Hi. I don’t really know how to start this… So I guess I will just say it as straight forward as possible. I have become what I think is depressed. I haven’t really gone to a specialist or anything. When I was younger, like before I was 7, my grandfather started to molest me. I don’t really remember how it started. In fact, I have little to no memory of between the ages of 4-7. I didn’t see my grandfather often so I guess I just forgot about it. When I was 8 I saw him a little more often. It was like at least once a month. He would touch me in places that shouldn’t be touched by ones grandfather. When I was 11 he and my grandmother moved in with us. He would touch me whenever he got the chance to get me alone. They moved out when I was 12, but they were still close. We could literally walk to their house, which we did constantly. When I was 13 we moved out of the state. We still had to visit once a month, so of course the touching didn’t stop. I started realizing how wrong it was when I was 11 and fully understood what was going on when I was 14.
When I was 14 I told someone. I told my best friend who I had met over the internet. She wanted me to tell my parents but I was too ashamed. I told her to give me a week and it would be over with. I said this because we were visiting them in a week. When he tried to touch me then I told him stop. It isn’t like I haven’t told him to stop before. I had told him to stop many times actually. He always pulled me back in by saying things like,”You don’t love me.” Or “You don’t like it then.” Which would make me feel bad, so I let him keep touching me. Now I realize how stupid I was. When I told him stop I said,” Stop, this is wrong.” I said it like I was afraid he was going to hurt me. I whispered the words like a wimp, but for some reason he said,” okay.” and walked away. He hasn’t touched me or acted that way since then.
I still felt stupid and nasty and ashamed. I still hadn’t told my parents. That wasn’t all though. When I was 14 I was also questioning my sexuality. I searched the different sexualities to find out which one I was. I liked guys, but I wanted to date girls. The more I questioned the more I realized I like girls pretty much as much as I like guys. I thought I was pansexual (Not caring about gender, only personality) but I realized I was actually bisexual (Liking both guys and girls). This was tough because I come from a Christian family (although we do disagree with churches which is why we don’t go to one) and my mom literally told my siblings and I to not be gay and to stick with the opposite gender. It hurt. I had been holding all of that in for almost a year. What hurt the most was feeling like I was not able to tell my parents about what I was going through. I felt trapped. I started lashing out and rebelling against my parents.
I should also mention that when I was 14 I had started to hate myself and hate my body. My siblings and my mom are skinny but I am not. Because of this I used to attempt to starve myself. Keyword there; attempt. I failed time and time again to skip meals. I felt miserable. I felt like I couldn’t control what I ate and I couldn’t control what had happened to me. I felt worthless.
So, started to hate myself, realized I was bi, and realized I was being used by my own grandfather. All in one year. When I turned 15 we moved. I couldn’t lose weight, my grades were going down, and I really hated myself. My parents didn’t know what was going on. I would sit in my room and attempt to work, but ended up just sitting there wasting time and feeling horrible. I felt like I was stuck in a hole while life just kept moving around me. I would rant to my best friend and she would tell me not to do anything stupid.
I had heard how self harm had helped people get through feelings like these. So, for weeks I would think about hurting myself. I would take a razor and hold it to my arm or hold it to my thing so it would touch my skin. I couldn’t do it. I felt weak. I had given up on starving and I was about to give up on school. One day I finally scratched myself with the razor. I attempted to cut my thigh, which was a good idea because I was always wearing pants that covered my thighs. The cut was more like a scratch because it didn’t bleed and it didn’t really hurt. One day I did cut myself, and it did bleed slightly. I felt so proud and I felt powerful. I realized how wrong it was though. The cut didn’t scar and I cut myself 5 more times in a time length of 4 weeks. I stopped though because we were going on vacation soon and I didn’t want any cuts seen if we went swimming. I am now 15.
A few weeks ago I told my parents I was molested by my grandfather and that I was bisexual. My dad took it well. My mom didn’t mind the bisexual, but once she heard what her father did to me she went crazy. She couldn’t sleep without planning a way to get revenge on my grandfather. She started taking sleeping pills. I told my mom how depressed I had been feeling but I didn’t tell her that I cut a few times. Telling my parents made the fact that I was molested seem way more real. I fear that I made it up in my head and that I made a big deal over nothing, though I know that isn’t true. My mom told her sisters and her mother what happened 2 weeks ago. only her mom and one sister out of three responded.
We went on vacation last week. I think it went well, though at times I did still feel sad. I think I am relapsing, though. When I go to bed I feel the need to curl into a ball and cry. I cut myself two days ago. I cut my left shoulder where my shirt sleeve would hide it. They were slightly longer cuts than usual. It was only two cuts but I wanted to do three. I don’t care much about my weight anymore. I still hate myself. I have thought about killing myself, and even had a plan. I am too afraid of what would happen to me in the after life to actually do it though, so I don’t think I am suicidal. I still think about what would happen if I did actually do it, though.
I get so angry and frustrated. I feel like I want to explode, like I want to punch something but I can’t do it. don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do about my feelings. I don’t know what I want to do about my grandfather. I don’t want to report him to the police. I am not sure I want to confront him… Though, recently I have been feeling like confronting is a good idea. I don’t know though. Do I need to talk to a therapist or something? If I do that then they would report it to the police.
I don’t want to get the police involved for two reasons; One, I have no actual proof of the incidents. With no proof it would be my word against his, and he is a great liar. Two; if I were to get the police involved then they would have to interview me and I would have to relive and describe what I went through, and with not being able to remember most of it I would think that that’s a bad idea.
So, to whoever reads this; Did you go through something like I did/am? Does anyone have any advice on what I should do? Thanks for reading and I am grateful to whoever listens to my story.