Wednesday, September 21, 2011

september babies and realizations

Written on September 10, 2009

So many of my friends celebrate their birthdays at around this time of year, and if someone wanted me to, I could probably fill everyday of the month of September with the names of my friends. There's my mom's birthday on the third, then Sharon's birthday on the fourth. John's birthday on the sixth, then Septian's birthday on the seventh...etc etc. I myself celebrate my birthday in September, and I think we should all get together and throw a big party.

As I'm drawing closer and closer to the consummation of my 20th year, I've come to realize a lot of things about myself through many conversations with friends. Things I wouldn't normally sit down and think about without some kind of topic of conversation sparking the initiative to do so.
I've realized that I am a very jaded individual, leading me to become somewhat apathetic to the things around me, all of which stems from my experiences of my childhood.

This is the first time I've publicly come out and said this, but I feel like it's something I have to do in order to cope and eventually get over it. When I was six years old, I was once molested by a strange man who came into the day care center I was in, and repeatedly molested and raped through trickery by my then-eleven year old cousin, who was staying with my grandmother at the time.

I didn't know it for what it was until I was until I was in the ninth grade. It was during health class, when a speaker from the local rape treatment center came to talk to the students. Realization hit me like a baseball bat, and I've never been able to stop thinking about it in the back of my mind. Before then, I didn't think much of it. I knew that what happened to me wasn't normal, but at the same time, I didn't really think it was something so atrocious and so...incestual.

I fell into an angry depression, feeling that I've been robbed of my own normality and innocence before I could even get a chance to experience it for myself. My dad's abuse didn't help with my situation at all, and I spiraled down into a deeper hole than the one I was previously in.

Of course, I didn't tell anyone about what happened to me. How could I? I was full of shame and just hated everything in the world. Not only that, but I was considered the failure of my family, while the same cousin who raped me was highly regarded because of all his academic achievements, despite his "sad family situation". (His dad cheated on his mom and left her for his mistress. So what? I was getting beat with baseball bats and golf clubs, fuck what he went through.)

Anyway, during my depression, all I could think of was the strange man shoving his tongue inside my mouth, and my cousin shoving his ugly male organ inside my vagine. I say it with a little humor now, but back then it drove me absolutely insane.

Finally, around the summer of my junior year, I told my mom about what happened to me, and what crushed me more was her reaction. She wouldn't express anger, and she looked out for her family instead (my cousin is from the maternal side of my family), telling me the words "Don't tell your father about this."

I was crushed. I mean, honestly, how would you feel when something as serious as this happened to you, and you tell your mom, only to hear her say "Keep your mouth shut about it."?

That brought me to a much worse state. My dad eventually found out and wanted to kill my cousin, but at the same time he told me to forgive my cousin because "he was young and he didn't know what he was doing".

Imagine how crazy I went. To this day, I'm a little insane because of all the fucked up shit that happened to me.

Anyway, I eventually pulled myself out of my depression, disgusted at how I was drowning in self-pity, and decided to move on. But what happened to me still affects my greatly. I am immediately suspicious of men, which is ironic because I mostly have male friends, and I am terrified of them. And I am terrified of sex, so I am still a virgin (though, technically I'm not).

What gets me more is the fact that there are a lot of girls who have stories similar to mine. It's disgusting how...ugh. Fucking men and their inability to reason once they're horny enough.
At the same time, this experience has shaped me into who I am. Although I'm not the ideal kind of person, I'm glad I'm not the overly naive and optimistic type. This made me stronger, and I now appreciate the ability to stay level-headed through any "crisis" that comes my way, because, honestly, I've been through the worst.

I just hate talking about what happened when I was younger, not because I think it's a burden, but because I hate the changed attitudes of people. They suddenly start to pity me and offer words of comfort and all that jazz. That's not what I want. What I want from me telling you is that you understanding my character a bit better, and understanding the reasons why I am the way I am. I don't need your sad eyes and patronizing tone of voice. That's the last thing I want.

In any case, I'm getting better, and learning to open up a little more each day. I just need to work on forgiving my cousin, not because I want to forget what happened, but because I feel that it would give me a sense of closure. But I'm not ready to do that just yet.


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