Diana's Story

*warning!*

*My life story may be triggering to some, please take care and keep yourself safe!*

I don't remember much of the fist 4 years of my life, but the memories I do have are happy ones, and I have been told they were happy years filled with lots of love and laughter, despite the fact that my parents divorced when I was only 1 1/2 years old.

After my parents divorce my Mother and I moved in with my Grandparents and my Mothers 2 brothers and 1 sister. We stayed there until I turned 4 years old, that was when my Mother remarried and the course of my life changed dramatically.

The man my Mother married, had 4 children of his own, 3 boys and 1 girl who were dealing with the recient death of there mother, and I believe that as a result of that were very hostel toward my Mother and myself. I had never been anyplace in my life where I did not feel loved and now I was in a place I did not only not feel loved, but I don't really remember feeling any love at all in this new home, everyone was angry all the time and there was a lot of yelling and fighting, something else I was not use to. My Mother was trying so hard to be accepted by the new children she now had and help them to adjust to this new situation, that I think she, not meaning to of course, neglected me and some of my needs, which in turn gave my Stepfather the opportunity to gain my turst and then abuse that trust, and me.

I can not say what his intentions were toward me from the beginning, or if he knew that our father-daughter relationship would end up being one of incest, however that is the direction it soon took. I was a child very much in need of love and attention and craved the good attention I was receiving from this new man in my life that I was told to call Dad. It seamed to me that no matter what was happening in our home, how hectic things were or how angry everyone got, he was never to busy to spend time with me and he was never angry with me, in his eyes I could do no wrong, and in my Mothers eyes I was doing only wrong.

I don't remember exactly how the abuse started but I di know it consisted only of him fondling me for a long time, it always happened when we were alone, sometimes in the car when he would take me to the store to get something for Mom, or when we were watching television wrapped up in a blanket, but mostly at night when everything was dark and everyone was asleep.

As I remember it, it almost always started with him rubbing or scratching my back, and then he would slowly move down under my pants, he would fondle me for a while then kiss me and go back to his bed with my Mother. I would remain in my bed, usually crying quietly to myself, feeling confused, firghtened, dirty, and grateful it was over until next time.

I don't remember exactly when he first showed himself to me and made me touch him, but I do remember feeling extremely sick every time I saw his private parts and having to touch them made everything worse.

Sexual intercourse started when I was about 7 years old, I do remember the first time he forced himself in me, I remember it hurt worse than anyting I had ever felt in my life and I remember wondering how he could take such pleasure in something that caused me so much pain.

After the first time he penetrated me, things continued on much   the same for many years, during the day he would take advantage of anytime he found himself alone with me, to fondle me or have sex with me, depending on how much time he had. There were days he would call me in from playing with my friends, because Mom just went to the store, sometimes he would take a few minutes when she was working in the yard or while she was busy with the other kids or talking on the the phone with a friend.

When I was in Jr High School my life changed I found myself wanting to be with my friends, and I did sometimes but always closely watched by my Stepfather, he set the rules and he basically decided who I could be friends with, boys were not well liked, and for the most part not welcome in my life, as far as my Stepfather was consirned. I was friends with some boys in my neighborhood and did things with them at school and church but outside of those I did not dare let it be known they were a part of my life, I did not have a "Boy Friend" and I think htat was the only reason he tolerated me being friends with they boys at school and church.

During my Jr High years I also spent a lot of time babysitting, that was something I was not only good at, but enjoyed completley, when I was babysitting I was the one in charge, I knew that I was safe in the home of the family I was sitting for, and I relished the time I had, to be away from my home and feel like a normal teenager, sometimes, I even pretended I was the big sister and belonged to this family.

The last babysitting job I ever remember doing was for a family who lived not far from where we lived, they had 3 children and I knew them well, I spent a lot of time playing with the kids that night, and was able to get them to bed early enought that I would be able to clean up the house so that I could watch the New Years Eve celebration in New York City. As I watched I remember wishing that this new year would be different, that I would never again be abused by my Stepfather, I wished so hard that by the time the parents came home, iwas really believed things would be completely different at home. I was happy an relaxed when I walked though the front door.

He was sitting on the couch in the front room waiting for me and even seeing him there did not change my mood or make me think any different, I knew that things would be ok, I believed that he would never again hurt me, I was living in a dream, and soon ran into that brick wall called reality.

He pulled me down on the couch with him and began to kiss me, then he did to me something he had never done before, something that to this day still makes me sick. He forced my head down and forced me to perform oral sex on him.

When he was done with me he again kissed me and went to bed, leaving me alone ton the couch, with nothing but my shattered dreams and borken heart. I went to the bathroom and washed the best I could in the sink, so htat I did not wake anyone up, I thew up in the toilet and then went to my bed to cry myself to sleep.

I don't recall ever babysitting again, or daring to hope or dream that this would ever end.

