ampsuniverse

[ampsuniverse]

Looking back to what I have endured , sexual abuse, pysical abuse, verbal abuse, I remember being 5yrs old, standing online in the playground with a big welt across my face , I must have wet the bed that morning I remember two women asking me what happened and I said what I was coached to say "my sister hit me with the belt on accident". I wonder till this day if they believed it. I remember we had  coat room, it was terrifying  to go in there, I was probably 7yrs old Wearing a skirt and we had a classmate who had a habit of lifting our skirts and sure enough it was my turn. I remember screaming so loud that the teacher came running but I didn't tell on him. School was supposed to be my safe place and that boy took it away from me This is why we teach our boys from a young age to be gentlemen. I realize now I didn't speak up, because I was enduring sexual abuse at home. I knew I would somehow get blamed so why tell.

  As I got older it got worse all those years not one teacher questioned why I wore the same outfit Monday through Friday or why I was so quiet, why I couldn't make eye contact, i'm sure if they would've lifted my shirt or had taken  my pants off they would've seen  all the belt marks, all the child abuse I was going through, but not one teacher questioned me. I remember my first grade teacher Mrs.Kabaki, I guess she thought I was poor because she would bring me bags of her daughters clothes that no longer fit her it was embarrassing but I also appreciated it.

I remember the verbal abuse, “you're going to be a slut like your mother”or it was” the whores are home from school” but that didn't break me it made me stronger, you see it was just a current of events. All these things had to happen to me to mold me into the person I am today. If you are wondering how   I endured all this at such a young age, I prayed a lot, I talked to my Father, my creator, I won't lie there were times where I thought of killing myself, I stood in tears in front of the bathroom mirror holding a razor to my wrist looking for pills in the medicine cabinet, I just couldn't go through with it. I think I heard one time that if you committed suicide you would never go to heaven.  That was not an option for me, I remember counting the years I needed to be 18 and could move out, thinking I would then have my happily ever after, little did I know this was just the tip of the iceberg.

I look back at that little girl the hurt, and pain she feels  all alone, darkness surrounds her.  She counts the years to when she will  be free. It seems so far away still there is an easy way out, to end all the pain, the guilt, the suffering.. I stand there and I can't do it, not because of the pain, just a voice,  "you will never see me". God  was there, I felt this amazing connection I talked to him, I cried, I prayed. With all the beatings, all the humiliation,I still remember those harsh words  you'll be a whore just like you're mother, you look like a giraffe, nappy head, bed wetter. Those were just a few things I heard on a daily basis now I can see why I hated myself, I hated the way I looked it would be years and years before I could see how beautiful I really was.

I also remember constantly being hungry we were fed yes, but sometimes it wasn't enough,  I couldn't say I was hungry or go to the fridge, so I picked scraps out of the garbage. I was too embarrassed to ever share this, but the power of my God is so amazing, all those things had to happen, it was part of my destiny. You see the woman that adopted me was a woman of faith she prayed, we had a Jesus statue and I can remember every detail so vividly, long brown hair to the shoulders, beautiful grey piercing eyes. She also had a big brown  crucifix on the wall, I prayed to both, cried and  kneeled before them   one thing she didn't know is that she was giving me the best gift possible, she taught me about my Heavenly Father. She was a vessel, part of the plan that would save me. One day I was listening to the song Cinderella,and it speaks of the love of a father and the love for his daughter, as she transitions from a child into a woman, and I felt sad that I never had that, I imagined what it would be like to have a dad, someone to protect you, to be the light of his eyes, and guide you through life then I realized I did and do have it, just not in human form.

It brings to mind when I was a little girl, my sisters dad was out of jail for who knows how long this time. His brother the monster slapped my sister across the face like he'd done a million times before, but this time her father was there, I remember him jumping in his brothers face threatening him " if you ever touch my daughter again!” I think that was one of my happiest moments as a child I saw that monster turn into a coward that day.  I wished in that moment that he was my dad as well, finally a defender, no more beatings, imagine if he knew the whole truth, of what was happening to his daughter, he would kill him! But poof just like that he was back in jail, and the beatings, and abuse continued.

Our childhood was stolen from us, our innocence was shattered, the sexual abuse continued. Decades later I had a freak accident that left me paralyzed and as I was laying in ICU I felt so violated all over again, every morning for three weeks, I had a sponge bath at 5am, when it was time to turn me they always called a young man named Ricky, he wasn't a nurse, maybe a nurse assistant I don't know, all I remember was how humiliating it felt.  I was intubated so I couldn't speak it brought me back to feeling violated all over again, as a child I never enjoyed my showers, I jumped in and jumped out as quick as I could, sometimes if there was a knock, I wouldn't even dry myself I'd put my clothes on as quick as I could to get out, you see the monster always had an urge to use the bathroom when we were showering and him being the golden boy of the house we had to let him in.

 I remember one day in particular I can't remember how old I was but at most I could have been ten he knocked while I was still in the shower, I tried to jump out and dry myself but he just kept pounding at the door so I had no choice but to open I remember wrapping the towel around me and feeling really scared up until now he had never tried anything with me.  I was as thin as a rail and not developed at all and this time I was trapped, I just knew it was my time when he ordered me to lay on the floor, he got on top of me I remember he kept trying but for some reason he could not penetrate me, the only pain I felt was a head of a nail that was sticking out of the floor and digging into my lower back, it hurt so bad but I didn't dare say a word, I was terrified of this man and after trying for what felt like an eternity he gave up and never tried again.  I still remember the scab on my back from that nail. I was thankful but I knew that it left the burden on her. We never talked about it, I never told my sister about that day, I never even told her about the night I was five years old and her grandfather was trying to force himself in my mouth,  it must of been dawn I remember it was still dark, there was a spare bed in the room I slept in, where he would go sleep if he was drunk. One night he grabbed me out of my bed took me to his bed, pulled out his penis and guided my head down towards it, I pursed my lips as tight as I could ,and I kept running back to my bed, where he repeated to carry me back to his bed until his daughter walked in.

She took me upstairs to where her brother and wife lived. they sat me down at the kitchen table and poured me a bowl of Lucky charms. His wife came from downstairs and asked me what happened, everyone seemed  so concerned. It was weird it felt so good to get so much attention like they all cared, but once I was alone with my grandmother she scolded me and made me feel like it was all my fault. I can't remember what age I stopped wetting my bed, by then the name meonsita, which is pee pee girl in Spanish became my nickname, I don't know why they thought shoving my face in the toilet would teach me not to wet the bed. My bed time prayer to God was please don't let me pee on myself tonight. It didn't always work but still I continued to pray and so the years would pass, and that would be my norm eat, sleep, wet the bed, get a whooping and repeat!