****Trigger warning Explicit sibling sexual abuse****

Circle of Trees

This is a story not like any other., or maybe it is. Childhood abuse is prevalent in this county, and yet no one wants to either admit it, nor talk about it. Unfortunately, it’s true. Sibling abuse is probably way under reported, and it can be just as bad, or worse than any other form of abuse. However, it’s the story of my life as it is. Not pretty, not romantic, but true nonetheless. I originally wanted to call my story “The Circle of Trees”, as they had torn down the house, and all that was left, were the trees that encircled the house, Soon though , they took down the trees as well, and made the whole thing into a parking lot. Nothing left but asphalt, a parking lot, where once unspeakable things had happened. Nothing. It didn’t seem fitting. It didn’t seem fair. It seemed to silence, what was already silent.
I guess I better start at the beginning.
My Mother and Father already had a son. The golden child. His name was -. He was basically two years older than I. My Mother often said in a sort of joking matter, that they had to watch him like a hawk, as he was always trying to harm me. He’d try to either smother me, or knock me out of my bassinet. Thus was the beginning of our tumultuous relationship.- was the first born. The golden child. I was the interloper. The only girl. My parents eventually separated, and got together briefly, and that’s how my younger brother came about. His name is -.
- and I were like two peas in a pod. We were very close We always knew what each other were thinking. Because he grew so fast, often people thought that we were twins, and in a way we were. We would finish each other’s sentences. We played together all of the time. I would dress him up like a girl sometimes, and call him “Christina”. Of course. He didn't much care for that.
My older brother -, quite frankly didn't like either of us. I think he felt it was us against him, and in a lot of ways, it was. It was soon evident that - seemed to have no conscience. The only thing he responded to was consequence. Those consequences came few and far between…usually drug related, by the police. It would seem that he was a budding sociopath.

That didn't really surprise me, as my Father seemed to be one as well. He had a family before us, and a family after, not to mention many affairs, and not to mention the 16 year old babysitter, he had an affair with while married to my Mother.. My Father was kicked out by my Mother for his abuse towards her and us when I was 4. I didn't see him or hear from him until I was 29. Within 6 months he was dead. He showed up on my doorstep one day…demanded that I said “I love you” I didn’t know him. We didn't even get a chance to know him, before he died. Not sure if I would even had liked him if I had known him. My guess is the way - turned out, my Father may have abused him, before being kicked out by my Mother. 5 year olds don’t just come up with this stuff on their own….or maybe they do, I just don’t know.

There were no other girls in the neighborhood to play with, so I grew up mostly around boys. The neighborhood boys, my brothers, and I would play together. The only girl I was really close to was my cousin -. We grew up like sisters. I loved her dearly. I often wondered if - had abused her as well. I hope not, but it wouldn't surprise me. We don’t talk about such things, and are not close like we used to be.

There was so many dark secrets within our small family. Even - and I told ourselves many lies, that we were happy, and carefree, when just the opposite was true. You tell yourself what you need to her to survive I guess.

I was always good at compartmentalizing things. I survived this, and so, that I didn't need to brood or think about it….I’d put it in a box….seal it up, and store it away in my brain, so that I didn't have to deal with it, or feel it. I was actually quite good at it. Not so good at it anymore. No matter what you do with the bad stuff that happens to you, there is always, what I call “leakage”.
It comes out in different ways, sometimes inappropriately at times., leaving you to wonder “Where the hell did that come from?” I was always the meek, mild one…the peace keeper. Once when I was in college, I was being bullied by a room mate who was much bigger and stronger and I….but suddenly I snapped. It came out of nowhere…and yet from a past of being bullied and abused. I don’t exactly know what happened, as I blacked out, but when I came too, I had her backed up against the closet door, screaming in her face that I was going to kill her. She never bothered me again. In fact, later on, we became friends. Weird how that works.

