CAUTION! Possible TRIGGERS!
*sigh*
I'm going to start by scratching the surface...
Closest memories...
My brothers and I were at home, my cousin who molested me was there. I don't know who thought up this idea, but my brothers were ecstatic. My cousin didn't molest them, though. He preferred little girls, apparently.
I can't help but remember a few things about this visit. I would have had to have been August 8: "A tornado touches down in Regina, Saskatchewan, causing damage in the northwest end of the city." Except we were in the East End and there was some damage there... But that sounds about right... That was the summer of 1979 so I would have been turning 9 that December. More info here http://pcag.uwinnipeg.ca/Prairie-Perspectives/PP-Vol04/McInnis.pdf on page 111 -- "Normanview in the northwest and Glencairn in the east were the areas of Regina hit hardest by the storm."
This information creeps me out because at first I couldn't remember the exact age I was experiencing this molestation. At one point in my life I had thought it was only from about age 5 until about age 7, but apparently this was not the case... So it chills me a bit that this abuse may have continued on even longer than I first thought.
I guess I should at least be grateful that it wasn't every day, because if our family lived in Edmonton, or visited my grandparents there more often, it would probably have been a lot more frequent. As it was my grandparents adopted my cousins from my aunt. She was, to say the least, a terrible alcoholic. My mom didn't even tell us about her. We were kind of uninformed as to how my cousins came to be living at my grandparents. I kind of thought they were like permanent residents, I didn't really question why they weren't staying with their own family. Turns out, I found out much later in my life, that they were rescued from abuses and sights too terrible to be discussed. Sounded like he was in therapy, but I wasn't sure what that was, other than my understanding was that crazy people (whatever that meant) who needed to get well talked to someone who was sort of like a doctor in a quiet office somewhere. I imagined it was sort of like a library, for some reason. Except smaller and stuffier and maybe no windows. Not sure why I had this image in my head.
I remember at one point during this visit that this terrible weather was falling upon us. The wind was picking up and my dad herded us all into the house. We could see the sky was very very dark on one side and very light on the other. It was like night and day, and night was coming up fast. At some point my cousin dared me. He said that he bet that I couldn't handle going outside, that I was too scared or something. Wow, he was a master-manipulator, and knew what buttons to push. I reacted instantaneously. I didn't think about the wind (I certainly didn't know it was a tornado) I just thought, "I'll show him I'm not scared." I went outside and immediately realized that wasn't the brightest idea. Because of all the gravel I could feel pelting me... Or it might have been hail. It felt like stones, though, and dirt was getting in my face. I saw my cousin try to open the door and call me back into the house, but I couldn't hear him very well. And the wind and these pelting little bullets from the ground going sideways pushed me to the side of the east side of the house, between the garage and house. There was some shelter from the wind there, but then I was somewhat alarmed to see bits of large debris flying past, included a large paint can that seemed to lift right off the ground and float for a few seconds above the fenceline and then swing off with a big clatter somewhere else in the neighbour's back yard.
So I remembered something about hiding under a sturdy structure whenever there was a tornado (probably from watching some movie or TV miniseries or something or maybe The Wizard of Oz)... I hid under the picnic table and waited for someone to come and get me. I thought my cousin would get into big trouble for taunting me into going outside.
My dad came out and dragged me back into the house. I didn't mean to worry him, but he was a bit angry with me. I can't remember if I protested but I thought I tried to explain. I don't remember him reacting on my cousin. But I was glad he came and got me back in the house. The whole outside went completely grey with dirt and dust, and we saw sheds and various toys flying down the street. The windows rattled. The noise was deafening.
That was what I remember about that particular day.
I wish that was the only memory I had of that week.
We have photos of my cousin making really tall skyscrapers with lego. He would slowly build higher and higher from a larger base until the lego started to tilt. He tried to make it as tall as the ceiling in the basement, and at least once he got it high enough to run out of lego. It was taller than him, anyway.
I still don't like looking at those photos. His eyes always look creepy to me for some reason. Especially when the flash is being used. He always seemed to be looking directly into the photo so that his eyes would glow that nice red or bright yellow. Who does that? Unless they are trying to say, "I'm not afraid. Take a picture of me. I have nothing to hide." Because when they behave like that, it means they do have something to hide. It's like taunting. Like "I've got a secret and you'll never find out." Maybe I just have an overactive imagination.
I didn't imagine what he did to me though. I don't know how we ended up on the floor in the basement of my house. I don't know where my brothers went. He always seemed to mastermind things, or look for windows of opportunity and this was no different. When they left the room he went up and shut the light off. I can't recall if he shut the door, but I think so. I can't remember if we were under a sleeping bag, but that seemed to be one of his favourite covers (no pun intended)... Whenever we were all playing at my gramma's in her basement, somehow this big sleeping bag magically appeared and we'd all go under it: my two brothers, me, my cousin. Then he would sneak kisses under the covers. I hated those. Right on the lips.
