My story may be very triggering for survivors. There are a few graphic details within this story, so PLEASE only read this during a time you are feeling strong and safe.
My mother and father were never married; they lived together during the time my siblings and I were born. When I was 4 years old my parents separated, which at that time my father had taken me and my siblings away from my mother. This is a day that will remain in my memories forever, for this is the day my life began spinning in a whirlwind, downward to almost non-existence.
My youngest sibling, a baby girl, was given away to an aunt and uncle. My oldest sibling, a half-brother, was given back to his biological father. That left me being the oldest with a younger brother and a younger sister.
We lived with my father and his parents, till I reached the age of 9. At that time, my father married a woman who had two older daughters. After they were married, this woman had adopted me and my younger brother and sister. For some reason this woman and I could never get along well together. After a short period of time, things between her and I had become more physical and mental abusive.
When I was 11 or 12, not really sure on the age, I was sick and had to stay home from school. This is the day when my innocence, trust and faith (my life) were taken away from me. My father, the one person that I trusted and looked up to the most, the one that was supposed to love and protect me, began molesting me. Within days the touching and fondling became almost a daily routine. (Any time he found a chance to touch or pinch me in inappropriate places without someone seeing him, he would). Within a couple of months the touching and fondling turned into penetrations. At one point, my father began continuously trying to convince me to have sex with animals while being tape recorded, for money. “Think of what we could do with a thousand dollars per animal,” he would say.
My father would tell me that I could not tell anyone of what he was doing with me and the reason was, because he was a Pentecostal minister and no one would believe me. He told me that people would think I was crazy and they would put me in a padded cell, throw several guys in there with me, and they would have sex with me in every hole in my body (including my nose, ears and mouth). Terrified at the age of 15, I somehow had the courage to tell anyway. No one believed me and from that day on I was classified as the liar and trouble maker of the family.
After telling, life at home for me had gotten even harder for me to bear. My father began to conflict physical pain upon me, but only when others weren’t watching and didn’t see him. One example is when I was sitting at the table, he would walk up behind me and hit me on the top of my head with his knuckle, leaving a knot on my head. I wouldn’t say a word, but only sit there quietly as a tear would run down my face.
The sexual abuse also continued, but only now I began to fight back and tell him “no”. But, I had learned that he didn’t like to be told “no”. Once he told me that “I could give in willingly or get the sh*t beat out of me”. I told him that he may as well start beating the sh*t out of me now, because I was NOT going to give in willingly. He then got upset with me and punched me in the ribs a few times. Another time I wouldn’t “give in” I got a spanking after we got home, with his “paddle”. My father’s paddle, he made himself. It consisted of a nicely shaped and sanded board, with a handle on it. It also consisted of many small carpenter tacks nailed completely through it, which would leave specks of blood on your panties as the tacks entered your skin. So, it may be understandable why I didn’t tell my father “no” very often.
The abuse in my life continued until I ran away from home at the age of 17. I just decided that I could no longer handle things at home and it was time for me to “get out”! Today, I am a 36 year old woman and I am disowned by my father and my step-mother. It is forbidden for my name to be spoken in their home. As for my brother, sister and step-sisters, my brother and my oldest step-sister will speak to me if I call or speak to them. As for my younger sister and my other step-sister, they have not spoken to me since I had left home and want nothing to do with me.
Today, I now have my biological mother back in my life, after so many lonely years. Within these past few years of getting to know her, she has become one of my best friends and is very much an inspiration to my soul. I have learned that I have no other choice than to except the abuse that I have grown to remember and know. These memories will stay with me for the rest of my life, but it is up to ME to let these memories make me or break me. I can either let these memories destroy me or I can move forward and learn from these memories in a way to reach out and help other abuse survivors. This is the reason and soul purpose of this website, to reach out and let other survivors know that they are NOT alone. To let them know that they ARE loved and cared for.
My journey to healing has been a very long and winding road
and I have yet to see the end.
I am and always have been a fighter, after all, I am a
SURVIVOR!! I will
stand tall and continue this journey till the END!
Safe Love and Hugs to ALL survivors,
Robin T. Ingram
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