I'm a 50 year old woman, single, no children. I was physically and emotionally by both my parents, and sexually abused by my father, also by others (a stranger, a babysitter?) from very early childhood until I was about six years old, and able to report what was happening.

My father resumed and attempted further sexual abuse when I reached puberty, but I was able to curb some of his behavior again by threatening to tell.

At age 15 I was sent to a psychiatrist (at my own request, backed up by bad behavior) who removed me from my parents home and placed me in a boarding school. The condition of this rescue was that I not confront my parents about the abuse, that I take responsibility for years of abuse and keep silent about it. My t made it clear that if I alienated my parents, they might refuse to pay him, and I would lose his support. This kind of treatment was a large factor in why I didn't continue to seek professional help.

I have been supporting myself since I was 17, mostly doing a bad job of it. I spent years abusing durgs and alcohol, acting out destructive, unhealthy and abusive relationships. Like others, I was also raped as an adult. I was 35 when my father died, and I began working on confronting, dealing with and healing from my past from that point on.

I put myself through college, have a masters degree, and a decent job for the first time in my life. My life started coming apart just as I acheived some success, and I found some of my recovery undoing itself. I have been in therapy for about two and half years now, and am making huge progress in healing, hoping that this time it will take!

Lisa

The Child's Story
When I was around five or so I gave away my father's sex games with me by acting them out publicly. I identified my father as the perp, and my aunt believed me. My father left me alone after that, although it initiated vigorous programming to persuade me that it didn't happen.

When I was 8 I began screaming for hours to protest and punish my parents for their treatment of me. They sent me to a psychologist, where I reported abuse. My parents coached me into recanting, and removed me from treatment. We moved shortly after that.

Also when I was 8 or 9 I experienced a personal transformation. My parents had taught me about God, raised me attending church, but at this point began denying God's exixtence, renouncing their own faith. I was very confused, but spent hours walking in the woods, trying to understand why they didn't believe. Why they abused me. I begna to feel safe, confident in the existence of a higher power. I had an vision that day, sitting by a creek, that all lving things and matter are spiritual, possessing the same soul and eternal existence, radiating and manifesting God.

When I was 11 I tried to negotiate being placed in a foster home with my parents. My mother was very fond of hitting me in the face. One day I told her how much I hated her. She sat me in a chair and told me I couldn't get up until I apologized. I sat in that chair for 8 hours. I told her thatno matter what she made me say, no matter what she did to me, even if she forced me to apologize and tell her I loved her, that I would always hate her, no matter what.

My mother had to miss a social engagemnet, wound up trying to negotiate with me. I demanded foster care. She persuaded me that she and my father were going to leave me lots of money when they died and that if I insisted on being removed from their home I would lose a fortune. I relented, but we negotiated a peace that reduced her physical abuse of me. However I gave up power that day. She used the threat of disinheriting me as a weapon from then on, and also used my pledge to hate her to keep us from ever having peace between us.

When I was 12 or 13, my father began coming into my bedroom after I had gone to bed, forcing himself on me, not raping, but "simulating" it. He stopped after I made it clear to my mother that I would report him to the authorities if he did not stop.

When I was 15 I was sent to a psychiatrist at my own request. He heard my story and removed me from my parents home, sending me to boarding school, and threatening them with court if they didn't cooperate.

When my brother reached puberty, my mother began preying on him sexually. I reported this to my t, who also had my brother sent away to school.

I fought a good fight, but it was a child's fight. I had power, I won a few battles, but I could not win the war.

That was then. This is now. There is no war, nothing to fight over. All my power is in me, to identify and tap into. It has nothing to do with anyone else, except if they want to notice me radiating it.

Hi Everyone:

I just want to let everyone know that what is below is very explicit in describing abuse. Please be careful reading these, I hope that they are useful to others, as well as to myself. I have learned that that is the only truly healthy reason to revisit this painful past: if we have a positive use for it in terms of our present. As part of the work we are doing for our present lives. Be safe.

The Man in the Woods

We were playing with Julie, even though our mom told us not to. Me and my sister and Scott and Todd. Then the man came who was Julie's friend and he took us for an adventure hike in the woods. We went way far, where we weren't supposed to go, past the Pick N Save, into the woods.

The man made my sister and Todd get married, and they lay on the ground, kissing, and rolling around. The man and Julie were already married, and she sat on his lap. Scott and I were too young to get married, so he was my boyfriend and we just held hands and the man made us kiss.

Then the man went away and Julie took us home, but I had to pee, so did, on the ground, but I couldn't get my underpants back up and no one would help me, so I had to walk home that way. I got in big trouble for that.

I told about the man but my mom didn't understand and my sister said he would come back and kill us because I told and it was my fault.

