Surviving Childhood Sexual Abuse: A Traumatic Journey

What you see here is a microperforate hymen, this is the result of my multiple childhood rapes and this can only be corrected by a painful Hymenotomy surgery. Please take the time - if you will - to read my full story. I thank you.

I was only six years old. He was Joe, twenty one, a neighbor down the road and my babysitter. All I remember from that night is suffocating in the bathtub because he had forced my head down in the water the whole time and being too terrified to scream. He was drunk and on drugs. Following nights I had several hallucinations and night terrors. I couldn’t sleep normally anymore. I understood I did something wrong and committed a sin. I dreamed of hell and Satan a lot. I thought I was being punished by someone and

would wake up in the middle of the night crying and clawing my face and ripping out my hair. Paranoia Schizophrenia was developed first, then Trichotillomania. I was always terrified whether or not he - my babysitter Joe- or Satan - was still there all the time. I was frantic if he would show up again and get me.

That all of it would happen all over again at any moment. I was too traumatized to sleep peacefully anymore. Ever since, I’d stand close to the edge of deep cliffs and tremble. I had chronic mental impulses to jump off. I was fighting with the idea of committing suicide ever since I was 8 years old. Since that day - I would avoid showers for several days - even months on end if I could get away with it. Growing up- I never looked at- and I could never acknowledge-or take care of that part of myself for years.

I’ve seen over eight professional therapist in my lifetime and it’s not a practice that works or heals me or ever will. I don’t mind talking about it over and over again. It’s just pointless doing so. Nothing can ever undo what happened or the mental and physical pain I’ve lived with. I was sick and tired of believing that these adults- who had no idea, no personal experience, on what its like- could ever help me. I could find the same basic level of listening and support from my friends -or people i’m actually close to and established that level of trust- which was more effective and healing.

My sad reality was It always happens again - despite how much you try to guard yourself.

You are after-all now, an easier target. You either gain or you loose an excessive amount of weight. You stop taking care of yourself and have the most sabotaging self esteem. It was middle school. I was thirteen and there were four boys who wanted to talk to me after school. I remember hearing them laughing the whole time. I was pinned down and full of bruises after they were done. The staff had found used condoms. They pled me to - but I was too terrified for the students getting in trouble and so full of guilt that I couldn’t speak out against them. I was sure no one would believe me anyway. I was new- from a different state and had no friends. I smelled. Who would care anyway? I continued to rationale how I got what I deserved. However, I was so scared that subconsciously whenever I saw or heard a group guys anywhere near me, I’d pee myself. It wasn’t until I was fifteen that I mentally had the control and stopped doing this. The endless amount of bullying and social isolation I faced throughout my schooling had affected my self esteem. Thinking back had brought on panic attacks and depression - which eventually developed into

agoraphobia.

Since then I- and no one else was ever able to insert anything in. Not tampons, not anything. All because of all the tissue damage, mucous, dry blood, and clotting that had developed throughout the years. It wasn’t until this year, at the age of 22, that I was diagnosed with a Imperforate hymen. I need surgery to remove my damaged hymen and inner uterus. This is the only way I can ever create a family for myself one day. (What I currently live and breathe for doing)

The purity ring I had bought for myself at 16 was a complete front.

I didn’t like thinking I was tainted and unlovable. While the truth of the matter was I was dirty. I could never be pure. But still - I wanted to believe so badly- even though It was a delusion- that I was still dating and marriage material. My personal survival tactic, was conjuring several imaginary childhood friends in my head. They would encourage me. I could laugh and smile about the scenarios I created in my mind. I could convince myself that I wasn’t mentally lonely. Only others I had met who suffered through foster care - knew my exact feelings of neglect, embarrassment, shame, isolation, deprivation, and the intense fear, inability to trust, or relate to anyone of any age. I cant tell you how many times I held on to sleeping pills after coming home from school. I cant tell you how many times had stabbed myself to avoid being alone. I cant tell you how many times I screamed how i’m going to hang myself and ended up in the hospital on mental

watch.

Rape jokes need to stop and become an unthinkable topic of humor. I will never understand why those boys- and now the world- had laughed at my misery. It will never stop tormenting me. The fact that our society is okay with and encourages “Barely legal” scares me. I don’t want what happened to me growing up to ever happen to anyone else. We need to end the thought that it’s acceptable under any circumstance- to be sexual in any shape or form with developing children under 18. I truly don’t believe that rape is something that can be prevented. It’s something that should be ended. Unthinkable. And I- along with millions of others of all genders and ages around the globe- won’t stop suffering from post traumatic stress disorder in our daily lives until it does.