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A Survivor Story: Krissy

Krissy is a 45-year-old mother of three. Her main goal in sharing her story is to continue her journey to healing and hopefully help someone else heal. 

I then went to close the side door, and he pushed me in.  I couldn’t understand what was going on.  He then grabbed my hands and threw me to the floor of the van.  He had handcuffs attached to the bottom of the front seats.  I then started to fight back, but he was so much stronger than me.  He handcuffed both my hands, and I was screaming so loud.

“First of all, I am not writing this for sympathy or pity.  I have been on a journey of self-help, and I need to share my story.  I need someone to hear me.  Someone to understand me.  I need to feel like I am not alone in this journey.  I have tried to share my story with a few people but no one truly understands.  I either get the blank look or the pity look.  I have connected with Suvivorhood months ago, and after reading other stories, I felt this would be a safe place to share my story.  A story that no one has ever heard.  I hope and pray my story will help one person feel they aren’t alone in the journey.  There are so many survivors, and we are strong.   

Here is some background information for you.  I am a 45-year-old female, and I have experienced all kinds of abuse.  My timeline will bounce around, as my memories are misplaced in my mind.  When I was 15, I met this handsome 22-year-old man.  His name was TJ.  I was so naive and young that I did not see the warning signs.  Well, at this time, my parents were going through a divorce after 23 years of marriage.  My mother did not handle it well, and she checked out mentally.  She loved TJ and allowed him to move in.  He stayed in my room, and I felt like he loved me.  I was a very traditional girl, and he knew I was waiting until marriage to have sex.  He was okay with it, or at least I thought.  

On my 16th birthday, he wanted to take me to a lake and stargaze.  My mom allowed him to use our family minivan.  Once we arrived, we laid the blanket on the ground and I lay in his arms looking at the stars.  I was thinking how lucky I was to have such a sweet man in my life.  We were getting ready to leave, and things turned in a whole other direction while I was putting the blanket in the back of the van.  I didn’t notice before we left the house, but the back seats were removed from the van.  I asked TJ if he knew where they went.  He said he took them out because he wasn’t sure if it was going to rain.  I then went to close the side door, and he pushed me in.  I couldn’t understand what was going on.  He then grabbed my hands and threw me to the floor of the van.  He had handcuffs attached to the bottom of the front seats.  I then started to fight back, but he was so much stronger than me.  He handcuffed both my hands, and I was screaming so loud.  I was hoping someone would hear me.  He took off my shoes and socks and shoved a sock in my mouth so I could not be heard.  He proceeded to tell me how much I wanted him.  He took off my shorts and panties.  At this time I knew there was nothing I could do, so I pictured myself somewhere else.  He took away my innocence that night.  Something I never wanted to give to anyone but a husband.  

After he was done, he unlocked me.  I got dressed, and I sat in the seat to go home.  I was quiet the whole ride.  He kept saying how much I enjoyed it, and how special he was because I saved myself for him.  I got home, and I ran to the shower.  I sat in there and cried.  I felt so dirty, that even the hottest water could not erase the dirt.  I blamed myself.  Maybe I shouldn’t have worn that outfit.  Maybe I should have never laid down with him.  I tried to tell my mom, but the words would not come out.  I went to go to my room, and TJ was in my room waiting on me.  I went and told my mom that TJ needs to leave, and I didn’t want him there.   She said I was just moody, and she told TJ to sleep on the couch.  I did not sleep that night, as I was afraid of him coming into my room.  Months went on and TJ lived in my home.  My mom could not see him as I saw him.  I think in her mind, he replaced my father as the man of the house.  He did things around the house and helped her. 

He raped and mutilated me in ways that are indescribable.  He would bite and use knives to cut private areas of my body until they bled.  He wanted to make sure that oral sex would never be pleasurable for me.  He would say such demeaning things about my female parts to make me feel like I was no good for anyone.  He would demand oral sex from me and he would force himself to the point I would vomit.  He would laugh and punch me.  He would tell me I was no good.  I never wanted to be touched by another human again.  He broke me mentally.  

One day, God answered my prayers.  I got a phone call that he was arrested.  He was arrested for having stolen plates on his car.  I thought I would never see him again, but boy was I wrong.  My mom made me visit him in county jail, even though I didn’t want to go.  During his time in county jail, he would send me letters covered in blood.  He would tell me if I didn’t come to visit him, that his blood would be on me.  After he went to court, he was sentenced to a year in state prison.  I left that courthouse feeling so relieved that I would never see that face again.  

One day my mom told me we were going to visit TJ.  I told her I was not going to go because he has raped me and destroyed me enough.  She went without me, and never demanded it again.  Two years later we were moving, as my father sold the house.  I came home from school after saying goodbye to all my friends, and TJ was in my living room.  My mom said he was there to help us move.  At this time, I was dating someone else.  I had told him some of the story but not all.  He took me to the police station, and I filed a restraining order against TJ.  I didn’t see him again until the restraining order expired.  He started coming around, but at this point, I was an adult.  I filed another restraining order and I moved to another state.   Since TJ,  I have always had trouble doing certain things in the bedroom, and men don’t seem to understand.  

I went on to marry, and have 2 boys.  When I was pregnant with my second boy, my husband left me.  He left me for another woman because I could not do the things he wanted in the bedroom.  I was destroyed, and I went into survival mode.  I was a single mom with 2 kids, and I had nowhere to go.  We were living in my car, and I was hoping no one would find us.  I was afraid to lose my kids.  I met a man who loved my kids and wanted to make us a family.  He was 16 years older than me, and I thought he could give me the stability I needed.  We got married, and my whole world changed.  He abused me mentally and verbally.  He made me feel so stupid, and that I was no good for anyone.   

I decided after 2 months of marriage, I had to leave.  I started to get sick and found out I was pregnant.  What a shock considering we only had sex once, on our wedding night.  I was too afraid to leave.  I now had 3 kids, and I was not financially able to support them.  He made me quit my job when we got married.  He wanted total control, and I was stupid enough to give it to him.  When my daughter was born, I started secretly going to therapy.  I was losing myself, and I needed to find myself again.  I also planned to leave him on my daughter’s 5th birthday.  I dealt with the abuse because I didn’t want to be homeless again.   

While in therapy, I learned that I keep picking the wrong men because I never had that father figure I needed in life.  My father, aka Sperm donor, never loved me.  I was never good enough for him.  He would tell me this all the time.  I remember standing in my crib, and him coming into my room and telling me he never wanted me.  It was my fault we were poor.  He would beat me when my sister or brother did anything wrong.  I have physical scars on my body from the beatings.  During therapy, I remembered devastating memories.  My older sister would tie me up at a very young age, and insert tools from my father’s workbench inside me.  I have memories of my father watching and encouraging her.  These memories are very deep and foggy at points.  I know they are real because I can see the details of the places where these things happened.  I haven’t told a soul about these memories until recently.

My therapist diagnosed me with PTSD.  I have always had recurring nightmares of TJ, and the things my family did.  I spent years going to therapy, and I left my 2nd husband 2 days after my daughter turned 5.  I was a stronger woman, and I knew I was a great person.  It has been 9 years since that day.  The nightmares still exist, and now with covid, I have new struggles.  I have panic attacks every day because I must wear a mask at work.  I just remind myself every day that my mask is protecting someone else.  It isn’t a bad thing.  It is my superwoman cape, except for my mouth.  It is not meant to muzzle me, as I am too strong for a muzzle now.  I also realize this journey is a lifetime journey, and a battle that I will survive.”    

Photo: Flikr – Soulfire11

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