My story started in April of 1984 in Florence South Carolina. I am here to tell my story a little at a time. During my writing I am praying and hoping to help myself and someone else. My first memories started with my mom taking me to my aunt's house. I was 2 years old and I recall one day after she pick me up we went for a ride and and we ( my mom me and some other people ) stopped at this trailer and somehow there was a man and shooting and arguing.
In another day I recall being in a stroller and riding across a bridge and later found out this was the day that I got burnt by an iron on my right hand. Later as time went on I recall being at home playing and police pulled up and trying to take me and I ran to my mom and was crying and not wanting to go. From there I was placed in a foster home, first of the many. I remember getting beating for crying and missing my mom and how lonely I felt and when I moved and got other kids and they would leave to go home or be adopted I was again left to be alone and had to no one. After changing homes left and right for the next two years making me 4 years old I was taken to a new place and even tho I thought I already was sad and lonely my problems had yet started. I made it to a town called tville sc not a big town but everyone knew everyone. When the child services man dropped me off he said you will like it here and this is Ms J. She looked nice older and said call me mama and so I did . There were other kids there living there as well, 2 boys and over the years we were like brothers and sister. There was Timmy he was mentally challenged and Jimmy. All of us were the same age just a month apart. I always struggled with school and making friends. I was the big kid who didn't have much and it's like everyone knew it. Ms J had kids of her own, grown of course Chew lived with her, Kat had her own place and then Bubble. He stayed at house with us, never knew much about him. She had other adopted kids. By the time I was 6 I remember being home one day and the social worker came by and said that we need to talk so me and mama went on the screened in porch that I love to sit in because of the swing. So as we are sitting the man says well I have some bad news and don't know how to tell you. Mama held my hand and the man said LG your mom passed away. Lord those words cut like a knife and and my heart hurt and I felt like nothing just pained and sadness. I cried and screamed and it was bad now I really will never be able to go back home. Even as time passes I recall the depression as it's called now really got worse and I would cry on a regular bases and songs that would make kids happy would make me cry. Jumping along here I am 8 and Chew was like the man of the house mean. He said to me one day you growing up and I was like I guess so because during the years we got many kids babies and kids our age and I knew how to change diapers cook half way cook wash clothes sew iron braid hair and so on you name it I knew it at 8 my foster mom didn't play. We had a 2 bedroom 1 bath home we slept in one room which was big but it had 1 set of bunk beds 1 full bed and a chair bed and a pull out bed 3 dressers and a TV yep I recall it all. The other room bubble slept in and chew had a room he build on the the house. One night chew came in the bathroom while no was I'm there and life changed yet again and I was wearing my pink pajamas with heart print and he took them off and told me it would only hurt a little and it hurt a lot. The hot tears rolled down my face and that's when mama came knocking at the door and long story short type she said I was being grown in the bathroom with a man and she slapped me then chew slapped her and I was confused as all heck. During that few years up til 10 thing kept happening with him and then it stopped and it started with bubble it I couldn't catch a break and he would offer me food and snacks because we didn't eat often cause foster mom would fix sardines and grits yucky and day if we didn't eat that then we didn't eat so many days I didn't eat. I saw one night the girl that can to stay she was a teenager bout 15 years old and ms j other son was in town staying a few days and he would always say how my body was growing but he never touched me. But that other girl I will call her Kandi and she had body and he came in the room one night while everyone was sleep and I remember he moving because we had to share beds. Although the cover I saw him rubbing on her and stuff and then he took her out the room I can only imagine what happened then. She ended up running away can you blame her. So back to me age 10 social services came by one day and said we found your father and grandparents I was happy and scared cause this was my family all the molestation and all. Its All I knew. So I started by visiting my grandparents and They was awesome in my mind They brought me new things no more salvation army for me and then one day they said your dad is coming to visit today. And when he walked in I had a whole moment of seeing hate and red and I didn't like him they made me hug him. When