#Me Too Continued, Continued
It's a common fact that a high percentage of abusers are people you know whether that be a family member or family friend. I can definitely identify with that and more than once.
Gee as I look at my life and see all the instances of sexual abuse I wonder how it didn't affect me as badly as it did. I hope that people don't read these accounts and feel sorry for me or think that I'm broken because I'm not. I'm alive and enjoying life. I also hope that people don't read my story and think that I'm making it up because really I'm not. This was my life.
Anyhow back to the topic.I wonder if I should tell the names of these men that abused me should I care what could possibly happen to them if I dare to utter their names. Why should I care. Did they care when they touched me the way they did. Did they think I wouldn't remember or care. Did they stop to think how they're actions would affect me or my life? I hardly think so.
I grew up the small town of Terrace, BC. My mom moved me and my little sister to Vancouver when I was 10 turning 11. I spent a while in a foster home in Ladner, BC. I left the foster home and moved back to my mother's house. That didn't last very long. When I was 13 she kicked me out so I went back to Terrace to live with my dad. He was living with a family that I grew up with. I think he had just left a lady that he had lived with for a number of years. During this time my dad started managing a country and western band called, " Jim Piper and the Country Roadrunners". They traveled every other weekend to do a gig in Huston BC which was a few hour drive away from Terrace BC. Since it was just me and my dad I got to go with them. We would drive there Friday night, they would perform Friday night, spend the night in the motel and drive back the next day.
Anyhow on one of these trips we were driving at night. I remember quite well. We were driving in some kind of van. It was dark, my dad was driving. We stopped to pick up a hitch hiker, a nice young man name Gary. I was sitting on the floor of this van in between my dad and Jim Piper. I was visiting the with Gary when Jim reached down and put his hand down my top and started playing with my breast. He had his hand there for quit some time. I don't really know how long he had his hand there. But I do remember I enjoyed the attention. At one point Gary asked me if he, being Jim was bothering me and I said,'No"
I really beat myself up about this for years. Like what the hell was wrong with me that I would see this as attention and actually in some sick way enjoy that attention.
Gary had given me a picture of him that night. I never saw him again. But I did keep that picture for a long time. I ended up ripping that picture up and throwing it in the garbage because every time I looked at it I felt ashamed. I often wondered what Gary thought of me letting this man sit there with his hand down my top playing with my breast. I was 13 at the time. Now that I 56 sitting here writing this I wonder why Gary didn't say anything? Why did I care so much about what Gary thought of me and not worry about what he thought of Jim?
I was going to write more today but I think this is enough. It's really hard to sit down and write these things. It takes me a long time to get here. I think about it a lot. So until next time
Gee as I look at my life and see all the instances of sexual abuse I wonder how it didn't affect me as badly as it did. I hope that people don't read these accounts and feel sorry for me or think that I'm broken because I'm not. I'm alive and enjoying life. I also hope that people don't read my story and think that I'm making it up because really I'm not. This was my life.
Anyhow back to the topic.I wonder if I should tell the names of these men that abused me should I care what could possibly happen to them if I dare to utter their names. Why should I care. Did they care when they touched me the way they did. Did they think I wouldn't remember or care. Did they stop to think how they're actions would affect me or my life? I hardly think so.
I grew up the small town of Terrace, BC. My mom moved me and my little sister to Vancouver when I was 10 turning 11. I spent a while in a foster home in Ladner, BC. I left the foster home and moved back to my mother's house. That didn't last very long. When I was 13 she kicked me out so I went back to Terrace to live with my dad. He was living with a family that I grew up with. I think he had just left a lady that he had lived with for a number of years. During this time my dad started managing a country and western band called, " Jim Piper and the Country Roadrunners". They traveled every other weekend to do a gig in Huston BC which was a few hour drive away from Terrace BC. Since it was just me and my dad I got to go with them. We would drive there Friday night, they would perform Friday night, spend the night in the motel and drive back the next day.
Anyhow on one of these trips we were driving at night. I remember quite well. We were driving in some kind of van. It was dark, my dad was driving. We stopped to pick up a hitch hiker, a nice young man name Gary. I was sitting on the floor of this van in between my dad and Jim Piper. I was visiting the with Gary when Jim reached down and put his hand down my top and started playing with my breast. He had his hand there for quit some time. I don't really know how long he had his hand there. But I do remember I enjoyed the attention. At one point Gary asked me if he, being Jim was bothering me and I said,'No"
I really beat myself up about this for years. Like what the hell was wrong with me that I would see this as attention and actually in some sick way enjoy that attention.
Gary had given me a picture of him that night. I never saw him again. But I did keep that picture for a long time. I ended up ripping that picture up and throwing it in the garbage because every time I looked at it I felt ashamed. I often wondered what Gary thought of me letting this man sit there with his hand down my top playing with my breast. I was 13 at the time. Now that I 56 sitting here writing this I wonder why Gary didn't say anything? Why did I care so much about what Gary thought of me and not worry about what he thought of Jim?
I was going to write more today but I think this is enough. It's really hard to sit down and write these things. It takes me a long time to get here. I think about it a lot. So until next time
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