Before we get started I want to warn you that this my take will focus on the topics of child molestation, child abuse, rape, domestic violence, self harm and suicide. So if you or someone you know can relate to any of these topics I'm going to leave some numbers down below for you:
National Suicide prevention hotline: (800) 273-8255
National Child Abuse hotline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD
National Sexual Assault hotline: 1-800-656-4673
Now that we established that I think it's time to dwell into my first topic of CHILD MOLESTATION and RAPE.
Like the image above suggests, my abuse was at the hands of one of my six big brothers. Someone I've spent my whole life around and I endured this abuse at his hands for at least thirteen years before I finally managed to get away.
But escaping isn't what this mytake is about. It's about him molesting and raping me most of my life. So we'll begin with the first time I realised what was happening to me. Keep in mind I was a five year old little girl the first time I remember this happening to me. So I didn't understand that I was being molested.
I slept in a little room with my big sister and we'd both sleep in nightgowns. I remember one night waking up and feeling something cold touching my inner thighs and going up my nightgown. I was too tired to fully wake up so everything was a blurry mess for me. I just saw a figure at my bed that had moved my covers over and he had his hand at my crotch and was touching me. So I did the most rational thing my five year old brain could think to do, I started kicking my legs until I felt the hand go away.
Honestly for many years after that I convinced myself each time I woke up kicking that it was from nightmares. I didn't except what I'd always see standing there as reality. I never wanted to believe I was being molested or inappropriately touched as they put it in school. But when I hit puberty at twelve and started developing breasts and a body, I couldn't deny my "nightmares" weren't someone touching me.
The weird nights started becoming more frequent and awkward looks got thrown my way. Baggy shirts and pants became a staple. Anything else and I knew he'd find something to look at. But somehow that didn't stop the abuse, it just got worse. One night during my parents anniversary they decided to spend a night away at a hotel to celebrate. By then my brothers had all become adults and my sister was seventeen. We no longer shared a room so I never had the comfort of hoping she'd wake up and stop this from happening to me. But sadly for me even though my brother was an adult, he was severely mentally handicapped to the point he stayed living with us and my parents took care of him basically.
That night I didn't wake up to a hand touching me. I woke up to a penis rubbing against me. And when I woke up kicking, he didn't leave. He pushed me backwards on my stomach and got on top of me and I remember a sharp pain between my legs. I tried so hard to make myself scream. I just prayed there, begging myself to scream, for my sister to hear me, and for her to come save me. But why couldn't I scream? Why was nothing coming out? And I still wonder to this day had I managed to muster the courage to scream would it have finally stopped there?
But that scream didn't happen, no matter how hard I tried I couldn't do it. That still haunts my nightmares almost every night. I didn't scream, I just went limp and cried. I can't even remember when it was over and he left. I just remember laying there hoping I'd just die. I didn't want to wake up in the morning.
Now that we've learned the history of my virginity and loss of innocence, I think now we should discuss my two ex boyfriend's, Anthony and Ricardo.
High school, the time everyone falls in love for the first time and everyone is discovering themselves. For me, that wasn't the case. I was shelved and tried to hide. Freshman year I met fellow bipolar classmate Anthony. And I couldn't hide anymore. In hindsight I should have known together we'd start a fire but I didn't listen to what my gut told me. He was a cute boy telling me I was special and for the first time I had someone say they cared about me. Even if it was a lie.
For the first two months it was great. He never tried making moves on me and respected I had fears of intamicy due to something at home I told him. But after those two months something started changing. He'd get angry if I said I didn't want a kiss or him to touch me. But I still stood my ground, I couldn't do it. That one day just led to an argument and that argument ended in a busted lip and bruises covering my torso. And I broke. I wanted nothing to do with him but he kept calling and begging for me back saying he loved me. And like a moron I forgave him. I just wanted someone to love me and to fix it. But I was so stupid to believe him that he'd never hit me again.
Like many times in my life I was wrong. One day he conned me into skipping school with him and going on a date. Well, that should never have happened. I ended up seeing someone from middle school who I had a crush on, and he blew up on me. The Anthony I broke up with weeks prior was back. And hello to another busted lip and broken finger. I think the only way that relationship ended was because his family moved away a few weeks later.
But that didn't end my dumb rep with bad guys, my crazy ex Ricardo. I wanna start this off with everything I say about him isn't meant in an I'll manner. I take blame as well and I care about that asshole still. But he has to be mentioned for the way he treated me not only when we dated but the way he treated me when we didn't.
Sophomore year and enter Ricardo, the sexy Hispanic flirt of all the freshman. And like most girls I fell for the cute accent and charm. He had a way with the girls you couldn't imagine and he fell for me. One day he asked me to stay after school with him and hang out. But like before, hanging out couldn't just be hanging out and my naive butt didn't realize that. I wasn't ready for the moves he was trying to play out. When I saw him he was in flirt mode and I was in flight mode. He wanted that kiss and I wanted out. I tried hard to kiss him and yes he was my first kiss I give him that he got one out of me. But I shook and I cried, I couldn't do it and he left and before I knew it the next morning me was dating another girl.
