⚠ WARNING⚠ In life sometimes we have to express what happened to us in order to fully heal. It will not be pretty, it may trigger some people, and you yourself may feel naked. But when I say this is my therapy, I mean that. This is an excerpt from the first chapter of my short story which is based on my life. Some names, places and some situations were changed to protect myself and the people involved. Sexual abuse amongst families and the church in so many minority communities is swept under the rug! It’s something that people know but choose not to speak on. We know the uncles who are “too friendly” still he comes around, and the chains of sexual abuse and rape in black communities continue with the victims feeling shame and pain with nothing done to avenge them. This is a true story, MY STORY with more to come. I’m breaking this chain of silence and shame on victims of childhood sexual abuse. IT WAS NOT YOUR FAULT AND WE DESERVE JUSTICE! If you are easily triggered by child molestation, drug use, and suicidal thoughts I recommend not going any further. I left out a lot from my actual future book to be sensitive to some of my readers. But it could still be a trigger. Know what you can and can’t handle, I will not be offended at all. I fully understand and it took me a while to be comfortable with my own story and share parts of it with others. Just so you know I have been addiction free for 8 years now. This excerpt from the book takes place in 2010, going back and forth between 2005 and 1994. With the warnings out there, here is the excerpt of the first chapter. I don’t know why, but I believe this will help others. I’m going to share more chapters from the beginning to the end to allow you all to see my growth. This is the beginning and it’s very sad. But it gets better, you see me now just remember that. I love you all and this is a part of me and my life in healing. If you want to read Chapter 2 of the 4 chapter short story, comment #Chapter2.
CHAPTER 1: the beginning of disaster
The first time I knew I had a problem was when I walked up to a window of an abandoned house. It was so tinted I couldn’t see anyone through it. All I heard was a deep voice say “what you need?” I don’t know umm… I replied. Voice shaking, body aching and sick I just needed a couple pills so I could feel normal again. I need 5 Oxys, I said and handed this gloved hand a hundred dollar bill.
5 YEARS EARLIER
I’d always been a happy go lucky child and teenager. Even though I hid behind the facade of a normal healthy bringing up. My life was anything but happy. I watched people and mimicked how I believed “normal” people my age acted. My mind ridden with anxiety, depression, and pain. I was diagnosed with Early onset of Rheumatoid arthritis as a teenager which introduced me to narcotics at 15. I was in so much pain all the time but soon learned it wasn’t all physical. After having what I thought was a heart attack when I was 19 I soon learned about my mental illnesses. I had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, PTSD, Generalized anxiety disorder, and clinical depression. Each day I came home and cried, wishing today would be the day I got to end this hell.
I was a molested child that was quieted more than half of my life. I had Chronic pain which is a physical disorder and mental disorders, and I had only one person in my life that I could tell everything to. My husband. Before he was my husband he was the boyfriend I could only dream of. Beautiful man, head on straight, and he loved me before I knew I loved him. He made talking to him so comfortable and easy. I told him why I was taking all these different medications and I wasn’t ashamed for the first time. I found out he had some childhood traumatic events, and he also suffered from anxiety. So we felt connected very early in our relationship. My suicidal thoughts started to dissipate, didn’t fully leave my mind but he made surviving much more pleasurable.
I was 18 when I first told my parents about the sexual abuse. Ten years after the first incident. That came to no avail. I actually felt worse telling my parents. My dad just blamed my mom, and my mom just kept asking why didn’t you tell me. Then the next day it was if nothing was said. Just the “so sorry” closed mouth smiles. I couldn’t wait to go back home to my husband. By then we were married, he was the love of my life, and I was trying to find my happiness. But the memories of my abuse still haunted my life.
The first time he came in my room at night I blacked out. To this day I don’t remember what happened after he rolled down my underwear. I was 8 years old. My parents were separated and mommy had moved to Florida to be closer to my grandparents. As a nurse she worked long hours, and my Uncle Tommy who was in high school at the time, volunteered to babysit my sister and I while mommy worked. Uncle Tommy was so cool! He played basketball, was good looking, had so many friends and he loved us. He took us around all his friends and didn’t let anyone mess with us. We were from New Jersey, and had thick up north accents. So in Florida they would make fun of the way we spoke. Uncle Tommy would walk us to school so bullies stayed away from us.
He was our protector, mommy trusted him as did we. We all loved Uncle Tommy and he loved us.
It was the fourth month we’d lived in Florida. Everything was going as usual. My sister and I had just walked in from school, and like always Uncle T was at our house watching basketball. He told us that mommy wouldn’t be home until midnight, so he was staying the night and was gonna be giving me a bath… I thought to myself, what? I’m 8 and my sister is 5 why do you have to bathe me. I said I’m going to call mommy and tell her I know how to take a shower and I’ll wash up Sissy. He stared off a little bit like his plan was ruined, so he just said OK you don’t have to call her and he turned around. Later that night after we’d ate dinner, and showered we all were in the living room on the couch watching TV. Uncle Tommy asked if we were cold and brought out a blanket. A couple minutes had gone by and he said to me Zya come lay over here. Thinking nothing of it I went over. He sat me on his lap and I remembered my daddy told me not to sit on a man’s lap. So I tried to slide over. He took my hand and put it in the middle of his legs and I got scared cause it didn’t feel right. He was erect and was holding my hand down his pants. I laughed for some reason, probably out of nervousness and disbelief. So he laughed too, and scooted me closer rubbing himself on my tiny hand. I looked at Sissy who had fell asleep and pulled my hand out to take my baby sister to her room. He just watched me and I kinda smirked and went to our room. I didn’t know how to feel, I was flushed, I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do. No one had talked to me about sex or sexual abuse. I’d never watched a nasty movie, so I was completely lost. So I just layed in my bed. About 30 minutes later he came to my bed side crawling on the floor next to me. I remember pretending to be sleep hoping he wouldn’t make me touch him again. Then he kissed my face and pulled down my underwear.
I remember nothing that was done. All I remember was waking up without panties and feeling like I peed on myself. So I hid my panties and took a wash up. I went to mommy room and laid next to her, I started silently crying on her back and she just turned over and gave me a hug. Maybe I’d had a bad dream and that wasn’t real. If only that were true.
*Comment Chapter 2 if you want to read the next chapter today!*
#MeTooBlackGirl #MeToo #TheSilentMindKiller #SpeakUp #DestigmatizeMentalIllness #HeDidItToMeToo #IAmNotAshamed #WarriorNotVictim #NoMore