I am Nine Years Old

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Author's note This is as true a version of my abuse as I can produce. I have removed some of what happened to me so it was readable, but it is still going to be tough for some people. Please consider your own state of mind before reading, as it may trigger.

I am 9 years old

I am nine years old. It is Visit day, and I used to be scared of them. Sometimes I was even angry. But now I feel nothing. Nothing but what HE has told me to feel. I do nothing except what HE tells me to do. I am only a toy, and as I must make sure to remind myself in so many ways that this is, after all, all my fault.

My instructions before each Visit are very clear, and I follow them without thinking. Thinking is something people do, and as I said, I am only a toy. I must prepare myself as HE has told me to before I enter HIS door.

At one time, that was a hard task for me, but not now. The flickers of shame and disgust at myself I experience are permitted, so long as they don’t prevent me from completing my task.

My mother smiles at me as she drops me off. She has no idea what goes on inside. Nor can I tell her. How could a nine-year-old boy tell his mother he is evil?

It has been two years since my first Visit, but I cannot recall most of them, except in short flashes. I do know that today’s Visit is supposed to be special. something that HE has been preparing for since HE first learned what I am.

HE brings me into HIS office, and sits me in a chair. This little act of normalcy is important, in case my mother suddenly returns for me. One thing I remember from one of the early Visits was hoping that this time, talking would be all we did. I know better now. Toys do not hope , they only serve.

HE gives me my dose of medicine, and I remember the first time HE gave it to me. I was a little reluctant to take it, but Mother had told me to trust the doctor, and I knew doctors gave you medicine to make you feel better.

HE had told me it would help me relax, and it does. I feel sleepy and I began to tell him things I had not told anyone, not even my Mom.

I told HIM that I felt more like a girl than a boy, that I wanted to grow up to be pretty just like my mother, and I could not imagine ever being like my father whose suicide had brought me to see HIM.

The next Visit, HE gave me the medicine again and , HE asked me if I had worn my mother’s clothes. I say yes. HE brings out a pretty dress and asked me if I wanted to put it on. Because of the medicine I can only say yes.

I felt very pretty in the dress. I was still sleepy, but I felt good, maybe better than I had ever felt in my life. HE took some pictures, and then HE told me to change back into my own clothes before my mother came back.

It was on the very next Visit He showed me what happens to bad little boys who want to be girls. When HE was finished I bled, and HE said I had bled like a girl and I was no longer a virgin.

But then I am back to the present, because I must concentrate on pleasing HIM like a good toy must. HE has told me I had seduced HIM and must follow through and not be a tease. I call myself a sissy slut. I had not known those words until HE taught me what they meant.

I also must admit I enjoy our Visits. I also say I seduced HIM by being a sissy slut, and that its all my fault because I wanted to be a girl. How because of that I am only worthy of being a toy. How I would punished if anyone knew how bad a boy I am. And how that would hurt my mother. I cannot hurt my mother.

As our Visit comes to an end, I put on my clothes again and repeat what I had said again and again until HE is pleased. HIS pleasure is my pleasure. That is how a toy should think.

When HE first started having me do this, the medicine HE gave me helped me see them as true, and I can say them with conviction.

I wait for my mother to come for me, and when she does, I return to the empty state I am between Visits. Only during Visits do I feel anything at all.

I not know that soon I will not be seeing HIM anymore.

I also do not know that the desire to be a girl will remain and grow within me until I have to let it out.

I do not know the guilt I will feel when it does, until I unlearn what HE taught me.

I do not know that I will forget HIM almost completely for a time.

I do not know I will ever hate HIM, or blame HIM instead of myself.

I do not know I will ever think of myself as anything other than a toy, an evil sissy slut.

I do not know I have not been alone during my Visits, that heavenly messengers have stood watch over me, and that they and God will comfort me as I face these memories.

I do not know that one day I will have to come face to face with the girl within.

