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Negative new stuff.

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Posted April 12th 2012 at 11:02 AM by i_like_black

Learning is not always a good thing. Sometimes you learn things you'd really rather not know. Because ignorance is a lot simpler in so many ways.

So what did I learn about today? Child-on-child sexual abuse. How is this relevant?
Oh god how is it ever. I don't know how to talk about what happened.
Anyway, I read the wiki, and it sounds very similar to what I experienced . . . and all the consequences for later life fit, too. I've been wondering if I've been kidding myself all these years. And it's hard to question my own delusions, it really is.

It was my idea to have the meetings. I think. I know I was the one that brought up the topic of puberty and maybe we should discuss what's happening, just out of curiousity. At least I'm pretty sure it was me.
Was nudity my idea? I honestly don't know. I either don't remember (which is likely) or I've blocked it out (which is also likely.). I would like to think it wasn't my idea, because I've always been a very private person. Even as a kid, a small kid, I remember wishing our bathroom door had locks, because I loathed people coming in to wash their hands and seeing me in the shower. I didn't like being seen naked, getting changed for swimming was slow torture, even at the age of 5, when school was new and exciting and swimming was a fabulous treat.

I'm fairly sure the touching was not my idea. It's here where I think maybe he began to blackmail me or coerce me. I remember when I was 13, I was sure I'd been blackmailed. But all that's so long ago now. I never wanted to touch him, but I did anyway. It looked shiny and wet, and although he assured me it wasn't wet, I didn't trust it. At all. But I touched it anyway, which doesn't make sense to me, because I know I was scared of touching it and that I didn't want to, and that I didn't really want him touching me but I let him.

At one stage my Mum almost found out, we'd both been in my room and I came out with my shirt on the wrong way. She never looked too far into it and so it continued. If only it had stopped then. If only.
He started pressuring me for sex and that's when I started to get scared. By that stage he was nearly 15 and I was about 12, nearly 13, and I knew what incest was by then, and I knew it was wrong to have sex, but I felt so - afraid. He tried to tell me that it would be safe if we had sex "through the sheets" - and he kept trying to convince me to have sex like that, but I didn't want to, and we never did. But I remember being scared, because he was growing, and I was scared that one day he might force me, but I was 13, and I didn't know how to articulate it, so I told one of my friends I was scared, and the friend told the school counselor/social worker lady, who contacted CYPFs, who contacted my family.

My Mum asked my older brother if anything was going on and he said no. She believed him. She thought I was lying for attention. Nobody was co-operative with CYPFs, nobody tried to find out what was really going on, and CYPFs decided that I needed to be removed and I missed foster care by a gnat's whisker - my grandparents offered to take me, so that's where I went.
And nobody ever spoke of it, ever again. I remember the day I was removed, I came home from school (I was severely, suicidally depressed at the time, even though I was only 13) and my Mum said to me, right to my face, "You're being removed and I hope I never see you again". I went to my room, intending to slam my door, but she slammed it for me.

I gave Melodie the outline of all of this, as much as I was able to tell her without bursting into tears and running from her office that is. She didn't say much. But she was understanding.

In our last appointment she questioned my self worth. Not my self-esteem, which is generally pretty good, I mean, hey, I'm a talented, intelligent young woman, and I know what I'm good at. But self-worth is different. She said she thought that mine was low, almost non-existent. I was reeling, I didn't know what to make of it. I felt like she was deliberately trying to make me feel bad, even though I know psychologists don't DO that.
She also put into words something I've never dared to - what it seems like my Mother's interpretation of our roles are. Melodie said I was the "bad girl", that he was the "good boy". I reeled further. I just didn't know what to make of it. I don't want to subconsciously live out some internal stereotype but at the same time I can't pretend it isn't in some way true.

So anyway, the conclusion is this - I'm pretty sure I was a victim of child-on-child sexual abuse. It started when I was 9, and stopped when I was 13, and was removed. He was 2 years older than me, so knew more about sex and stuff. According to Melodie, the cognitive gap between 13 and 15 is quite a large one, so by then, it's likely he knew what he was doing, and knew it was wrong.

I sound like I'm trying to convince myself.
I'm sorry guys, my life is so messed up.
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