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We often find sufferers of abuse and harassment survivors to share their stories but its rare for them to come out in the open in their true identities. Think of doing this as a survivor of incest! This is a brave account of a young woman sharing her story.
This might break your heart while at the same time, give you immense courage and strength.
Re-blogged from Elaan.
Hi, I am so glad I can share my story with you all.
As a kid, ours was not a happy home to begin with. As a kid, my father subjected my brother to physical abuse, and we lived in this constant fear at our house. Then as we grew, for as far as I can remember, the ‘touching’ was always there. It used to happen when we used to visit my grandma’s place for summer vacation. My brother had made me touch his private parts on many occasions. It continued happening till I was in 3rd standard. Then it stopped. Looking back to it, I realize it was just because he did not want me to know what he had been doing was wrong. Though my brother stopped his gruesome act, I came to know it was just not him who did things like this. Many members of my family just couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. Always touching here and there.
I was in 4th or 5th I guess, when the first molestation happened. It was one of my aunts’ drivers. He had been with the family for a long time. So they trust him very much. I was studying alone in another room. He was a very friendly guy; everyone knew he was good with kids. He took me on his lap and started reading my book. He started stroking my cheek with his. Then he hugged me really tight with one hand and started stroking his hand in between my legs whilst reading aloud so that people outside think he’s teaching. I remember being scared and feeling helpless. He then tried opening my zip, but somehow i stopped him from doing that. Thank god, it ended when he was called when my aunt had to leave.
Forward a few years, the already hostile environment at home and then the added trauma took its toll on me. I indulged in self-mutilating behaviors like slitting my wrists, eating glass bulbs, drinking Dettol and such stuff. I don’t think I wanted to die, but I wanted the pain and hurt to go away. My grades were as good as zero, had frequent arguments with teachers, no friends and the usual disputes at home. I was referred to counseling, but the counselor instead of listening to me, just kept preaching about how I am supposed to listen and respect my parents and elders because they are elders, hence ALWAYS right. Yea, right. So there I was living my life with nil emotional support. This was the time when I developed a deep passion for psychology. I started reading books and different articles related to the subject. Psychology not only helped me survive but also helped me recover and be more comfortable with myself. It made me stronger in so many ways, on so many levels. I was still dealing with my issues, but self-mutilating and outbursts in the form of mood swings decreased drastically. So I was the happiest, till then…’
Forward a few years, i passed out from my school years, all excited we went to visit my grandma’s the usual routine for summers. Days passed and I was enjoying to the fullest. Then one day he came to take me to his house for lunch. He was my mom’s cousin. Everyone knew I was his favorite niece and he, my favorite uncle. So everyone was okay with it. Once lunch was over he said we could go to his room. I was okay with it. He also brought his brother’s daughters who were hardly toddlers. He started rubbing his hands all over me and then the molestation took place. I will let the details just be. On the way back, he made me drive his Activa scooter, and the whole way he shagged me from my back. On reaching home, I immediately changed my clothes and went straight up to the terrace. I called up my best friends who gave the needed emotional support as much as she could over the phone. I did also call my sister and told her everything, but her mother wanted her to run some errands and called her away. So I was sitting there in on the roof, weeping, then it struck me, that, I just CANNOT be quiet about it.
I called his wife told her everything. I don’t know how that turned out for them. Then when my sister was free, I told her let’s tell everyone about him. One by one, we told every female elder in our family about it. Especially the one’s who had daughters. At the end of summer vacation, ended that episode.
Moved on from it, somewhere the midst of my college studies the worst attack on my trust took place. My own brother sexually abused me. But this time I was more prepared. I did go numb, but a few minutes into it I gathered the courage and said, “GO”. There was no physical damage. But the shattering of my trust was irreversible. Days and months passed, things settled down… then a few days ago I noticed his hands going here and there too much.
So here I am again, I keep all sorts of things near me that I could use as weapons including an iron rod under my pillow. I know it is not an ideal situation but refuse to stop living my life.
I know I am strong. So are you people. I know the first no is very difficult. But that is the answer to all tragedies. Friends, say no to all negativities, you are far beyond your perpetrators, and far stronger than them. Hang in there. Fight it out. You WILL get it out of it. You WILL make yourself proud. Others who cannot understand you don’t matter. Forget about them. Concentrate on yourself; don’t let anything deteriorate your health.
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