Can It Get Worse?

Recovering from an abusive childhood is very similar to an archaeological dig.  Bit by bit and inch-by-inch pieces of history are uncovered.  Then you have to worry about the fragility of what you have uncovered.  In starting this blog, there were three things I (and partially still am) worried about.

1.)  Will or can Jack A. ever find me via the stories I’ve published?

2.)  How much is too much to share?

3.)  What will people think of me?

I know that the percentage of likelihood that Jack A. could find me is in the negative digits; as for the other two, there is minimal concern.  Everyone that has sent me responses with words of encouragement and support has been so nice.  I’m not so worried about the last two anymore.

The second story that I publicized on my blog is titled “My Journal and Step-Father.”  In that post, I discussed the one and ONLY time that I had ever knowingly stepped out of line.  There are two specific pieces that I left out of that story.

First Topic:

After I crawled to my room to find my first aid kit and my journals, I was accosted a second time.  Jack A. told me to get cleaned up and that we had to go and do something.  I was scared.  Scared beyond the normal ‘I’m going to get hit’ fear.  I thought that he was going to make good on his many promises that he would kill me.  I was told to get in the car, which I did and the destination was the drug store.  He told me to sit in the car and that he would be out in a minute.  Fifteen minutes after we pulled in Jack A. got back in the car and we drove home.

When we walked in the door, I was told to go to the bathroom.  Jack A. followed me with a bag of items that he purchased at the drug store.  He lines the items up on the bathroom counter.  There were four things in total.  Vaginal cleansing items and spermicides and pregnancy preventives were the purchased items.  While standing over me… he forced me to use each and every one of them.  What I mean by this is that he made me drop my pants, he read the instructions for each item out loud, and then he forced me to use them in the ways that I was instructed.

I can’t even begin to explain the humiliation that this caused.  The abuse went to a whole new level.  I felt like any ounce of dignity I had left had just been stolen.   I really thought that was the worst that it could get.  I was wrong.  After I had done everything that I was told to do, Jack A. told me to go and sit in the living room.  It was close to 9PM at this point.

Second Topic:

Jack A. walked into the living room.  Sat down in his chair and turned on the TV and the VCR.  I didn’t have any idea what to expect but what happened wasn’t close to what I could have imagined.  Jack A. turns to me and says:

“Since you want to have sex, I’m going to show you what it’s all about.”

As the first scene comes on the TV… it plays through these ads for places like 1-800-TalkSex.  Jack A. forced me to watch a porn.  From start to finish of the tape, I was made to watch every minute and every scene with him in his chair.  The smile was on his face and he made sure I knew he was aroused.  He didn’t have to touch me for me to feel violated.  The next morning, I was taken to his cousin’s house.


12 thoughts on “Can It Get Worse?

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  1. When I hear of stuff like this, I understand why prisoners kill pedophiles!! My only hope is that there’s a special place in hell for him!!

    Honey, I am so incredibly sorry!!! I wish I could meld my heart with yours so you’d know what I’m feeling because I don’t have the words to express it and just seeing those words — “I’m sorry” — is not enough!! I know you’re way younger than I am so I don’t know if you’ll know what I’m referring to or not, but at times like these I think of Star Trek (the original) where they did a “Vulcan mind meld.” It was a way to meld two minds together so that one person could understand without language the way someone else was thinking, or what they were remembering. Sometimes when words can’t be found or my emotions are greater than any human language I know, I wish a mind meld or a heart meld were real and could be done through the air. I’ve often wished this in the past for certain family members and friends. Today I wish this for you!!

    1. I do know what you mean. My husband is a huge Star Trek fan. I know the feeling in your heart because it’s the same one that is in mine. I couldn’t explain the feeling with words in the post. I sat here for a couple of days working on that post trying to come up with the words. When I couldn’t find the words, I went ahead with the post.
      I doubt there will ever be words for how I felt in that moment. It wasn’t just humiliation and the loss of my dignity. It was also this unavoidable fear that in that moment, during that time, there wasn’t anywhere I could run or go that he wouldn’t find me and torture me. I knew at that moment, I was stuck. There was no way out.

      1. That word came to me in the wee hours of the morning and when I applied it to my own feelings when I read other peoples blogs and even my posts… It just fits.

  2. I wish there was someway I could let you know that my heart ached as I eventually found your blog. Someone ‘liked’ one of my post and I eventually found your posts. I too have been there…so many have. It has to stop. Will it ever? Probably not. But we have to continue to spread the word about child abuse! I haven’t blogged about mine but my heart sends you hugs! ~Jen

    1. Jen~
      Thank you so much for stopping in and reading. Just a little over a month ago, I decided that I needed to get past the issues of my childhood. I am a perfectly happy and well adjusted adult with a wonderful family of my own. I’m happily married with two wonderful little girls. I just want to get over all of the negative feelings that still reside in my heart.
      Thank you for the virtual hugs and warm thoughts. They do help and it is wonderful getting to meet new people.
      Thanks again!

      With much respect,

  3. This is horrific beyond imagination. I am totally shocked that your mother would allow this to happen, but then again, my mother allowed atrocities to happen in our home as well. Thank you for your courage in sharing your journey of recovery. I am sharing mine, but it is taking so very long to build the courage to add each post. My heart goes out to you for the pain you endured. You are not alone, unfortunately and fortunately. I am here with your stories and along your journey as I am on the same path.


    1. It took me a while to post that part. Like you said you have to build up your courage to write about your abuse. I am no different. My goal is to help others and show them and to prove to myself that recovery is possible. It just takes the one thing that is the hardest to wait for and that’s time. I hate waiting. The seconds ticking by on the clock… tic toc tic toc… and if you’re not careful, time can turn into an enemy. The longer you hold your stores in, the more poisonous they can become. I have learned this.
      I will definitely be reading and thank you for your things and warm wishes.
      With much respect,

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