Freedom and Healing from Sexual Abuse
Testimony of May trigger (Part 1)
I always wondered if I was destined to be abused.
My earliest memory of abuse although at that time I genuinely believed that Paul loved me. He was my sister’s boyfriend and he taught me how to kiss. I was 5 years old, and I knew how to French kiss.
When I look back, I wonder what was it, about me that made men want to abuse me, did I have the face, the body or the personality. I don’t think I’ll ever know the answer to that question, but I do know that it was never ever part of God’s plan for my life.
I grew up in a very middle-class suburb in Johannesburg, we never had much money there were times when we didn’t have any. I have an older sister and a younger sister, and I also had a brother who passed away when I was five. I often wonder if my life would have been different if he was still alive.
My mom worked at the local municipality for a very long time and my dad was unemployed for a while until he eventually found a permanent job although he was off quite often. My dad was a heavy drinker who spent most of his weekend intoxicated. He would sometimes not come home for a whole weekend and eventually resurface when the money was finished.
Often, I used to wish that I was somewhere else although I think I was invisible most of the time anyway, because no one really noticed me half the time especially when a fight broke out. I had to sit and listen to swearing, cursing and insults.
I was an anxious child because I never knew what the weekend would have in store. Would he come home, would he be drunk, would they fight, would he hit her?
I lived in a state of constant anxiety. I remember mom tried on numerous occasions to leave him; she would get a court order which was given to him. When he received this letter, all hell broke loose.
My memories of my brother are vague, but I do know that I loved him so much and he loved me in such a pure and wonderful way.
I will always remember the night he died we were at home standing around the fireplace I was drawing pictures I often did this to amuse myself when the policemen knocked on the door. I don’t remember much after that, but I do know that I lost not only my brother that night, but also my mother.
A part of mom died that night and she’s been broken ever since. Our lives changed forever that fateful night. Dad spiraled out of control, my older sister was never home, and I was invisible yet again.
Mom fell pregnant a few years after my brother’s death, and I know that she did not want the baby, I remember someone coming to our house to take care of it. I don’t quite know what happened, but mom decided to keep the baby.
I loved my sister from the very first moment I saw her because I finally had someone who would notice me. My older sister was not that loving towards me, I never really understood why and to this day our relationship is strained.
My baby sister was so beautiful, and I was not lonely anymore.
I was so proud of her, and I could not wait for my friends to see her. I wanted everyone to see my beautiful baby. I remember when she got so ill that she landed in hospital I was not allowed to see her, and I was so afraid that she would leave me too. Fortunately, she pulled through and was soon home with me.
But all was not well. Mom had to return to work and there was no one to look after her so my aunt came and took her away.
This was devastating for her and for me this changed our lives forever because we walked into the open arms of a child molester.
I don’t remember much about how the abuse started, but I do remember the time when I went with him to his flat. He had kittens and he wanted to show them to me I did not want to go, but of course my mom did not think there was anything wrong with me going.
That was when it all started. He started touching me and wanting me to touch him in return. I remember standing at the gate of the flats asking someone to open for me, but she would not, I wanted to walk home. Fortunately, one of his friends arrived and he had to take me home. (Freedom and Healing from Sexual Abuse)
That day was the beginning of the end for me. I was taken away nearly every weekend. My aunt eventually shacked up with him, they pretended they were married but we all knew they were not. My sister went to live with them, and I only saw her on weekends.
On weekends we were whisked away to his house for fun and games. Everything that he did to me was a game, you play the game with me, and I’ll play it with you. This carried on for many years; every weekend of my life was the same story.
Friday to Sunday I would be a zombie pretending that I enjoyed his fingers prodding me, pretending that him touching my breasts were wonderful, pretending that his slopping wet kisses and his stinking breath were what I lived for.
Come Monday all would be different because I would be free till the next Friday.
School holidays were the pits I had to spend the holidays there and although I loved being with my sister and playing with her. I hated the evenings because I knew what was coming.
