Story 22

When I was thirteen years old my mom remarried. My dad wasn’t in my life so I was sooo excited to be part of a “real” family for the first time. At first it was great. He had money and so we weren’t struggling all the time to pay the bills and we even had money for extra’s.

When they first started dating (I was eleven) my mom encouraged me to hug him and kiss him goodnight. Sometimes she’d tell me to sit on his lap. I didn’t really mind the hugging and kissing but when I was on his lap he’d hug me tight and hold me down and it made me feel weird.

They didn’t live together before the wedding, so it was a big deal when we moved into his house. I had my own room way across the house from my mom’s. Pretty soon he started coming to my room to “say goodnight.” My mom thought it was sweet that he was making a tradition with me.

Very quickly it changed from chatting to his hands being everywhere. And he’d keep talking like nothing was going on, just chatting away while he molested me. Maybe so if my mom listened outside the door it would sound normal? I don’t know.

When I first tried to say I wanted my mom to come with him, she said no- that was our special time. I kept asking and saying I wanted it to be a family thing. She started coming and he got really nasty with me. Yelling at me all the time, calling me a slob. And any time he got me alone- hands everywhere.

I told my mom when I was fourteen. She was supposed to go to my aunt’s house for a visit and I was supposed to stay home with him because I had school. I kind of freaked out and told her I didn’t want to be alone with him anymore. Then I told her why.

She got hysterical and confronted him when he got home. He denied it and said I was a liar and was trying to break them up. She ended up leaving him and they got a divorce a year later. We never really talked about it after that. She never mentioned him after that, but every time she stressed out about money or would complain about dating at her age I felt guilty, like it was all my fault.

I got some help from a counselor at school. I got real therapy once I left home and got a job. I’m doing okay. I don’t really talk about it much. It had a huge effect on my relationship with my mom though. We used to be so close. Her and me against the world. But now I feel like she blames me for ruining her life. And we can’t talk about. We never talk about it. It’s like this huge wall between us.


3 Comments Add yours

  1. Rachel says:

    You were so brave to tell your mother what was happening. So, so brave. My mother and I had an unhealthy, codependent relationship when I was young, and once I started to be honest with who I was and to speak my truth, our relationship went south. I was quite a bit older once I started to speak truth though (not as smart and strong and brave as your young self!). It hasn’t ever recovered, but that is okay because the ground I stand on is becoming more solid. You are worth all the right and good things, and you did exactly what you were supposed to. ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Beth Low says:

    You are brave to share your story and I’m so sorry you were hurt. I truly believe there is so much more to come in your story. I see a chapter where you feel deep inside you that you are not to blame for any part of your mom’s story. I believe this for you. 💕

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Thank you for sharing your story here. No amount of nice things or bad dates are more important than your safety. I’m so sorry you and your mom are having trouble communicating about this, but please believe me — you did the right thing. You are brave and strong.
    So much love to you,

    Liked by 1 person

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