By the time I entered High School, I was convinced that I was good only for sex, and evern though I made that known in my own subtle way I never did anything with the boys at school, except kissing, I rebelled at hom and did every poorly at school when I went.

I had a group of friends I trusted and enjoyed spending time with, and enjoyed spending time with, and I did every chance I got. I began spending more and more time away from home, away from him. He did however still have his way at night, and I had no way of stopping that except for running away, so I did.

I did not get far though, and when I called for a ride home, I relized that no one even knew I had gone, I would have never come home, but while I was on my way out of town, I started my first menstrual cycle, I was scared and had no idea what to do, I tild my mom about it when I got home and she gave me the things I needed and explained what was happening, she also talked to me about pregnancy.

From the begining, my cycle was not regular, I was always a week or 2 lated and sometimes I would skip a whole month entirely. The words my Mom had said to me about pregnancy kept ringing in my head and I spent every month in a panic, thinking I was pregnant, and wondering what I was going to do. I don't know for sure if I ever was, but I do remember one time I was later than I had ever been, 2 months or so, I did not know I could buy a pregnancy test at the store, or maybe I was just to embarrassed to, I talked to my best friend and told her that the father was a guy I had known in the town I lived in before. I knew that I could not even consider abortion, this was a child, After making the decision I would go through with this if I had to, ( I was hoping for a miscarriage) then give up this child to be raised by loving parents in a wonderful family, I found out about a place for unwed teenage mothers to be could go and live without any questions, they offered health care, a warm bed, and 3 meals a day. They would also teach me how to take care of a child or help me to find adoptive parents for my child, they would also give me the opportunity to continue my education there.

There was only one problem, this place was in a neighboring state and I did not have enough money to get there. I decided to save what I could until I started to show and then go with what I had. Not long before the date I had decided to leave, I panicked and wanted to do something to hurt my Stepfather as much as he had hurt me, I spent that night after he left my room pounding myself in the stomach, I hit myself so hard I had bruises the next day, I also started bleeding . I was relieved I had done something that I was sure would hurt him when I told him, if I told him. To this day I still don't know if I was infact pregnant, I believe I was,  but can not be sure. I also never told my stepfather.

I live my life knowing that I may have taken the life of my unborn child. The memory and guilt of this is something I carry with me every day. I pray that someday I will be able to kow without a doubt what really happened that day and make it right with my unborn child and with my Father in Heaven.

We moved again and I found myself going to a high school with the same kids I had gone to grade school with, I rekindled some old friendships and make new ones, I found I enjoyed some of my classes and found I was good at some of them, I had my first crush on a boy and got my heart broken for the first time. I graduated from high school, barely and my grandparents helped me get into college, I got my first job and found friends who excepted me for who I was. I went on my first date, got my first kiss, and fell in love for the first time.

I was 19 and still had never driven a car, I did not even have a drivers license, a form of control my stepfather used with me.

Three or four months before my 20th birthday, I met a nam, he was 9 years older than me and had been married forfore, he and I started dating, and soon got engaged, I don't think I really loved him, as much as saw him as a better alternative to where I was. My family was not happy about this and things started falling apart at home, my stepfather was loosing control of me and it was showing, he was angry all the time and took it out on the family more than usual, the last straw came one daywhen I was sitting outside in the front waiting for my fiancee to pick me up. My stepfather came outside to talk to me about this decision and get me to call off the wedding, I refused to do what he was asking me and that is when he started to demand that I call it off, something in me just exploded and I started yelling, I don't remember what I told him, but I do remember when I finished, he had a look on his face of total shock and disbelief that this girl whom he had, had control fo for the last 16 years was defying him, I finally had taken control of my life and it felt good I was not giving it back, I had no idea how I would make it until the wedding, but I knew one thing he would never touch me again, and I smiled, that was when he pushed the chair I was sitting in and knocked me to the ground.

He had never hit me before and even though he did not hit me then, I was afraid he might. That weekend we all moved into a new house. He had been more angry that week than I ever rembember him getting and he was taking it out on everyone, I was worried that he might take things to far and hurt my little brothers, sister or Mom, but no matter what he did, I had made up my mind, he was never touching me again!

I don't know what make my Mom call my Grandparents, but they showed up that evening to pick me up, I was told by my Mother to pack my pajamas and a go, I was being sent to live with my Grandparents.

That night I cried myself to sleep on teh couch. The next day I was sitting with my Grandma in the backyard, looking at an atlas, trying to find the small town in Iceland I was hoping to move to with my Fiancee, (he was in teh armed forces) my Grandma, closed the book looked me right in the eyes and asked me point blank, if my stepfather had been abusing me sexually.

I remember starting to shake uncontrollably, partly from fear, relief, and shame. I considered lying to her for only a second then I sust started to nod my head yes, she took my hand and I collapsed in here lap, I lay there crying for what seamed like hours.

Safe at last, in her arms!

The nightmare was finally over!

Or

Was a new chapter just begining?