did my brother molest/sexually abuse me?

when i was 9, I was sexually abused by my brother who is three years older than I am. I don't know if it's sexual abuse, or more of molestation, but whatever it is, it has been haunting me and left a scar in my soul forever.

my brother used to 'play-act' with me whereby when my parents were out of the house, we would pretend to be characters that we invented - inspired by watching television. we would act out the characters meeting process, followed by the date and then finish off with the characters going to bed together. my brother would lie on top of me to fake that the characters went to bed with each other. We would be fully clothed. After 'it', my brother would act very cold towards me and brush me off when I asked what happened in the story next. I wanted him to play with me more and act and he would disappear away to play his computer games. I never told my parents or anyone else. Every time it was over, i would realize that my private areas were uncomfortable and itchy. Also, i disliked and could not understand the stench left behind by my brother. This would continue for a year or so occassionally when my parents weren't around and there would only be my maid at home. But she didn't know because she would be downstairs and my brother would have the door locked every time before he initiated the game.I never told anyone. I guess deep down inside I must have known what we were doing couldn't be told to anyone.

It was only years later when I grew up, experienced puberty and understood more of the world that now I look back and wonder what the heck was going on. I get angry at my brother and am full of unhappiness - both with the situation, with him and with myself - I'm disgusted that I have such a shady and abnormal past.

My brother has moved on in life and lives a happy life - he has many friends, a girlfriend and my parents, especially my mother adores him immensely. He goes to Church and has many church friends. I am upset and sad that no one sees through his true colors - or at least what he used to be. No one knows of his dirty past except for me. I wish someone will know that my brother is not as saintly or pure as he makes himself out to be - but how can I tell anyone? It was my fault too for consenting to the games we played isn't it?

I've always been cold and angry towards my brother. I guess deep down inside I resent him for the fact. I am disgusted when I see him live his life happily pretending like nothing happened. Like his life is normal. Why am I the one who has to suffer and live with this while he walks away scott free in his life?

I am a Christian too and so is my brother. My parents, especially my mother often feels I am ungrateful and unloving sister towards my brother cos I do not get close to him, or maintain a distance. I find myself being very hostile and introverted, reclusing away whenever his friends or girlfriend is over at our house - cos I hate to see how my brother is all perfect and happy, popular with his friends. I feel his loud displays of voice and laughter is even more a reflection of his fake-persona. It disgusts me immensely. As a result, his friends or gf and my mother feel like I am hostile and antisocial. But how can they understand why I feel like this? I shun away from attending such events whereby my brother puts on a even greater 'show'- i skipped his baptism and other events where he would be in the presence of my friends and all. All my relatives also dont know that my brother is like this. It makes me angry, misunderstood and very alone. But I cant' tell anyone. How can I?

We are an Asian family so we all live together still. Everyone thinks my not-so-close relationship with my brother is due to our personality differences and they don't think much into it. Nobody knows its cos of this. I feel sad because unlike my other cousins who have two siblings, I only have one- my brother. I have no one to confide in within the family and it makes me sad cos I know I can never tell my mother and she will always love my brother more than me - or think better of him and never understand me- she'll always think I'm at fault for being hostile and cold towards my brother.

What can I do?

I don't even know if my brother can remember it at all or if he has chosen to forget. I tell myself to forgive and forget but I can't. Usually I can just get by. But it makes me angry and upset whenever my brother gets preferential treatment from others or from my mother cos I know he's fake. It also triggers and makes me upset when my brother insults me or is nasty cos in my mind I will be thinking," How dare you, you did that to me in the past and I didnt tell anyone. Now you pretend like you did nothing wrong to me and still dare to say nasty things to me? (just atypical elder brother nasty comments to younger sister kind of comments)" It upsets me that I can't tell anyone, that no one will ever know and that I gotta live with hiding this secret from everyone forever.

Sometimes, I am so tempted nowadays to just go up to his current girlfriend and hand her a piece of paper saying "My brother sexually abused me when I was young." so at least she will know that he's not as saintly and pure as he makes himself out to be. At least someone out there will know and understand.

I feel like I'm being selfish and vindictive for even thinking this way. But what can I do? Is it wrong of me to feel like this????? I live with this pain and hurt while he moves on in life scott free. I really need some help and advise ! Wish God will help me through this pain. I just don't know how I should think, feel or approach this matter inside of me.

