“Your brother didn’t have a charmed life” my mother said this to me just a few moments ago. She’s wrong about that.
I admit that
for years I blamed blame my mother for what happened to me – what was done to me. I admit that I do, and I admit that it isn’t her fault. She didn’t know what was done to me, and neither did my brother.
He did however live a charmed life. He was insulated from sexual abuse whereas I was not, he was allowed to keep his innocence, for a short time anyways. I won’t get into too much detail about my brother because it’s not my story to tell, I will say however I distinctly remember my brother being treated with far larger kid gloves then I was.
Brother got to play sports, he was the “good” kid that all the popular kids loved. He got along with everyone and everyone thought he was the nice guy. Whereas everyone thought I was a bitch, a brat and a bully.
No one knew what I was going through and because of Father Alex Bouchard at St. James Roman Catholic Church I was living in a constant state of mental hell because I was fucking traumatized into believing that being molested against my will meant that I would be sent to hell. (His exact words were “Any girl who has any form of sexual content will go to hell.)
I had to explain to my mother than I am working really hard to forgive her – that it isn’t her fault I am so angry at her, and that the reason I didn’t tell her for so many years is in the following sad and sordid tale of the first time I was molested – this time…with all the gory details.
TRIGGER WARNING TURN BACK NOW OR SEAL YOUR FATE
Seriously? Okay, here we go.
I was in grade four – it’s telling that I am 34 years old and I have no idea how old I was, when I was in grade four. At the time (I’m taking a break now.)
Mom brother and I had gone to mom’s friend Evil Bitch’s apartment for dinner, because I believe at the time she was moving or something I dunno – dun care. In any case Evil Bitch decided that brother and I should spend the night and give mom a night off. Fair enough, so EB (Evil Bitch) and mom walked the blog home and Brother and I fell asleep on the couch.
I don’t know how long they were gone for but I distinctly remember MEB (Male Evil Bastard) picking me up off the couch and putting me gently into EB’s bed.
I distinctly remember him molesting me and me whispering “Stop.” I remember the smirk on his face when EB returned him and she woke me up and took me back to the couch. I remember distinctly hearing them have sex a few minutes later and begging my baby brother to go home with me.
I distinctly remember staring up at the moon and whispering “as long as I can see the light of the moon I will be safe.” I also remember that it was a full moon. Which just makes perfect sense because I’m a witch an all that.
I distinctly remember pounding on the door and begging my mom to let me have a bath, she sent me to bed and called Evil Bitch to tell her that I’d walked home.
Instead of saying something – mostly because I had no idea what the fuck to say, just that I felt dirty, I crawled into bed, and tried to sleep. I had nightmares all night long.
I distinctly remember the next morning when mom took me back to Evil Bitch’s house in order to force me to apologize to Evil Bitch Cunt face and her stupid boyfriend for sneaking out of the house at three am.
I distinctly remember pointing quietly to a note I had written on the side of a cardboard box in yellow marker while Evil Bitch yelled and ranted and raved about what a brat I was, mom stood there listening, my brother stood there chuckling because he was a baby and didn’t know better and Male Evil Bastard smirked enjoying every second of my discomfort knowing I could not and would not say anything.
I distinctly remember the moment he stepped forward from the wall he was leaning on and saying “Okay I think she’s had enough.” and Evil Bitch Cunt face taking a deep breath and throwing her hands up as if I was the most evil awful undeserving child that ever lived.
I remember that was the moment I began to seriously loathe and hate and detest every person I knew.
I remember distinctly knowing in that moment I was never going to be the same again. And I remember switching my brain off so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. I remember hating my little brother, because he had no idea what this felt like.
For years Brother was the good kid that everyone loved and I was just the accidental left over. The one that people put up with because I was there. So yes my brother had a charmed life. He got to move out at Eighteen, he got to live a life filled with global travels and adventure, while I sit in the corner watching and broken because I can’t live life the way that other people do.
I can’t be like other people because that part of me that was innocent and pure and would have gone off to college and travel the world was thrown off course.
I didn’t choose to be a victim, I didn’t choose to hide my shame and guilt behind acting like a brat, behind things like stealing and swearing, smoking and doing everything I could to get anyone to ask me what was happening.
“I took you to hundreds of counsellors” she said. “Yes, I said, but not one of them ever asked me what was wrong. None of them ever even tried to get to know me. Tried to understand me or get me to open up. Because none of them cared.”