This time, I don't remember all that he was doing, or how I got there. I just remember his hands down my pants (shorts?)... He might have even pulled them down to my ankles. Because he asked me if I wanted him to go down "there" and start kissing or licking "it." I remember saying I thought that was gross. Any thought of a person's mouth down by where they went to the bathroom sounded disgusting to me. What did you expect? I was 8 years old. Thankfully he didn't try that. What he did try was to insert his finger into my vagina. He was quite persistent about that. The problem was he wasn't putting it into my vagina, he was trying to put it into my urethra. That hurt. And I remember him trying multiple times to do that, and I kept protesting because it hurt. I think I almost started crying, and that's when he stopped, finally. Didn't want me to make a fuss because my mom would hear us, I suspect. In fact that could be why we moved from the floor to where he was set up for sleep in the basement.
There was an old frame that was pretty spent, so that it bowed in the middle. So if you had people playing hide and seek and hiding in the middle of this bed frame with the other mattress on top (and this is probably when my cousin figured this out) it would look like a normal mattress. No one would really catch on that someone was under the top mattress because, instead of stuffing and springs, it was people in there. So we went under the mattress. And he continued his workings on me. Mostly with his fingers working on my clitoris and labia. He never really brought me to any climax ever. He just stimulated me. I think I just went somewhere else in my mind while he was doing this... I seem to remember feeling some pleasure with this stimulation, but yet it seemed far away. Perhaps I was numbing it out of my mind, but my body was still experiencing the stimulation. Does that make sense? I had never done this to myself or by myself. I don't think I knew what was going on.
My mother came looking for me. She was calling to me from upstairs. My cousin froze. He told me to be very very quiet. I think I actually got the sense that he was scared, which I had never witnessed in him before, and it surprised me. Come to think of it, I don't know if he displayed much emotion to begin with. I don't remember him crying. I remember him being angry or petulant or just bland. I don't remember him being anything other than sly and conniving, but almost like it was a game. It was like playing with dolls. Except I was the doll.
My mother opened the door of the basement. I couldn't see her. I could hear her calling my name though. I started to reply (something made me want to call back... Maybe a child/mother instinct?)... That's when my cousin clamped his hand over my mouth. And nose. I could barely breathe but he was urgent about me keeping my mouth shut. Almost to the point of exploding. But he had to be quiet, too. He barely whispered, almost mouthing, "WHAT are you DOING? Don't MOVE!" or something like that. My mom must have thought she heard me, but she didn't come down the stairs. Maybe she thought my cut-off call had come from outside. Maybe she didn't want to come downstairs and knew something about my cousin that made her afraid to search me out. Why wouldn't she come down those damn stairs and find us under that mattress? She heard me, or she wouldn't have called out again. I don't remember what my cousin did afterward, but we lay quite still for what seemed like an eternity, with his hand still on my mouth. I think I had convinced him to let me breath through my nose (which was already hard as I was always stuffed up)... And I don't remember anything after that. He may have told me not to tell anyone. I don't remember. I just remember moments. Fragments...
Right now, how do I feel? I feel my neck and shoulders are tensed up a bit. I notice while I am trying to remember these details that my breathing becomes more shallow, especially during the time when I was writing about him clamping his hand over my mouth. When my breathing got shallow my heart started beating faster. This kind of reminds me what used to happen almost every night for months (was it years?) when I was a kid, lying in bed in the dark. I would wake up... I would feel the bed shake (probably a train) and I would hold my breath to see if it would still shake. I was trying to be still, so still. It was scaring me. Something bad was going to happen to me, I was bad, I was going to die, punishment. Call out for mom. Mom would come down, turn on the hall light. I think she hugged me. A couple of times she would ask if there is something I needed to tell her, something that would make me afraid of the dark, something that made me cry? I was too scared to tell her. Shook my head desperately. No no no. Just needed some light. Dark was scary. But it was more in my body, I could feel something bad happening when it was dark that I couldn't feel during the day. Racing heart, pounding in my ears, terror, don't move. If I don't move maybe whatever it is won't kill me for being so bad. I would pray to someone, maybe God, "If you don't kill me, I promise I would be good for the rest of my life." No arguing, no back-talk, do whatever mom says. Just make this fear go away.
*sigh* deep breath....
Doing some stretching between this posting and afterward and cuddling with my dog seems to help. I feel something way down, not quite tears. I am sad. I don't know if I feel angry. It's all very quiet, like something is blocking that from coming out. Maybe if I try some more tomorrow. I feel I can calm down a bit now, with sufficient time to relax before I go to bed this evening.
