When I was 10 years old, my mother molested me. It took me a long time to come to terms with it, but I've never told anyone about it.
It was summer time. My father was at work. My little brother J was out playing somewhere in the neighborhood. I was doing some drawing in my room, and my mother was downstairs, doing some housework.
To put it plainly, I had a horrible itching feeling down there. I tried to make it go away, but nothing I did helped. So, I went to my mother and told her. She took me back upstairs.
She got something from the bathroom, and took me to my room. Then she told me to take my shorts and underpants off. After I did, she told me to lie on my bed.
From the moment I lay down, it felt wrong to me. I was very uncomfortable. Then my mother got on the bed next to me, and started touching me. Then I felt her put some kind of cream on me. Then she kept touching me.
I asked her to stop several times. I told her to stop, begged her, told her it didn't feel good. But she kept touching me, and rubbing me. Then she put her fingers inside of me. I begged her to stop, but she told me to be quiet and stop being ridiculous. I tried to close my legs, but she wouldn't let me.
I felt sick. I was frantic to get away from her, but I couldn't. I felt frozen. She kept pushing her fingers inside me, and rubbing me. She kept staring at me. I wanted to crawl out of my skin, to be anywhere but where I was. I closed my eyes and tried to be somewhere else. But I couldn't get away from the horrible feeling.
Thinking about it now makes me feel sick.
I kept begging her to stop. Eventually, she just got up really quick, and stared down at me. Then she left my room without saying a word.
I don't know how long I lay there. I remember thinking immediately that I never should have said anything to her in the first place. That it was my fault that she did that to me. That I asked for it. Then I got up and put my underpants and shorts on. Then I stared at myself in my mirror.
I felt disgusted with myself. I felt dirty. I couldn't stop looking at myself, and seeing myself as someone to loathe. I shut my bedroom door, and just sat curled up on the floor for the longest time.
My mother didn't speak to me the rest of the day. She didn't speak to me the next day. She treated me like I was invisible, and made me feel like I didn't even exist. The few times she looked at me, I felt like she was disgusted with me. I was never close to her again, not like before.
She hardly ever touched me after that day. I felt so dirty, that my own mother wouldn't touch me. She never wanted to do anything with me, none of the things we used to do, like playing games or go shopping. Part of me was fine with that, because I didn't trust her anymore. In a way, I didn't want her ever to touch me again. But it still hurt that she didn't want to be close to me in any way. She was still my mother.
I know I changed after that. I started having periods of time where I was really depressed. I became a loner in school, and had a hard time making or keeping friends. I had a bunch of friends before, but I couldn't hold on to them. I think I isolated myself from others because I felt there was something wrong with me. I felt damaged.
So, I sit here writing this with tears in my eyes, because, even though I've come to terms with it, it still hurts.
And still, to this day, when she talks to me with that tone of voice of hers, it all comes back to me. Those are the times I struggle the hardest to maintain any kind of relationship with her.
That's all I can write right now, because if I write more I'll be more of a wreck than I am right now.