Magnoliawash, you're not a bad person for feeling and thinking this way. It's perfectly understandable. Your brother did abuse you and he's responsible for his actions, you're right, he shouldn't get away with it.
You could start by talking with a therapist about it. Maybe there are centers for people who have been sexually abused in your area. You might find the courage to tell your family about what he did some day.
They might never react as you hope they would. But speaking your mind and at least having things out in the open can be helpful.
Could you become independent? Do you have a job? It might really help to get away from him.

Hi,

I was in the same situation as you - except it was for a much longer period of time. It was from the age of 4 on and off until the last thing which happened at the age of 10. At first, it was 'mums and dads', and I really didn't know what was going on. The older I got, the worse it became, as I was always told by him that everybody in my family would hate me if I told them, they wouldn't believe me and he would be put away. Every time this is what i'd hear. I guess those words really did have an effect. The worst thing was - it happened while my Mum was in the house - sleeping in in the mornings at the weekend. He would cover my mouth, and I would literally come to a point where I'd accept it just to get it over and done with, which is so sad to think of as a small child. It became like a habitual thing, every weekend. I didn't ever want to leave school on a friday as I knew what was coming. Anyway, without any unneccessary detail, he would sexually abuse me, rape, everything. Although he is only 5 years older, he was able to. I didn't really realise just how wrong it was until i got older, but didn't tell my mum or family until i turned 16, where then nothing was done about it, and it was brushed off as 'he was a child' and 'didnt know what he was doing'. I continued to see him and act as if everything was normal, which now I just feel absolutely disgusting about. It was with help from my amazing sister that I actually went to the police, as it is a CRIME what he did to me, he KNEW what he was doing, else he wouldn't have told me not to tell. He was so manipulative.

Anyway, the answer is YES he did abuse you and you need to tell somebody and TALK about it, in particular the police, as primarily you DO NOT KNOW who else he's done it to, or will do it to. Its very often a cycle, and it doesnt ever stop, hence he will do it to his son or daughter, his son/daughter will do it, his sons son/daughter will do it etc. I'm 19 now, and am dealing with the stuff which comes with this disgusting evil act EVERY day, depression, trust issues, and unstoppable hatrid I have for the people around me who didn't want to take it further when I eventually did tell them. I have gone to the police now, and he will be charged with 5 accounts of rape, as those were the only times I could remember a specific time period and place it happened, although I've worked it out to be around 80 times. It is not enough, but if it stops him bein able to work around children, well any job atall, it brings me at peace.

I hope this helps, you do need help honestly, or it will come back to haunt you in later life as i've found out from alot of other older people ive talked to. I'm very glad im dealing with it now, you need to, too.

Good luck

x

I think that it would be very important for you to confront your brother directly. Becoming vindictive and telling his g/f is the wrong way, it will only add gas to the fire. You need to pick up the strength an talk to him. Sit him down. And tell him how it made you feel. Try to keep the conversation focused on how YOU feel.

I believe that this is the best solution for this case. Your brother was also a "child". I am sure that somewhere he's quite embarrassed about it. People react differently to embarrassment.

When I found this by chance, I thought it was me, my story- I thought - did I write this before? Does someone know? Until I read the whole post.

I feel the pain you feel so strongly it makes me cry.

My brother is also 3 yrs older than me. I was also 9 and he was twelve. My other brother, one ur older was very introverted and always stayed in his room playing games alone because our older would tease him very badly for his studder. But "jake" as I will call him, the oldest. Always wanted to play with me and my mother was depressed a lot and left us alone way too much. So jake and I were always sort of hanging out. I didn't know until later in life (I am 27 now and jake is now 30) that at the time he begun to hang out with a neighbor boy who got him to smoke marajuana, regular cigarettes and drink alcohol that year- as I said - he was only twelve. My father was also active duty full time military and a southern baptist preacher so needless to say- he was really never around. I have very few memories of him in my young life at all and almost just as little of my mother besides hearing distant crying from behind her bedroom door because she always missed my dad and felt alone and felt she married too young and wished she had got a degree or a job and not just become a mother and house cleaner and cook for the family and that was all she felt like she was. I remember asking her to play with me. At that age of nine- and she said she just couldn't and would walk away and the last memory I had of her playing with me was when she would walk me a few blocks to preschool back when we lived at the Air Force base in England before we moved back to America. Where we have been since.

