A Truthful Autobiography: The Hell Of A Religious Upbringing, Sexual Abuse & So Much More... Part 1

Some heart felt writing today from my very talented and articulate wife. Today she felt compelled to put into words some of her early years. This is a small introduction with more to follow. She sobbed as she wrote some of this today and again sobbed when reading it to me. Very raw emotion. We are lucky we have each other to share these realities. Here's her introduction:

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So we all have health issues, family problems, stress and so much more. We always see everyday on social media people complaining about something.. how they been treated badly or what's going wrong. It frustrates many people that there are statements such as, others have it worse than you, get some balls, look on the positive side and so on. However I stand here and say to any of you that state such phrases that you need to back off and shut up.

Now yes these statements may be true on the surface but one thing you forget is that we all experience things in our own way. One person may not find one thing as damaging as someone else may. Think existentially, we all have our lives to live and not a single soul can know how another soul is experiencing something.

Now of course at times I have judged that person on socail media complaining "he/she hasn't got it as bad as the next" but I will never say that to them. Instead I will try to just listen to their hurt, as a singularity, as it is independent pain, not to be compared to others.

Now, I will move on to my story. I was born in a free country where all religions and cultures supposedly are respected and allowed.
However I do not feel free in most aspects of life. I grew up in a religious family, I always had some internal conflict about what I was forced to believe.

I say forced because this is what happens when born, rased and confined to a certain religion. I was always told what I had to do, wear, think and behave. Yes although there are some individualities that come through such as "I want to wear this colour or these shoes", my life was controlled by my parents, God and the religiouse guidelines.

It was a constant conflict about what I desired and I had to learn how to have two or more faces. I could never let them know what I liked, how a low cut shirt or a pair of jeans looked and made me feel. I couldn't even wear such things. The female body is meant to be showed off but no I could never do that, it was a sin. I was scared of going to hell, I couldn't step out of line.

My first sexual encounter happened young, I was 5yrs old. I remember the day, the place, the person and that my little brother was born on that morning.. Thank Christ as that meant my parents asked my "care takers" to bring me to the hospital. I refused to go back to their house I was crying begging my mum to let me go home.

Lucky I did.

However I couldn't help but know it was wrong I must be going to hell, God can't love me now.

I was born in the year 88 at the family home in the front room. To the left of the bed there was a full wall size window, a tree outside shading the room, it made the room quite dark. The Midwife wrapped me up in a blanket and handed me to my parents, they were delighted as it was their first daughter after three sons.

At first I had a great relationship with my father we used to blow kisses and give each other much love. However that changed when I was a little older as my parents thought it would be inappropriate to be close to a girl.

My mother soon fell pregnant again, she was 40 when she had my little brother. I remember her pregnancy but only little bits as I was as young as five.

On the week that my brother was born I was sent to a family friend's place to stay while my mother went into hospital. I did not like this very much as I was not a confident girl I wanted to be back at home in my bedroom where I knew it was safe. The morning that my brother was born I had not yet known, I was still at the family friend's place.

Their son was quite a few years older than I, he took me around the corner of the house he said he had something to show me. I was a little bit nervous going with him, it just didnt feel right, however I didn't know how to say no so I went.

Once we were around the house where no one else could see us he pulled his pants down, he showed me his penis and encouraged me to touch it. I was standing there probably about 2 feet away from him when he first showed me and I froze, I did not know what to do. I had never seen a penis ever before and his was quite matured as he was at the age where it would be.

I did not know that then as I was 5, looking at his penis I just knew it wasn't something that I should be looking at or something that I should be forced into touching. I wanted to scream, I wanted to run, I didn't know where to go, what to do, who to talk to or where to look.

Luckily his mother called out to me from the back porch, he quickly pulled his pants back up. Being shocked back into reality I ran to his mother. She told me my brother was born and that she was going to take me to the hospital to see him.

I went into the car and I remember being very silent, I didn't even have anything to say about a baby brother which I was previously excited about. I just sat in silence stuned, not knowing where to look, what to say as all I could think of was the penis, the size, the naughtiness of it and the fear I felt.

When arriving at the hospital I was led to where my mother's room was. As soon as I was in the room I started crying begging my mum not to let me go again I wanted to stay there, I didn't want to go back "don't let me go back" I pleaded.

My mother and father tried desperately to explain I had to go back I couldn't stay at home by myself with Dad and the older brothers I had to go back to someone who could "look after" me.

However I did not stop pleading and crying so eventually my parents allowed me to go back home. I remember the relief as I was placed in the toddler seat in my father's car I was going home.

more to follow...