended him and catch myself thinking about him from time to time.
I have a family of my own now, a 3 year old and a 1 year old and a wonderful husband. I should be completely happy, but I'm not. I've been depressed for as long as I can remember and only now when I assumed it was postpartum depression had I gotten help for it. I've been on several different medications but they just stopped working after so long. I went to therapy but I guess I didn't feel like I was getting the help I needed. (I'm sorry, I'm not trying to write a novel, I'm trying to get the point...) Well, let me get to my memories and my childhood. As early as I can remember, I have known how to pleasure myself? I guess I somehow figured it out. We moved when I was eight to location that was farther away from the rest of my family because my parents needed better jobs. I remember being nine-years-old and pleasuring myself frequently when my parents were asleep or when they weren't home (yes, this was a safe place to leave your 9-year-old home at the time). I remember playing with my barbies naked like they were having sex and just making up an excuse as to why they were naked (not on top of each other) when my parents came into my room. They seemed to brush it off.
In my classes in middle school, I learned to make myself feel good by getting a pencil and rubbing myself with the eraser part of it (through my jeans). (Yes, I know this sounds weird and I feel like an idiot for admitting it now) I think I did this a lot, but I never got caught. I also remember being intrigued by pornography. Sometimes it would be on in my room (after watching something on the movie channel) late at night and I would pleasure myself again. (This is probably around 10 years old) I blew this off time and time again thinking about it when I was older because kids are very impressionable and interested in sex, they know it's dirty but still like to watch because it's new and forbidden I guess? (No, my parents never found out about this either, they kept a good eye on me, I was just sneaky) Fast forward to when I became older, I had boyfriends, I guess they were normal relationships. My first one was probably when I was 14, we were together for 11 months and we never had sex but absolutely some foreplay and I don't know but I think I egged it on. He was a really nice boy and still is. I just push it off as we were experimenting with each other like.. another new forbidden territory? Then came the next boyfriend... he kept pushing me to have sex and we'd do a lot of things, but never sex. I always knew what my parents told me, "don't have sex!" That was pretty much their control over it. In all the relationships I can think of around this time, I instigated kissing and touching. I communicated with my cousin a lot through MSN messenger at the time because he was the only one that would talk to me, or cared about me it seemed. He would tell me all the troubles he was going through and I would tell him. I remember him telling me on thing that stood out. Usually he was drinking. And one time he said something that I don't know if it was meant to be funny or serious. He said that one time he had given me a bath when I was little without our grandmother or anyone there... I guess I just blew this off as him being drunk and stupid. But I didn't tell anyone because I mean... I was 16 at the time?? I would be in trouble and so would he for a stupid unfunny joke.
Finally when I met the boy I did lose my virginity to. We had been together 4 months. We had sex and he broke my hymen. I didn't bleed and it didn't hurt. I guess that is normal from what I've looked up. I've just always been interested in sex. Sex, sex, sex is all I could think about. Every single time I kissed a boy I was turned on. I kissed a mutual friend of mine and my boyfriend's (while we were still dating) and kinda cared that I hurt him, but mostly I wanted to be wanted by this boy. Moved back to where my other family lived with my mom (parents divorced at 13) my senior year of high school and there I broke up with my boyfriend, twice, to be with a new boy and we had lots and and lots of sex (protected) in the two total months we were together. This boy was already kind of promiscuous though. Anyways, moved back to the other place with my boyfriend (who I lost my virginity to) and we were together for I guess half a year while we were in college. Met my husband (we also had lots and lots and lots of sex) and now we're here.
I guess here are my thoughts in summary:
I feel like I will never be satisfied if I don't know. I have looked up hypnotherapists (though I'm not sure if this actually works and if this is something you would go to one for) I wouldn't tell my husband about it. I don't want him there I think if I were possibly able to find out about this sort of thing.
I guess the reason I would want to know is.. I want to start the healing process. I want to be able to go to a therapist and say this without a doubt and work through it. I don't want to say "if this happened to me..." I wanted to say "This did happen to me" or "this did not happen to me."
What I am wanting is advice. Advice on whether or not this is something I should seek out. Has anyone had these thoughts and been proven right or wrong? Please share. I feel like I will never move past this unless I have closure. Please be nice and comforting... I don't think I can handle any rude comments about this. I feel absolutely embarrassed and naked throwing this out there already. :(
Please help somehow, thank you...
My cousin, at the age of 27, passed away. Well, he was shot and killed during an investigation by the police about the possession of child pornography. In the news article I read they claimed he was reaching for a gun and that he had already admitted to being in possession and sending out a bunch of child pornography and abusing the children of "friends of friends." At the time he passed away I was 19. So, an 8 year difference. I always fought on his side, "he NEVER did any of it, he would NEVER have done that to a child!" I think that so many times. SO MANY TIMES. I even miss him, I love him. He was the one I was closest to out of all of my cousins. He was born in 1984, there were 3 other cousins in between us and then I was born in 1991. I was the baby of the family until my sister was born 5 years later. Well, I guess this doesn't matter, but it's just what I've been thinking. Through the past few years (it's been 3 since the incident) I've defended him and catch myself thinking about him from time to time.
I have a family of my own now, a 3 year old and a 1 year old and a wonderful husband. I should be completely happy, but I'm not. I've been depressed for as long as I can remember and only now when I assumed it was postpartum depression had I gotten help for it. I've been on several different medications but they just stopped working after so long. I went to therapy but I guess I didn't feel like I was getting the help I needed. (I'm sorry, I'm not trying to write a novel, I'm trying to get the point...) Well, let me get to my memories and my childhood. As early as I can remember, I have known how to pleasure myself? I guess I somehow figured it out. We moved when I was eight to location that was farther away from the rest of my family because my parents needed better jobs. I remember being nine-years-old and pleasuring myself frequently when my parents were asleep or when they weren't home (yes, this was a safe place to leave your 9-year-old home at the time). I remember playing with my barbies naked like they were having sex and just making up an excuse as to why they were naked (not on top of each other) when my parents came into my room. They seemed to brush it off.
