Growing Up Pt 2

I would say that it was up until the age of 13, I felt that I had a deep connection with my family, until the day my mother decided to tell me that the man I thought to be my biological father wasn’t really my father. To this day I still don’t know who my father is! ( YAY DADDY ISSUES!! ) But let me be transparent for a moment because it’s about to get deep...After my mother told me that bit of info life became extremely different for me. My eyes became WIDE OPEN. This man whom I thought to be my dad had been doing things to me that were inappropriate for a very long time. He was GROOMING ME IN A WAY. It all came to light. I started to feel extremely uncomfortable with the way he would smack my behind. I didn’t like the way he looked at me or how possessive he was over me. He would whoop me and then turn around and lay me across his lap. He would then proceed to pull my pants down and caress my behind “looking for scars or welts.” When he didn’t find any marks in the most bizarre and condescending yet soft voice he would say to me, “well I guess I have to hit you a little harder next time huh.” Things didn’t start to get bad bad until I started to get a little older and way more developed. He would call me “bubble butt” and smack my behind. I never told my mom I felt uncomfortable though. I can remember a time when my mother and sister moved upstairs together ( we owned a 2 family house ) and left me downstairs living with this man alone. I remember getting ready for school in the morning and him calling me into his bedroom and making me lay down with him. I remember him pressing me into him and him rubbing on my shoulders and my feet and telling me not to tell my mom or anyone. I didn’t know what to do. I was scared and never been In that type of situation before. I remember shortly after that moving to Florida and experiencing even more trauma from this man. He became so possessive to the point where he wouldn’t let me date any other men because he “didn’t want me to lose my virginity” because when I turned 18 it was supposed to be his. I can remember him approaching me from behind when I’d be playing on the computer. He would come up from behind and try to massage and rub my shoulders. He would ask me to kiss him and when I’d say no he’d mock me like he was some 13 year old teenager. It was horrible, terrifying and I felt helpless honestly. It wasn’t until I was at school one day when things took a turn for the worse. I remember being in one of my classes and staying behind after. I remember just having a casual conversation with my teacher about how uncomfortable I felt In my home environment and what was going on. I remember I told her everything not knowing the magnitude of what was about to happen. I had no knowledge of what happens or is supposed to happen once you tell someone of authority about things like that going on in your household. The next thing I remember is going to class and being pulled out by another teacher. I was told that there was an officer in the office that was waiting to talk with me. I was asked to repeat back what was going on in my house. I was then told not to be alarmed but that there would be some people waiting at my house to speak to me when I got home (social workers). I then remember vividly what followed that. I remember getting on the school bus, and my sister yelling at me saying, “ how could you do this to us, now they’re going to put us back in foster care, and put us back up for adoption.” She also said “why would you say anything, why did you have to open up your mouth?” I guess they had went to to my sisters school and pulled her out of class too I guess to see if anything had been happening to her as well. I remember the bus pulling up to my house and me getting off and as they said the social workers were already there and walking all around my house. I let them in but at the time my sisters dad wasn’t even home yet. They questioned me and asked me what was going on and what I had told my teacher earlier on that day at school. I told them them EVERYTHING. As I was finishing up my story he walks in the house asking what’s going on. I remember the social workers putting my sister and I in my room and telling us to wait until they were done talking with him. After they got done speaking with him they came and got us out of the room and sat me down, only to tell me that he denied everything and that what I was going through was a lack of establishing boundaries, boundary issues. They told me I “NEEDED TO ESTABLISH FUCKING BOUNDARIES”. And then they left.....right then and there I knew the system was not built for me or to protect me. Because it was in that moment that I knew the system HAD FAILED ME! After the social workers left all hell broke loose. He was screaming and he was angry saying I can’t believe you brought the police to my house. He made my sister and I pack up all of our stuff and told us to call our pastor because we needed to get the F out. So I called my pastor and he came and picked us up, he told us to pack all we could in one suitcase because that’s all we would be able to take on the plane with us. I guess he already knew what was going on because my sisters dad had already called and spun the story in his own light to make himself seem like he was the victim and that I was to blame. Long story short, my pastor ended up picking us up, we stayed at his house for about a week until he got a hold of my mom down in ohio. my mom booked my sister and I flights back to Ohio and that was the first time her and I had ever been on a plane by ourself. I don’t know what was scarier getting away from an abusive and manipulative man or being on a plane for the first time by ourselves. Or the thought that nobody back at home would believe my sister and I.