Their Shame

I am 45. My healing began at 43. I say began because only one week ago I figured out why, for several years after we were married, I would feel like throwing up after having sex with my husband. I would actually go to the bathroom and lean over the sink. It was because he wanted to please me. He didn’t know I had been with a pedophile. The only experience I had was sex with my uncle and teacher. So I would tell him to finger me then get on top of me. It actually felt right. Starting any other way felt wrong or backwards or like steps were missing. Until I reread my own story I never connected the nausea with the fact I was violating my self over and over by repeating the ritual.

I guess I wasn’t too young for these two grown men:

Seven

One fist up, one fist down. Yep, that’s how he wants it done. Stand the right way. Now slowly move my hands back and forth. Nice and smooth…that one was even better than the others. Wait till he sees how good my roundhouse kick has gotten…

Karate class is so much fun. It’s just two buildings over in one of the townhome/apartments where we live so I just walk over. My teacher was very serious but not mean. He has promised to teach as many kids as possible EVERYTHING he knows about karate. I’m lucky my parents are letting me learn. Sometimes they take away stuff I really like if it’s too much of a hassle or they just don’t want me to have it anymore. But I think they’ll let me keep this because my teacher is good friends with my dad and his wife is good friends with my mom AND I and his oldest son used to play together sometimes. I kinda stopped being friends because he wasn’t a lot of fun anymore. Always quiet and sad; then just weird acting.

I was so surprised his sons are even in the class. They never say anything so it’s like they aren’t even there. Our class may be down in a basement but it’s no big deal. A lot of people have stuff set up in their basement and besides, you would never know it. It’s got all the stuff you see in a gym. Nice padded mats to flip on, karate stuff everywhere. Everybody is getting better, but not as fast as I am. I bet it’s because of all of my extra practicings at home. My karate teacher says that’s why I get to do extra tumbles. Oops gotta quickly get in line. He just split us up into two lines. Our side of the line is longer (there are about 10 in my line) but we’re fast and good so my turn comes around again really fast and I don’t have to wait long to go again. Soooo fun!!

Yes? You want me to come over to you? I’m doing really good? Thank you (inside cheer–yeah me!) and I run to get back in line. This time my tumble is even better…no wobble in sight. Yes? Come over again? I just got a “good job” pat on the bottom before I rejoin the line. And again… Tumble Pat, Tumble, Pat… Pat. He says good job to some of the other kids, but I’m the ONLY ONE to be called over for a Good Job Pat.

OK, now I am sooo sick of having to go over and get a pat on the bottom after EVERY tumble. It’s making me lose my place in line and I’m starting to feel weird. I know!! Instead of going right and having to pass by his chair to get in line, I’ll go LEFT and get in the other line. It worked. He looks surprised, then for a second, mad. Did my plan again; worked again. The third time he told me I had to stay in the right line. What to do?? Tumble…ran by quick – too quick for him to grab me when he tried.

Yes? Why won’t I come over anymore for my Good Job Pats? Umm, I really don’t know why. I have to? Every time?  Every single time?

I obey
My teacher likes to sit in a chair facing the class during tumble time. My bottom is being patted. When he is done he says Ok or good job then I can go. I am letting him. I am letting him. I don’t want to, but I do. I am looking at him and he is looking at me. Like a staring contest. I can feel and hear the class behind me. Just get my pat and go back to the fun stuff. And then, one day, with my back to the class, I realized he was doing something. He is moving his hand to the front. He is putting his hand into the leg of my shorts. I CAN NOT MOVE. I DON’T MOVE! I can feel him pulling aside my panties. My mind is stuttering hundreds of ‘What is…’ like a stuck record. He is sliding his finger inside of me. There is nowhere to go. My karate teacher is watching my face, I don’t remember blinking. They are going to see him doing this thing to me. His finger is wet and I can feel him pushing it in deeper. His whole finger must be in me. He quickly pulls it out and says OK.

I go back in line. I cannot think about tumbling perfectly anymore. But I tumble and I go back. I don’t know what else to do. But all he does is the good job pat. End of class, the moms come down the stairs, he tells them how each boy/girl did/improved. Everyone is happy.

No one to tell

Who is there to tell? The dad who punched me in the mouth at five, broke out my teeth and made me crawl on the floor to look for them? How about mom who has burnt me, strangled me until I was unconscious, dug her nails into my neck, or ripped the clothes off of her sweet little first grader? There is no one at home who would protect me. No one to feel outraged at how deep he likes to stick his fingers in my vagina. I go back. Most of the class is still fun.

Tumble, come to the chair. Over and over. He is now up to two fingers. He is using my body to block all the kids from seeing what he is doing right there in front of them. I never move or blink until he says I can. The back of my neck is on fire. I bet all the kids know. I hear them laughing. I bet it’s at me cause this is happening. It is so gross.

The Last Class

The karate teacher loses track of time. His fingers are all the way in me and he is watching my face. It’s like a staring contest. I…will…not…blink. All of a sudden, the moms are coming down the stairs!!! They are busy laughing. His fingers are still inside of me. He keeps them there while more and more moms are getting closer. My mom gets half way down the stairs and that is when she can see what is happening. I am looking at her. Watching her like I watched him. Not blinking. Her face changes from laughter to SHOCK.  The karate teacher slooooowly and calmly slides his fingers out like he has all the time in the world. All of the moms quickly get their kids. They are leaving like the building is on fire. No one ever says anything to me about it and I never go back.

The Uncle

Right after it happened, my nice uncle (my mom’s brother) has begun sending me Christmas presents every year. Anything my little heart desired. None of the other kids got a gift from him, just me. We don’t celebrate Christmas so I feel extra, extra special. I wonder if she had shared what happened to me with him before she sent me and my little brother to spend the summer alone with him when I was 10/11. He offered to show us a good time down here in Florida. Instead, we were forced to beg him for food and he would climb on top of me and have sex with me like a grown up. This went on throughout the summer and continued until I was 16 when I finally found the courage to say no more.

I’ll be so glad when stories like mine are extinct.