Depression
My Story:
I cant remember not being depressed. In my first weeks, maybe the whole first year of grammar school, I was so scared to go to school. So scared in fact, that I would kick and scream every school morning. My mom had to literally carry me across the street to the neighbor’s house, and stuff me in the car yelling at the top of my lungs, in order for the woman to take me to school.
From that point on it pretty much went downhill.
If any of you have heard of Dr. Phil, he says there are pivotal moments in your life, good or bad.
I remember one such pivotal moment when I was in 2nd or 3rd grade. My art teacher said that I was “immature”. I took that to heart and remained “immature” for the next year or so…whatever immature meant. I thought in second grade that all kids were immature. I had no idea really what she meant but I sure tried to figure it out and worried about it for most of my life.
If there are any teachers reading this, please know that if you have nothing except praise for a child, don’t say anything at all. Talk to their parents but don’t make a negative statement like that to a child, especially one that age, where they are so vulnerable. Something may have happened to make he child immature!
Another pivotal moment in my life was in 4th grade. I got held back, while all my other friends got to go on.
Somewhere in between 2nd and 4th grade I was sexually abused by an older boy down the street. I think it happened in a tent in his back yard. After that I acted out sexually even though I didn’t know why. I remember lifting up my skirt in class at this little boy to show him my underwear. I guess it didn’t matter who else was watching. There was other acting out too, and that’s probably why I got called immature by that art teacher.
From then on until about 8th grade everything seemed ok. Other than living with an alcoholic mom and a dad that was never there, I was doing ok.
Then in 9th grade, I went to a party at one of my friend’s houses. I told mom and dad I was staying one place and ended up staying at another girlfriends house. Wow this is even harder than I thought it would be to tell this story, but I will do my best. At this friends house there were a few guys our age and 3 guys that were older. We were all having a good time. We were drinking beer and smoking pot and I don’t think I had ever had that combo before. I was pretty wasted and almost passed out on the couch. Almost. I couldn’t open my eyes but I could speak. This guy, Chuck decided he would have his way with me and took me upstairs. I didn’t know what was going on until he started to fondle me. I tried to stop him, but couldn’t, all I could do was say no, and apparently that wasn’t enough for him to stop. HE continued fondling me then started having sex with me. I wanted him to stop because I certainly wasn’t ready to have sex. I wanted it to be beautiful and loving, not with someone I didn’t know and who didn’t care about me. The more I said no the farther he would go and I couldn’t seem to do anything about it. Finally he was finished and I rolled over and began to cry. I was so glad it was over and god, I felt so gross. This wasn’t what a persons first time having sex was supposed to be like. I pulled the covers up and tried to just go to sleep so I didn’t have to feel such pain.
Then I heard someone at the door…2 people talking and then someone came into the bedroom. I didn’t dare look because I was so scared. I think I was actually paralyzed with fear. Then it started all over again. Another guy was having sex with me. Oh my God I couldn’t believe this was happening…AGAIN! He finished and left the room then another guy came in. He did the same thing as the other 2 and I was sick to my stomach. I should have fought back. I should have kicked and screamed and done what I could have done to stop these guys. Oh the guilt was horrible. I felt guilty and sick and angry all at once.
I wanted to go home and forget it all happened.
The next morning I did just that. It was over and I was gonna forget that it ever happened…or so I thought.
The next day was Monday, and I went to school. It was ok because I thought it was behind me. Little did I know, the father of the girl I was supposed to be sleeping at that Saturday night, had found out that his daughter also slept somewhere else and in giving her the 3rd degree learned that she, too, had had sex. Im not sure of all that was said. All I know is that her father told me that if I didn’t tell my parents what had happened, HE WOULD!
I had a babysitting job after school and that day, not wanting this guy to tell my parents, I decided to call my mom while I was babysitting.
She came over and I went out to her car. I was sitting there, scared to death to tell my mom. I didn’t know which would be worse…telling her that I had sex or that I was raped 3 times, by three different guys. Decided to tell her I had had sex. So I did just that. To my surprise, and to my dismay, she called me a slut, left and went home to tell my father. When I got home, he too, called me a slut and said that I “was just like my sister”. So being raped 3 times was not enough, I had to be called a slut by both parents. Yayyyyy!!! Lucky me!
From that point on nothing was ever the same. I was never to be who God had wanted me to be, but this girl who wanted to be raped cuz I was a slut. It was all too much to bear.
From then on I became totally promiscuous. Lookin’ for love in all the wrong places. I disguised all this sex in having “relationships” At least 6 months.
