July 5, 2016

Special of the Week only $20.00

I spent the summer after my graduation working at the theatre, occasionally seeing my best friend who was spending a lot of time in therapy for the sexual abuse she had endured, riding my bike and learning what my sister's true intentions were.

I found myself developing a stronger interest in boys.  Strangely I wasn't attracted to boys because I wanted to kiss or have sex.  I found my attraction to boys was more in terms of finding someone normal to spend time with.  When I thought about the intimate aspect of having a boyfriend, I felt fear instead of excitement and anticipation.

I began noticing a younger man that lived in our building.  He was a tall Native American who was very handsome.  There was something gentle about his demeanor that intrigued me.  I knew he was older than me, but I never connected that to being wrong.

I was surprised when I saw him hanging out with my sister and going to the neighborhood bar with her.  It was difficult to understand what he could see in her.

Grace was a pretty young woman, but it was her personality that I imagined would scare men.  I had to remind myself that she had a great talent for producing different personalities.  I felt angry that Grace could deceive someone who was probably a very down to earth and nice person.

Since my personality was so different from my mother and sister, I sometimes wondered if I was the one who was not normal.  I began to believe all women used manipulation to attract men, or produce different, sweeter personalities to get what they wanted.

If that was normal, then I was born without those traits and it would be difficult for me to find a man in the future.  Maybe that's why mother always told me no one would ever want or love me, because she saw that I didn't have the traits or personality to get a man.

When I met a few of Grace's boyfriends, I became convinced that the only men she attracted were strange like her.  They were men that didn't seem to have any ambitions beyond doing drugs or partying. 

I never once saw Grace with a boy or man that either studied toward a professional life or had a professional career.  All of her boyfriends were either high school dropouts or jobless.  It appeared that despite all of her talents at manipulation, she wasn't able to attract anyone who wanted anything out of life.

Grace herself was a high school dropout.  Instead of going to school she worked as a waitress at a neighborhood family style restaurant and later as a cocktail waitress at a neighborhood lounge where they had a live band on the weekends. 

Maybe because she was always spending all of her free time at bars, she wasn't exposed to meeting a normal good man.  She either wasn't interested in that kind of life, or felt she didn't deserve it.  Maybe she knew her manipulation skills would not work on a more intelligent and educated man.

I knew Grace had been molested by our father.  What I didn't know was how long the molestation went on for or to what extent she was molested.  It took a very long time for me to understand that Grace had been mentally and emotionally damaged by our father. 

The damage that was caused to Grace was worsened by our mother protecting our father from the law, and by staying with him.  Instead of seeking help for Grace, our mother appeased Grace by giving her whatever she wanted and letting her do whatever she wanted.  This only helped Grace to develop a sociopathic personality.

Grace's misconception that I had never been molested fueled her sociopathic need to get revenge that she had been molested and I had not.  The only way her damaged mind could get revenge was to have me molested or raped.  She herself tried to molest me but had failed.  Now that Peter was no longer at home, she would try a different method.

When I noticed that Grace and the Native American guy were spending a lot of time together, I came to the conclusion that they had become boyfriend and girlfriend.  The idea that he would be interested in my sister changed my original opinion of him being a gentle and good person.  I decided that he was another druggie or alcoholic who was only interested in partying and sex.

The fact that I had seen him watching me when I came home either from the beach or from visiting my best friend fueled my new opinion of him being a creep that I needed to steer clear of.

When he approached me late one night when I was coming home from my theatre job, I immediately suspected the worse.  Even though he asked in a gentle tone if he could talk to me, I felt defensive and told him, “no.”  When I tried to walk around him, he gently grabbed my arm to stop me and told me it was very important I listen to him.

I felt terrified as he gently held my arm to make sure I wouldn’t walk away.  I was so scared I couldn’t find my voice to scream or to even move.  As he began to speak, I learned my fear was misplaced.

It turned out my original opinion of him was right.  He was a good person with a gentle personality.  I was devastated and shocked when he told me that my sister had paid him twenty dollars to rape me.  She wanted it to happen as soon as possible either in the alley behind the apartment building where we lived or in his apartment.  When he expressed concern that I would go to the police, she assured him that she would make sure I would never tell anyone.

He warned me that my sister was crazy and that I needed to be very careful.  When I expressed concern that she would be angry with him for telling me, he told me of his plan. 

He would tell her that he couldn't go through with it and give my sister back the twenty dollars she had given him to rape me.  He promised me that he wouldn't let her know that he had warned me. 

When I started to cry, he held me for a few minutes, wiped my tears, gave me a kiss on the forehead and then went home, but not before reminding me to be careful of my sister.

I was in shock for days.  I couldn't believe my own sister would pay someone to cause me so much pain.  When I saw she was acting upset, I knew it was because her plans to have me raped had fallen through.  I also knew that she wasn't going to give up.  I began to worry that the next guy she paid to rape me wouldn't be so nice.

I became paranoid and suspicious of any man that approached me, thinking they were sent by my sister.  The interest I was developing in boys had died.  There was no way for me to know who would be working with my sister to hurt me. 

If my sister and mother could produce different personalities to charm and manipulate people, then there must be others who could do the same.  I had to stay alert, which meant my trust issues were deepening.

Everything was piling up emotionally and mentally.  I felt ugly, stupid and worthless.  I feared death, pain, evil spirits and men.  I felt abandoned and betrayed by my brother for moving out.  I could no longer turn to Peter because of fears that he would confront Grace which may cause more severe retribution. 

I was terrified of my mother and sister.  I had nowhere to go and no one to turn to.  I could not speak to anyone or mother would kill me.  I no longer knew how to cry or express myself because mother had turned me emotionally mute through her punishments.  My mind and spirit were slowly being destroyed until I would be an empty shell of a human being.

Little did I know that the constant onslaught on my emotional and mental state was slowly creating a deep anxiety disorder.  For a good deal of my life I would sum it up to my mother being a habitual worrier and I inherited that trait from her. 

In reality, I was in denial to how extensively I had been damaged mentally and emotionally from so many years of abuse.

I would enter life not only mentally and emotionally destroyed, but terrified not only of people in general, but particularly of men.

I was paranoid that everyone I met had an agenda to hurt me.  The slightest criticism from even a boss was enough to convince me that everyone wanted and enjoyed hurting me.

It would take many books and some very amazing, patient and positive people entering my life to help me name what was wrong with me.

I was a victim of abuse.

No comments :

Post a Comment