We were driving down the police station. I sat down in the passenger seat, contemplating about what was going to happen. I thought that I would be separated from my mother and be pounded with relentless questions. What were you wearing? Were you under the influence? Where you giving him mixed signals? Instead, I was handed a pen and paper and was expected to write every single detail I could recall from the three incidents. They shooed me away into the waiting room full of strangers. I sat in the corner of the room, covering my paper with my arm, making sure no one could see what I was writing. It wasnât enough. I went back up to the police officer and he read every single thing I wrote down in front of everyone. I died inside. I felt like everyone was listening in on what he did to me, when he did it to me, how he did it to me. I never felt anything so intrusive.
When I was fifteen, I was molested a total of three times. He was my cousin and about a year older than me. I donât distinctly remember what happened to me the first two times or exactly when they happened. I do remember the last time and that it was the 4th of July. I felt terrified when it happened. I knew what to do, but I was scared about what people would say. Once my mom found out, I thought everything would be okay. I thought that once everyone knew, Iâd get endless amount of support. But I donât get nightmares about him hurting me; I get nightmares about the ones I love the most letting him hurt me.
Reflecting back on it, I know that my family loves me. I know that they feel bad about what happened to me. But my family gets very uncomfortable in scary situations. Their hope is that if they donât talk about it, then itâs almost like Iâll forget about what happened and it wonât be a problem.
In doing this, it looked like to me that they did not care about what happened. It looked like they were more concerned about what would happen to him, rather than how much pain I felt from what he did to me. And for that, I spent most of the school year talking to my therapist about how much my family was hurting me rather than learning to forgive and heal.
When my younger cousin found out what happened to me, she begged me not to press charges on him, because then he would go to jail and she would never see him again. She begged me not to tell the family because then her parents would not let her go to his house. She sent me screenshots of his messages that showed how sorry he was. I felt so guilty about reporting my molestation to the police. I felt like I did something wrong. I felt like I was doing something that my family disapproved of. I felt so confused because logically and emotionally, I knew I was doing the right thing, but if my family didnât want me to do it, did that mean I shouldnât do it?
Later that week, she told me that she didnât understand what I was thinking because if he did that to her she would âbeat the shit out of him.â I couldnât help but feel responsible for what happened. I should have done something more. I should have pushed him off of me. I should have screamed and woke everybody up. I should have said something the first time.
My mom sat me down with his parents- my aunt and uncle. They told me that they believed me and that they were not going to let him deny what happened. They said that, when they asked their friends, who were police officers, what they should do, they told them to tell him to deny everything they said. --Why would police officers say that? Arenât they supposed to protect the victims? Arenât they supposed to lock people up like him? Does anyone care what happens to me? Does anyone care that I feel scared whenever I leave my house?-- But they werenât going to let him do that. They told me that they were incredibly sorry and that they hoped that I would be able to have a normal relationship with him again. How could anyone suggest that I continue a normal relationship with my molester? How can they even consider me talking to him when heâs done nothing to redeem himself? How can they even entertain the thought of me talking to him when heâs received no punishment? How can they even push that thought into my mind when I havenât even begun to heal from what happened to me?
A month later, my mom took me to the detective. He asked me if I wanted to press charges. I said yes. He left the room to get a notepad. My mom turned to me and asked, âWhy do you want to press charges? Itâs going to be on his criminal record forever. Youâre going to ruin his life.â Well great. He ruined my life so maybe can ruin his. Why does she care so much about him? Iâm her daughter. Hasnât she thought about how he ruined my life? Shouldnât she care more about her daughter?
Months later, I was sitting on my bed and my sister was getting ready. I asked her where she was going. Oh. She was going to his house for his birthday party. Why would she go to his house? She knows what happened. She knows what he did to me. I stayed silent. She went to the party.
When she came back home, I yelled at her. âYou need to get over yourself. You canât keep stopping me and Mommy from seeing our family.â Ouch. I thought that at the end of the day, we only had each other. I guess not. How lonely...
It was the day. January 4th-- the day the judge would decide what would happen to him. Correctional camp? Juvenile detention center? No. He got probation, community service, and counseling. His punishment was counseling. Does that mean that I was being punished too? I thought Tia and Tio were going to put him in counseling a long time ago. Does anyone care that he traumatized me and he should be punished? I guess not.
My family had no malintentions towards me when I told them that I was molested by my older cousin. They didn't think I was lying about what happened. They believed everything I said. They just didnât know how to communicate with me in my most fragile state of mind. My family doesnât know how to talk to a sexual assault survivor.
Throughout this whole school year, there have been so many ups and downs with my family. And I wonât lie; theyâve mostly been downs. I canât say that all of them have learned how to talk to me without hurting me. All but one still donât know how.
My mom is the only one who has really grown with me throughout this experience. Weâve had so many conversations about the beginning. Infact, my mom told me that the minute those word in the detectiveâs office left her mouth, she instantly regretted them. She later learned that instead of saying, âYouâre going to ruin his life!â she shouldâve said, Â âI just want you to let go and forgive. If you do this, Iâm scared youâre going to hold on forever and be unhappy.â
Iâve recently learned that every time me and my mom got into an argument with me, she was just afraid that I would hold on to what happened forever and be bitter and unhappy forever. She didnât want it to define me and prevent me from being successful and prospering in life. She wanted me to forget what happened so that I would be happy in life. She quickly realized that this was not possible. She realized that I needed to accept what happened to me and move on from there.
I am very grateful that my mom quickly realized her wrong doings and corrected herself. She learned how to talk to me without hurting me. Because of that, I have someone I feel comfortable and safe enough to talk to. And now, seven and a half months after my last assault, I can finally say that Iâve had more good days than bad days within the last month. Iâm finally started to heal and a big part of that is because of my mom.
Through my story (and hopefully the many more to come), I hope that you all will learn to become more mindful of what you say to a sexual assault survivor. I hope that youâll understand that some of these people are in their fragile state of mind and that you have to communicate to them in a way that doesnât hurt them. I hope that you learn to speak to sexual assault victims without trial and error. I hope that you learn not through your own mistakes, but rather, through my familyâs mistakes.
tangentwithtanner
ellievsbear
2087
discoholicmusic
areudirty
baratheonpilled
izzy806
andulkaphoto