My first relationship was about a 2 year relationship, with someone who I thought loved me, but beat me up every chance he got. After finally getting rid of this guy, I went to another guy who did the same thing, only worse.
He was so sexy and hot, and acted kinda child-like at times. He was abused and I could relate with that. One day, we were taking a walk to a pay phone and while he was on the phone there was a guy on the phone next to him. I smiled, at the fact this guy had something green on his mustache, like a piece of string. It looked funny. Jeff got off the phone and he and I started walking home. He had his arm around me holding me close. It was nice…for about 10 minutes.
The second we walked in the door Jeff went off and threw me against the wall. I had no idea what was happening and why he was doing this to me. He was screaming why am I looking at other guys when I had him. I didn’t even know what he was talking about until he mentioned the phone. I tried to explain to him that the guy had a green thing on his mustache and I was laughing at it, not smiling at him. It was too late for that, however. He was already seeing red and was lost to me. After he threw me against the wall, he pushed me down on the floor and began whipping me with the bullwhip he had in the closet. He decided that wasn’t good enough so he took off his belt and began whipping me, not with the leather side, but the buckle end. He left huge welts on my back and my thighs and I could barely move. He always said that he would never hit me anywhere, where someone might see it, that way it didn’t really happen. Hmmm
It sure hurt like it happened. And guess what, (ladies who are reading this know what im gonna say next, if they have ever been physically abused) I thought it was MY FAULT! Yep, if I just kept my eyes down…if I never looked at another person while I was with him, if I could do anything to not make him angry. It wouldn’t happen again. If only, if only, if ONLY!!!!! It was then I decided to leave him, but I needed some money. So I worked faithfully and kept my paychecks saying that I had lost my job. This was the day I was going to leave. This was a day I KNEW that God existed!
I thought jeff had gone to work and I decided this was the day. I got all my stuff together and started out the door. I got downstairs and just as I was leaving Jeff came in the door. I knew that if I stood there to long he would have beaten me up, so I dropped my stuff and ran for it. I ran about a mile til I got to Main St. with Jeff right at my heels. I don’t think I had run that fast in my life! When I got to Main St. there was a cop in the middle of the road. You have to understand here, that jeff had a beautiful, well built body, with muscles everywhere. I know he could have out run me. No doubt about that. The hand of God or His angels were pushing me to run that fast. I yelled to the cop and Jeff stopped behind me and I told the cop what was going on. I said I thought Jeff was going to kill me. He arrested Jeff right then and there. Good now I could move on in peace. But then something happened that would change my mind, eventually. Jeff began to hit his head on the cage in back of the police car. I was screaming because I was scared that JEFF would hurt himself! It was ok for him to hurt me, but I couldn’t stand the thoughts of him hurting himself!
Anyway, I stayed with the plan. After Jeff was taken away, I went back home and called my dad. He said he would come and get me. He picked me up and took me home. I told my dad what happened. Again, instead of being sympathetic to my feelings, he told me I must have wanted it because I LET IT HAPPEN! Wow what a mind blower that was. Again he said I was just like my sister.
Ok, so It went on like this, going from one guy to another living the same story over and over again.
Like I said at the beginning of this, I don’t remember ever not being depressed.
From the time I was in first grade, til I was out of school and living with guys who thrived on beating me up, til I actually got married at the age of 29 and beyond, I was deoressed
All this time I was trying to figure out what was wrong with ME! Starting when I was 15, my mom sent me to a pychologist because, I was thinking about sex…what I slut I was! Im being sarcastic, I hope you know that.
Well, this so called psychologist was just like all the other guys I had had the pleasure of being with. From the first day I saw him, he started asking me questions about sex…if I liked it, if it felt good…how many times I had done it.
I was so uncomfortable I cant even tell you. So I pretty much clammed up and didn’t say much. I knew I couldn’t trust this guy and I knew I couldn’t trust my parents, so I just kept going.
He moved to another building and bought a BMW. When I started seeing him there we didn’t have therapy anymore. We had do his errand sessions that my mom paid for. We hardly talked at all cuz he was too busy going to the bank the cleaners, and where ever else he needed to go. Oh im sorry, once he took me out for an ice cream!!! Wasn’t that big of him. Then to top it all off he started kissing me at the end of the sessions. Im not talking about a peck on the cheek, im talking about kissing me fully on the mouth.
I got older and left him screwed up more than I was when I began.
I just reread this and was amazed that I have any self-esteem left!