Skip to main content

My Body Mythology- The First Offense

 *Sexual Abuse Trigger Warning*

I was sexually abused by my oldest step-brother when I was 4 and he was 16. 

(I'll call him OSB, as in future writings my other step-brother may be mentioned, and I want to differentiate between the two.)

It was my first experience dealing with not being respected as a human being that I can recall from memory. My lack of consent was ignored, and fear was planted in my young mind.

The abuse happened on two separate occasions, and I remember it one way, but my mom says it had to have happened the opposite way. To this day I'm not sure of which order anymore, but I will tell it how I recall it.

In my mind, the first time happened outside in the storm cellar out at the homestead. I used to enjoy going into the storm cellar as it was so neat to my young self. After the incident, I never wanted to set foot in there again.

I believe the three of us (OSB, SB, and I were playing outside.) OSB told me to follow him into the storm cellar, I don't recall if he said something like "I want to show you something." All I know is that at the age of 4, I wanted my step-brothers to like me, but all I was to them was an annoying little girl who shouldn't be around. So I can recall having an uncomfortable and nervous feeling in my gut, as I have had that feeling surrounding both of them pretty much ever since I've known them.

In the storm cellar, he pulled his pants down and requested that I lick his dick. I had never seen a dick before, so this was a shock to my 4-year-old self in that regard, plus being told to lick it...it seemed so very wrong. I did NOT want to lick his dick and told him so.

Then came the threats of "I won't let you out of here until you do.
The storm cellar was a dark, cement structure built into the side of a dirt mound, its intention is to be a place to go if a tornado were to come and you didn't have a basement to shelter in. There is no light, except for what is peeking through the boards that make up the door. It's scary to me now, and I wanted to get out.

Even tho I didn't want to, I licked his dick. It was quick. I felt uncomfortable. I felt like I had done something wrong. I wanted to get out. I wanted to get away from this person that made me do what I had just done.

He told me to not tell anyone. "Don't tell your mom, she'll be mad at YOU." "You'll be in TROUBLE."

How dare he say my mom would be mad at me! Yet at 4, I seriously thought he was right. It didn't matter that I had said no and was basically forced to do something because how could a 4-year-old overpower a 16-year-old young man? As I write this, I feel anger and sadness.

I went inside the house via the basement door. Which indicated to my mom that something was wrong because I was afraid of the basement. She recalls that I walked up the basement steps and into the kitchen with little to no emotion. 

The second time my "No" was stolen from me and ignored was when I was down in the family room watching t.v.
I believe my mom was upstairs in the den, which would be angled as such if you moved a chair far enough back you could see me watching t.v.

OSB was either downstairs already or had come downstairs. 
He had me go into the downstairs bathroom with him. I can't recall if it was under the guise of "I want to show you something" or if he simply said "Come with me" or whatever.

He instructed me to pull my pants/shorts and underwear down, and to lie down on the floor.
I did not want to, but again, I was told that I wouldn't be let out if I didn't comply. 
I'm not sure if he said something like "It will feel good."

He licked my pussy.
I was lying on the floor, cement covered with a paper-thin carpet. Listening to the overhead fan. Uncomfortable. I think I shut part of my brain off...the only way I could activate my "flight" response was to turn part of my brain off. He didn't do it very long, and after he was done, he reminded me not to tell because I'd get into big trouble.

I was 4. 4 fucking years old.

See, both situations were brought on by his being hurt that his and SB's mom left them to live with their dad. She literally up and left one day, to barely be heard from again except occasional phone calls on their birthdays or whatever. My mom and I had moved in probably not too long after she left, or it was soon enough that they were offended and hurt. They didn't like my mom. She wanted to change things, like hold them accountable for their actions aka if you do something wrong, you get in trouble. She wanted a clean house instead of letting things pile up. She was the embodiment of change and moving on, and the boys didn't like that. So I was the literal scapegoat. OSB thought if he did something so horrible, that my mom would take me and run.

It didn't happen. We stayed. My mom felt like she was the only one to take the whole thing seriously. It felt like everyone else played it off like he was young/dumb and a hurt teenage boy who wasn't in his right mind. I'm not sure if folks thought I was young enough that I'd simply grow out of my memories and forget. I didn't. Hell no. OSB's actions toward me changed my way of thinking for as long as I could remember. 

I have since accepted what happened and have given myself love and care. I've gone back and forth between being told I should forgive him for his actions because that's what you're supposed to do. I've come to the conclusion now that I do not feel forgiveness is the appropriate method for my healing. I feel if I forgive, I'm not holding him accountable for his actions. It's more important that I forgive the 4-year-old girl who had innocence stripped from her. To forgive her for being afraid and believing someone she thought she could trust.  That child needs a lot of love because those two situations took so much from her, and I believe made her feel like she has had to hide part of herself for so long.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Finding Acceptance and Inspiration

If you had told me 10 years ago that some women liked porn...I don't think I would have believed it. It seemed like such a "man" thing. It seemed so out of line with what I thought women would like...what I would like... What did I like? In my younger years, after we had a satellite dish installed, I discovered the Playboy channel. I watched shows on it a few times, one being Sex Court, which I found entertaining and the other was a talk show ( can't recall the name. ) I remember feeling curious yet totally worried about being " caught "...there was shame associated. Even though, it was the most actual sex education I ever had. Now, this may come as a shock in one way or another to you, but... I like porn. It's a profound, " holy crap " sort of realization that is completely liberating. For a long time, I blamed porn for part of why my relationship with my ex-husband was not great in some areas. What I didn't realize at the time, it wasn&#

Buzzfeed Air Vibe Review- Two Thumbs Down

It's been a while since I've written a sex toy review, and I'm here today to write a review on a vibe that absolutely...completely...sucked. In a bad way. I'd prefer to simply not write a negative review, but after looking online I felt I had to so. more folks could read that this toy may not be all that it's cracked up to be. I found a Reddit thread that said BB Boutique aka Bellesa possibly only published and/or made glowing product reviews viewable and did not publish any review that was negative. To be honest, I was excited and purchased the Bellesa x Buzzfeed Air Vibe BECAUSE it sounded flipping amazing. Boy...was I going to be proven wrong. The Air Vibe is a combination clitoral sucking/g-spot vibrator that is bendable to fit a wider variety of bodies. Unfortunately, I'm built in such a way that I absolutely could not get it to cooperate with me. With the g-spot portion inserted, I was hard-pressed to get the clitoral sucking part to line up with me in a

My Body Mythology- The Second Offense

I remember one evening at 10 years old, I went to the bathroom and noticed something on my underwear. A mysterious dark spot. I freaked out. I thought something was wrong with me. I told my mom. She said that I might be starting my period and to put a pad on.  If I woke up with something on it, I was having my first period. GREAT. Womanhood starting at 10. It's not like I wasn't already embarrassed that by the time I was in 4th grade my breasts were developing. I was already seen as weird. Now I had my period at 10, right before starting 5th grade. I woke up the next morning with blood on the pad. I was so very, very sad. My mom printed out information for me so I could learn about my period and what it meant. It was very straightforward. There wasn't specialness to it or any sort of celebration- it was all matter of fact, and thanks to the internet, the conversation was very simple. I remember giving a note to the teacher, letting her know that I might have to go to the nu