Following on from my previous post, I certainly don't want to be pitied by anyone for what happened to me.
The man who abused me was a family friend who will be known as “H†whose wife had passed away during childbirth, her baby died too. My parents befriended him and we became the family he didn't have. My Sisters and I spent a lot of time visiting "H" every day during our primary school years and were expected to help him with jobs at home. I was a very well developed 11 year old and was often forced into corners by him, when my sisters weren't with me. On one occasion my parents insisted I go to his house and help him move his bedroom around and collect his bedding which my Mum said she would wash for him. I was horrified at the thought of going upstairs with him. I was totally naive as to sexual connotations - it was in the early 60's and I didn't fully understand what could happen but, I just sensed it was wrong. My Mum found me 'hanging about' avoiding visiting him and she 'shepherded' me across to his house so I had no choice but to help him with cleaning his bedroom. I couldn't wait to get away so got the job done in double quick time, fighting being pinned down on the bed and his groping hands and finally being interrupted by one of my Sisters, shouting upstairs. After this incident I made a point of taking friends or my Sisters with me although it wasn't always possible, so I just had to get through the situation. Luckily penetrative sex never took place but on his part, it wasn't through lack of him trying !
This post has allowed me to get this off my chest. I had counselling when I divorced my former Husband of 26 years and the situation of abuse was discussed as was my childhood. My Counsellor made a very valid statement "If you were the family this man never had, what gave him the right to sexually abuse you?".
I was unable to tell my parents – they felt they were doing good helping “H†and although they always told us that we could speak to them about anything, I knew there would be questions and I felt ashamed and was scared. As time went on I just bottled it up and when they spoke about “H†I kept quiet. Time passed as it does and I felt unable to discuss the past as I did not want to see their hurt – they trusted this man and although he did wrong, I could not deal with the pain of their hurt in that they would feel that they had failed me. So I kept quiet! When my parents passed away I told my brother and sisters because, I wanted to know whether they had been subjected to the same – thankfully, they had not.
Phew - this lot has certainly stirred things up - I probably should have started another thread.
Meggie