Richy

I always knew I was different. What three year old suffers from depression? Yup, this one did. I worried constantly about whether my mother loved me. I even recall thinking that I should not of been born. I was working out my place in this world, even as a toddler. I thought about strange things, had strange dreams. I had a repetitive dream that my mother was hosting a Tupperware party, turned into a violin and started killing all the attendees. Like WTF. I was a troubled soul even at the beginning of my life.

As a young girl into womanhood we go through things. Throughout the years I have spoken to so many women and am convinced that a girl will have some sort of trauma(s) in her life.

I have had my share. Feelings of self doubt that I harbored even as a baby. I was molested when I was four years old. My mother was a single mom who worked a couple of jobs at that time. She needed a babysitter and my aunt's ex husband's mother Delores was willing to watch us. Let me tell you the moment I walked into their trailer home, an eerie feeling came over me.

At 4 years old, I sensed a vibe that felt somewhat ominous. The whole family had a strange aura surrounding them. Like really, really strange. As I recall there was a daughter, I think her name was Carolyn or Caroline, I don't have much of a recollection of her, she didn't interact with me much. Then there was my abuser, Richard. He was 17 years old and honestly not bad looking nor was he the stereo typical recluse. He had friends and girlfriends. Not sure what he wanted with me. Then there was Chuck, who gave me the strangest vibe believe it or not since he was not my abuser. Go figure!

I definitely did not like coming here in the beginning. I remember being incredibly sad that my mom would leave me and my sister in the doorway and make her exit. These people trying to force me to interact with them. Even as a young child, I wanted to be left to myself. This is where I had reoccurring dream number two. I am laying in bed. I was put down for a nap daily, probably Delores's bed. The dream was always the same. Door opens, I am watching a gun floating in the room. No one is holding it. It just keeps inching closer and closer to me. I know this gun intends to shoot me. I am petrified! I don't think I ever fell asleep completely, the dream always felt like I was in some kind of in a paralysis state. I'm awake, yet unable to move or make a sound.

It felt like an eternity before I am able to move. I think I may have cried the first time I had this dream. I remember Richy running in to check on me. It would be the same dream daily while being put down for a nap. I won't cry about it anymore, just fear nap time.

What I am going to divulge in a few may come as a shocker to some and maybe even disgust some, but I am just telling my truth as I know it, so here is how I interpreted my experience with my abuser Richy.

Even though I was four and what he did was wrong on every level, I feel as if I called him to me. I don't think he molested anyone else. Even as a child of four, I felt people were drawn to me, including him. There was never any penetration, I even recall asking him questions on why I could not participate in certain things and he would tell me how wrong this was and I was too young and that he didn't want to hurt me. I could feel that he loved me. He never threatened to hurt me if I told anyone, he was all love and kindness. I never feared him or was I ever repelled by what he was doing with me. The really weird part of this story is to me was that sometimes I was wearing a diaper. Why was I wearing a diaper at 4? I suspect because I was a bed wetter and would in fact wet the bed until I was 15. It does make my memories of these encounters weirder. I was shirtless, in a diaper and one side of the diaper would be removed.

I did feel a connection to Richy. I have a great memory, yet during this time in my life I really only remember interacting with him. Not all sexual either, actually the time spent with him was mostly happy moments for me. He would laugh with me, twirl me around, play games with me. He was my best friend. If I injured myself, he would get visibly upset and even cry.

Let me elaborate a little more. One day I was walking through the trailer park, it was all gravel, no concrete anywhere. I think I had some of those cap rolls that you used to put in a cap gun that Richy bought for me. I was outside using a rock to smash them so I could make them pop off. I was sitting on the ground when a daddy long legs came right next to me. It scared the bajeebies out of me so I jumped up to make my way back inside. While I was walking down the gravel road a girl that lived across the lot, she was about 10 years old jumped out from behind a bush. She pushed me with such force! No reason for it, we played together before and never had cross words. I fell on my face and busted my lip wide open, meat hanging and all. Eeewwww!

I screamed so loud that Richy came tearing out of the house. He saw me and panicked. Scooped me up in his arms, hugging me and sobbing. All the while reassuring me that I was going to be alright. He really did love me. Watching him cry hurt my soul. I can't explain why this sick and twisted relationship came to be or why I felt only love and even possessiveness, but no fear, it just was what is was.

Going to wrap up this session. I have analyzed what this was for years and there is more, but I need to collect myself more before I divulge further. I am starting to ramble and want to share as clearly and concisely as possible. Will wrap up this experience with Richy my next post.

Until next time,

Laura