I guess at least in my mind, I can make excuses for the boy who abused me. I tell myself things like he was only a kid, and just made a mistake.
The first time that I can remember/have remembered being abused was when I was 4 or 5. I say can remember because it has only been in the last year that I did REMEMBER.
It was the little girls across the alley that molested me. I was probably 4. I think the youngest little girl was my sisters age ( 3 years older) and the oldest would have been 3 to 4 years older than that.
I will say that I never really did place much emphasis on the event because like you said "they were only kids".
But, as someone said the other day. "They had to learn this behavior from somewhere.
I still don't place a lot of blame on them but rather I blame them for starting the cycle of abuse that has haunted me all of my adult life. I remember so many details of each of my Sexual assaults.
What is really strange is that I don't remember any of my life before I was 5. We lived in Phoenix until I was 3. My parents moved into the house we live in now when I was 5 1/2. I have a few memories of the house where the S A occured ... but those memories are of the S A and of always being alone and never having any friends to play with.
What is really strange though is that I have always remembered a crazy dream (nightmare) that I used to have. I had this dream until I was probably 13 or 14.
I was always the "fly on the wall " watching myself being chased. Being chases all over the house by Santa Clause. Finally, to get away from him, I go run down the stairs to the basement of the house. But, Santa Clause slides down the banister and beats me to the bottom of the stairs. Every once in a while I would beat Santa and I would hide. He would always try to catch me.
There was a basement appartment in the house. In order to get away from Santa I would run into the bathroom of the apartment and close the door. It was right around the corner from the stairs. The cleanout for the furnace was in the bathroom. I would always open the door to the furnace and "get sucked into " the furnace just as Santa would break down the door. The "magic of the furnace/Santa's magic) was lost because the magic only worked for one person. I would end up on the roof and Santa would be standing on the ground shaking his fist at me telling me "he would get me someday".
The other day My T I asked my T the proverbail question " do I have a big sign on my forehead that says Rape me
. He said no ... but most survivors have, what he called "inflicted, sad, fearful eyes."
Our perpitrator see these eyes.
It was just now that I remembered one of the shortest jobs that I ever had 2 1/2 hours. I was to be a Santa at the Mall for Christmas. I was fired because the manager said that one of the customers had said that " I had the "saddest" eyes of any Santa she had ever seen:( ... and Santa is supposed to be Jolly.
Each day I find one more piece of the jigsaw puzzle of my life. The border is almost done, It's time to finish the picture.