I know I haven’t blogged in ever, but I also know thanks to technology that people still check in here. Honestly, for this, I don’t care. Just know that there are trigger warnings and all kinds of swearing about to happen. If you are family, stop right now. I’ve had it with the excuses. I should have never been quiet about this for this long. This needs to get out, because it is hurting me way too much right now, and like a zit that needs to be popped, time to get it out. But unless you are prepared to deal with this, stop right now. That goes for anyone who figured out this is my blog. You don’t want to go here.
Fuck the Duggars. Fuck them, just plain and simple. And no, not literally, seeing as that clearly is one of the many ways that they are fucked. I mean like fuck them and their fucked up shit. Fuck them for trying to shame women, to show people the many ways they are doing it right and we are doing it wrong all while keeping that little secret. Fuck them for victim blaming (see this: https://www.facebook.com/113030458735509/photos/a.115733971798491.7232.113030458735509/934906936547853/?type=1&fref=nf&pnref=story) Because you know, dedicating your body to god will make it all better.
Fuck them for leading public lives and airing this shit. For subjecting those girls to this crap. Fuck them for triggering me when I was already on fragile ground. Fuck them for making this a story about him.
Fuck that, I am going to change the story here. Those girls may not be able to tell their stories, they may be pushed aside for that fucker, but here is my story. He is what it has done to me.
At seven years old, I was molested by a family member. He stuck his fingers in my vagina and asked if it felt good.
I can tell you where it happened, what time of year it was, but that up there, that is what matters.
At seven years old I was violated by a family member I trusted. Someone I idolized.
I didn’t remember until I was 14. It was not exactly how I wanted my summer away to go, first kisses, and making out in the back of a Paul Simon concert triggered memories.
It is still not acknowledged by members of my family.
I refuse to speak to him.
It STILL impacts me. Years of medication, and therapy and it STILL prevents me from doing things that I want so desperately to be able to do. It stops me from trusting.
I wish desperately there wasn’t a statute of limitations. I could file a civil suit, but he has nothing.
I want to tattoo it on his forehead, to post it on his door, so that no one ever trusts him again. I want deny him the right to see his children/grandchild.
Some days, it is OK. Sometimes my revenge is being a successful and functional adult. Some days, that just isn’t enough. Some days I just fantasize about hurting him. About stomping his head in. About figuring out a way to publicly shame him.
Most days though, I just want to forget, for good. I don’t ever want to think about it, to have a nightmare about it, to look at someone and think “Are they like him? Can I trust them?”
I want that innocence back. I want to not see the news and know what it was like. To see people defend a sex offender. Repeatedly. While using God as an excuse.
One in five. One in FIVE girls will have this happen. And it just keeps happening because there are excuses, people that say it is a “forgivable sin”, people that blame it on youth, or the devil. I don
So stop it. Stop excusing it. Stop letting the assholes get away with it. Just fucking stop it. Because I, I deserve to be normal. I deserve to feel normal. I deserve to get sleep at night. If you excuse this kind of shit, then you are saying that I deserve what he did to me. And that, that is fucking bullshit.
I’m not sharing this for sympathy, but I will take compassion. I’m sharing because I refuse to be silent any longer. I refuse to be a statistic. I refuse to let it own me.