Ok so I need to tell my story. I will tell as much as I manage tonight and maybe continue some other day. I tend to start dissociating when I try to tell my story.
The abuse started so early I can't remember. I have vivid abuse memories from age 4 or maybe 3 but it must have started before then. My father was the main perpetrator. He did all kinds of things to me, mostly sadistic. It seems to me the sadistic part was more important to him than the sex part.
I got a brother when I was three and another when I was nine. The first brother I tried to protect by all means, usually by offering my own body for molestation. Abuse was absolutely most intence between ages of 5-9, then it declined. I guess they got tired of me when I wasn't that small anymore. It continued, though less frequent, until 16 or so, I'm not sure.
It was my dad, but it was also his aquaintances. He arranged for other persons to abuse me, he planned for it, he must have had a ring of pedofiles or something. The abuse took place in our home, in his workplace, in grandparents home when they were away, in public gymnasiums to wich my father had the key because of his job etc. Anywhere he could arrange for noone to see or hear us I guess.
So I had numerous perpetrators. Most men, some women. It was almost allways sadistic abuse and brutal rape but I think that might be partly because I refused anything else. I remember the confusion and panic that sort of melted my brain when the situation was unclear. When a perp seemed to actually think I enjoyed it or was aroused. When they touched me to manipulate my sexuality. That was for some reason completely unbearable to me, as was most things that called for my active cooperation, so I would refuse and provoke until I was beaten and brutally raped. Then I would feel all calm and the chaos in my head would cease.
It was not just me, it was some children, my little brother and other children. And I protected the younger ones. And when there were other older ones we helped protecting the little ones. We shared the abuse. It's crazy when I think of it now but that's what we did. We organized ourselves, decided before who would take how much. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.
I panicked completely from hearing a smaller child getting abused. I just couldn't take it. I would rather take the abuse upon myself and of course my father used that to black mail me.
Then it's the mother, She didn't abuse me but I don't think she really wanted me. She must have known what was going on, sometimes she would leave as he started.
Well, I can feel my brain drifting off now, I think I should stop. This is a huge problem for me, I have a dissociative identity disorder wich makes trauma healing really difficult since I dissociate or swich when I try to talk about it. But at least this is a start. I will continue another day.