Anyways. My brother jake was always sort of picking on me and calling me names, but more playful than just mean, so I'd fire back, we'd play sports outside and watch tv together sometimes when he wasn't with the neighbor boy smoking and drinking.

***Strong Trigger Warning (includes abuse descriptions)***

Well, I had a very early (or from what it seems) onset of puberty. By age nine I had very full breast, my face was filling out my legs went from chubby to lean and long and my waist was very small and my buttocks was very full. I could feel a lot of eyes on me everywhere we went. People called me pretty, a boy was dated to goose my boob and school cuz I was the first one with a bra and I punched him in the face and the teacher told me privately later- good for you- I'm very sorry but always stand up for yourself. My brothers friends were taunting him about being the first to ask me out and how "hot" his sister was and they would hang around extra to try to talk to me and be around me because I was more mature looking than most the girls even their age.

The attention made me start to be aware of my sexuality but in an innocent way. More so it just made me finally feel pretty --- but it also made me start to be shy and blush a lot. And not say much. Hanging around boys but not knowing why really - the attention made me feel good but sort of ashamed or embarrassed too.

But jake kept them at a distance. He became protective in an over barring way. He would watch me, follow me, stare at me. I felt his eyes on me. I felt like he was making me feel uncomfortable but didn't think too much of it. Until he began to use more drugs. And he began to be angry a lot. And fight bad with my parents at night and try to run away.

He began to play fight with me. He'd see me from down the long hallway and run with crazy speed and tackle me so fast I couldn't get away. He was very strong and muscular and would hold me down and laugh and it seemed playful but annoying at first. Until it became a constant game - or him seeing me - EVERY TIMe - and RUNNING to catch me-- the first time I felt afraid is when I felt I couldn't breathe I screamed and he finally let me up as to not disturb our mother and be in trouble. But I was very angry with him and we started yelling and he wouldn't stop trying to tackle me again- I got away and through a plastic "dopey" of "the seven dwarfs" at him and it was decent sized and hit him hard in the nose - and he was the most angry and red he had ever been and I was afraid for my life and had what I consider to my very first panic episode- my heart beating so fast and my breath strange and my chest tightening and almost a numbing. Like everything in the world around me become suddenly completely silent. It was if the whole world stopped and was whirring around me like a slow motion- *wahm* *wahm* and I literally have no memory or anything else that day.

I began to always fear the long hallway- I would peak and the run to get from one side of the house to the other. I would panic and feel scared- just knowing any moment he would come home or come out of a doorway and would see me and come bolting after me, angry, ready to really hurt me this time. He noticed me being strange at meals and at school and church. Avoiding his glances. Not answering when he spoke to me. He got the hint and gave the tackling a rest for a while and I began to relax.

He started trying to sit with me more and be friendly to me. And he'd sit closer than before on the floor with me watching tv. I was watching something silly, one day after school, while I was alone in the tv room--- waaaaay across the very long house from my mothers room. He came in, sat down and quickly got annoyed with my tv show choice like always. He tried to take the remote and I tried to hold on to it and he sort of struggles with me, innocent at first it seemed, but neither of us would let to so he sort of grabbed me from behind and sat me I front of his and tried to force my fingers to change it. But he held me there. Partially by my tshirt. I tried pulling away, at this point loosening on the remote just wanted out of his hold. He held me tighter. He pulled me closer. He pulled on my shirt more. And at age nine, tho I had full breasts for that age, I often would fight my mom about wearing my bra cuz I was sportsy and it bothered me. I didn't have it on. He pulled more. And held me tighter I couldn't move. My breast slipped out of the collar/neck hole because he had pulled on it so hard the collar was stretching and almost tearing. It took me a second to realize what was happening. I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw my nipple and then my full breast come out. I still couldn't move. I trying to strain. My arms were practically bound behind me. I could not move. He squeezed and held on with incredible force to keep me there. He was looking at it from the corner of his eyes. But pretending to stare sternly ahead. I felt completely helpless and embarrassed and I began to shudder and and I clinched my eyes shut and I will NEVER FORGET feeling the largest most lonely tear I had ever felt in my life come out as I opened my eyes and fly down my face and splash down and sting my exposed flesh. I saw his peaking at my chest and it was cold and it grew erect and I could feel him shifting and I broke out of my daze and I dug my elbow into his ribs or stomach or whatever I could get to until he gagged and loosened and I broke free.

