Jump to content

Muru's story (trigger warning CSA) support appreciated


Recommended Posts

I'm quite new to this site... But very impressed with how people are so kind and caring towards each other and take the time to comment and offer support and comfort. I'm going to try and share my story bit by bit in a hope that the flashbacks will lessen when they find a voice. Support and comments are very much appreciated.

TRIGGER WARNING***********************************************************************TRIGGER WARNING


My first memory of being hurt came to me when I got my medical records from my old family surgery in Finland to take with me when I moved away to Uni in England. My eyes caught a doctor's statement a few months before my fourth birthday. It said my mum brought me to see a doctor after I'd refused to go to toilet and she discovered blood in my underwear. The observation bit said the doctor had not performed a physical exam as I had been extremely uncooperative and distressed. The diagnosis was a likely infection/irritation and I was prescribed antibiotics. This was early 90's and in a small town where CSA would have been a complete tabo.


Reading that bit took me right back:


"It's evening but before bed time. Mummy has gone to her evening study class and I'm with daddy. He took me along to grandma's house accross the road for a chat with grandma. Adults talking is really boring and I wander off to the guest bedroom where the bed is covered with cuddly teddies and other soft toys. I have been watching Silver Fang - an anime cartoon where a brave silver coloured puppy Gin and his pack of dogs fought a big bad bear Akakabuto. It was a scary programme and the favourite of my big boy cousins. I climbed on the high bed and picked up a light coloured husky dog puppy and a big brown teddybear. Playing out the scenes I'd seen on telly was exiting but not as scary as watching them.


I hear the bedroom door behind me close, I look up and see dad's and grandma's friend who I call uncle. He comes to sit on the foot of the bed and asks if he can play with me. I'm shy and don't want to talk to him so I say nothing. I look at the door and wonder why it's closed. Uncle puts a special rubbery sheet on the foot of the bed, I know my little boy cousin has that kind of sheet in his bed because he still wets the bed. The baddie uncle lifts me onto the sheet.... I have yellow knickers.... I hold the silver puppy.... It wants to run away, it doesn't want to fight the big bad bear anymore.... The silver puppy can't run fast enough, the big bad bear is too strong.... It hurts so much, more than when I fell off the swing, more than when I knocked my head in my bedroom drawer, more than when I had a stomach bug, it hurts it hurts it hurts so much but I have no words to describe it. Are words important? Maybe it's not real if you don't have words to describe it? The silver puppy is very tired, it wants to sleep and never wake up.


The baddie uncle uses a wet flannel to take the hurt away. He puts my yellow knickers on me and wraps me in a blanket. The silver puppy is so very tired, I tell him it's okay, the big bad bear is gone and we can sleep and never wake up.


I do wake up.. Still wrapped in a blanket daddy carries me home. I didn't want to wake up, I screw my eyes shut tight. Daddy puts me on my bed. It hurts to move, the flannel didn't take the hurt away after all.


I wake up and it's light. I need a weewee, it hurts to get up but I do and go to toilet and pull my yellow knickers down. They are RED, I know it's blood and it's sticky. I'm scared. The baddie uncle made a hole in me. I can't go weewee because if I do my insides might fall into the toilet through the hole that the baddie uncle made. I go back into my room and climb in my bed, I pull the covers over my head. I AM SCARED.


Mummy comes into my room and wakes me up. I don't want to get out of bed but she tells me I'll be in trouble if I don't. She told me I was already in trouble for refusing my dinner last night. But I don't like fish, I worry about the bones and that makes my tummy tight and not hungry. Is that why the baddie uncle hurt me? He said I was in trouble, is that what he meant? I don't want to be in trouble again,so I get up even though it hurts. Mummy puts my day clothes on the bed and gets me changed, only she stops when she sees the sticky red on my yellow knickers. I HATE YELLOW KNICKERS. She asks "what is this?" but I don't say anything, I have no words. Maybe mummy hasn't got words for it either, why would she ask otherwise? If no one has words for it, maybe it's not even invented and it didn't happen?


Mummy puts me into the car and we drive to doctor's. She takes me in and talks to the doctor. I'm not listening because I'm looking through all the stickers, I wonder if I could have two because it's really hard to choose just one. The doctor picks me up and puts me on a high bed. The bed is hard and I'm scared. The doctor rolls up my dress and starts taking off my tights. I start kicking and screaming, I don't want to hurt again, not again, no no no! The doctor will hurt me like the baddie uncle, I don't want the hole any bigger or I'll die. I hate yellow knickers! The silver puppy can't be tired now, he has to come and rescue me he has to!


The doctor lifts me off the bed and I run to mummy. I want to go home. Mummy takes me back home in the car. When we get home I remember I didn't get my sticker. I was naughty, that's why. Good girls don't kick or scream, or refuse their dinner even when it's fish. I want to be good, please God our Daddy let me be good."



This memory came flashing back and felt like it was just happening when I saw the doctor's report. I'm sorry I've written it so childish. I struggle with words to talk about it any other way.


I feel numb but a bit lighter after writing this out. I'll try to go to sleep soon, and maybe tonight I won't wake up screaming and kicking... I still haven't learned how to be good.


Link to comment
Share on other sites

Muru, have you ever had therapy for this? I hope so... I've also got a past of much abuse- while going thru seperation from neglectful parents, to abusive foster parents. Finally to a good home to where i was adopted by age 6 1/2.


I understand where you're coming from here... this IS terrible! I am so sorry this stuff happens!


Are you okay?? I can imagine what you're feeling, writing this.. awww wow...


I do have broken memories about it all and my memories. I KNOW stuff happened and have had to deal with it all as well.

I have depression, anxiety, PTSD etc, due to my past.. how are YOU coping?



Link to comment
Share on other sites


This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

  • Create New...