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Chels's blog
Since joining this site, I've been unearthing trauma that's been buried my whole life. I've finally told my story, but some thoughts and memories still come up that I want to vent out but don't want to spam this site doing so through posts. Thank goodness for the blog feature here where I can put all of these vents of mine.

In the unlikely event that anyone reads these, thanks in advance for taking the time to do so.
Chels91
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What triggers me the most (trigger warning)

Permanent Linkby Chels91 on Sun Nov 21, 2021 10:33 am

I’m not going to get too graphic here, but I’ll still be talking about childhood molestation, so I included a trigger warning anyway.

After reading numerous stories from other people who were sexually abused as children, I’ve found that what gets me triggered the most is when the survivors talk about how they blame themselves for enjoying it or otherwise feel shame for it. As someone who has been there myself, I always just have to jump right on top of that and be the one to tell them they shouldn’t feel bad at all for admitting they enjoyed it.

When my dad was molesting me, I did enjoy it for the first several years. I always sort of knew what he was doing couldn’t have been right, but at the same time, it felt good, so I would let it happen. I used to hate myself for it! I would blame myself for allowing my dad to do what he did and for liking it. But over time, I’ve learned it’s okay to admit it felt good. That you enjoyed it, even. I believe it’s important to admit it if you actually did.

This goes without saying, but a child cannot consent to sexual activity. Even if the child is a willing participant, it only means they’re being taken advantage of. A child doesn’t know better, an adult does. That’s the disgusting nature about a child molester that knows what they’re doing - they know how to seduce and make it enjoyable for their victims.

It’s only natural to enjoy being sexually stimulated. It’s how our bodies are made to react. Unfortunately, it’s just as natural to attach blame to yourself if it felt good for you. It can be difficult to admit. Even being fully aware of all of this, I still don’t like admitting that I enjoyed being molested at one point. But again, it’s important to be honest about that because it’s part of overcoming it. You accept that it felt good, but you also accept that that wasn’t your fault.

I hate to see fellow survivors blame themselves for admitting it felt good. That it was their fault for it. But I try to be there for them and get them to understand that they’re not at fault for anything. I can only hope that I can get through to them. It also goes without saying that it’s never easy.

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Recounting the first time (trigger warning)

Permanent Linkby Chels91 on Fri Nov 19, 2021 2:29 pm

I was 8 years old when it happened. It wasn’t really the first time my dad had molested me as he had been touching me inappropriately as early as toddler age, but this was the first time he took it to another level and when everything truly changed for me. If the trigger warning in the title didn’t indicate it already, this is going to get graphic, so fair warning.

It was just me and dad at home sitting on the couch watching TV one afternoon. He had his hands feeling my thighs and between my legs through my bottoms, but by this point, he had been doing that fairly regularly. It was weird, but it didn’t bother me that much, so I would just ignore it and continue watching TV.

Out of nowhere, my dad got to the floor on his knees in front of me and said “Take off your shorts, Chelsea.” I asked why and he said “You’ll see,” before repeating his demand. I hesitated for a moment and asked why again. His tone changed to a more serious one, the same he’d use when I would be in trouble. “Hey! Just. Do it.” I became scared and did as he said. Before I got my shorts halfway off, he said “Underwear too,” so I took my underwear and shorts completely off.

My dad put both hands on my knees and parted my legs. I was scared. I thought maybe he was somehow going to punish me for something. He must’ve noticed because he then changed his tone to a more calmer one. He said “Just relax. I’m not going to hurt you, but you need to relax, okay?” That somewhat reassured me, but I was still sitting naked from the waist-down right in front of my dad who was holding my legs open without any idea why! Suffice it to say, I was still feeling nervous. He calmly ushered me again “Go on, relax.” I eased up as best as I could. He then moved his head down on my vagina and started performing oral sex.

The moment he started, my whole world as I knew it was over. He could’ve stopped after just a few seconds and I still wouldn’t have ever been the same after. My innocence was gone. Dramatic, I know. But it’s true. I remember thinking something along the lines of “Wow, what are all of these new sensations?” It felt similar to when he’d touch my privates through my bottoms, but much stronger. Whereas that was just a weird feeling, this was a weird GOOD feeling.

