Dear mom,
My last letter got a little deep and harsh. I did not mean
for it to come off so rude or antagonistic. It would also seem that I jumped
the gun.Maybe if I explained where things went wrong on my end, you
can begin to understand my feelings. And just maybe, you will one day share
where things started going south with me.
But first I must explain my self-esteem issues. They began
with my eye injury. Growing up I disliked being made to go outside with my eye
patch. Even if it was only for an hour or so, it caused so much name calling.
It was really hard to deal with and since my eye has been messed up since I was
1, there you have it. The older I got the more I was teased. Between 7 and 11
was the hardest, you would never just let me stay in with that thing on; almost
making me believe you did it purposely. You knew the kids were cruel.
There were tons of things kids would make fun of me about; my
awkward shape, my untamed hair, the cheap clothes, and of course the eye
(glasses and eye patches). This was the start of believing I was ugly and
therefore unworthy. At first you would occasionally tell me not to worry about
it. And I tried, honestly. It was embarrassing as a child, yet as an adult I
know all of these things were not to punish me. You did the best you could with
me growing up.
Now that you have a better understanding of how I felt about
myself at the time, I can explain where the first hit to our relationship
happened for me.
Do you remember the day one of the older neighbor boys touched
me inappropriately?
Playing outside the house one day with friends an older boy
took it upon himself to take my innocence, so to speak. We were all playing one
of our made up games. There was the secret teller (the older boy) and the
people would individually go to his realm (behind one of the many bushes out
front) and bring back a secret for the rest of the group to guess (me and the
other girls on the block). You know the typical stuff we made up to pass the
time.
When it was my turn to go “get the secret” behind the bush,
the older boy told me if I did not let him “touch me” he would make up a bunch
of stuff and tell people he did it anyway. If I went in the house, he would still
tell everybody. If I stayed outside and let him do it, it would be our little
secret. I was about 11 and he was like 14. I did not know what to do, so I did
nothing. I said nothing.
He turned me around, pulled his penis out and began to grind
on my butt while rubbing my small but developing breast. I just stood there.
Stuck, paralyzed by not wanting everyone to know. When I went back to the group
I did not have a secret. I made something up. The game went on a little while.
About 3 or 4 turns to the “secret teller’s realm” and being fondled. I was
afraid to say anything to my friends or go in the house.
One of the girls finally realized that when it was my turn I
took a very long time. She caught the older boy in the act. He ran off and I
was so happy someone stopped what was going on. I wish I had not been so weak
and stopped what was happening on my own. I could have stopped playing, but I
was so scared he would make my life with the other kids worse.
Nevertheless, the girl suggested that I tell you and dad. I
did NOT want to. This would not be good news. So instead she told my older
sister, who then told you and dad. I just stood there watching your infamous
eyebrow raise when you heard I was touched by the boy. While you stared me down
as we stood in your bedroom, the girls had run down to the boy’s house and told
his mother. They came back with a message that this grown woman wanted to talk
to me. You didn't come.
My sister and I went down to that woman’s house. We sat
there as she told me she could not believe what I was telling her because it was
her son. She knew I was a nice girl but she was not going to go against her boy.
I said I understood, but at the time I really never got it. My sister walked off and
left me. I came back in the house because you put me on punishment for stirring
up stuff. My friends found it hard to understand what I did wrong, but I felt like the
whole thing was my fault.
Was that not a situation you should have been right there
next to me on? You should have been in that woman’s house with me in my
defense. You should have told her I did not need to make anything like this up. There was
even a witness. You, as an adult and my mother, should have been there for me.
You never talked to me about it. This is actually the first time I’m telling
you the story in detail, I was too nervous to say everything without feeling
sick back then.
This is when it started. The day I began to despise you. It
was also the day I realized a bad way to be accepted. It feels good to actually
get this out in the open. I hope you are learning more about me and what I
think of our retched relationship. There is so much more I need to tell you. I
hope you will start to share with me one day.
Until then,
Your daughter
