I wouldn’t ever say that’s that my life was truly horrible, but I’m at a point in life where I want to talk about my struggles.
To set the scene a little, I have 2 cultured south Asian parents, a stay at home mom and an engineer for a dad. They are 2 important people in my life, but there were some flaws that affected me. I remember it like it was yesterday, but when I was 4 years old my dad got pissed off at me and beat me because I didn’t color a drawing in the correct direction. That was the first instance of where I saw how controlling he can get, it only got worse from there. Although this wasn’t horrible, I think this is the start of a whole lot of problems that a dealt with.
Fast forward to when I was 9 years old, my dad got fired and we decided to move up to Canada where my parents’ family’s live. Our family consisted of about 20 cousins on my dad’s side and 10 on my mom’s. Growing up, they were all an important piece to my life, I looked up to them.
They year that we moved us when everything changed for the worse. The summer I turned 9, I was being taught by my cousin, we’ll call him JJ, at the time he was around 14. He has been around my family ever since I was a baby, long story short, I trusted him with my life. That summer when I was at his house he was teaching me how to roller blade, be took me into his garage and that is where I was first raped.
Since I have always struggled to be open and out loud with my parents I didn’t tell them or anyone. Since I was so Young’s Andres naïve I didn’t know what was happening to me, I just knew I didn’t like it.
The next instance that I still vividly remember is when JJ decided to attack me again, this time at the age of 10. He had touched my innapropraitely, on my breasts, but I still never told anyone.
Taking advantage of how quiet and silent I was through out the whole time, he molested and raped me on multiple occasions even after that.
I hadn’t realized that I was being raped and that it was a bad thing until a few years later. At the time it seemed like a game, a game that I was losing but had to beat.
The last time he’d done anything like this was when I was 12 and he was 17. My mom had asked him to pick me up and drop me off at home. On the way, he’d bought me a drink, and I naively accepted it. As we got close to my house he kept trying to black mail by saying that now that he’s bought me a drink he can do what ever he wants to me. I think that was the first time I realized that he was doing something wrong. Although I ran out of there, I still felt so violated in that moment.
After moving away I was able to self-reflect a little and looked for closure. After years of eating disorders, depression, PTSD, and broken relationships, I was left numb.
To this day, I’ve only talked to my brother about what has happened to me. I am writing this today to try and move one. I’ve spent the last 6 years wasting away, and I am ready to move on. I am ready to tell my parents, I am ready to go to a therapist, and I am ready to feel whole again.
— Survivor, age 17