Before I knew it, my body was reacting to the stimulation in ways I couldn’t control. Moans and deep breaths were escaping my mouth, which I had no control over either. I would make sounds I couldn’t control before, but only when I was crying after being hurt. But I wasn’t crying and this didn’t hurt. What was happening to me? Sure it felt good, but I could barely enjoy it because everything that was happening was so foreign and obviously, I didn’t understand any of it so it actually frightened me.

I soon started feeling something more familiar: the feeling like I had to go pee. Only this was much stronger too and it was only getting stronger the longer it went on. My dad stopped just for a moment to ask “How does that feel, Chelsea?” I was honest and said “I have to go to the bathroom.” I barely got it out because I was feeling out of breath. He said “What?” I repeated what I said loudly. He didn’t say anything and just continued. I forgot all about my protests for a few minutes longer once he did.

Part of me didn’t want it to stop because it felt so good and kept feeling better, but it also started feeling more and more like I had to go. After a few more minutes, I said “Dad stop! I’m gonna pee!” He snapped at me “No you’re not!” I got scared again and thought “What the heck?! Is my dad trying to get me to pee in his mouth?!” I just knew it was coming and started feeling embarrassed. On top of my dad yelling at me again, my body was reacting more intensely as well, which scared me even more. But it was still feeling amazing. I didn’t know what to think! Embarrassment, fear, pleasure… I was experiencing so many conflicting emotions, it was overwhelming.

Though not nearly as overwhelming as what eventuall...

[ Continued ]

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My relationship with my dad after the fact

Permanent Linkby Chels91 on Wed Nov 17, 2021 9:38 pm

The last time my dad molested me was when I was 20, shortly before I moved out of the house. My parents were already divorced by that point and my dad would end up moving out a month or so after I did. Once I was finally out of the house and on my own, I didn't have much of a relationship with my dad for the next ten years up until he died. But it wasn't because I wasn't speaking to him over what he did to me, believe it or not. No, I ended up suppressing those memories without even meaning to, if that makes sense. I would occasionally think about it over the years, but the memories didn't really start to resurface until after he died.

The reason I didn't see him much afterward was because he ended up moving back to where he was originally from, to a place that was over an hour's drive away so I would just never see him around. I would during family reunions or other occasions that involved bringing both families together. During those times, we wouldn't talk very much. The most I remember us talking was after I hadn't seen him for about two years and we were just catching up for a few minutes before going our separate ways again. Obviously, we never talked about how he molested me and I don't remember it ever coming to mind when I would see him either. It was like it never happened.

Just a couple of months ago when he died in a car wreck, I was surprised to hear he was gone so suddenly but apart from that, I didn't feel anything else. No grief, no relief, nothing. I don't believe it was just because I didn't have much of a relationship with him. I've had relatives that passed who I rarely saw but I still felt something for them when they died. When my dad died, again, there was just nothing. I believe it was because of all the repressed trauma from the first 20 years of my life he was molesting me affecting how I felt. Not long after the funeral service, then all of the memories started flooding in.

I think the main reason I was distant from him during all that time was because he was literally distant from me. I don't know if I would have had more of a relationship with him if he had lived closer. I feel like we could have because it really was like I had just forgotten all about everything that happened. I'm glad we didn't have a better relationship before he passed, but sometimes I think if we did, I could have confronted him on how he molested me and maybe get some better closure on my trauma. Though if I'm being honest with myself, I really don't know if I would have had it in me to do so. But not that any of that matters, of course.

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The next step scares me the most

Permanent Linkby Chels91 on Wed Nov 17, 2021 12:03 am

I may very well make an actual post out of this but for now, I'm just going to put this here.

I can talk about how my dad molested me for years and can even go into graphic detail over what he did without any issue. I can read about other people's experiences as well even when they're similar to mine without getting triggered too badly. But for some reason, whenever I think about what I'm going to about my traumatic past now, it scares me. Telling my family what happened, whether I should seek counseling, etc. It's overwhelming and it just gives me a headache.

I guess part of me feels that because my dad died recently, if I'm going to tell anyone in my family about it, I had better do it soon because every day that passes by that I don't tell is just going to look more ridiculous as to why I didn't tell sooner. Like the opportunity to let everyone know what kind of person he really was in right in front of me and I'm letting it slip by. I feel pressured and I can't stand it. I know there is no pressure, but that's how I feel.

I don't know why thinking about what I'm going to do now terrifies me so much, but it does. If I decide to make a post out of this on the forums, maybe someone will have answers for me. At the very least, I hope I'm not the only one who struggles with the "what next" than the actual trauma.

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