I have come to find out that children that are abused handle things in different ways. Some run away, like my younger brother did. Some let it eat your soul, like I did…taking it out on myself in horrible ways.
I didn't even deal with any of it until I was going through my divorce, and I sought counseling just to get through it.

Everything in counseling with my new counselor -came pouring out like a festering wound, or a boil that ruptured,.
The wound was so deep, it was like a hole in my soul, that never ended. We rarely even talked about the divorce. The divorce was secondary to the endless void in my soul. My counselor, -, became like my Mother figure, who actually believed me when I told her what happened. My own Mother either didn’t want to hear it, nor did she believe it.

For awhile I was very angry with my Mother for not believing me, even though my own Grandmother, asked my Mother, if she didn't see the bruises on me. That wasn't even the bad part. Psychical abuse I could take. I was used to standing between my older and younger brother and taking the beatings for him. It was the constant emotional, sexual, and threat of bodily harm on a daily basis that I dreaded.

The sexual abuse wasn't always at - hands either. He had “friends”. I remember when my Mother could not get babysitters anymore because they were just too afraid of my older brother, who smashed holes in walls, smashed mirrors, and was always high. Her solution was to leave us alone, until she got home from work.

That was always the dreaded time for us.
I remember once, I got home early….before -. - was high. He had me on my hands and knees, with a gun pointed to my head, saying how much he hated me, and wanted to kill me. He wanted to hear me beg for my life. I honestly don’t remember how I got away, but a friend of mine came and got me, but I knew I had to get home, because - was coming home, and I had to protect him.

Once, I came home before-, and my older Brother-, “sold” me for drugs to one of his friends. I only remember making it to the backdoor…the rest is a complete blank, locked deep in my subconscious, where I hope it stays. It’s in a box, in my brain, that I care not to open.

Most times, I kept putting things away in neat little boxes in my head, so I wouldn't have to deal with them. They were tied up, taped up, and glued.
The bad part was, I couldn't even get away from things at school either. Bullies followed me wherever I went. The same kids tortured me all through grade school, and mostly through High School, until I got with my soon to be husband.

I went swimming once with my cousin, and they tried to drown me in the public swimming pool. I was skinny, and I guess I just looked like a victim. My Mother said to me that teachers were always telling her that I was crying at school. I remember blacking out frequently, and having no idea, when I came to what in the hell they were talking about. Amazingly, I made pretty good grades.

I had small group of friends I hung around with….mainly misfits like me. We had fun together. It was a welcome diversion from home…and yet I was always worried, that - would be alone with -.
It was always - and I against -, and I knew he knew that. That made it even worse.

- would blackmail me, that if - did something wrong, he would tell, if I didn't do what he wanted me to do.
I knew where - stashed his drugs. He showed it to us, and threatened us if we ever told.

The police came to the house frequently, usually looking for -.

Not even locked in the bathroom was safe. We had an old hook and eye lock on the bathroom door. Every time I would try and go to the bathroom, - would open it as much as possible to see as much as he could see. If I was trying to have a BM, he would go downstairs, and listen through the vent, and make comments, so that I could hear him. I held my stool, as long as I could, at times for 1 month at a time.. My Mother thought I had bad constipation. In fact when I was 5, and having heart surgery, they went ahead, while they had me out and did a colonoscopy, to see why I had such profound constipation. The thing was…. I just couldn't go with - around. No big medical reason. The abuse took many forms, and on a daily basis.

We had birds as pets. Several finches, a parakeet, and a canary. They were in the boys room. One morning we woke up to find them all with their necks snapped. Nothing escaped -. Whatever - wanted…he got, one way or another. He used to say in a sing song voice….”Holly is a friend of mine, she will blow me anytime….for a nickel or a dime…50 cents for overtime…if I have a union pass, she will even lick my ass.“

Once I went to the Dr. They had a Physician Assistant who talked to me. He was very observant, and “knew” there was something I needed to tell him. I just knew I couldn't do it though. It wasn't for his lack of trying however. He promptly put me on an anti-depressant, which of course, my Mom wouldn't let me take. I suffered in silence. The one person I could tell, I couldn't because I felt my Mother would feel as if was a betrayal.


