" I guess this story has to be told sooner or later- it's just not easy for me. I've tried to start to tell this story of my childhood abuse before; but failed to go back to finish the story I started. It is very hard to go back and relive the whole experience, but I will try. Just know that I may get long winded once I start. WARNING: for those of you that cannot read in detail of the graphic's of this nature of abuse, please do not read this story... This story will be very raw and hard to read, read at your own risk of how it will affect you. I will not be responsible for nightmares or how it will affect you personally. That being said, if you think you can take it, read on...
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" My Story: Abuse, and Healing..."

My abuse started when I was born, physically and verbally...it then went on to sexual abuse. This is what I will tell you about in this story. I do not remember much before the age of five years old; so I will start there.

I lived in a house of physical and sexual abuse. I am not the only one who suffered from this kind of abuse; everyone in the family in my home suffered from this kind of abuse.
Momma's beatings were nothing compared to daddy's beatings and sexual abuse.

When I reached the age of five, daddy started taking me to work with him on occasion. He worked at a gas station at that time. It was at this gas station where it happened the first time, in the storage room. It was when business slowed down, that is when it would happen. I remember... I would start crying every time he would tell me to go to the storage room. He would say..." Go to the storage room and get some toilet paper for the bathrooms"...( an excuse...) I would cry all the way to the storage room; he would be right behind me, telling me to..." Stop that damn crying or I'll give ya something to cry about! Now shut the hell up! Right now!!! I told you that this is the way daddy's show their love for their kids...we have to do it this way; so momma or no one else knows that I Love You the most. Those people that don't have kids of their own, don't know that daddy's show their love to their kids this way. Those people would put daddy in a bad place... you don't want daddy to go to a bad place do ya? You're daddy's favorite. You can't tell though cause your momma, brother and sister will be jealous of daddy loving you more than them. If they knew they would Hate You and be mad and would want me to give you away to another family... you don't want that do you? So you can't ever tell ' baby girl ' . I would have to go and get you another momma. You want a new momma?" "No sir, (crying) I don't want a new momma, Please daddy, don't love me more...( crying hard, sobbing uncontrollably)"
" Hush now... daddy needs to love you a little so I can get back to work before another customer comes in. Now pull down your panties, let daddy see... touch me now... mmmm good, now daddy needs to touch you, feels good don't it?" ( I'm crying silently now, if I cry out loud and make a sound with the crying, he'll beat me) " Now, open your legs and let daddy feel you inside too... you love daddy don't you? Come on, stop crying, daddy's just going to use his finger. When you get a little older daddy will love you better, I'll put me inside of you. Now open them legs... aahhhh, feels good don't it? Yeah, that's good..." ( he's playing with his-self, crying harder, it hurt, burns, stings, he's doing it so hard he's making me bleed bad- he doesn't even see it...I close my eyes and try to go off into my own world where I got a good family or living in a castle way up high where no one can reach me or get to me...) there's a ding, a customer comes into the gas station and pulls up to the gas pump. Daddy has to stop, he's cussing his head off, puts his "thing" back into his pants and zips them up. I'm so grateful for the customer...in my mind I'm thanking that customer. Daddy tells me..." don't come out right away, it wouldn't look good...( confused) for business. Pull up your panties, straighten your cloths and damnit! Dry those eyes and quit crying. Then you can come out and go straight to the office you hear? Don't look or speak to anybody. And if you tell anybody even your momma I'll know... I'll kill you All! Now hurry up, daddy's gonna get of work soon."

He leaves the storage room, leaving me on a stack of motor oil boxes, confused, hurting, bleeding, and wondering how I'm going to get down.
Crying harder now that he is gone the whole time I'm getting dressed again... I know I need to stop crying cause daddy just might get so mad at me he might kill me while I'm there at work with him and just go home and tell momma I was bad and he gave me to a new momma. I'm thinking..." my sister and brother are lucky that they can go to school. Wishing I was old enough to go to school too." It hurt to walk, even though this time it didn't last long as it would later. It hurt even worse to try to sit down. I wasn't allowed to show pain in front of anyone even momma. If I did, it would be a lot harder and worse next time ' and ' he would beat me too. I learned early not to show pain with anything that hurt, no matter what it was.

This is where I'll end this part of the story and just say... I was sexually, physically, verbally, and mentally abused by Daddy, momma, sister, brother, and cousin. I was verbally and physically abused by many. The verbal and mental abuse still continues. It's only been ten years since the other abuse has stopped. It is still too fresh in my memory, with a lot of nightmares and really just too hard to talk about. This is a first for me. I haven't opened my mouth about this since it started until now. Ten years isn't long enough to deal with this and put it into the back of my mind completely. Mentally, I'm a wreck because of it and I trust no one. The mental and verbal abuse continued/continues from my brother and child.
When will it ever stop? Will it stop for me? I thought if I tried very hard to be the best person that I could possibly be, be very good to others, that God would forgive me for whatever it was I did wrong to cause this to keep happening, and make it stop for me. Doesn't look like that I will ever be good enough for that to happen.

Yes, suicide was a fantasy of mine for many years, I actually even tried it once with pills, but I didn't know what I was doing... so it didn't work, it just made me get my stomach pumped. Later as I got older, I decided that, I have fought to stay alive with all of these diseases; just to try to find a better life and one day happiness. So I started thinking another way. To kill myself would be a cowards way out and I have never been a quitter or coward. It takes guts to live in this sorry world. So I'm still here fighting to stay alive with God's help. I also realized that God must have a reason for me to be alive or I would have been dead long ago. Do NOT feel sorry for me. I have read many books and learned that there are others that have had a worse life than I would ever have. Those people I admire and look up to, The most important..." Jesus ". Because of their strength, I go on. I am as happy as much as I'm allowed to be and that is good enough for me.
I used to fantasize about winning a large amount of money so that I could move to Ireland, ( momma's mother's people was from there) and live a happy life where no one knew me. Then I just used to wish I had the money to move to a different state; anywhere, but that will never be. Please do not think bad of me if I'm missing for a few days sometimes, that is the days that I just do not want to get out of bed to face the world. This passes and I come back to my home and safe haven to WDC. Sometimes it helps drive the blues away to come back here, sometimes it doesn't; but I always feel better when I can come on here and just write. When I write I am in my safety zone and no one can harm or bother me. I am off in my own little world of words. That door stays closed (mind) to everyone, thus, my safety zone.
There have been a few, that I have left that door unlocked and standing ajar; for them to come in and peek around. These few are the reason I am experiencing real happiness for the first time, and the reason I love WDC and all it has to offer. These few are responsible for me writing about myself and my abuse. If not for them I would have been writing about flowers, nature, with no feeling. To know of and feel "real" love from friendship or any other way is a precious gift. It is to be cherished and taken care of. I thank the giver and I thank you for the "gift". This is my "real" story of Abuse starting as a child. Always, forever your friend.

Written by: Cissy C.R.W.
5/31-6/01/08

Word count: 1735