Confession: I’ve Been Telling the Truth

People have become so conditioned to keeping important shit bottled inside that they now hesitate to believe anyone who talks openly about their bad experiences.

*  *  *  *  *

My stepdad used to sleepwalk into my room, naked, and sleep in my bed when I was little. I mention it a lot. It kinda screwed me up.

My stepdad also used to attempt to have sex with me when I was a teenager. I explode and scream the truth at him whenever we get in a fight. I try to talk to my friends about it. It did screw me up.

But because I talk about it, the people closest to me have started to overlook it.

*  *  *  *  *

I don’t remember how young I was when it started. But, from what I recall, it didn’t start right away. Not until I switched from the back room connected to my parents’ room, to the front room adjacent to their room.

I remember waking up to a man next to me in my bed. He wasn’t touching me or anything. He was asleep. And he was naked. It was my mom’s boyfriend. He had no idea I was there, I thought.

I got up slowly, quietly, and walked into the living room. I fell asleep on the couch, and when my mom found me there in the morning she just asked, “Again?”

Yes, again.

*  *  *  *  *

He thought I was the toilet once. When my bed ran perpendicular to the door.

I was sleeping on my side. I woke up to an arm resting on me, like one would rest on the top of the toilet. A man was peeing on my bed. It was my mom’s boyfriend.

I tried to shy away from the pee as much as I could without alerting him to the fact that he wasn’t peeing in the toilet. Amazingly, none of it got on me. I got a towel, covered the area, and slept towards the other side of the bed.

I don’t think I ever told my mom.

*  *  *  *  *

When we visited his mother on holidays she would tell us stories about his previous sleepwalking escapades. He had been known to go outside in his underwear while it was snowing.

To my young mind, those stories made our encounters okay. It had always happened. He was a sleepwalker. He didn’t mean it.

It wasn’t until I got a little older that I started to think maybe, just maybe, since my parents knew this probably wasn’t going to stop, maybe they should put a lock on my door. Or their door. Or, hell, maybe he should stop sleeping naked.

But they were the parents and I was the kid and he had always been a sleepwalker so he didn’t mean it.

*  *  *  *  *

Before school one day in 5th grade, when I was still living with my dad during the week, I got a call from my mom. She informed me that her boyfriend had asked her to marry him. She said yes.

I fell into my dad’s arms and bawled.

*  *  *  *  *

Eventually I bought my own lock. I think I remember waking up to the sound of someone trying to enter my room once. Only once.

*  *  *  *  *

My mom and her husband started having weekly parties when I was a teenager, after I had been living with them full-time for a few years. They built a bar out back and would get good and wasted every Friday night. I started partying with them when I was about 17.

I don’t remember if I still had the lock, because by then I was pretty much allowed to do whatever I wanted. I do remember that’s when the advances started.

My mother’s husband started to tell me how hot I looked in certain attire, which moved on to him saying sexual things to me, which turned into him actually trying to paw at me.

He would always get sloppy and annoying and it was pretty easy to get past him because of how drunk he was. But on one particular night, he wouldn’t let up. We were in the hottub and he tried to toe my friend and I. I told him I’d cut his penis off if he ever hurt my mom.

Sadly, that’s what he’s doing now. I might have to make good on that threat. (But that’s another story).

One night my mom was out of town so he invited my friends and I over to party. It was St. Patrick’s Day. I was outside for something, and when I came in he was lying on my bed in his underwear. Somehow I got him out and ended up having sex with my friend, rather loudly, all night. I don’t know why. I was young.

This stuff continued happening every time he got drunk for years. Whispered advances, touchy-feely motions, hopeful, forward actions. From my mother’s husband.

*  *  *  *  *

I wasn’t raped. I wasn’t molested. I wasn’t even almost raped or molested (by him). But that doesn’t make my experiences any less valid. It doesn’t make them any less horrifying. It doesn’t make me a liar, an embellisher, or an attention whore.

The things that happened to me were real. They happened, and they affected me. Maybe I talk about them so frequently because I’m crying out for help. Maybe I’m just an open person. Maybe I want someone to do something about it. Maybe I just want to feel validated.

I don’t know why I’m so comfortable speaking about my trauma. But it shouldn’t be my job to force myself into discomfort. It should be yours to support me.