The constant day to day torture was too much for me. I left home at age 17, and went off to Nurses School. I can’t even tell you the freedom, and relief I felt. - had finally left the house…he went after my Mom with a baseball bat, and she finally kicked him out.

I tried to tell my Mom in the only ways I knew how to, or felt safe to. I don’t think she understood, or could do anything about it….or at least she didn’t think she could. I wrote suicide notes…one of which she found and asked me about. I think I said I wrote it as part of a story I was writing…of course she believed me, or at least she wanted to. DCFS wasn't the way it is today. Today, most certainly, they would have taken - out of the home.



Too bad, it came too late for me. The damage was done.
I was fragmented, and broken. I just didn't know how broken, until I fell apart, during my divorce.

I fell into at least 13 pieces. Thank God, my counselor was there to help me put the pieces back together again.
I really don’t think she knew what she had signed up for when she got me as a client. We talked very little about the divorce itself, but more about my childhood and the abuse I suffered. More than once, she held me like a baby, as I cried the tears I couldn't as I grew up.

It would seem that the boxes, I had stored things in…in my head, were leaking all over the place. Parts of me seem to be coming out of the woodwork.
Oddly enough, the parts, had names, and personalities all by themselves. There were parts, that were small. There were parts that wanted to harm other parts. It would seem as if I had a small town living inside my head. I would have periods of time, that were totally blank to me. I remember once being very angry.

I was driving, and ended up in Missouri with no idea how I got there or how to get home. I was a mess. At times, I would feel like a very small child, and would hide in the closet, crying for my Mommy, knowing no one would come.

I remember once my older brother locking me in the closet at my neighbor’s house. I was very frightened, and I knew no one would come and rescue me….I had to have only been abut 3 or 4.

Where did all of the grown-ups go?

My counselor -, gave each insider a voice, and counseled each of them. Even the angry ones. I remember cutting on myself, just to relieve the pain of the abuse. At times, I felt like I deserved it. Other times, the memories were so traumatic, I just wanted to feel something else. At times, I was so angry with myself, I just wanted to inflict pain. There were many reasons why I did that. I don’t do it anymore. I’ve learned better ways to cope with my pain. I don’t feel the need to hurt myself further, even though, at times I still think about it.

I had one part (insider) who didn't want another part to eat. It was punishment for being a girl. I got down to 103 lbs…..I’m 5’9”. There were many ways that certain parts of myself would hurt the other parts.

- taught us to sit at a table together. We all had to hash things out and agree to do or not to do things. It was a very good strategy. It didn't always work, but it helped. Many times, parts acted independently of each other, and that always ended up badly. I know the man I was seeing at the time, thought I was loony tunes, and I felt that way too.

I guess at that point I was. It took 6 years of therapy, but we pretty much came together to act as one for the most part. There are still things locked in my head, and eventually I will have to deal with them, but for now. I am whole.

My marriage was much the same as my growing up years. Isn't it odd how that turns out? I guess we stick with what we know. Unfortunate as it is. I followed my Mom’s example without even realizing it.

During my divorce, my Ex called upon my older brother as a witness against me. We were all shocked. He did however give me the closest, that I will ever come to an apology from him. It was unexpected. He told me that he was drunk and high most of his years when the worst abuse happened. He said he doesn't really remember it, but that he knew he did some very awful things to myself and my younger brother. He said he was sorry. That in and of itself was more than I could ever have expected.

I have forgiven him, as I have my Mother for not protecting me. Forgiveness to me, is letting go of that anchor that weighs me down. It’s not that I have forgotten…it’s that I have let go of the hatred and anger.

