Well, I talk about my abuse so much I haven't found the need to post it. I guess I will post it now so I can write it once and not have to keep writing it over and over again. Forgive me for approaching this lightly,but that is how I have been dealing with it for yrs.
Well, my eariliest memory is of being punished. I was about 3 or 4 in Chicago, and remember getting spanked even then. I remember walking to the KH when it was very cold--snow and stuff on the ground.
Next, I remember driving to TX. My family moved in to my grandparents house untill we found a place of our own. My uncle Keith was in charge of babysitting me and my younger sister Charice (she is 2yrs younger). I know this happened more than once, but this particular day I remember as if it was yesterday--I never forgot it.
I was 4 and my uncle had taken my sister and I outside to play. My uncle would lay me on my stomach in frount of him and he would molest me, yes in frount of my sister. I don't know if she ever looked, she was only 2 so I don't think she remembers if she did or not. Anyways, he would refer to this as tickling. I was very ticklish as a child and I wondered why it didn't tickle, but it did feel "funny". My father came home early that day, or my uncle lost track of time, no sure which. Well, my father walked outside and caught him molesting me. My uncle was startled and pulled his hands away from my shorts. I remember my father's face was beet red. He yelled at ME and told me to go inside. I don't know what was said outside, but the next thing I know I am in the back bedroom (my parents room) with my grandparents and parents all standing over me. I was scared and thought I had done something terribly wrong. Then my father in a harsh tone asked me to point and show everyone where Keith was touching me. I remember to this day the feeling of humiliation that came with that command. I didn't want to do it, but you never told my father no. So, I looked down, spread my legs, and pointed. My father looked at my grandfather (he was the PO in the cong) and they both left the room abruptly. My mother gasped and put her hand over her mouth when I pointed. The next thing I know I am being excorted to the bathroom we were not aloud to go into (my grandparents bathroom). I still remember my grandmother's panty hose hanging on a line across the top of the tub. I was then scrubbed sooooooooo hard it hurt, like I had something on me that wouldn't come off. I thought this was odd cause it wasn't my bath time and my sister always bathed with me.
I don't know how much time passed, but I remember my father coming to me and telling me Keith's microphone priv was taken away, and he was no longer aloud to be alone with me or my sister anymore. I said ok and didn't understand why.
Over the years, I always had a funny feeling around my uncle. I would have flashbacks or nightmares and was told it was in the past, so leave it there--or it was an attempt on my part to get extra attention.
I was beaten ALL the time by my parents, mainly my father. Even over things as small as not brushing my teeth within 5min of being told to. I had been biting my fingernails around the time I was molested, and contiued to as I got older (still do). My father had this "great idea" to stop my sister and I from bitting our nails. He announced that every Friday he would check our nails for growth, and if he saw none than he would give us 5 licks with the leather belt. Every week he saw no growth it would increase 5 more. So, it went like this--one wk 5, next wk 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, 36 was my final week. By this time he was pissed off it hadn't worked. Oh, forgot to mention I was 14 at the time and this was done with our pants and underwear off or down. I was FULLY developed by this point. Very humiliating.
The pressure was on to get baptized and like I said before you never said no to my father. So, I took the test--passed and was to be baptized at the circut assembly. The more I thought about it the more I was looking forward to it. I could be baptized and get myself disfellowshiped!!! I found a way out!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I went into the water with every intention of getting disfellowshiped. I was miserable. Well, since my father was an elder and reg pioneer, anytime he couldn't control me I was before a judical committee. I must have been to about 9 of them before I was 15. It only took me 9 months to get my chance at being disfellowshiped. My mother walked in my room, without knocking (I was 15 at this point) and saw a hickey on my chest. I swore up and down it was a "bruise". Well, they didn't believe me, and I wouldn't budge on this in frount of the elders. I didn't cry or show any remorse---why? I wasn't sorry. The district convention was only days away, so they decided to wait for the decision after the convention. I already knew what the judgement was, I had been to enough of these meetings to tell. So, while at the district convention I went around telling everyone good-bye. When asked why I told them I would be df'd after the convention. Most thought I was kidding---well, now they no I wasn't.
When I was given the judgement, I didn't cry or anything, I just said ok. Then when I left the room it all hit me!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I had just lost everyone and everything I ever knew!!!!!!!! Then I cried, alot. I demanded to be at the Kingdom Hall for my announcement. My mother and I recently talked about that night, and she said I held my head high the whole time--I dont remember that, but I didnt feel bad that night.
After my announcement, my father sat down with me one night and told me I was still his daughter and he still loved me no matter what. He told me I didn't have to go to the meetings if I didn't want to. Well, that proved to be a big fat lie, I was forced to go to everyone of them, and had to sit there in silence as they chit chatted with everyone after the meeting. I had gone to that cong since I was 4, and they would just walk by me and look down on me---which just pissed me off more.
My parents pulled me out of school, before it even started. I was to start high school that yr. They had already made me fail my 8th grade yr for pulling the same shit. So a friend of mine--he would walk 2miles to my house in the middle of the night to let me talk. I had noone to talk to. We had nothing romantic going on, he was just there for me, and he knew my family was screwed up. Well, one night he was caught in the backyard and my parents thought the worst. The next day, my father asked me about it, and from the look on his face I knew I was in for it. My father asked me if I loved the guy. I said yes, he was the only one who had shown me any kind of kindness in months. I wasn't "in love" with him, but I did love him. My father didnt listen to the explaination, the only thing he let me get out was "yes I love him". The next thing I know, my father called me a bitch and threw me on my bed, crawled on top of my pelvic bone (stattling me). He raised his fist and I dont remember the ? now, but he didnt like the answer. This was the first time in my life I had been punched in the face. I was 15 and about 98lbs, and 4ft 11in. My father was 200lbs, and 5ft 10in. I don't know how long he beat me, but my sister opened the door and saw what was going on. She yelled at him to stop, my mom was out somewhere, not sure where. My sister went to the phone and dialed ---9-1- and my mom walked in the house. My sister told her what was going on and my mom came in my room. By this point I was conviced my father was going to kill me, I had wet my pants by this time. My mom and dad had a few words and then my mom jumped on top of me and started hitting me too. She is about my size so she was having a hard time staying on top of me, so my dad held me down. My mother dragged me off of my bed and on to the wood floor, and kept dragging me around on the floor. I finally backed myself into a corner and they kept hitting me. My sister drapped herself over me and they stopped. I now had my first concussion.
This is already so long so I will only summerize the rest. I ran away multiple times winding up in foster care for 8months. Returned home for about 3 months--age 16 then. Left home again never to return at age 16. Married and pregnant at 17, gave birth at 18, son at 2 days old almost died, he is ok now, divorced at 20, started stripping at 20, on drugs and alcohol really bad at 21, off drugs and out of stripping by age 26--which is where I am now.
I will write more later, but this is just a little insite on me. Thank you for reading this if you made it this far.
Jesika