My Story

When I was 12 I decided that I wanted to go work for my neighbor. He was an elderly man that needed help with daily chores. My sister worked for him for a few years but was old enough to get a regular job, so I took over. I decided that my best friend Leigh and I would work side by side. Sometimes we would work every day and other times just the weekend. If he had big chores, a lot of the neighbor kids would pitch in to help. Leigh and I were the main people for a long time. We did everything from roofing, insulation, cleaning, painting, mowing, paying bills, cooking and laundry. We were just two kids looking for something to do, so that we had money to do fun things on the weekends. Little did I know that my life was about to be changed forever. I guess my first warning sign should have been when we were doing some spring cleaning. I slowly climbed up the ladder to clean out the gutters to his house and I felt someone grab my bottom. I turned around and looked at him, and I didn’t say anything. I just continued working. What was I thinking? I should have told him this was inappropriate. But instead I just let it happen. One day when Leigh and I were gardening. He started to tell us how beautiful we were and how much he loved our hair. It makes a young girl feel so good. Again….another warning sign. (almost as if he was seeing who he could wheel in) Well not so lucky, it was me! He told Leigh that she could go home early because he didn’t have enough work for the both of us. I went inside and I knew I was thinking, something was not right. I was standing there waiting for him to dictate what he wanted done, and suddenly he started to hug me. I was like thank you, and walked away. When I got ready to leave he kissed me. I block out a lot of this, so im not sure I remember my response. The next day I went in I was doing some of his bills, and he was sitting next to me and grabbed my breasts from behind. I kind of told him to stop. When I got ready to leave, he told me to go sit in the recliner for a minute. He came closer to me and then got on his knees on the floor between my legs. I really don’t remember what was going thru my mind. He then pulled my shirt up and was fondling my breasts. He then started to put his mouth and hands all over my breasts. I really didn’t know what to think. I still remember smelling his saliva on my skin. He was not a clean man. He was a packrat and didn’t take care of his hygiene. I went home and I would scrub myself raw. I felt so disgusting. As days went by, it would get worse. It started from him just touching me outside my clothes, but then he would go further. He would stick his mouth all over my breasts, and he would force his hands down my pants. There would be times that I would have to be completely naked and humiliated. I got so use to the routine. He would have me sometimes lay on his bed and try to penetrate me, but I would stick my leg up to block him. He then would begin to make me touch him, and fondle his body parts. He wanted to feel his naked body against mine. Sometimes this would happen for 5 min, or sometimes an hr. I got so use to this that I just knew it was going to happen, so I would purposefully go there wearing no undergarments. If I got frustrated and wanted to leave or was in a hurry and he knew it, he would get mad. He would be very aggressive and latch down with his mouth on my breasts or force his fingers inside of me . There came a time when he told me that I was not allowed to leave until I had climaxed. He had to explain what that was because I wasn’t sure. This only meant that I had to make myself enjoy what he was doing in order to climax. I got so addicted to that feeling that sometimes I would go back and ask him to do it to me. I still have guilt and shame from this. I think that it was my fault partly because I asked for it. He also would offer me extra money to stay longer, and I would take it. I feel so dirty and like a prostitute. Sometimes I would turn on a fuzzy channel that had pornography on it to try to veer his mind off of me. It would never end the way that I wanted. I remember driving to the laundry mat weekly with him to do his laundry. When we were waiting on the laundry he would try to touch me or hug me. I prayed that somehow someone would walk in and catch him in the act. I needed to be done with this. I of course never had such luck. I was always alone. I did get the courage one day to tell him that what he was doing to me was not right and that it needed to stop. He would stop for a week or so, but then it would only get worse and more aggressive because I deprived him of it. Sometimes it would be 3-4 times a day. This nightmare would go on for 3 years. I decided that when I turned 15 I could get a real job. I then applied at Ponderosa and was hired. I became very depressed which lead to my manager calling me in her office. She asked me if something was going on at home. I explained to her what had happened and the only reason I had this job was to get out of the