We (Mom, Dad and newborn sister) went to my Grandparents' house. He (Grandfather) took me to the basement. It could only be reached from around the side of house; the floor was part cement and part dirt. I can still smell the smells of that day -- the dirt, the mildew from the stored furniture, the cigarette and coffee smell from him.
He told me he was going to give me my big girl gift. He put me on a dresser; I was afraid about getting my dress dirty. He pulled at my panties. I held on to his arm and the dresser; I was afraid I would fall. He pulled the purple-looking thing from his pants; it was ugly; I was afraid. He told me I could scream, but I best not make a sound out loud.
He told me a horrible "poem" in a sing song voice, (I still can't say the words) about a lamb that is lost and crying for her mama, while the birds peck out her eyes. He told me I was that lamb and if I ever told, it would happen to me; nobody would ever love me but him. I was a dirty lamb. The birds would always know and always hear, and nobody would come while they pecked out my eyes.
He hurt me I know, but not ME -- I went away -- that is all the memory I have of this time. For me, time "jumps" here. We (Grandfather and I) are walking to the front of the house. I see my mother; she is holding the baby. I want her, but I remember his words. I looked down at my dress... I had vomited on the pretty white... chocolate vomit, from my Easter basket. (I still don't eat chocolate).
She (mother) asked if I was okay... he said I must have eaten to much candy -- have the grandmother clean-up. They smile at each other. I was two inside by then, I am many now.
I/We fought to save our younger sisters (4); I think 1 maybe 2 were saved. I have put myself between neighborhood boys and my sisters. I gave them me to save them. I have been raped and used. I have been in two bad marriages.
I have now a wonderful husband. I am 38 years old. I have raised 2 terrific boys, 18 & 16, with the use of child care books. I have no other memory of my grandfather; he had a stroke (I am told) when I was 13 and died when I was 16.
I was a very hard to love child. My mother didn't know what to do with a daughter like me. I screamed in every silent way I knew to tell what was happening. She just thought I needed more discipline (beatings).
I hid shoes so we couldn't go to grandparents' house for holidays and such. I suffered many kidney and bladder infections -- so many, my kidney (one) shut down and was removed when I was five. I had a doctor tell me in these past years, children of sexual abuse often have such (maybe not so severe) problems, I don't know.
I wish someone would have helped.
Didn't the doctor know?
I am in therapy. I have DID, once called MPD. It is getting better.
I placed a marker on my grandfathers grave that starts.....
Here lies a child molester
Killer of hope
Thief of dreams
It was the most empowering thing I have ever done.
I was trained well from age 3 I have been found by many predators over the years... they Know Us. I am aware now as I never have been before in my life. I will not let this story stay hidden any longer.
I now speak out to any and all that will hear... I have and will survive.