The Creek

We moved to our first house when I was 2 and a half. I remember visiting the house before we moved in, and a caterpillar crawled under the refrigerator. After we moved in I really wondered what happened to the caterpillar? Was he still under there? I turn three over the summer. My sister starts school in the fall, when my mother also delivers my little brother. From age three to five I must fend for myself. When I was four, Davy moved in next door and I had someone to play with. Up till then it was hard.

I am alone. My mother won't let me in the house. When my sister goes to school, I must go outside. This is the rule. I have nowhere to go. I am lonely. I go to the neighbors, and knock on the door, they let me in and give me a cookie and call mommy and she has to come and get me. I get a big spanking. I do this with different neighbors when I am lonely. I get a spanking each time. I play in the neighbors yard because they have swings. They tell my mommy. I get spanked and spanked until I learn. I must never knock on the neighbor's doors. I must play by myself. Not on the swings. Not in their yards. I play in the garden with the bugs. I make mud pies in the rain. I go to the "creek" which is a drainage ditch that runs behind the houses across the street.

Now I am happy. I can stay here all day. The creek has fish you can see them swimming. There are crawdads, and if you give them a stick they will bite it. There are snails, and slippery rocks. I can still feel the wonderful feeling of wading and stepping on the slimy rocks, gripping the snails with my toes to hold on so I won't slip.

But the neighbor lady is mad. Over and over again she chases me away from the creek. Every day I come back. It's dangerous, she says, I am in her yard. One day she grabs me.
You go home, she says, and tell your mother that if you come back here again I will call the police and they will take you away and your name will be changed and you will never see your parents again. Go tell your mommy! So I go and tell mommy what the lady said, I am crying and I can't go to the creek any more by myself.

Over time I ask mommy again and again what the lady meant. Mommy says "She probably meant that you were trespassing and the police would come and take you to jail. We would be so ashamed of you that we would have to change our name so no one would know you were our daughter."

Playing Horsey

My cousins are visiting, the boys are twelve years older than me and lots of fun. They give piggyback rides forever, and they turn you upside down, and spin you and they have neat Swiss Army knives, they are fun!

Then I make a Big Mistake! I want to play horsey with my cousin. He is sitting in the Horsey chair. I sit on his lap and grind myself into his penis, bumping up and down, up and down! Everyone is horrified! My aunt says, Who has been playing horsey with you that way?

I say, Daddy! He is mad. He throws his hands up and says Never! I swear it wasn't me!

Later on, Daddy trains me to play horsey by riding on his back, while he is on all fours, or I can do it piggyback style. I can't play horsey bumping up and down anymore. Why not? Daddy says because I told.

This is one of those uncertain moments. This is not forgotten and resurfaced. I remembered this and the previous one all my life. Except the part about telling above, which came back when I was having flashbacks, and sort of letting the memories come back, that piece fell in. Also that my aunt didnt believe my father when he denied doing this. She kept saying Shame on you! to him over and over.

I told this in session last week, and have been relaxing about the memories hanging around me. And had another image just pop into my head last night. My sister is doing this in the chair, bumping up and down, her dress pulled up, and I see her face the way it was when she was little, and she is mad! She hates this game!

I can remember back when I was about 2 and half. I remember my white crib, and getting my first bed, and lots and lots of other details. I remember my mother's face, my sister's face and my brother's face all my life, I can picture them at different ages. I can only remember my father's face from the time I was about eight or so. Before that I remember his hands, his body, the way he made waffles, everything, even his erect penis, I remember that in the bathtub with him, but I can't picture his face.

Also came back last night, my mother yelling at my father because he threw my underwear away when I had accidents, instead of rinsing it out and putting it in the laundry. I always had these accidents when he was babysitting.

I also remember him masturbating in front of me, and her yelling at him to stop. He did it all the time, it was also a game we played in the bathtub. His penis, just another bath toy to me.

She yelled at him a lot for the way he was raising me. One time they were fighting about it, and he said "She's already more of a woman than you are!" I was so proud! Mommy was always beating and torturing me, and Daddy loved me more! He wanted to marry me, not Mommy!

Weapons of Choice

Here are the tools my mother used on me:

Broom Handle
Metal Ruler
Wire Coat Hanger
Wooden Coat Hanger
Hair Brush
Belt
Cord
Water
Her Hands

She pushed my head under water and held it there.

She put bruises on my arms, legs, my back and my butt.
She split open my lips, made my nose bleed, and my eyes swell shut.

One of my earliest memories is the taste of ice cubes wrapped in paper towels, applied in a desperate attempt to hide what she did. I can still taste that.

She cried and cried she was so sorry.

When I Said Enough

When I said enough I made those steps I climbed each one on my hands and knees and stopped and looked back and down the stairs I went back to you each time I wanted to give you something that you took away from me I never knew what it was but I bled and bled and you never had enough I gave you my hands and feet and my arms and my legs and my teeth and my hair and I gave you my tears and my smiles you got them all while you dragged me down the stairs and each time when I said enough I made another step and I climbed them all on my hands and knees dragging you up and up each time I said enough.

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