Just because you’re not a therapist or psychiatrist doesn’t mean you can’t make all the difference in someone’s life by simply listening to them.

*  *  *  *  *

I don’t see my stepfather very often anymore. We’re just on opposite schedules, I guess. But I saw him the other day. He gave me a big hug and told me how much he missed me and loves me.

I hugged him back. I gave him a big smile and I played along. I don’t know if I really miss him at all or not, but I don’t hate him. I used to, but not anymore.

On my way home I wondered why I play along. Why do I always tell him what’s going on in my life and act friendly to him? What happened to the hate?

I pity him. I pity this man and his anger, and resentment (towards what?), and misery. I believe he will never have what I do in this life — happiness with my surroundings, and peace. I may have my own issues and I may have bad days, but my good days will always be better than his best.

*  *  *  *  *


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22 thoughts on “Confession: I’ve Been Telling the Truth

  1. I understand completely. Sometimes playing along makes the whole thing easier. It’s more ease than discomfort and after so many years of discomfort, you just don’t want that person to make you live more of it….so that’s how I think it makes sense.

    And yes, it’s easy to think, on he didn’t rape her or molest her and think it’s not a big deal. But the core of your safety in your house wasn’t the same as people that don’t have those issues growing up. Of course it’s traumatic and uncomfortable.

    You can always vent to me. I have a really good shoulder. :)

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you=] My issue was just that no one listened to me. Because I spoke so freely about it, all of my friends thought I was just attention seeking or something. Then he tried the same thing with some of their girlfriends and they realized I was telling the truth.

      Liked by 1 person

      • I’m sorry that happened. :(
        I hate how expressing yourself with things that affected you makes you attention seeking. Really it’s therapy and looking out for someone. You’re brave to post what you did.

        Liked by 1 person

        • Thanks! That makes me feel better, because originally I had posted it as Anonymous. But I realized my blogging peeps are the main people I CAN trust, so I’m just not sharing this post on my personal Facebook (which is the only way my friends/family get to my blog anyway). I mainly think my family’s not ready to read it.

          Liked by 1 person

  2. Why yes. I certainly think enduring this sort of behavior from an ADULT who you’re forced to live with and who should be protecting you as opposed to forcing himself on you would be classified as traumatizing. Oh my god. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I just want to scream — this shit makes me crazy. This is a total hot button for me plus I just finished reading Bastard Out if Carolina by Dorothy Allison which heated my blazing button further. My best friend from childhood died of an overdose last year. She was repeatedly raped throughout her childhood by her stepfather starting in elementary school. When she was finally able to speak of the horror she endured, adults told her — ‘okay, that’s enough. We know it happened. You don’t have to be so angry and keep going on and on about it.’ — like enough with the drama. I say KEEP talking about it. Scream your experiences from the rooftops. This shit goes on SO much and it won’t stop until people aren’t afraid to hear the truth.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Exactly! Oh my god that’s horrible! That’s what I constantly think about when people tell me I’m just attention-seeking: what if I HAD been raped? How would people treating me like that affect me? I will continue to speak on it until people are more willing to listen.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I am so sorry this happened to you. It doesn’t make your experience any less true because you talk openly about it. It makes you brave for being honest in a world where often lying is easier. I am listening to you and I believe and support you.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. As a guy, it was very tough for me to read all of that. I am glad that you are able to find a medium to let all of that out and not allow it to silently eat you up from the inside. I have to give you kudos for being a strong individual – I am not sure I would have reacted as positively.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I was angry and bitter for a long, long time. Every time my stepfather and I got into an argument I would scream “Yeah, well you TRIED TO FUCK ME,” which is why I think a lot of people didn’t take me seriously — because I only, and always, mentioned it in the heat of anger.

      Now I see the man he’s become, and I do indeed pity him. I know what happened screwed me up, but I’m finally at a point in my life where I can begin to heal and move on. I don’t think he’ll ever be there.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Being treated like that as children confuses us about boundaries as adults. I have a feeling that many of us blogging this type of material has had some major boundary issues.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. It is worth considering removing him from your life all together. He performed serious acts of violation to you that has given you very difficult trauma to deal with and pretending like nothing happened will at best delay the pain from absolving.

    – Calvin

    Liked by 1 person

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