About a week later. He spotted me. At the end of the long hallway, like he had done so many times before and I almost couldn't move my feet, I was paralyzed with fear, my feet and legs were buckling beneath me and I was falling to the floor- once again- the world was whirring around me- as I fell in slow helpless motion to the floor below me. Twisted up and down into a heap on the floor. And my eyes were shut and I was able to keep fighting anymore. Something inside felt like a switch, that had shut me down. I just went limp. I knew. I knew I was completely alone in the world now and at his mercy. I saw a flash of his red, blood shot eyes and flush cheeks and tanned face as he tackled me as I fell and tried to wrestle with me but I didn't fight him. I was expressionless. Emotionless. Empty. Alone. He held me there so long it felt like lifetime had passed. I stayed in the melancholy, waiting it out and I thought he was loosening and letting me go but he was readjusting, to press me face down into the floor and kept me pinned, holding my arms behind my back very painfully and sitting on my legs until I gave up any sign of struggle and positioned himself behind me. On top of me pinning me so painfully right I could hardly breathe with head painfully twisted to the side. I don't want to be too graphic here. And this is already the most painful thing I have ever typed as I sit here balling my eyes out trying to finally share the whole story for the first time in my life. As he began to play with privates from behind and underneath, I felt what I had never felt before. I felt sensation I had never felt before. It was as if I was in a movie and watching this happen to someone else. I was fighting being mentally present with everything inside me because I felt what seemed like good feelings. I felt like I was enjoying it all the sudden. And I had my eyes closed and I all I could hear was his berthing behind me and I had idea what was happening to me... Until I heard footsteps. and I suddenly became aware that mother was standing there- her face in complete horror and shock- about 10 or less feet away. Towards our end of that long hallway. He had scooted me into the tv room just away from the hallway and she must not have seen what was happening until she came right near to the hallways end... Were frozen. All three of us. For a few milliseconds. My mother and I made almost eye contact and I couldn't speak, and jake had his head hurried in my back, and would not move. Completely still. And would not look up. Though he knew who was there. I could feel it. Inside my stomach I felt words. I felt fear. I felt anguish. I felt shame. I felt helpless. And I tried. I've never tried so hard in my life to speak and it was like a dream, a nightmare where you scream and nothing.. Nothing will come out, no matter how hard you try, nothing, nothing comes out of your mouth. I felt the words - help me, pleAse my insides where screaming so loud- PLEASE, MOMMY, PLEASE HELP ME, MOMMY PLEASE, WHY WONT YOU HELP ME, please mommy help me.pleAse. And I realized she was walkng away, with disgust on her face and I realized I was bawling so hard I was choking on my own tears and mucas and began very seriously choaking and I thought I was dying, drowning, but I was vomiting I think as well as his he had become much more violent and was hurting me. He was hurting me so bad the last thing I remember was everything going black. It was specks like static on a tv screen then I was gone. I awoke on my stomach.the room was getting dark. Clothing partially removed. I strained to get them on again and stumbled to my bedroom. I locked the door. I put my light on as night fell. And I barricaded myself inside. Surely I'd be questioned. Punished. Confronted. In trouble. Mommys face. Pure disgust. Completly repulsed by me. Surely I was too punished. I stayed awake all night. I spoke to no one for almost 3 full days. No one asked for me. I heard no sounds. I heard no knocking. I stayed inside and only snuck out for bathroom water once. I remember falling asleep on the floor so bloated with bladder pain from holding it so long I didnt think I could go if I wanted to. I was nauseated and sure I was going to through I burst through the door and went outside. I peed out back by the barn and cried as it came out in little spurts and I panicked. I saw blood. Blood was coming out of me. While I peed. I saw it come out. I told no one. Sure I was injured and dying I had sort of decided to let myself die. It was the very first suicidal thought I remember