I was sexually abused as a child and I don’t remember it
“It’s ok my love. I know what they’re doing in your room at night. You can tell me.”
Through years I have heard so many different stories of sexual abuse, but I truly never heard one like mine. I was sexually abused multiple times by my two stepbrothers at the age of 5. I do not remember a single thing about it, yet it has been torturing me for years.
I am 22 now. I feel like it is time that I share my story. For me, but also for others who might be feeling alone in this.
I will always remember the day my mom came to get me early from school. I was really confused and didn’t know what was going on. She sat me down at the kitchen table and said with tears in her eyes “It’s ok my love. I know what they’re doing in your room at night. You can tell me.” I just sat there looking at her wondering what the hell she was talking about. I was 5 and the only thing a could really understand is that this thing that she was talking about was making her sadder than I had ever seen her before.
My mother met my stepfather, at the time, when I was 3 years old. With him came two new stepbrothers for me. We were a relatively happy family up until that point. We were living in a big house in which we all had our own room. I thought everything was fine. My mom looked happy. The boys were difficult at times but, I mean, they were teenagers. One day, when my stepbrothers were 15 and 17, my mom noticed that I started having issues with my private parts. She brought me to the doctors where she was warned that what I had was often seen on children who were being sexually abused. She couldn’t really believe it, but just to be safe, she decided to put a camera in my room.
After my mom found out, the days kind of all blended together. I was interrogated by so many people; police officers, social workers, doctors and psychologists. I was alone in a small room with people I didn’t know, asking me such private and rough questions for a 5 years old. I remember not knowing what had happened, but the less I was talking the more they were asking questions. I just invented a story to make them stop. They took my stepbrothers away and my parents started fighting more and more. I though it was all my fault. I though I had broke our family.
To this day, I still don’t know why I don’t remember anything. Was I sleeping? Was I so scared that my brain shut off to protect me? I still have no idea what they did to me and how many times. They will for ever have that part of me. Those memories that I don’t have. For years, I felt so guilty to be so incredibly impacted by something I can’t even remember. Some people had it so much worse than I did and they have images in their head to make it even harder to move on from.
I am trying my best to remind myself that my feelings are valid. There will always be people who experienced worse than you, but that does not mean your story is not worth your emotions. It shaped the person that you are today and will always be a part of you. Those parts deserve time and work to heal. Never let people make you feel like what happened to you is not important because it is, to you, and that is all that matters.
