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Freshly raped
He didn’t have to use duck tape
To silence my voice
I had no choice
My cries were drowned
Out and now down
He held me down
Shoved it in my mouth
And made me suck
Pulled it out and jammed it in
Why did he rape me again and again?
The darkest hour can turn into the brightest light! – Honesty
It’s been crazy this past week. It’s the holiday season and people are preparing for Christmas.
This is usually a joyous season for most people. However there are some people that with every holiday is a celebration of pain, loss, horrible memories, or hardships. Some of us walk in oblivion, thinking everyone is and must be happy go lucky. We couldn’t be more wrong.
For myself holidays are always hard. Not just because of finances, or loved ones that past, but more so because of the family that remains and the memories of past I hold.
I particularly always have more trouble finding happiness in Christmas. It is one of the most festive and beautiful holidays of the entire year. The lights, the trees, the wreaths, the ornaments, the mistletoes, and of course the beautiful white snow. It’s all decor that would draw even the most saddest person to smile at the beauty and nature of the season. The idea of giving to loved ones, to strangers, to those in need, and to friends is more important than what we expect to receive. For the Christian it’s the time of year that we acknowledge the birth of our Lord and savior. The date itself may not be accurate but His presence and life is what we celebrate. Sometimes in the midst of the celebrating all I can see and feel is the hurt and “gifts of love” I received.
For years I have carried this present of misery given to me by my father. As a young child Christmas is the time of expectancy and excitement. It’s the time of anxiousness and trying to make sure you were on your best behavior so you could get all you hoped for on the big day. It was the time of running to wake your parents up, looking under the tree to find a gift with your name on, so you could tear the paper off to reveal….
Christmas quickly became just another day in which I learned not to get excited but stay guarded. In my house there was always a Christmas tree beautifully decorated with the Christmas musical train set playing the classic carols. Under the tree there was never any space to add a gift because there was a mountain of gifts purchased by my parents that always read, “love Santa.” Christmas in my household meant breaking out the camcorder to capture every moment of delight as each family member opened and revealed their gift.
This year 2014, I reveal my “gift” from when I was but a teen. I was sexually abused for years by my father. I kept it a secret from most because of the shame, filth, guilt, and fear I felt. It’s not easy to hand someone a package with that kind of material and it’s certainly not expected, wanted or talked about at least not until now, this very moment in time.
I don’t write this for your pity or sympathy, but rather for my own healing and also that of other survivors. Too often we feel alone, especially as Christians. We are taught we are new creatures in Christ and all things former have past away. As survivors we feel silenced and many are told move on, get over it…I propose it’s not that easy, especially when you feel alone and without support. So, here I share a small piece of my testimony in hopes that you who are reading this and are survivors know that you are not alone. Although some days and seasons may be harder than others there is always a light even in the darkest hour.
***TRIGGER WARNING*** GRAPHIC***
One Christmas morning I just laid in my bed in my room. I didn’t have the energy to get up as I was exhausted from the night before. The night before I was raped. I couldn’t believe that I was not afforded the night of Christmas Eve, technically the wee hours of Christmas morning time to breathe and just be a teen. That moment in time was engraved in my memory the way a gift from Things Remembered are. This was definitely my “things remembered” personalized “gift” not from Santa but from my biological father.
That morning he came in my room while I slept on my stomach. He managed to position my too baggy night shorts in a way that allowed him ungranted access. My shorts were white with blue flowers, I loved them until that night. I awakened to my father thrusting himself inside of me. He had entered me illegally and from behind. I could not move or shift his weight. I was in sheer terror and disbelief that this was happening and out of all days, on Christmas. My thought was, is this really my freaking gift, only freaking was not my choice word. I was crushed. And then it happened, my body in the midst of my cries responded and I felt an electrical surge pass thru me that frightened and pleasured me all at the same time. I had no idea what was occurring in my body because I was not allowed to take sex education in school. I was mortified and felt so disgusting. As my father pulled out, he ejaculated on my thighs, panties and shorts. I did not know what all the white sticky stuff was, but I knew I didn’t like it, want it and that things were not right, but who could I confide in…Santa was not real, my bilogical mother was incarcerated, my step mother was moody and unpredictable at best and I had no idea who the Lord was at that time. I was lost. My father made me make him coffee after he raped me while he went and showered. Can you imagine that hurt? I was the one who was violated feeling beyond dirty and yet he was the one who got to clean up. So, that Christmas when I went downstairs and there was no present under the tree for me, I knew my “gift” was delivered by my father. And I hated Christmas ever since then. I just couldn’t understand what I did wrong? I blamed myself and at times, actually most times I still do think it’s my fault. I tell myself you should have been able to fight him off, you shouldn’t have fallen asleep, etc. Surviving sexual abuse is easy, living past the memories and hurt is the hard part. But this year, I believe Christmas will be great because now I have the Lord to confide in and He has placed some amazing people in my life to help me in my healing journey. Is this holiday easy, not at all but I hope and believe that I will and can find the beauty in the decor and the will to celebrate my life, my Lord, my family, my friends and the greatness that is gifted up on the inside.
So this Christmas, my gift revealed is that I am a survivor of incest. I am an overcomer and I will not hide any longer. What my father and so many other pedophiles and child molesters do are wrong. The only way to help stop and prevent, to overcome is by breaking.the silence. My soul may be wounded but my spirit is alive and whole. I’m integrating them by breaking the silence so I can be free and healed….my darkness is coming to light.
The darkest hour can turn into the brightest light! – Honesty
darknight2light 