Warning, may be triggering
It’s hard to talk about the past. Even more so to post it on the internet for the world to read. The only source of bravery I have is to hide behind the anonymity of the internet. I don’t share this blog with people who know me. There is still the huge stigma that is part of having been sexually abused even though I was only five years old the first time it happened. There is also the stigma of having mental health issues even though there are so many people that struggle with them.
I was around five, the truth is I’m not sure exactly how old I was, when I was first molested. The memory is small and I do worry that there is more that I don’t remember than that I do remember. He was babysitting my brother and me. In my memories for a long time I thought of him as a full grown man but in retrospect I’ve realized that he was probably just a teenager. I’m not sure where my brother was, our house wasn’t that big, while Mark was in my room with me. He was laying on my bed and he had his jeans unzipped. He had pulled his penis out of his pants and he had an erection. He was holding my hand and placing it on his erection using his own hand to cause mine to stroke him. I remember telling him that I wanted to stop, that I didn’t like it. He kept saying, “Come on, it will be fun.” I was so unhappy and so uncomfortable. I knew it was wrong that I was touching him but he kept that hold on my hand. I can picture my small hand on his penis. It’s a very powerful image. His erection looked so large compared to my little hand. It’s weird that image is stuck in my head. I don’t have any other memories of my own hands when I was small.
My memory ends there. I don’t know if anything else happened or even if it happened more than once. That does worry me. I didn’t tell anyone, I felt like I had done something wrong and thought I would be punished. I also felt very ashamed.
I don’t even remember if he ever babysat for us again. It’s like my mind decided that it didn’t want more information.