Trying to find an end to the abuse – Part II

Childhood Sexual AbusePTSDWhat It Feels Like to Me

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This is Part II of my story of trying to find an end to the abuse that happened to me; trying to find closure. I encourage you to read Part 1 if you haven’t done so already so you get the full scope of this post came about.  As before, there is a Trigger Warning for this post as I will be talking about the events that started my sexual abuse as a child, including places that it happened.

Here we go…

I ask J, “when will I ever be able to understand my triggers and Flashbacks, why do they randomly happen even when I least expect it?”  She says that there’s a missing puzzle piece somewhere what we haven’t discovered yet; a memory that hasn’t surfaced that will hopefully pull this all together.

“You don’t remember when the abuse stopped, do you?” she says. I reply with, “No”, but I sure remember when it started.

It was a breezy late afternoon and I was outside when I heard a mini bike up the street. I looked up in the field and there was this kid that family knew for quite a while (his parents were friends with mine).  This bright, electric blue Honda minibike with black handle grips, silver rims, black wheels, black seat, and a single speedometer sitting on the top of the headlight. It was like a magnet, I was drawn to it. I had to go see this bike and see this kid who was larger than life and just looked cool.

I started walking down the street wearing in my brown corduroy pants, brown b.a.s.s. shoes, white t-shirt and green/white flannel shirt. I almost couldn’t stop myself, at least that’s how I remember it.  He waved to me as soon as he saw me coming and kept riding around the field. Each time I would get closer and he would come around the bend, he would wave or smile more. By the time I got up to the field, he stopped and said, “Hey”, and said, “Hi, that’s such a cool bike you have”. “Thanks”, he said, “you want to go for a ride?”

I was beside myself with excitement! “Really?” I said? He said “Yeah man, hop on and hold on to me tight!”  So I hopped on the back without even giving it a second thought, and he took me around the field several times before finally stopping at the same place that we first met several minutes earlier.

I got off the back, with a huge smile on my face and said, “that was so awesome”!  “I’ll see you later man”, he said, and then rode off back to his house. By now he already knew he had me hook,line, and sinker. His plan was already working.

That’s how the abuse started the first time, with that first ride and my desire to fit in, to be with a cool kid, to show the bullies at school that I had a teenage friend and I got to ride the coolest bike I’d ever seen. He groomed me and played on my emotions over time to get me to a place where I couldn’t say no to what he was planning to do to me.

For some amount of time, months, a year, I don’t know, he took advantage of me in a way nobody should have to experience. The very thought of what went down still makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, gives me chills, anxiety, and I tense up like you wouldn’t believe.  I can see the dimly lit room, the wood paneled walls, the umbrella basket in the corner beside the couch; and that couch! White with brown colored leaf patterns on it, wooden arms rests with a wooden circle on top, and the old style throw pillows with the one big button in the middle, 2 of them. I can see the lamp on the end table, opposite the couch, that barely lit the room. Shag carpet, dark rust in color; it gives me the creeps even as I write this now.

I can also see the shed where the bikes were stored, and the lawn mowers and gardening equipment was kept. It silent-cry-for-help-300x200 Trying to find an end to the abuse - Part IIsmelled of gasoline and the floors were old wood that had some small holes in them. The boards on the walls of the shed had some knot holes in them too, and there was a work bench and a sink (at least I remember a sink for some reason but don’t know why). There was a garden beside the shed too, where they grew lettuce and cucumbers. I still hate cucumbers today.

That’s where the abuse happened, just over 100 yds from my house and nobody ever knew what was happening.

To sum this up for now, perhaps one of the keys to all of these flashbacks and memories is that I can’t put a definitive end to anything. I don’t know when the abuse stopped. I have no idea what transpired that caused me to stop going down for rides and to his house; back to that abuse repeatedly.  Did I threaten to tell, or maybe he just got bored with me? Did I just decide one day I’d had enough and never went back again?

Either way, it’s a huge missing puzzle piece that I can’t fit into the framework of my life right now. I don’t honestly know if I will ever remember why or when or how the abuse stopped. That in itself is unbelievably frustrating. If I can ever find a way to jog that memory loose, it might offer me enough answers to curb the anxiety & flashbacks, in time. Then again, it might raise more questions and my mind knows I’m not ready to go there yet.

-Lyric

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Blogger-Podcaster-Advocate for Mental Health.

