Overcoming Sexual Abuse

Good day to all,


   Let me introduce myself to all of you.   My name for now will  remain unknown, but in the end, what I want to do is share with you,  my own personal story of overcoming not only sexual abuse, but other forms  of abuse, that I was submitted to since a toddler, up till recently.
  I am a 33 year old single mother, who has been blessed with an almost 11 year old Daughter.
I lover her to Life, and I relish doing what mothers and daughters are meant to do, in order
to have a solid based relationship, which will always include,"Love".
  Being an overcomer does not come easily, nor did I think myself as such, until I finally,
allowed," Love",to take hold of my broken heart and soul, in order to restore what had been taken from me at a very young age.
  I believe in God,  or as some would say, " A Higher Supernatural-Being", others claim to believe in,"Aliens", or " Ghosts", ect.   I believe that God sent His only Son, Jesus to die for all of humanity.
  No matter if you are poor or rich, famous or a commoner, an achiever or underachiever, no matter what beliefs if any, that you might have ect...
  In part my story is based on this faith, which saved me time and time again from total destruction of my being.  I never considered myself anything special less a human being.  I have dealt with severe depression, suicidal thoughts and acts, and much more.  One of the things I have done in my life has been seeking my own identity within a world such as ours, where everyone seems to have a place of their own.
  In the end, I do not expect any of you to believe in God or anything else, nor am I here to bang up anyone's head with a Bible and call you a," Sinner".  For I am one myself!  Each day I end up doing something that in the end I knew I should not have said or thought about or done!  I am guilty of many things!  Yet His sacrifice covers it all, as long as I humble myself, and come to Him not with pride or stubborness, as if saying," Ok, God, you promised to forgive me no matter what, so here I am once again, just do your thing, and I will be on my way."  If I thought myself as being more important or better than the man or woman next me, boy am I wrong!
  So, in the end, I am your average, woman, with one child, and working within the Federal government as a Contractor Employee.  Some might think,  who am I to come and share about my life struggles and faith.
Believe me, my own family, that is those who adopted me have called me much worse.
From being a freak, to being mentally unstable, yeah, nothing nice.
  Well, lets start from the beginning shall we.   I was born on the 24th of Feburary in the year, 1979.
I have no clue how much I weighed or looked like, as my birth mother, left me at the foot of an orphanage when I was a few weeks old.  I lived in the orphanage aproximately, 3 months or so.   I cannot recall my time there, of course, but what I learned a few years back, was that during the time of my birth, the country I was born in, was going through a major, civil war. 
   Most of the children that were in the orphanage, had been taken from their mother's arms, and ripped apart, without mercy.  These children were seen as if they were nothing but,"dogs".  Why? well, their parents were part of the Farbundi Movement, whom were fighting for better treatment and pay from the ranchers they worked for.
   And by the way, I was born in El Salvador, which is located in Central America.  So, in the end, the salvadorean army was joined by part of the US American Forces, who were told to train the soldiers on tactics to be used in order to force,"these dogs", to give up and surrender.
   I believe my parents could have been linked with this movement.  By the time I was 3 months old, a salvadorean couple, whom were residing in the US legally, mind you, were looking to adopt a baby girl to join their family of three, as they had adopted a baby boy two years before, who had been left at a hospital in the same country.
   I never knew about my adoption until a cousin of mine let it slip out.  My adopted parents had not wanted to reveal this to neither my brother nor I until we were 18 years of age!
   So, the story goes, my mom and dad, walked into the nursery, looking and picking up different baby girls of various ages, and size; ranging from dark brown skinned to olive cream, white.  My dad picked up this 5 month old baby girl who had, blue eyes, white skin, and dark brown hair, and was just beautiful, and he called my mom over, and handed the baby to her. She took the baby, yet states that even though she felt sorry, she did not think it be good to adopt her, and saw a crib at the other side of the nursery put up against the far wall.   She asked a nun, if there was a baby in the crib, and the nun told her, that the baby in that crib, was very weak and sick, and she should not bother with it. 
   Well, my mom, felt moved by what she had heard and decided to go and see for herself.   She says, that as she got close, and leaned over, the first thing she noticed were my eyes, wide opened, looking into her own, and that I was just laying there, covered in urine, and scabs, and warts, without even flinching.  Her heart moved, and she bent over to pick me up, and as she started grabbing me, that I looked at her, as if asking," Will you leave me too?"  She held me against her chest, and said that I felt so cold and rigid, but slowly, started wiggling and moving about, as most babies do.   She called out to my dad, and told him to come and look, and as she waited for him to come, she says that she once again looked into my eyes,  and I grinned and smiled at her.
  Due to the all the legal work in adoption,  my parents left me temporarily with a family of 5 sisters, whom, were close friends with my parents.  I stayed with this family for two months or so, before the adoption was legal, and I had papers to travel to the states.  I am told, that I contracted a severe bout of pneumonia, and was hospitalized for a month, before being released.
  Finally the big day came, in which I was going home.   My big brother whom was about 2 years old, was on his feet and hands, awaiting to hold me and love me.  My most greatest memory was captured in photo, of Big brother and baby sister meeting for the very first time.
   He is holding me, and looking at me, and leans over to kiss my forehead.  I will always cherish this one memory, for in the end, my brother would be the one I would love more than my parents.
   I started growing up, and as I became a toddler, I was starting my life's journey, in discovering all the secrets in the garden my mother tended to, in the woods near by and within the pond.
  Life, was as good as could be in my early years, until that dark day came, and took away all security, love and safety.
  I never saw it coming, or I would have tried to outrun the Monster.  I had no warning, nor was I even consulted in any of this.
  What I remember the most is the pain, oh the pain!  I could not defend myself, nor get him off of me, I would cry out for my mom, but she never came.  The memory is still dark, in some ways, I cannot recall any detail or even what date it was, except that it hurt, and literally ripped away my innocence and my sense of security.  From that day on, I no longer felt safe in the place most would call home.
   I was barely 3 years of age, when the monster came, in form of my adopted father.  He came to me at night and told me how much he loved me, and how I was his little queen.  Yet what he did hurt alot, and I would just cry.  After that the nightmares started, I tried telling my mom what had happened, but I was not sure what to say.
  I stuck close to my older brother from then on, and would never be more than a few inches from him.  My dad would try and get me to do things with him, but I would never want to.  The signs were so obvious and until now I am not sure if my mom was just afraid of admitting what she knew or did not know.   By the time I was 6 years old, I just knew that I had lost all sense of living and was a walking zombie.
In the end, I was able to supress this memory, as most young children would.  Yet more abuse would come in form of physical abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse and even spiritual abuse.
 I started drawing pictures of the man's private part, by the time I was 6 and my teachers and parents, ( my dad being the sucker), did not know why, and my dad would say," she is a mentally illed child. Who knows what other crap she has in there."
  I started school, and was very violent towards my male classmates, I got sent to the principal's office alot.   I was not good at making friends and would prefer to be left alone.  Luckily, I excelled in Arts and Literature.  I love reading books and writing and singing; besides drawing, painting and about anything that qualifies as art.
   As much as I would love to continue writing and writing, I am in need of a break, so to my dear readers, whomever you are, wherever you are, thank you for stopping by.
   I hope that I can reach out to those whom have experienced the same or suffered from any other trauma.  To tell you that your life does not have to stop, nor do you have to die, in order to continue facing your adversaries, and life's own struggles; there is a way, hope, and even Love.
  Do not give up, and do not let your demon's keep you from becoming the person you can become if we learn to move on.
   Its not easy, no one said it would, but it can be done.
         Until tomorrow.
                 Thank you all once again,
                            Angel 4 Eternity