having. I wrote very dark and sad and angry poetry for the first time weeks later. I wasn't sure what I was doing but I knew... I knew it sounded good. For some reason. I knew it was brilliant. I wanted to show a teacher I liked but the notebook mysteriously disappeared that week. At church on the next Wednesday night. Mom was at home, my friend and I slipped out while daddy preached because I had to go pee. I peed. And I saw blood. It looked like the most blood I had ever seen in my entire life. I had almost forgotten than I had thought I was dying days before. Because it was only once. And I had not seen any more blood. Until now. And it was on my legs, had drenched my underwear, and was all over the toilet paper and the water was a bright red beneath me. I began to panic and sort of scream-- help me I'm dying I'm dying help me!!!!! And my friend burst out and got her mom and he mom came back and was calmed and shushed us and took me to the phone in the kitchen. She dialed my mother who missed church whenever she didn't feel up to it, which was enough for other kids mothers to look at me sort of sadly, and always give me food and juice and smile sympathetically. As my mother picked out I sweeper out. I'm bleeding. And whispered down there. The other mother assured me it wasn't as scary as I thought and mommy could help with that. But I knew my mother. I knew she'd be disgusted. I knew what she had seen. I knew what had been done. And could never be taken back. And she barked at me with such judgmental, hateful distain - WHAT did you DO. THIS CANT BE REAL. --The other mom said strange words I had never heard before. She said tell my mom to come take me to the grocery store. But my mothers was so harsh and didn't believe me. That it was real. And hung on me and made it clear I was the most shameful creature that ever lived with her cold, mean words that echoed and still do to this day in my head. "What did YOU do..." What did I do? I thought- All I did was be born. Against my will- and hurt - against my will- and frightened and unloved, not since mommy decided we all wereny worth loving anymore. Not after she decided she ruined her life and that was daddy was a bad man. Although the whole world saw him as the most pure--- but I saw his more from a pew than at home. I shuddered sometimes when he'd touch me. And kiss my neck like I was his date I a movie and I would pull away and hide from him and hope he would die. Hope he burn in that hell that no one really could ever seem to find but were so damn sure was scary and real. I didn't know him except the memories of taking off his work boots a few times and he'd giggle and read and I'd play with his hair and he'd giggle and watch old movies that had more heart than any ud normally see--- and the people were pretty they seemed like plastic dolls- aliens - not real ppl- angels - perfect angels- that you would never see on earth only in dreams or on the old movie channel daddy liked. But he changed. We all changed after we came back from England. Mommy was mean. Or sad. Or mad at daddy. We struggled. Daddy yelled at her from far away that we would starve if he didn't work and he would lose his job if he couldnt leave her. But he had to leave her to make money. To pay for our lights to come back on. To pay for food and to get me shoes that weren't sandals because it was cold now. And I couldn't feel my toes very well. And my brother jake found trouble. And my brother Andi... The bullies found him... And my mothers sisters were sort of... Pushy and mommy said she felt like lesser like they were making fun of her for being dressed poorly but they didn't seem as bad as she said... But any words. You ever said she took them so sharply so harshly so personal so sensitively that every word was an insult. Daddy said self esteem. Jake didn't say much. But we adjusted. Daddy become more than a military man at desk. He spoke "the word of god" and his calling was to finally preacher he to his own congregation. Our house got bigger... Our cars nicer. Our yard bigger. Our home warmer. Our clothes cuter. And we stayed in an uphill climb... Until mommy didn't have enough. She never had enough. Like prince's mother, she was never satisfied. And got more cruel. I saw her pull Jakes hair and eventually pulled mine as she dragged me down the hallway by it 7 years later as her long witchy nails dug through my scalp and kept my skin as a souvenir. She caught me masterbating as a high schooler on the couch. Quietly thinking I was alone--- and locked me in my room.