The truth is that when your child is dealing with the traumatizing fear that they will legitimately go to hell for being a victim of sexual abuse, there is nothing and no one that will get them to open up until they are ready. YOU the parent need to recognize the signs.
In the 90s people didn’t know what the signs were, they didn’t know how to tell when a child had been sexually abused, molested or raped. Not knowing the signs today however is just fucking lazy.
There is literally 0 excuse for not knowing how to recognize when someone has been sexually abused.
My first childhood sexual abuser didn’t just take my innocence, he took my life away. He stole everything that made me a fun kid to be around.
Prior to the abuse my mom was thinking about putting me into childhood modeling. I was excited about the prospect. I loved art, and music. I loved to sing and dance. He stole that when he abused me.
He stole my brother away from me – because right or wrong at the time I blamed my brother for laughing as I got yelled at – he was too little to really understand anything so it’s not his fault but that moment in time, that single laugh and his only words “even I know better and I’m a baby” uttered at age what three or four? cemented a hatred I never had before that night.
He destroyed my life, because when I finally did reach out for help I was told I would be going to hell. Right or wrong this man destroyed everything that made Devon Jessica Hallgate who she was, and more importantly who she could have been. The worst part is that I’ll never be able to look him in the face and tell him that.
The best part is that I don’t have to hold onto this bullshit any longer. I can let go now. I can see the girl that I would have become if I’d never been set on a path of continuous childhood abuse.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I can picture the woman I would have become and for the first time in more than twenty-five years I feel like I am beginning to return to that girl. I am beginning to find the real Devon Jessica Hall again and she’s a fucking amazing person.
Yes he stole a good portion of my life, but he doesn’t get the rest of it. He doesn’t get to control me any more! I love and adore my Brother – if there was one human on this planet I’d like to be more like, it’s my baby brother.
He’s smart, and kind, he’s fun and he has no fear. He loves adventure and he’s an incredibly hard worker. He loves cats, and Guinea pigs, (don’t believe him he lies.) He is incredibly talented, and sometimes not always but sometimes he smiles as if the stresses of the world aren’t affecting him and then he is the most handsome young man I’ve ever known. Yes I love my little brother, but because of what was done to me I spent a great deal of time hating his guts.
I’ve been jealous and mean and selfish and I can admit this because admitting it means that I won’t pass this cycle of bullshit on to my kids.
I hope that one day brother and I will have a relationship again, but until then I know that I have to work on myself. I have to be willing, however hard it might be, to peel back the layers of shit that have been dumped on me so I can find the person I am supposed to be.
I’m not ready to have these conversations with my brother – not really, it hurts too much. It’s embarrassing, to tell him the things that I have been through, to share the details with him on a face to face basis (he doesn’t read my writing so I dgaf about posting it here. He will either read it by his own choice or he won’t. Yeah that’s an easter egg missy!) to tell my strong smart and successful brother that I didn’t have the guts to fight back.
I’m supposed to be the big sister that protected him and kept him safe, instead I was so jealous that he got to live his life relatively normal life that I destroyed our relationship.
I’m not sorry for that, mainly because it’s a result of what I went through. I do however choose to understand it now and slowly but surely maybe one day we’ll get back to the place we would have otherwise been.
No I didn’t have a charmed life, and yes he did, but I recognize today that it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault (except for Male Evil Bastard Cunt Face) it just was what it was.
Today (5/23/2017) I am going to see a new counsellor. Instead of being forced or coerced into seeing one I am making the choice free and clear. I’m fairly certain I have found someone that I can both trust and who will understand me.
I refuse to let the darkness have any control over me any longer. I won’t let it hug me and lie and make promises it cannot keep. The darkness has no control over me. Not any more.
I can let go now. I can move on. I can be happy and successful and if one day I happen to see him on the street….well I’ll deal with that when it comes.
To all of you who have suffered, to those of you who feel alone, and empty and broken, I promise you it will get better. I’ve seen it, I’m living proof that if we did not die, than we have lives worth living. They – the abusers, the co-abusers, those who stood of stood up for us and did not, they have no power over us any longer.
I am you. You are me. We together can end the stigma against sexual abuse. If and only if we stand united against this evil.
P.S. I just recently found out that Alex Bouchard passed away. There’s a small tiny part of me that hopes he burns in hell because I am more than certain that I am not the only child who suffered at his hand, however the part of me that is the higher evolved Spiritualist hopes he rests in wherever the hell he ends up. I’m not sorry but I can’t bring myself to wish him peace….not yet.
Devon J Hall