Disturbed

"Hm, you aren't as messed up after that incident than most girls that I know who went through the same thing," said a coworker I got close to.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, most of them would seem normal but would have outbursts of rage and just... be crazy about it, you seem to have adapted pretty well, I’d say."

I still don't know how to feel about his statement, but it is true. At eight years old, I was molested by my uncle.

At work, we make fun of those types of jokes all the time, taking it lightheartedly. On my last day of the second shift, I decided to tell my coworker who I had grown close to.

I don't remember when it started or much of it, but I remember enough to know that it happened, not only to me, but my older sister as well. I remember one morning, when I was about seven, he asked me if I wanted to go to the store with him. I thought, "Heck yeah! I'm gonna go get my favorite candy and debate if I want to share it with my sister or his sons." Well, we got to the store and it wasn't open yet. "Well, I guess we'll wait," he said as he had this weird smile on his face that I hadn't seen before.

So I sat there in the passenger seat, quiet. He then pulled my head over and started kissing me as he reached over and tried touching me down there. I think I held his hand away because I don't remember feeling his hands there. After what felt like forever and the windows fogged up, he turned the air for the windows on, let it clear up, and headed back to his house. "You guys are back early and with nothing!" joked his wife.

"Oh sorry dear, we went out but the store wasn't open yet." I just rushed to the living room and hung out with his sons that weren't at school. I didn't say anything to anyone, I don't even think I knew what had happened.

That same year, before school started, I remember two incidents. One happened when I was sitting outside on a summer morning before summer school, the humidity and the sun, gracing my face yet it was still cool out. I don't remember why I was alone outside, I just remember I was sitting at the top of a four-step staircase and he came out to sit next to me. He was semi-lecturing me about my life and how to lead it to the right path of success all the while his hand was uncomfortably close to my inner thigh. As he continued his rant, his hand moved closer and closer. My aunt saved me by coming out and telling him to go inside and eat. I swear, the speed in which he moved his hands from my inner thighs away could have caught a bullet.

The second incident I could recall was when he was on the porch. He looked like he was getting ready to go to work. I don't remember where my aunt was but, all I know was that she wasn't around. He saw me coming down the stairs and asked me to come over. He's my uncle, so I thought, 'Why not, he might have something he wants to give me or to remind my aunt of something.' So I did and he picked me up in his arms. I didn't know what he was doing at the time, all I knew was that he picked me up and started shaking me. 'Weird..' I thought. Then my aunt popped out of nowhere and he dropped me. I sped walked away because all I was focused on was getting to watch TV before heading to school.

There was one day when my sister and I were talking. I forgot what we were talking about and where we were, but my sister confessed to me that our uncle was touching her. I was shocked! I told her that he was doing that to me too and suggested we tell our mother once we saw her again.

We were in the car, my sister and I sitting in the back and whispering about telling our mother about him. I think my sister started it off with "Mom, you know uncle is touching us..." I chimed in and agreed with her. In rage, my mother yelled out "HOW COULD YOU LIE TO ME. MY BROTHER IS NOT LIKE THAT. HE WOULD NEVER DO THAT. QUIT LYING RIGHT NOW AND APOLOGIZE."

"But mom! he is!" cried my sister.

"QUIT LYING!"

Silence.

My sister and I looked at each other and made a silent agreement that we not bring it up, that we would just avoid him.

A few years later, my mother remarried. The first couple of nights when we moved in with him, my mother whispered to us "If he touches you guys inappropriately tell me right away, okay?" We agreed but when we got back into our room, my sister asked herself "Why would she say that but not believe us when we tried telling her that her brother was doing that to us?"

"I dont know..." I whispered.

My step-father didn't work for the first couple years my mother and him were together, so he would take us to and from school instead of my mother having to drop us off at my uncle's house. We didn't see my uncle much and when they had family gatherings, we'd exchange awkward hello's and run off to go play.

Growing up with what I grew up with I thought I was normal, like most other girls. I forgot about my childhood it until I went to high school.

When I had male teachers that I got along with, I would get anxiety when they would be nice or when we were alone in a classroom, afraid that I will have to re-live what I thought had gone away. Every old man that I would encounter and get along with, my brain would replay those scenarios that I try to repress.

A few years later, I got pregnant, left the baby's father and found a job. I was looking around for childcare so, my sister's boyfriend, who my daughter had grown to love, told me that he would help watch her. I trusted him fully and told him that I would let him watch her.

My mother went to my aunt's house earlier in the week before I was looking for childcare, and told me that my aunt (said uncle's wife) is willing to watch my daughter, Monday through Friday, and I would have her on the weekends. At first I thought 'Well, she is like a second mother to me, so why wouldn't I.' Then the horrid memories of what happened to me came back. The realization that my daughter could go through the same thing I grew up with, scared me.

I turned down my mother's request to move closer because I knew that my aunt and uncle would be the only ones to help watch my daughter and younger siblings.

After telling my coworker, he said "You don't want your daughter to grow up too fast... It's cool if she grows up weird, but she has to get weird progressively, not by some messed up method."