Needless to say... That day I called my mom from church at age 9 was I was bleeding and she wouldn't help me. I learned from my friends mother who took me to buy pads- what a period was. Didn't really understand. And I didn't need to. She said it was normal but no one my age seemed to be dealing with it. So deep down I blamed myself. The next grade or so they gave us health education through videos about girls and boys and how they develop.


Let me honest here. I have had the most dysfunctional, horrific life you can image-- from a boyfriend overdosing in front of me that I saved in my early 20's, to living in a house of ten homeless kids sharing one couch one bed and one disgusting mattress. I did drugs to escape. I drank too much to escape. I was hospitalized for attempted suicide and treated and medicated and shunned and failed college classes and was raped by a fraternity guy I thought was friend. I was abused physically and sexually by my serious college fraternity boyfriend and it let me to drug addiction, and all forms of self destruction. I was a cutter in high school who bleed through my long sleeve shirts to hide my pain. I have attempted suicide, obsessed and dreamed of death so many times I can no longer count---

***End Trigger warning***


Now at 27 I have a good desk job, my own place, am not
Medicated, do yoga and have regular therapy and excercise and vitamins and healthy diet and lead sing for an incredible rock back and have a wonderful loving long term boyfriend who respects me and cherishes me and we take care of each other and hope one day to be married. I am also doing night school to finish my degree and become a writer. Or poet. Or songwriter. Or maybe all three.


Promise me ONE THING.

That you will NOT WASTE ONE MORE DAY

DO NOT BLAME YOURSELF

DO NOT HARM YOURSELF

DO NOT HATE YOURSELF

DO NOT HATE ANYONE

GO. To. THERAPY. Somehow. Immediately. Write about your thoughts. Be CAREFUL who you tell and who u trust. But let people love u.

And do whatever you can to become a strong, independent, and educated woman as best you can. Get a GREAT JOB- make GOOD FRIENDS- real ppl- nice ppl- loving - sweet - funny- kind- trustworthy- just a few Good ones is all you'll ever need. Think about how beautiful you are- how smart or talented you are --- believe in yourself -
Don't forget what's happened.
Don't push it away.
But DO NOT let it define you.

Bad things happen to good ppl.

And maybe neither of our brothers ever meant us harm and were too young-- maybe they knew and would do it again- go FIRST - to a therapist--- see a professional as often as you need to and don't be ashamed TELL THEM THE TRUTH

Tell them who hurt you and how and seek advice and be brave. Be as brave as you can be. Be confident. Find things that and people that make u happy - not for a moment or a night like sex and parties - find fulfillment and joy and peace and happiness. READ- READ AD MANY BOOKS AS YOU CAN POSSIBLY GET YOUR HANDS ON.

Learn EVERYTHING YOU CAN --

And when I find what and who u love - you are truely made for and passionate about -

Give it EVERYTHING YOU HAVE


SLEEP WELL

EAT WELL

write down your dream

Laugh as often as u can

Study super hard

Take good care of your body and especially YOUR TEETH!!

Don't drink too much.

Love yourself.

The whole you.
And everything you are.

When u love u.

Others can too.

I love u.

I don't know u.

I don't know if you'll read this.

But you mean the world to me.

I want to meet you and hug you and tell you you are beautiful and that I love you. Stranger I will never know.
You brought out the depth of my pain and truth and this is one one of the most important things I've ever written.

I haven't cried this hard in so long.

Please.

Don't let this consume you.

I wasted so much time.

Being angry and bitter.

It left me empty and alone.

But it's never too late.

And every minute we breathe is the perfect gift of life. Given to us. For one more precious minute. Make every single one count. Be stronger than i was.


Somehow.

With love.

Maybe we help.

Help stop one innocent person.

One day.

From being abused or harmed in this way.

I felt ruined for most of my life.

But it's over now.

It's always with me.

And I'm sorry you know the pain I know too.

The sadness and sickness and anger.

But don't give up.

Maybe one day we can help ppl.

People who have been hurt.

If we dust off and stand up.

Together.

Just my personal opinion: I think you're stronger than this. While I do agree that allowing emotions and recognising what they mean are healthy and important attitudes, there might also be a risk of getting into a 'victim mentality'.

True, you were the victim then and he was the culprit, but constantly (or frequently) seeing yourself as a victim may have almost as many disadvantages as not admitting to yourself what happened or being in denial as to the relevance of the feeling to you.

I'd say you shouldn't feel ashamed at all. Ashamed one should be if it was their fault; being mistreated in this say wasn't your fault!

I think yes, and I'm sorry for you. You are very strong.

*mod edit*