Matt is survivor of childhood sexual abuse & narcissistic abuse, living with Dissociation, Anxiety, & PTSD.

This blog exists to inspire all who have survived the trauma of abuse. All posts, podcasts, and videos are my life as a survivor shared openly and honestly to help inspire as many as possible to speak up, speak out, and not be ashamed.

13 Responses to " Trying to find an end to the abuse – Part II "

  1. […] so far, hopefully I can start to pull it all together so bear with me please.  EDIT – Part II is loaded up and you can read it here.. I hope you will  read the conclusion, it would mean a great deal to […]

  2. Don says:

    For me, I can’t quite remember when it started (it was long before I was even 5, but I do remember when it stopped – I left for college. It bugs me to this day that I wish I knew the other parts that want to evade me. I know they are there. I’ve talked to my younger brother and he remembers parts I don’t quite remember, but yet I know they happened. Talk about a recipe to mess with one’s mind.

    I know the details can drive a person up the wall. I still struggle with that and I’m learning to accept that some of it I will never know all the details. That isn’t easy for me to accept either.

    Some of my abuse happened while the rest of the family was in the house. I want to ask my mom how much she knew, but she’s gone from this world so that question remains unanswered. Of course I knew that if we talked about any of it, we were at risk for getting the same treatment our pets got – “DEATH”. We were threatened that if we told, we’d never survive and the beatings proved that to be true.

    One day I think it will all come into view for you. I know the anxiousness of wanting that to happen, but I also know that our mind protects us until we are ready for it.

    At least you’re doing the work you need to do to piece all of this together so you can move forward. So many give up and say, this is too tough. It is tough to do. I’m just glad you’re doing the work!

    • Lyric says:

      Don, thank you man. I appreciate the support. It’s so frustrating, trying to come to grips with the fact that I may never remember yet still staying focused on educating myself, learning about it and from it, and trying to heal. I’m such an overthinker it’s just exasperating trying to put the pieces together. I will continue to do my homework that’s for sure and one day I have to hope and think I will get some closure and peace.

      • Don says:

        If you saw a recent tweet about a poem I wrote called “Show Me Your Face”, that was one of the things I wrote during some of those dark times for myself. For a long time, I kept having nightmares about the color purple and couldn’t figure it out. When that finally fit together, I about punched my fist through my front door. That’s why I learned that our mind only allows us what we can deal with because as you know – some of this stuff is pretty intense. Therapy is the helpful part. Keep going in it, no matter how rough it may get. Sounds like you have a great therapist and that’s a good thing!

        • Lyric says:

          I’m so grateful my mind has been protecting me, now that I understand what it was actually doing and still is doing. However, I just wish it would hurry up and share what it wants to share. Yes I know, I know, it’s only letting us remember what we can handle but jeez!!!

          • Don says:

            Yep… I thought that same thing many times… its like, come on already… quit leaving me in suspense! I love reading what you write because it helps me connect with some of those moments that I struggled through and kind of forgot about.

  3. My heart breaks for that little boy and I hope in time you will find the peace you deserve, Lyric. I am grateful to see your posts pop up in my feed every single time. Aloha my friend, Athena

    • Lyric says:

      That you my friend. That little kid has been through hell and back that’s for sure. One day I hope to find true peace and a thriving mentality. 🙂 #WorkInProgress

  4. It is amazing the things our mind chooses to forget or remember. You can remember every thread in the carpet and every tool in the shed but you can’t remember the last time he hurt you. Yet. I can remember the smell and the taste of blood so strongly that I still smell and taste it today even after I brush my teeth, but I cannot remember their faces.

    • Lyric says:

      You are so right Joy, our minds are so complex and how in the world they know what to allow to us remember and what not too and the reasons why is just incredible. The more I do research and read about how the brain works the more amazed I am.

  5. […] I tell myself consciously and subconsciously every time I remember my trauma. I see that little kid being abused, molested, lied too, and used by a neighborhood kid that he thought was the coolest person ever. That kid who was pushed around, name called, and […]

  6. […] me though, while I know what that kid up the street did to me so long ago wasn’t good, actually saying that he was mean to me, admitting it out loud, […]

  7. […] I was a young kid, and going through the sexual abuse at the hands of the teenager up the street, I had no control over what was going on. I was powerless to stop […]

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