I have one clear memory which is from the age of three - maybe, I am not certain, but I am really, really very small - and I am scared (I have already written it in another thread).
There is a lot of very confused memories - basicaly the same situation, me naked, my little hands on his body - oh, how terribly dirty they seem to me - different places, different emotions... I don´t know how many times it happened. I don´t know how old I am. I though these weren´t true... But I started to remember one of these more clearly, so I guess the rest of them is real as well, they are not made up, these are not just my imagination as I used to hope... :no::no::no:
I didn´t even mind I think, I kind of - got used to it? I feel terribly guilty I got used to it... I didn´t know it was wrong. I was scared sometimes, but it wasn´t painful, he wanted me to do it, I just did what he wanted... I feel so filthy, so horribly, horribly guilty, because I didn´t even try to protest... I had no idea it was that bad... I was three years old... :(
And many confused things I say to my friend when I cry for a long time and then I kind of fall into childhood way of thinking:
"I liked red candies. I wanted to eat them." I hate red candies. (I know - although I don´t remember - he gave these to me, I liked candies and it makes me feel guilty...)
"My mum doesn´t like me. He said she doesn´t." (I refuse to believe this one, I refuse to believe he would have said this, it would make him a very bad person indeed - I refuse... I know it is bad enough abusing me but telling me my mum doesn´t love me anymore? Why? Why, why, why? I refuse to believe this and yet I said it loudly, I had to say it, I knew it was true somewhere deep and it hurts and I don´t want it to be real...:no:)
"I don´t like him."
"I don´t like his smell."
"I am scared."
"Mummy isn´t here. Why isn´t she here?"
"I don´t want to come upstairs."
"I have a little brother at home, mummy brought him for us. He can´t talk yet, he can´t walk either."
"I like to make sandcakes and build towers from wooden and plastic cubes. I love them falling down."
I" don´t have second teeth - I don´t even know what does it mean, I simply have my own teeth..."
And finaly - to my best friend - "I don´t know you. Can you tell me a fairy-tale? Will you build a sandcastle for me?" - what the hell? I know him... But when I start talking like a small child, he has no name. I don´t know many words I know nowadays, like computer or mobile phone or even some phrases I am using now frequently, when he uses them, I don´t understand. I am stuck in the mind of a three years old child.
And then there is one memory, I know I am eight years old, my granduncle came to me when I turned away for a while and started touching me in a room where were another people, all around me... I though I was safe... (I guess that´s the reason why I hate staying back to people, I always have to sit with my back to the wall, otherwise I feel like I am in danger). And the rest of the summer - constant fear, although nothing ever happened again, it was the last time, I was very, very scared, I avoided him, my head hurt as hell and I never, never ever went with him again, I never turned my back to him, never, ever... I was scared every waking minute. I got used to it, eventually. My head stopped aching. I hated to look at him. I hated him. I though I will die the moment my baby sister was born a few years later, I so desperately wanted to save her, but I was powerless, I had no strength, I was still a child... I was scared to death, but I had no words...
This year I found out she is ok. He didn´t hurt her. But I still feel kind of responsible for not trying to protect her. I was just scared to death and I had no voice. This made me feel like a horrible person.
What really scares me is the gap between three and eight. I don´t know what was happening. Maybe nothing. Maybe always the same. Maybe somthing else. I don´t know. I don´t want to know. I wish I could wake up and find out it was all just a nightmare, that it´s gone forever... I want to wake up. But it´s not gonna happen. :trapped:
I am tired. The memory from eight years came when I was at bath... I don´t want to take showers anymore... But I have to... I can´t live in filth... It is better when I bath at the afternoon than in the evening. I hate white shower gel, I got horribly scared when I saw it on my hands, I was scared to death, although no memory came back, I don´t know, maybe it´s just my nerves, my imagination driving me mad... I started using soap instead and it is better...
And I want sand and I want somebody to tell me fairy-tales... :(
There is a lot of very confused memories - basicaly the same situation, me naked, my little hands on his body - oh, how terribly dirty they seem to me - different places, different emotions... I don´t know how many times it happened. I don´t know how old I am. I though these weren´t true... But I started to remember one of these more clearly, so I guess the rest of them is real as well, they are not made up, these are not just my imagination as I used to hope... :no::no::no:
I didn´t even mind I think, I kind of - got used to it? I feel terribly guilty I got used to it... I didn´t know it was wrong. I was scared sometimes, but it wasn´t painful, he wanted me to do it, I just did what he wanted... I feel so filthy, so horribly, horribly guilty, because I didn´t even try to protest... I had no idea it was that bad... I was three years old... :(
And many confused things I say to my friend when I cry for a long time and then I kind of fall into childhood way of thinking:
"I liked red candies. I wanted to eat them." I hate red candies. (I know - although I don´t remember - he gave these to me, I liked candies and it makes me feel guilty...)
"My mum doesn´t like me. He said she doesn´t." (I refuse to believe this one, I refuse to believe he would have said this, it would make him a very bad person indeed - I refuse... I know it is bad enough abusing me but telling me my mum doesn´t love me anymore? Why? Why, why, why? I refuse to believe this and yet I said it loudly, I had to say it, I knew it was true somewhere deep and it hurts and I don´t want it to be real...:no:)
"I don´t like him."
"I don´t like his smell."
"I am scared."
"Mummy isn´t here. Why isn´t she here?"
"I don´t want to come upstairs."
"I have a little brother at home, mummy brought him for us. He can´t talk yet, he can´t walk either."
"I like to make sandcakes and build towers from wooden and plastic cubes. I love them falling down."
I" don´t have second teeth - I don´t even know what does it mean, I simply have my own teeth..."
And finaly - to my best friend - "I don´t know you. Can you tell me a fairy-tale? Will you build a sandcastle for me?" - what the hell? I know him... But when I start talking like a small child, he has no name. I don´t know many words I know nowadays, like computer or mobile phone or even some phrases I am using now frequently, when he uses them, I don´t understand. I am stuck in the mind of a three years old child.
And then there is one memory, I know I am eight years old, my granduncle came to me when I turned away for a while and started touching me in a room where were another people, all around me... I though I was safe... (I guess that´s the reason why I hate staying back to people, I always have to sit with my back to the wall, otherwise I feel like I am in danger). And the rest of the summer - constant fear, although nothing ever happened again, it was the last time, I was very, very scared, I avoided him, my head hurt as hell and I never, never ever went with him again, I never turned my back to him, never, ever... I was scared every waking minute. I got used to it, eventually. My head stopped aching. I hated to look at him. I hated him. I though I will die the moment my baby sister was born a few years later, I so desperately wanted to save her, but I was powerless, I had no strength, I was still a child... I was scared to death, but I had no words...
This year I found out she is ok. He didn´t hurt her. But I still feel kind of responsible for not trying to protect her. I was just scared to death and I had no voice. This made me feel like a horrible person.
What really scares me is the gap between three and eight. I don´t know what was happening. Maybe nothing. Maybe always the same. Maybe somthing else. I don´t know. I don´t want to know. I wish I could wake up and find out it was all just a nightmare, that it´s gone forever... I want to wake up. But it´s not gonna happen. :trapped:
I am tired. The memory from eight years came when I was at bath... I don´t want to take showers anymore... But I have to... I can´t live in filth... It is better when I bath at the afternoon than in the evening. I hate white shower gel, I got horribly scared when I saw it on my hands, I was scared to death, although no memory came back, I don´t know, maybe it´s just my nerves, my imagination driving me mad... I started using soap instead and it is better...
And I want sand and I want somebody to tell me fairy-tales... :(
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