misery that I was in. She told me I needed to tell my parents, or she was going to. I went home and told my mom. About a year prior to that I tried to tell my mom that he was touching me; but I kind of only told her he patted me on the butt. She told me that he was just an old man and didn’t know any better, so I never said another word. When I did tell her the whole situation, we decided to go to the police and file a report. The police took the info and wanted to know if I wanted to press charges. If you press charges on anyone then the story goes in the news. I did not want that. Soon after that the police went to his house for questioning. They asked him if anything had been happening and he denied the whole thing. A few days later they went back and asked again. He said all he did was fondled me. I mean common, REALLY? They basically told him to never have any more children working for him and to never do it again. He was the head chief of the fire dept in his working years. So I guess if you are important in life, you must be able to get away with murder. I know that when he admitted to the molestation, he threatened the police that he would kill himself if they took him to jail. He did offer to pay for counseling. Not long after the whole report, I found out that he had gotten his prostate cancer back. He became ill and needed someone to care for him. My grandmother volunteered herself to go and take care of him. I told her what he did, and her response was that I didn’t know what molestation was. I was so hurt. No one ever believed me. To this day my father of all people has never said one thing about the situation. I never got an apology or anything. My grandma was a very religious woman and was always talking to people about God. I pray that she never led him to Christ before he died. I cannot bear the thought of him in heaven while I am down here suffering. Now that he is gone, I still deal with emotions, flashbacks, panic attacks, and nightmares. I don’t know if I will ever get better. I still have trouble with masturbation from the addiction of what he did to me; which brings me back to the memory of that misery. I often wonder why me? Nothing ever happened to my sister the whole time she was there. What did I do wrong? I asked my friend Leigh a few weeks ago if anything ever happened to her when she was there. She told me that she told me when we were younger, but I must have blocked it all out. She said one day she decided to go do some bills for him, and she went by herself, but normally didn’t. When she got there she was writing out some checks. He reached from behind and touched her breasts. She told him to stop, because he was like a grandpa to her. She said, he did it one more time, and she ran out of that house so fast and never went back. Supposedly the next day she told me the story, and I told her, please promise me you will never go there alone anymore. I protected her, but I couldn’t even protect myself. What is wrong with me? I feel like I was the failure that could have prevented this nightmare. My hope of getting better, forgiving, having self worth, trusting others, and loving is gone. I feel lost. I don’t know how to get over this. You would think that after 16 years a person wouldn’t still be having issues with it, and she would have moved on. Instead I relive these thoughts almost daily. One little trigger and im in another world. I am screaming for someone to take my hand and show me my way out of this mess.

isolation again

I really don’t want to isolate, but I feel like that is what my mind is telling me to do. Deep down I want someone to reach out to me and tell me its gonna be ok. But in reality its not. I have tried for 20 yrs to make it right, and yet I continually go downhill. I just feel like nothing that is going to come out of my mouth is positive, so its best to just shut my mouth and isolate. I am shutting people out of my life, because its my way of keeping them from getting hurt, and yet its killing me. I want nothing more than for god to take me out of this world. Yes I want to be happy, but I guess I don’t know what happy is. It hurts so much to feel this way. I cant get out of the slump. Im just so sick of it day after day with no result except feeling more misery. I have no motivation whatsoever. I don’t want to get out of bed. Wouldn’t you stop trying if all you get is the same results for 20 yrs plus. I am hurt, I cant trust people, I have so much guilt, shame, bitterness, anger, and complete sadness that constantly run thru my head. I cant even live in this world, because my mind is in another. I feel like a broken record, so I might as well isolate. No one wants to truly know how I feel, because they hear it all the time. I want to be loved so much, and yet when it happens I push it away. I just put my walls up and block everyone. People just think its gonna get better. The truth is, it doesn’t. It just seems as if I am a little better because I have to fake my life of happiness, when truly I am dying inside.