Abuse of an abused child29381x 21. 01. 2015 1 Reader
When I was ten, I became a woman from a child. Dad noticed it and properly appreciated: he started to touch me, masturbate, made me oral sex, forced me to reach him. It was repeated about eleven before the sister was born. I loved it, but at the same time I felt guilty: for dad belongs to my mom and I cheat her? I felt like a lover who broke family happiness. At the same time, I was saying that without my father I would never have sexuality she did not come, it's actually good that it's me showed, I thought I should know about ten at ten. At that time I did not think that it was bad or that it was not, on the contrary, I thought our family was a model. Of course I did not tell anyone. When I got worse at school and started having neurotic tics, my parents sent me to the doctor to get me rectified. Together with my doctor motivated, to control my urge to suck in uncontrollably that for every day when she does not see me, I think I will get a crown. And the Doctor has changed, supposedly when it lasts for a whole month, I can have thirty crowns! At the time I was saying, surely when it is normal, nobody will give me anything. I started trying to control myself on strength. To some extent, it worked.
At twenty, I was promiscuous. I changed my boys for one night. I thought they would not like me if I did not. I also liked to have power over them. Meanwhile, I've been raped three times - but I thought I could do it myself. I did not tell anyone. I did not go out with these guys anywhere.
At thirty, I met my husband. Sexuality has turned over the past ten years: now I do not say much about change. Our relationship suffers from this.
Five years ago, I decided to break my silence and wrote my father a letter. I told the whole family what happened about a quarter century ago in our family and how it hurt me. Dad feels that what he did was for my good, and that he could not hurt me. Mom does not want to hear anything again, my brother has enough of his worries. A nurse showed her only interest, but she could hardly believe it. At least it was avoided.
Two years ago, I gave my daughter a caesarean section. From the behavior of some staff in the maternity hospital, I felt abused once more, crying for the entire puerperium.
Soon I'll be forty. It's been thirty years since those events, but I'm still scared. About our daughter, what if I leave her alone with my grandfather will not hurt her? Do I harm her, inadvertently, because it is known that the victims of abuse also abuse it? I have frontier problems, psychosomatic illness, and what else I can not even describe, but what negatively affects my present life. I say that such an old affair can no longer influence me. The opposite, however, is true, and I make the decision that I will finally be fine.
I go for the first time at a meeting of a self-help group for victims of rape and child abuse abuse. For the first time, I can talk to someone who has experienced the same thing I do. I feel there among my own. It's a start, and I hope it will have a follow-up and a happy ending. Meanwhile, I hold my fingers.