Don't Tell My Wife

I was just a child.

A young teenager struggling with family, friends, and relationships.

When we moved, I thought that it would get better.

It didn't

I was probably around thirteen when we moved to a new area, though I did stay in the same school, which I was happy about, even though I was bullied.

We made friends with a next-door neighbor who had an alcohol addiction. I didn't understand alcohol addiction at such a young age. I thought that it was just adults having fun.

The neighbor became close friends with my family and myself. I felt safe for about a year with him, because during that first year he never touched me. He used to just sit there and fall asleep.

That was until the second year when I chose to stay with him, due to some problems at home.

He would drink every night, but usually he would fall asleep or go straight to bed.

He came home very drunk one night. He must have gone straight to the pub after work, because he was more drunk than usual, and it was very late. I had fallen asleep on the couch after a good night out at the movies with my boyfriend.

My sleep was interrupted by the feeling of someone touching me between my legs, and touching my breasts. I booted the person straight off me.

I heard a male voice shout "bitch!" followed by the clumsy scuffling of feet, then the living room light was switched on.

I saw that it was him.

He looked at me, still confused by the alcohol, and said,

"I'm sorry Carol. I thought that you were my wife sleeping on the couch. Please don't tell my wife. I can't help it when I'm drunk."

The thing is, he was aware that he was drunk, so in reality, he could help it, and he was aware of what he had done, therefore he should have been able to control his actions.

I felt disgusted with myself. I felt bad that I couldn't have controlled what he had done, that my body had been violated, and I couldn't process that a family friend could have done this to me.

I closed off, not wanting to tell my friends or my family because this was someone who was very popular in my neighborhood and someone who was very close to my family.

I shrugged it off and acted like nothing had happened. I knew that nobody would believe me anyway, so I hid behind a mask.

I was too scared to leave because that meant everybody would question me, so I tolerated it for as long as I could.

I didn't realize that I was being sexually abused because other men had touched me before this, and when I spoke out about those men; everybody shrugged it off. It seemed that older men with young teenagers were viewed as normal in my neighborhood, and nobody questioned it.

Nobody questioned the manipulative relationship that developed between myself and a 21-year-old friend either. They viewed it as normal, even though I wasn't sixteen.

I finally realized that what this man was doing to me was wrong, after it happened three times in a row.

On the third night, he took my clothes off and pinned me down. I told him to "Get off me." He told me to "Be quiet because his wife was upstairs."

He tried to engage me in penetrative sex by trying to make me believe that he loved me and that he found me very beautiful. It took me 30 minutes of fighting him before I finally punched him in between the eyes and he let go.

His wife was sleeping while all this was happening.

He finally stopped, and he sat in the opposite chair. He saw the tears in my eyes, and he started crying. This is what he then told me,

"Please don't tell my wife. My son is coming to see me, and I haven't seen him in five years. If you tell my wife, she will leave me and I'll never see my son again. You are free to leave now."

I didn't tell his wife. I needed to get out of there because I was afraid of what he might do next. He didn't notice that I was limping because my body and legs were sore and bruised.

I left and I never went back.

Once I had left, I found out that he was stopped from seeing his son because he kept abusing him while he was on alcohol. I then found out that he had done the same to other underage girls and family.

I have been sitting with this story since I was fourteen years old. I am now 47 years old, and that is a long time to be in pain. That pain was extended by other forms of abuse that I endured during childhood, and during young adulthood.

I was able to share my story today because I had been reading stories by people who had endured similar horrible traumas.

I have an important message to share with the world today.

Abuse of any form can be horrific whether it happens to an adult or a child. I was unable to come forward straight away, and when I did finally start talking, I was accused of making it up.

The abuse that I have suffered, (and there were other types of abuse alongside this one) has had huge consequences on my life, both mentally and physically.

I was unable to trust men and women for a long time, and I couldn't trust myself for a long time.

I understand that there are many people who make false claims of abuse, which are traumatizing to those who are innocent, and I stand with those innocent people who have been victims of these evil allegations.

However, for real victims like myself who have gone through abuse for most of their lives, and for the real victims going through it today. It is a very traumatic and soul-destroying part of their lives where they live with feelings of worthlessness, shame, embarrassment, and guilt for what has happened to them.

I ask you to consider these real victims who will have a lot of feelings and pain to deal with and let them know that they are not to blame and help them to talk about what happened to them.

I wish that I had felt safe enough all those years ago to be able to talk about what had happened to me and that people would have listened to me.

Talking about abuse can save lives. If it wasn't for my husband encouraging me and reassuring me that I am safe to talk to him in confidence today, I would still be a complete mess.

,