Rachel Grace (invisiblepast) wrote,
Rachel Grace

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A Little About Me

Here's just a little about me.

I had a pretty good life up until about the time I turned seven.

When I was seven, in the first grade, I was sexually abused by somebody I thought was my friend. Things went downhill from there socially for me. I began to touch myself - at only seven years old. I know I did not do that before. Of the actual abuse, I really don't remember much. I remember my abuser making me undress and lie on my bed, while they performed sex acts upon me. That's all I remember about my first grade year, apart from one memory of my last day in first grade. After that, I went to a different school. I thought things would get better, and they did for a time. I ended up skipping second grade, so now instead of being one of the oldest, I was now one of the youngest in my grade. I was still smarter than the normal kid, so I was teased quite a lot. I didn't really mind all that much, though. At least I was nowhere near my past abuser. Then, in fourth grade, another "friend" walked - or rather, fell - into my life. This person was extremely tall to me - 5' 8" at least (and ended up growing to be over 6'). The person also had a really aggressive personality, while I was still extremely shy and self-conscious from my past abuse. I was taken advantage of, again. For three more years, I was sexually abused. My abuse in first grade barely holds a candle to the abuse this time. Most of my memories are blocked out, but the ones I do remember involved "pleasuring" me with household appliances. There is one brief snapshot I have of me naked and my abuser doing something with foil and toothpaste. Another brief snapshot I have was of seeing my abuser naked, and making me get naked too. Those are the only things I remember about grades 4-6.

(You will notice I used "they" a lot, that is because even though I hate the abusers, I somehow feel the need to protect them. You may not really understand that, but I think for me, in a way, I'm protecting myself as well - or at least, that's how it feels)

I started 7th grade at a new school, and for the first time ever, found a wonderful group of friends that I would trust with my life. Things were pretty normal for me, except that I would freak out whenever anybody came up behind me, I couldn't stand being in a completely silent place, I needed to know where everybody was at every moment, and I was extremely uncomfortable with getting hugs or anything from my parents (I think because I had the mentality that they didn't protect me when they said they always would... yet how would they know if I never told them? Another guilt trip...). I didn't know why any of these things were happening.

The first time I thought something might be wrong was when I was asked to do a project on my life, and I couldn't remember anything from first to sixth grade. I had to make up a whole bunch of stuff. It was only at the beginning of the ninth grade that some of my supressed memories came to light. I had always wondered why I had been extremely uncomfortable around one person in our group. I knew that the person looked a lot like one of my old "friends", but I didn't think anything of it. In ninth grade, I found out that one of my friends had been molested as a child. She didn't make a big deal of it, so I didn't really think much of it. That night when I got home, I was writing about it in my journal, and I had a sudden flash of first grade, and what had happened. It scared me so much. I began to look through all of my old journals I kept, and found the one I had used from fourth to sixth grade, talking about the person who had abused me then. It didn't go into detail at all, but in it I still found out that I was really uncomfortable around a certain person. One of the entries just said "______ hurt me again today. I'm scared." I then saw those two snapshots in my mind's eye. I had an answer to why I was so uncomfortable around that one person in our group - the person looked quite a lot like my abuser.

When I was twelve, I volunteered at a Cub Scout camp. Usually they do not let girls help out, but they let me because my brother needed a personal aide (he has learning disabilities), and obviously I knew him best. I became an "Honorary" Den Chief (girls cannot be a den chief), and worked with one other chief in the den. He was the nicest guy I had ever met, and I must admit I was falling for him. I should have had alarm bells go off -- I had met him before, and he hadn't been all that nice. I just figured that he had "changed" (oh, how very wrong I was). We both went our separate ways after that camp. A few months later (I was now 13), at a Christmas party for one of the Cub Scout families, I met him again. Gone was the niceness. He kept trying to hurt the girls I was looking after. As a result, I sent all the girls inside and asked to talk to him alone. I'm glad I sent them inside. When I went to talk to him, he started beating me (he actually dented my bone...my doctor doesn't know and was rather confused for a while...). Then some of his friends came and started touching me inappropriately. It was this chaotic mess of screaming and yelling. What he didn't know was that I had been sexually abused when I was younger, and was loath to let it happen again. He just happened to present a target, and I kicked him "where the sun don't shine". I got away.

I'm in the ninth grade now. I'm still trying to heal, but it's so hard. I know the emotional scarring will never heal for me. I just want to live each day as if it never happened. Nobody knows I was abused, save my abusers and me. I am finally getting some of that out here. Nobody who knows me has any idea that I have this account as well as my normal one. I'm going to just continue to let them think that my past was normal. I'm just not ready to tell anybody yet. I still have not figured out why I'm here on this earth. So many times I feel as if my mind is separated from my body or something (I know that probably sounds strange). It's been getting harder and harder for me to live my life. So many times I just want my life to end, but somehow, I just manage to look up out of the pit I'm in, and see that as long as I am at the bottom, there is nowhere to go but up.

-Rachel Grace

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