We would lie in the bed with my aunt, and he would fondle me until my legs became numb and I wanted to vomit. I would them jump up and rush to the bathroom. Of course, being sick was no reason to stop, I then had to fondle him in return sometimes going under the blankets and do things to him. All with my aunt next to him in the bed. At the time I really thought that she did not know, but now as I look back, I know she knew.
He always told me that he was teaching me to be a woman, and that I would be a good wife to my husband because I would know all the moves. He also enjoyed showing me pornography and telling me the most disgusting things and what the dogs would enjoy doing to me. I can still see his sick smug face in front of me now. Every time I walked past this man, I hated myself more and more, I hated my growing body, my budding breasts. -Freedom and Healing from Sexual Abuse
Bath time was another opportunity for him to abuse us; he would walk into the bathroom when I was busy. We were not allowed to lock the doors.
I hated bath time. Nowhere was I safe, even using the toilet was an opportunity for him. I tried to escape as much as possible. We spent most of our time at the pool, but you can only hide for so long. I had to go home eventually, and he would be waiting.
As I look back now it feels like a story, someone else’s story. Did this really happen to me? Sadly, I have to say yes. My life was never my own until I decided to take it back, but that took almost thirty years to do.
My life was a recurring series of lies and deceit; I pretended to my friends that I had a wonderful life. No one ever knew the real me. I lied to myself and to all who knew me I pretended that everything was fine.
I never really had a best friend at school, to be honest I don’t think I’ve ever had a best friend, but I preferred it that way because they might find out the real truth and then I would be screwed.
I had a few boyfriends but of course all they really wanted was sex and of course as I had been so well trained to do, I obliged.
I learnt early on not to go out with guys at school because I was afraid of what the people would think of me and as my mother was always telling me to behave like a lady, I made sure I was never caught out.
I longed for someone to love the real me and to see past all the lies. Most of my school years were unhappy I was often misunderstood. I was called many names and people often saw me as a snob, but I was such an introvert and so afraid that I could not speak out. I was taught to shut my mouth from an early age, and I was a good student.
‘My Uncle” became ill with circulation problems in his legs he also had diabetes, eventually they had to amputate the leg. I remember him walking around on crutches and I would dread hearing the ‘tik-tik’ coming down the passage. Due to his continuous drinking, he eventually lost his other leg. So, now he was in a wheelchair, and we had to push him around all the time, but still the abuse carried on.
Emotional and sexual abuse was what made up my day. He would insult me in front of my parents, and they said nothing to protect me, that hurt even more than the words themselves. I had absolutely no self-esteem and no confidence, silence became my only ally.
I started getting severe pains in my legs when I was about 16, I could hardly walk the pain was so bad. I eventually landed up in hospital and the doctors could never find out what was wrong with me. Eventually when the abuse was out in the open the doctor said that it was a manifestation of the abuse.
My mother eventually found out about the abuse and as expected she did not know how to handle it. My aunty denied it and pretended to be shocked while my ‘uncle’ was furious with me for saying anything. I was treated like the criminal. I did a stint at a psychologist to please my mother of course, but this guy did nothing for me. He made me feel like the guilty party.
Needless to say, my parents continued to see my aunt and ‘uncle’ and he continued to visit our house. I felt like a fool and of course so guilty. I knew in my heart that my mother did not believe it; to this day we have never spoken about it again. Ignorance is bliss! If only they know the hell that I have been through because of this.
We live in a very sad world where children are used and abused and then cast aside like a piece of junk. My wish is to help free victims, to help them become survivors.
Freedom and Healing from Sexual Abuse
As I reflect back on my life, I see God’s hand protecting me through it all, my life could have been so different, yet God set me on a path that would ultimately set me free.
Thank you, Lord, for your protection and for finally setting me free.
(Read Part 2 of this heart-touching Testimony, Freedom and Healing from Sexual Abuse NeXT)