I do not know she is loved and is going to be loved.

I do not know she is something valuable and precious.

I do not know she is beautiful.

I do not know these things yet.

Because I am just nine years old.

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Comments

I feel so helpless, seeing into the past....

Andrea Lena's picture

...this evoked such sad memories as remember how I felt unable to protect my sister...I feel so helpless witnessing your violation as I cannot help you. You're my sister in many more ways than this, but I am glad for the sad commonality that brings us together since we know that we were who we were before we were hurt, and nothing can ever change that. Dorothy, I treasure your friendship even as I weep for your hurt. I value your identity as a true woman of God even as I weep for your pain. May you be blessed this day even as your story has blessed me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, sister dear!


Dio vi benedica tutti
Con grande amore e di affetto
Andrea Lena

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

A hard, hard memory

Dorothy Colleen,
For sharing this with us, thank you.
I hope it relieves some of the past, and helps in the present.
Michelle

Thank you

Dorothy, Thank you for sharing from your past. I appreciate your story and can empathize with you. Caroline

I am Nine Years Old

I never knew what you went through.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

9 Years Old

O M G what a sad memory to have at 9 years old you are supposed to be innocent and palywith trucks or in this case dolls,you have my tears
HUGS , HUGS, AND MORE HUGS RICHIE2

And it takes a lifetime

to find some sort of light, some sort of salvation, some sort of sanity, some sort of genuine purpose, some sort of dignity, some sort of self respect. All of this and much much more but worst of all, the confusion still remains and sticks it's head above your conscious parapet always when you're least expecting it. I think the confusion thing is the nearest I get to 'flash-backs' cos I never really shut it out. And what does that say about us?

I see you dehumanise yourself and call yourself a 'toy' as a means to somehow surmount the self loathing. That is as useful a mechanism as one can ask for. By far the hardest part is finally coming to terms with what you are and finding the means to accomodate it.

Find peace where you can.

We all have our own roads to walk but they all seem to be ascending the same mountain.

Love and hugs.

Beverly.Finding friends helps.

Finding friends helps.

Beverly.

Growing old disgracefully.

bev_1.jpg

Now that was...

Unpleasant. And sad. Poor child.

Well done, Dorothy. You got your point across very clearly here. If you actually went through something like this I grieve for the child you were. And really want to hurt the 'doctor' who did that to you.

Anyway, wow. Very powerful.

Maggie

Just Had To Comment Publicly

[email protected] Dorothy, You already know how I feel about this. We talked about it before it was posted. I just want everybody else to know just how much I admire your courage for putting this 'out there'. It takes a very brave soul indeed to share something so tragic with the rest of the world.

You really are one of my Heroines. And I'm so proud to call You a friend.

Ummm,... anybody got a Kleenex? I'm totally out!!!

Hugest Hugs Ever,
So Much Love,
Always Your Friend,
Jonelle-Elise

from a fellow survivor

Daily still even after all the help i have had i ask if i can forgive those that have destroyed part of my heart. Those that are tasked to protect or heal us to do this breaks a large trust and can know in myself the courage it has taken you to put those words down.

We still fight within ourselves daily ARE WE THE ONES TO BLAME! and feel an outsider and lost. Sister i admire your courage. I also know it is a long road we travel so step forth and know you are not what he made you as by your prose you know it.

May the Goddess light your path and her arms keep you safe

to hug is to be and to be is to be hugged

view the world through the eyes of a child and relearn the wonder and love

Allie elle loved and cared for and resident of the kids camp full time

to hug is to be and to be is to be hugged

view the world through the eyes of a child and relearn the wonder and love

Allie elle loved and cared for and resident of the kids camp full time

After 15 years

of therapy It STILL feels like it's my fault. At least for the things I remember . . .

So sad

It's hard to understand how people can do such evil things to children. My heart weeps for you and the innocents that was stolen. I hope there is a special place in hell reserved for that doctor.