Do you remember your very first memory? That memory of long ago when you were just a baby, a toddler perhaps? How old were you, 2, maybe 3? I find it amazing how far back our memories can go.
My memories go back to when I was 2 years old, but the ones that are important begin when I was 3. My family stayed a night or two at the apartment of my dad's co-workers and his family in Oshawa to see if mom and dad liked the area; they were looking for a place to live in Oshawa because dad had found employment there at a car hauling company.
The very first night we stayed, the teenage daughter of our hosts molested me. I was 3, she was a teenager. She put her hands in places I had never felt before and made me touch her and fondle her in places I should not have known, at least until I became a young adult, and only if I had chosen that lifestyle. I had been robbed that night.
And the abused continued by her because we moved to that building and mom wound up babysitting her and h er brother after school. Every time we were together, at her home or at ours, it happened.
Not quite one year after she started to molest me, my mom took me to see my pediatrician because I had vaginal sores (go figure). The doctor looked at me and asked my mom if I was being sexually abused. They both looked at me, 4 years old, and asked me if I was being sexually abused! What does a 4-year-old know!? And because I couldn't answer them properly, nothing was done to stop it.
Another doctor visit was because I kept having spells where I just stared off into the distance or picked at my clothes. The doctor ran some tests and diagnosed me as having Petit-Mal Epilepsy. He put me on Chewable Dilantin as an attempt to control the seizures I was having. I never had a seizures like this nor was I diagnosed with Epilepsy until I had been molested.
And at 3, 4 and 5 years old, I didn't tell. She'd threaten me that if I told, my mom wouldn't love me or she'd spank me or she'd threaten to burn me with her fire baton. She had all kinds of threats. So nobody found out because I was too scared to tell. I was afraid of being more injured if I did.
And neither of our parents checked on us and this is what bothers me. I know I cried and fussed and my parents never came and checked on me and I WISH I knew why. They say other stuff was going on, but c'mon, when you little one is crying and fussing, don't you go and check on them regardless of what is happening? Children are supposed to be a priority. And even my pediatrician saw physical signs of trauma but nothing was done.
The abused lasted from ages 3-5, and only stopped because we finally moved away. I was relieved, even though I didn't understand it. I didn't see her for 2 years, and when I did see her I sobbed. I was absolutely terrified that the abuse was going to start all over again. Mom couldn't understand my reaction but she didn't understand what this 'person' had put me through. And I never told anybody until I was 15.
I don't know what happened when I was 15, but I suddenly went to my parents and told them what this gal had done to me. I didn't get the response I expected. I was hoping for comfort, to hear, "gee I'm sorry that happened," and things like that. Instead I heard, "Well, can you forgive her?" No empathy, no compassion. I responded that I guess I could, and I went back to my room and cried. I felt like I'd been told, "Who cares, yeah okay" etc.
So that's where it all started for me. A city called Oshawa, a female pedophile, and an introduction to things I should not have been introduced to for many years. If you read all this, God bless you. There are many more stories to come. I hope you join me on my journey to breaking the silence and Calming The Storm Within.
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