Me Too

Today, I received a text from my little brother who is in the military. He said he was worried he was going to receive an administrative discharge from the military. I asked him what happened but it made me think about our childhood and how we grew up. The early childhood trauma for him and adolescent for me. I then began thinking about the #MeToo movement, and how powerful it had been and even though I had a story to tell, I stayed silent. I will no longer stay silent. This is my story.

When I was fourteen and in the eighth grade, I spent the night before Easter at my friend Samantha's house. It was always a fun time at her house. Her parents were still married, unlike mine, and they always made us laugh and have fun. I never wanted to leave because it was the polar opposite from my house. The next morning my step-father picked me up and on the way home, he told me my mom was in the hospital because the night before she had been vomiting blood. It was then we learned that she had Hepatitis C and a cirrhosis of the liver and needed a liver transport. It was then, in that moment, I knew my life would never be the same.

In the months that followed that day, everything changed. My mom was in and out of the hospital and when she was home she wasn't really present, and couldn't really take care of us, so I assumed her role. My brother was three and couldn't really understand what was happening but he could tell something was wrong, but he knew I was there to take care of him and make sure he would be okay.

The first time my step-father touched me I honestly thought it was an accident. I was reaching for the plastic wrap, which was kept on top of the refrigerator, and he grabbed my right breast. I remember standing there frozen in disbelief. I stared at him because I literally could not form the words asking him "What just happened?" He just started laughing and said it was an accident and that he was trying to help me with the plastic wrap.

I told my mom about it the next day and she asked if it were to happen again, if I would want to press charges. She said she didn't care if he was her husband, she knew it was wrong. Again I just stared in disbelief because I couldn't believe it. The only issue was, her health continued to deteriorate and she was eventually permanently hospitalized until she could receive her transplant. When that happened my little baby brother and I were left at the mercy of our sick step-father.

With my mother in the hospital, I literally had to fill her shoes. I was a freshman in high school and was trying to deal with that. When I got home from school, I had about three hours to clean the house, get the laundry done, and have dinner ready by the time my step-father would get home from work. I also had to make sure my four-year-old brother was bathed and ready for bed by eight. There was no time for homework or to be a normal teenager.

One of the most memorable violations from him was when we went to pick up a friend of his. The car we had was only a two door so when you got into the back seat, you had to climb in from the front. While I was climbing into the back, he put his hand in the back seat in such a way that I sat directly on it when I sat down. When I felt his hand down there I felt my whole body cringe and screamed. I found my voice that time. He just said it was an accident and that he was trying to help me sit down.

Another time I was sleeping, and I usually locked my bedroom door to keep him out. That night I had forgotten to lock it. He came in on his way leaving for work and "fell" directly on top of me. While he never raped me, I had never been more scared than I was at that moment in time that he was going to. No matter how he violated me, he always had an excuse as to why it was an accident.

I wasn't his only target, my poor sweet brother was too. He would force him to sleep in bed with and he would force him to be naked. I would fight and fight for that not to happen, but he always said he was the adult and he knew what was best. My brother began to act out, horribly. Looking back and after studying psychology in college, he was showing all the classic signs of a sexually abused child.

I have always blamed myself for what happened to my brother. He was so young and innocent. He should not have had to go through that, and as the oldest sibling, I should have been able to protect him. I know there was no way I could for many reasons. When my mother had her transplant and got back on her feet, she divorced him because she knew what he was. A monster.

A parent's first instinct is to protect their children, and my mother tried. She wouldn't let me wear tank-tops, because she feared I would get raped. She wouldn't let me watch R-rated movies because she didn't want me to be exposed to what was in them. She tried to hard to protect me from the evils of this world, but she couldn't protect us from the evil inside our home.

That's my story. I didn't tell it for sympathy, but to let you know that everything ended up okay. My brother went through periods of anger and depression, and now he is serving in the military. As for me, the road has been long and hard. I have been through many hours of therapy, and have learned it was not my fault. Trauma is not easy to get over, and it takes a lot of work to get through it, but it is possible.

Since this has happened I have put myself through college and met a really great guy, and for the first time in a long time, I am truly happy. It wasn't easy and took a lot of work. I run regularly and that helps keep my depression at bay. We have three cats and they are always there when I need them for comfort. But most importantly, we laugh, we laugh a lot. We have fun together and we are always there for each other. Trauma can be overcome. #MeToo