I turned 11 and they slowly moved me over to my grandparents house and I still gotta stay holiday with foster family and yes bubble still would get me every now and then. By now my life was up down around depressed lonely. One night my dad decided that the what I endured was not enough so you guessed it the reason I hated him at first sight came true another child molester. Then one visit during summer I ended up pregnant age 12 by Bubble and all hell broke loose when everyone found out and even my child molester father was mad and wanted to kill someone. I was put in a group home to have the baby a girl and was supposed to give her up but couldn't. I ended up keeping her and and moving in with some family on my dad side. Things didn't go well because I had this dark past and don't know how to move forward and was tired and drained depressed and they expected so much from me I was 13 then and ugh. So I ended up moving back to my grandparents house with baby and even though my grandparents was mad at chose of keeping her they help raise her and spoil her. My sister half sister that is would visit and one day that stopped why because our stupid can't keep hands to self dad just wouldn't stop. It never got fully intercourse with her because she stop coming over and I was again alone. One day while sister was in counseling appointment she told it all and her mom and other grandma called our grandma and and boy we were the most hated 14 year old ever known called liars and all. Our dad sat there and denied it all and that because all grown people believed him life got harder for me . It turned into a everyday thing and yes my daughter would be sleep next to me while this was happening while knives would be held to my throat or chocked. I hated smells and certain songs and him. I ended up yet again pregnant and when I was in the hospital my dad came in room and looked at the baby and said so which one of those boys you been messing with. I just cried and they put my baby up for adoption. I went back to school as normal after Christmas break like nothing happened and the police came to the school and I told it all I couldn't hold it anymore. Back to foster-care for me and my oldest daughter. It was me and her against the world. This is the first part of my story it's much more. I am now 33 and still suffer from depression and loneliness and my fears are big as I am but I know God is working on me a day at a time. So keeping pushing forward.
0 Comments
I had a very "real" dream last night. In it, an older uncle had molested my daughter and I was giving him the business. I was really messing him up for it. What stood out most is that I verbally confronted him and said all that I would say to him today in this age & time if he were alive...the things I couldn't/didn't say to him when I was such a small child. For the many times he exposed himself to me. Thank God it wasn't worse. And to think...I tried many times to keep my great grandma from beating him so badly for coming home "pissy" drunk & falling all over her porch, embarrassing her all the while. Though the abuse was more emotional than physical, it still bothered me. And still...I survived...
My name is Mckenzie and I've suffered depression as a young adult. I never told anybody because being from a Christian household u never really talk about it but I think people close to me knew sometimes I wasn't myself. I’m only posting this because I smile and I laugh and I can be the goofiest person you will ever meet. But today wasn't a good day for me...I wasn't feeling myself and I felt like I was going to have a crying episode at any moment. I didn't want to do anybodies makeup and I didn't want to be bothered. I had a client that came in today and wanted a full makeover for a date and to be honest I was a little annoyed. To make a long story short, this lady not only shared her life story with me but she prayed with me and gave me the best vibes. I say all that to say that God heard my silent prayer and I really believe that God sent that angel to sit in my chair today. I love my job and I'm blessed to say that I made my craft my career. Not a lot of people can say that. I will praise HIM with all my heart and I will continue to show that through my craft and my gravitas. Not everybody has it all together all the time but guess what God wrapped his arms around me and reminded me that I've come too far and to get up and go to my destiny. Good vibes, no worries, prayer, and good spirits.Love you all #isurviveddepression #wegonbealright #godsplan #godsgotthis #atlanta#atlantamakeupartist #atlantamakeup #atl #ilovemyjob #ilovemakeup#keepprayingforme #dontjudgeme"
I was groomed long before the abuse started. I was always told how pretty I looked or how cute I was that day. I was given special privileges, allowed to do things that the other kids couldn’t. I was made to feel as if I was special and more loved that everyone else. I was molested by my next door neighbor, he was more like family than a neighbor. His house was the neighborhood hangout. His family ran a store from their house.