In my classes in middle school, I learned to make myself feel good by getting a pencil and rubbing myself with the eraser part of it (through my jeans). (Yes, I know this sounds weird and I feel like an idiot for admitting it now) I think I did this a lot, but I never got caught. I also remember being intrigued by pornography. Sometimes it would be on in my room (after watching something on the movie channel) late at night and I would pleasure myself again. (This is probably around 10 years old) I blew this off time and time again thinking about it when I was older because kids are very impressionable and interested in sex, they know it's dirty but still like to watch because it's new and forbidden I guess? (No, my parents never found out about this either, they kept a good eye on me, I was just sneaky) Fast forward to when I became older, I had boyfriends, I guess they were normal relationships. My first one was probably when I was 14, we were together for 11 months and we never had sex but absolutely some foreplay and I don't know but I think I egged it on. He was a really nice boy and still is. I just push it off as we were experimenting with each other like.. another new forbidden territory? Then came the next boyfriend... he kept pushing me to have sex and we'd do a lot of things, but never sex. I always knew what my parents told me, "don't have sex!" That was pretty much their control over it. In all the relationships I can think of around this time, I instigated kissing and touching. I communicated with my cousin a lot through MSN messenger at the time because he was the only one that would talk to me, or cared about me it seemed. He would tell me all the troubles he was going through and I would tell him. I remember him telling me on thing that stood out. Usually he was drinking. And one time he said something that I don't know if it was meant to be funny or serious. He said that one time he had given me a bath when I was little without our grandmother or anyone there... I guess I just blew this off as him being drunk and stupid. But I didn't tell anyone because I mean... I was 16 at the time?? I would be in trouble and so would he for a stupid unfunny joke.
Finally when I met the boy I did lose my virginity to. We had been together 4 months. We had sex and he broke my hymen. I didn't bleed and it didn't hurt. I guess that is normal from what I've looked up. I've just always been interested in sex. Sex, sex, sex is all I could think about. Every single time I kissed a boy I was turned on. I kissed a mutual friend of mine and my boyfriend's (while we were still dating) and kinda cared that I hurt him, but mostly I wanted to be wanted by this boy. Moved back to where my other family lived with my mom (parents divorced at 13) my senior year of high school and there I broke up with my boyfriend, twice, to be with a new boy and we had lots and and lots of sex (protected) in the two total months we were together. This boy was already kind of promiscuous though. Anyways, moved back to the other place with my boyfriend (who I lost my virginity to) and we were together for I guess half a year while we were in college. Met my husband (we also had lots and lots and lots of sex) and now we're here.
I guess here are my thoughts in summary:
- I don't remember being molested at all. I don't have any memories and I feel like anything I think about is a fabricated memory. The thought of me being molested makes me absolutely sick and cry and I feel so dirty, like I take a bath and scrub because I don't know how to make it feel any better.
- I don't know if what the police are saying is a lie or the truth...
- I am so frightened to tell any of this to anyone because I don't want them to think of me different or think that I'm disgusting.
- I'm not a whore, I've had sex with 3 guys (boyfriends) in my entire life and I've been entirely faithful to my husband, even if for the past few years I haven't had sex with him as much as I've used to.
- My husband tries to be very supportive, I've told him some of the story, but find myself changing things to make him think differently, like I said my grandmother was there when he said she wasn't when he gave me a bath or whatever. My husband says "Why would you want to know? Wouldn't it be better if you didn't?" The problem with this is...I feel like I owe it to my cousin to know. I'll never officially be on his side until I know. Ever since I've had these thoughts, I haven't spoken about him, but I think about these things a lot.
- Side note: around the age of 6, i guess I remember my cousin's little brother (who I think is just 2 or 3 years older than me, we're not that close) and I playing at my grandmother's and running behind some trees and he said "we're going to play tarzan and jane" and he took both of our shirts off and rubbed his chest against mine? This could be just a silly game that I didn't understand, but I still think about that to this day and I feel ashamed, I've never told anyone this either. This could be totally unrelated, but I just found it weird.
- Another side note: I'm clinically depressed, I'm a social person in classes and at work but I've always tried to stay away from having a lot of friends because I used to be really socially awkward, like I used to avoid staying at friend's houses by lying and saying my parents said I couldn't. I have really bad anxiety. I have such low self-esteem and I make awful jokes about myself being fat, too pale, not pretty, not smart, etc. I laugh at them but other people say I put myself down too much. I just have no other way of liking myself. I've gone to the gym, I've tanned, I've studied, I got contacts, I colored my hair, I cannot like myself no matter what I look like or think I'm pretty much good for nothing. I hope that makes sense.
I feel like I will never be satisfied if I don't know. I have looked up hypnotherapists (though I'm not sure if this actually works and if this is something you would go to one for) I wouldn't tell my husband about it. I don't want him there I think if I were possibly able to find out about this sort of thing.
I guess the reason I would want to know is.. I want to start the healing process. I want to be able to go to a therapist and say this without a doubt and work through it. I don't want to say "if this happened to me..." I wanted to say "This did happen to me" or "this did not happen to me."
What I am wanting is advice. Advice on whether or not this is something I should seek out. Has anyone had these thoughts and been proven right or wrong? Please share. I feel like I will never move past this unless I have closure. Please be nice and comforting... I don't think I can handle any rude comments about this. I feel absolutely embarrassed and naked throwing this out there already. :(
Please help somehow, thank you...
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