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Abuse / Survival Stories > I Am a Survivor


I Am a Survivor
I Am a Survivor


I Am a Survivor- Born in NY to parents that would soon succumb to their illnesses. A young girl and boy unwanted by the immediate family would be tossed into the NYC system for foster care.
The family that took both my brother and me was made up of a husband, wife and three children.
I was about 7 the first time my stepfather touched me.
Don't think for a moment that everyday was a day for molestation - it was mixed into family life. Growing up with a loving mother and another sister and brothers.
My father wasn't always a molester, which is what made it even more difficult. My father was the pillar of the community; he was several years in a row the president of his synagogue. As a teenager, I wondered, : "Would anyone believe me?"
What the molester doesn't do, your own libido will take over. I hated myself. I hated what I allowed to continue to happen, I hated that I was so weak to allow it. I hated that I felt ugly, everywhere.
The molestation continued into my young adulthood, no one ever knew, except my father, and he wouldn't admit to being hurtful.

Why did I let it continue for my entire childhood? Why didn't I tell the social workers I saw weekly?
I loved my mother, God I loved my mother. A stay at home Mom, she took care of her children. I never told her.
At 11, she would send me off to help my father make dry cleaning deliveries, he made me do things in the dark cement floor, I could see the clothes hanging above me in those dry cleaning bags. This was the stuff nightmares are made up of.
At 18, I joined the air force as a way of getting away from my father. I remember seeing my mother crying through the back windows of the air force car. I didn't stay long in the air force - flat feet and tendenitis awarded me an honorable discharge.
I couldn't go home! I knew the abuse would continue. Here I go again, making decisions based on the abuse - here again I continue where my father left off. I lived with a guy, I didn't even like. I married him - because I didn't want to go home. My father hated the decisions I was making - but they all prevented me from being alone with him.
At 24, separated, with a 9 month old daughter, I went home to help my folks wrap us the house we grew up in and move to florida. At 25, he tried it again, I saw myself slipping into the abuse all over again. I oonce let my daughter go with him to the circus. God, the abuse was going to continue. No, I only let that happen once - thank God he didn't do anything to her.
I quit, I finally had the strength - it was all because of my daughter. I met a wonderful man, I still had and continue to have hangups, mostly regarding my sexuality.

God, I was still a mess.
My husband and I had two more children together, both girls. I continued to see my parents - but never saw my father alone. Until one day, my mother was diagnosed with inoperable cancer. She told me and my sister and asked us both not to tell anyone until after her 50th wedding anniversary party.
I wrote a poem to read aloud, God I couldn't stop crying. Everyone must have thought I was moved by their union together. But I had a secret - God I was going to be alone with him again. People would wonder if I didn't come around - here was this man that raised me and I didn't want anything to do with him. People would think I'm ungrateful.
One Saturday evening, my husband and brother were discussing my brother's wife. My brother and his wife were staying at my father's place. My father made a pass at my brother's wife!
Late that night, my husband waited up for me to come home from the late shift at work. He asked me something no one else had ever asked.
"Did your father ever touch you?"
I know I stared at him for what seemed like an eternity. The thoughts that went around in my mind. "How could anyone know?, what would they think of me?" It was back again!
I got help this time, my husband really loved me. With my husband beside me, I told my sister and brothers.
They didn't hate me, and they believed me. They never doubted me.

I cried for a year, I continue to heal everyday.
I studied many techniques - meditation, went into therapy. I'm so thankful for everyday - but I know deep inside there is still a little girl - she's still scared - but has a mom - me that is strong - I was honest with my daughters and we raised them to understand and know; not all perpetrators wear a mask that allows you to see what they trult are. They can be a family member, a neighbor or a school teacher.
Talking with my children helped me and continues to help me heal.
I am a professional woman.
I am a manager in business.
I am a survivor.

COMMENT:Well i think you ought to be very proud of yourself and i know talking about it is not very nice for but at least you know that youve got my support but Where is your dad now?




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