I was 6 when the molestation started. I remember the first time like it was yesterday. I went over there to buy an icee and he called me in his room. When I made it to his room he put his hand in my pants and touched me. He was breathing heavy. He kissed me putting his tongue in my mouth and he kissed my neck. When he was done he told me that I couldn’t tell anyone that it had to be our secret. He said my mom would be mad at me and whip me and that they would take me away from her. So I didn’t tell anyone. I never said a word about it to anyone. I was so confused and scared. The abuse lasted 4 years. It became normal almost a way of life for me. I was made to touch him, kiss him, and put his dick in my mouth. He never penetrated me though maybe that was a good thing. He would make me pull my pants and panties off and sit in his lap so he could rub his dick against me. If I had on shorts all I had to do was pull them to the side so he could do it. He would kiss my chest and lick between my legs. I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel. I have never talked about this in detail and after all those years I’m crying as I’m typing this. For 4 years I suffered in silence. Afraid of the man that lived across the street but I couldn’t tell anyone. He would come to our house to laugh and talk with my family as if he had nothing to me. My family adored this child molester. I finally built up the courage to tell on my 10th birthday. I was in the fourth grade and my teacher had just got done talking about good touch/bad touch. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her face to face so I wrote a letter to her. I was interviewed by the school counselor with an officer present. I didn’t have to go to court but I was questioned several times. He was arrested and only served a year in jail. He got out and moved back into his house. I had to see my molester every day until I moved at 18. Molestation/sexual abuse is something that was not talked about in my home. No one ever said anything about the abuse. The only counseling I received was when I told, I went to maybe three sessions. That was not nearly enough. My dad was not in the home and not a part of my life but I remember him coming to see me after I told that I was molested. I remember my mom telling me not to tell him who did it and so I didn’t. But after my dad asked if I was ok that’s what he wanted to know. He asked several times who did it and each time I lied saying I don’t know. I was mad at my mom because she made me lie. I didn’t understand why. Why was she trying to protect the man that had abused her little girl? Family can sometimes be your worst enemy. I had family that asked if he really did anything to me or why did I wait so long to tell. After all he is a deacon and active in the church. But unless you have been where I am don’t judge me and you can’t understand. Unless you have had your childhood or innocence taken away from you, then you can’t understand. But don’t doubt my truth because you have never lived it. I was literally terrified of this man. He worked in a local store and I avoided that store at all cost even well into my adult life. Even when I became an adult if I saw him my heart would start racing, my hands would sweat, and I would literally get light headed, I felt like I would faint. Sexual abuse has had a lasting impact on me. It caused me to do a lot of things as a teenager that I wish I could do over. I felt and sometimes still feel like I’m nothing. I feel like I’m not worthy of happiness. I’ve been sad and depressed for so long that I have learned how to cope. No one knows the pain and sadness that I feel. My self-esteem has almost been non-existent. I am married now and my husband knows that I was abused. He is understanding to a certain point. There are times when he wants to be intimate and I just can’t do it. There are times when I don’t want to be touched. I have to have my personal space. We can be in the middle of being intimate and I will stop him because something will take me back to this little girl that is being abused. There are certain smells that take me back, the way he may touch me, or what he may say to me. My abuser died about a year ago and I was not sad about it. A few of my family members told me about it and thought that I should be sad but I was happy. Maybe now I could live with some sense of peace. I know I need therapy but my husband doesn’t really agree with that. Even though my molester is dead…every day is still a struggle. My relationship and faith in God have gotten me this far. HE is my strength when I have none. I have three children and they need me so I have to keep going. This is part of my story. I was molested by more than one person. For so long I wondered if men could look at me and tell that I was weak and a perfect target for being abused. Maybe I will one day be able to tell the rest of my story.... |
AuthorsTestimonies from people that's ready to began their healing journey. |