There was a period of time when my Mom, Dad and I lived on a farm with a man whom everyone called Squirrely. I had just turned 8 when we moved into that house and remained there until after I turned 9. Middle Sherry holds the memories the most of that year. The memories are horrific and I am so proud of her for going through what she did to help me and all the others inside.
Today at therapy our Therapist helped her to leave that farmhouse and come to 2013. Before totally locking up the tape that was made in our mind Middle Sherry wants everyone to know her story. I will tell it as she tells me what happened. If you are a multiple reading this please be in a good place before continuing on.
I remember the day he showed me his thing. I was getting ready to go to school and my parents were sleeping because they never got up with me in the morning. I was just about to walk out the door and he whispered, "Hey Honey." I looked and he had it in his hand and I smiled. I didn't know how else to react because it happened to me by so many men already that it was "normal" for me. I think my smiling was a mistake but it was too late for me. I hated coming home from school. My Mom would be working at the bar and my Dad would be there too, drinking. I was to come home to this creepy old man who had no teeth and smelled awful. He started out by just making me suck on his thing and touching me down there. Then it got worse. Real bad. I would walk through the door and he would force me to the floor and put his thing into mine and it hurt so much. I could feel my tailbone banging on the hardwood floor and he was staring at me and he was so ugly. Then it became very wet feeling and he took his red handkerchief and wiped me off down there very rough like. This happened day after day after day. I complained to Mom that my private area was so sore and itchy and all she would do is put Lanacane on it and that burned and I hate that smell. Why wouldn't she take me to the Doctor to make it feel better?
My friend down the road was watching through the window one time I was being raped and she ran home and told her Mom. Her Mom called my Grandma at her restaurant and told her what my friend said, My Dad picked me up to bring me to see my Grandma and the whole car ride there I was threatened about what would happen to me if I told the truth about Squirrely. Dad and him would do sex things together and make me watch so I guess he didn't want that to stop or something. We got to the restaurant and I'm sitting across from Grandma in the booth, Dad behind her standing. She flat out asked me if something was going on and I looked up and saw Dad's mean eyes and I looked back at Grandma and said, "No way! Squirrely would never do that!" So much self hate and guilt I had for myself at that moment. I could have told and I didn't. I was so scared so I lied. Today in therapy Nancy said I was only lying to protect myself from harm. Everyone inside who agreed with her raised their hand to show they agreed and weren't mad at me. Everyone raised their hand and I guess I feel better as far as knowing no one is mad at me.
A year of daily rapes and molesting took place in that farmhouse. I have a lot of anger at that place. I hate Squirrely, who is dead now, and I hate my Dad. I am so angry at my Mom for not helping me and I am mad that they left me alone with a strange man. I have so much confusion in me of why? I still wish I would have told that day but fear is how they keep you a victim. Squirrely was just in a long line of abusers in my life. But for him there is the most hate. .