But that's not why he's here being talked about, that's just the introduction to him. He's here for what happened between us when I was twenty one. We both graduated and life went on for us. But damnit like everyone does on Facebook, we started talking again and fuck, the feelings were still there.
We got together and we met once at his apartment. What happened there is why I feel the need for him to be on this mytake. He hadn't changed much. He still wanted the same in high school and I thought I was ready for that. And kissing was easier. I still felt scared but I could do.
So why couldn't kissing just be enough for him for awhile? Why did he need sex the first date? And why didn't I tell him no when he was taking my clothes off? I had enough sense to shake in fear but again I failed myself and couldn't talk. And I wanted to try, I did because I liked him and I wanted him to like me. I thought I needed to do this. So I said yes, and I tried so hard to make myself enjoy it to finally say I wanted it. But I didn't and I finally could talk. I screamed and I pushed and begged him to stop. And to my amazement he did. Granted he tried hard to convince me I wanted this but he stopped.
And like I said I blame myself for that happening. He's not the one at fault for that, but what he did after I fault him for. I couldn't bare looking at him so I rolled on my stomach and just cried like that night my brother hurt me. And why did he have to lay on me and hold me down like my brother? The pain I felt having my wrist pinned down was the scariest feeling I ever felt with him. And when he started rubbing against me and I begged him to stop and he wouldn't. I just hated myself for that happening to me. I felt like I led him on by saying yes and then saying no. What kinda girl does that? The slut my parent's think I am? Or the idiot I felt like I was who deserved what happened to her?
And it broke me more, I still hate myself for that day.
But unlike the other topics here this is the only one I have been able to deal with and the reason I've been able to finally have a real relationship with someone now. But we'll get into the new love soon when he needs to be brought up, don't worry he's coming in my next topic.
Problem child, whore, idiot, liar and n** lover. A few of the new insults my parents have thrown my way the past seven years. I think I'm only going to address the abuse related to my current relationship that ruined mine with my family.
Senior year and I was the worst I'd ever been in my life. Every day I thought of killing myself, and new cuts were added to my arms. But one day at school I finally decided enough was enough. Today is the day I kill myself. My high school had three stories to it, and I was on the third. It had widows in the hall that opened, and I was ready to jump. But as fate would have it, enters guy number three and my angel Mitchell. He knew what I was going to do, he'll deny that to this day but he did. And he started talking to me, like we where on the Titanic lol. He was sweet and I trusted him. Within five minutes everything I just told you he knew, and he didn't leave.
We became best friends and I fell in love. But graduation came too fast and I was out of school and he was starting Junior year. That didn't stop us and I wasn't going to lose the love I had. I knew now that I didn't have school I'd have to sneak to see him. No way was my family going to let me continue seeing a black man. And I was right. We snuck around for two years and he graduated. Phone calls became more frequent and my parents learned what was going on. I was an adult, absolutely, but no way was my parents going to let me live at home with them while I was sleeping with a black man.
My father tried every way to keep me from Mitchell. From verbal abuse to beating me silly. And eventually Mitchell learned this because one day I did the unthinkable, I attempted suicide. Though I had no clue how, it took six years to get to that point. I just didn't want to hurt anymore and I didn't want Mitchell to suffer having a horrible girlfriend. So I called him and I begged him to understand that I was never going to be able to see him again and I overdosed on Tylenol and pain killers. An hour later I wake up in the E.R having my stomach pumped and the only one there with me was Mitchell. I remember the yelling and how many times he called me stupid and told me he loved me. But I couldn't believe it. I was a failure. No one loved me, I was the whore and idiot who attempted suicide.
The most horrible part was my family did show up, but instead of my dad or mom asking if I was ok, they belittled me and blamed Mitchell for my suicide attempt. They threatened to kill him if he ever went near me again and me if I ever saw him again. Then everything I just listed to you came rushing out and I couldn't take it. I didn't have a family anymore and I was alone. I was kicked out of the house even before I was out of the hospital.
That now leads us to seven months later and to this myTake. I'm better then ever with the love of my life but still haunted by the nightmares of my brother and the fears that my father will hurt me, and the dark thoughts of suicide I still have from time to time. But I'm here to say I can do this. I'm not the little girl who was molested, the one who was beaten, or the n** lover. I'm Marianne, the one who survived a suicide attempt and is sharing her story in the hopes of helping someone else.
So please do not think this is a sob story or me being angry because of what happened. No. I'm saying finally for the first time I'm thankful this happened because without it I wouldn't value myself, my life, or my love. So please if you can relate to anything I said, call one of the numbers I posted and get help. It could save your life, because I wish someone would have given me those before I got to this point.