I had some really good years with my Mom before she passed. Having my own child, made me understand how hard it would have been to choose between your own children. I also know that she did the best that she knew how raising 3 children on her own without any help.

My younger brother, who could not forget or forgive didn't have that, and for him I’m sorry. I choose to live and let live. Even my older brother and I have a civil relationship, and I help him if he needs it. We don’t keep in touch much, but that’s OK too.

I still have many triggers, and PTSD, but work and live with it everyday. I doubt that will ever change. What has changed is how I try to deal with it. One day…sometimes, one minute at a time. There will always be bullies in our lives, grown up ones. I often have to remind myself, that I am grown, and stronger than I was as a child, and that I have the ability to react like a grown up, and not the scared little girl I still feel like sometimes. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. A day, at a time.


Each person heals as they heal. No two are the same. Some never heal. I choose healing and life.

Holly F

Hi there and welcome to the forum. I can't manage a proper response to what you've shared but welcome. Lots of good info here and lots of people can relate to your story. Very brave of you to share it. Well done. Xoxo

Thanks Journalgirl,
Even though I've dealt with most of it....at times of stress, some of it bubbles up, and I feel better if I write about it. The more and write, and share....the less ashamed I feel..The less ashamed I feel, the better I deal with the present demons. It's a process....whatever works....right?
~Holly~.

Angelofmercy wrote:Thanks Journalgirl,
Even though I've dealt with most of it....at times of stress, some of it bubbles up, and I feel better if I write about it. The more and write, and share....the less ashamed I feel..The less ashamed I feel, the better I deal with the present demons. It's a process....whatever works....right?
~Holly~.

Hi Holly, Very powerful to give your story a voice & yay for feeling less ashamed!! I can relate to quite a few things you've shared - Xoxo

Packing it away in little boxes. That's how I've always described it too. Not easy to open those boxes.

Welcome to the forums.

No it's not easy to open the boxes......they leak, and smell, and make us sick at first, but then we can with the right help throw them away.....that is... until we need a fresh clean new box LOL People like us are very resourceful and creative if nothing else.....

Hi Holly,

Thank you for sharing your story.

I was speechless when I read it, couple of hours ago, but still wanted to let you know that it had a big impact on me.

I question society a lot: where were we when that happened? What are we doing to help children that might be going through the same things you went through? How can we prevent this from happening again?

I'm glad you had a good counseller, and I'm glad you feel whole again, and you've walked a healing path. I'm sorry everything you went through as a child, I'm in awe at the bravery of so many children, you included, that expose their lives to protect others'.

I'm sorry also your big brother had gone through abuse (if he did), and I don't know when this vicious cycle will ever break. Sigh...

Thanks for your words, thanks for sharing. I'm glad you chose healing.

Sea

H Sea,
Like all forms of childhood abuse, the main component is terrorize/control/domination. The good things (I think) that came out of my experiences are...one, I never abused my child. I swore I wouldn't let anything like that ever happen to her, as best I could. I just recently (within the last 2 years) stated dating someone, and I've raised my daughter alone since she was 3....she's 24 now. I never wanted to bring anyone into our lives that might hurt her in ways I was. That might not have been a great idea, but it's what I felt at the time. Right or wrong. I've learned that I have a great "gut instinct", and I use it. Children who are abused learn to read people very well. I left my abusive husband, and took my daughter with me, so that he couldn't hurt her, which I knew was coming. Lessons learned. I'm also a nurse, and I have worked n the Mental Illness field for over 25 years. I've used over and over, what I learned in therapy. I have been able to get through to people that no one else could. I just feel you have to look at the things in your life as either victimization, or learning experiences/life lessons, that can better your life,and those around you, or destroy you, I won't lie...at times during my therapy I thought it would destroy me, but it didn't. One of the best books I've ever read was "The Courage to Heal". It has a companion workbook. It was my bible working with my therapist. That was the thing that finally hit me...I had to have the COURAGE to heal. I figured I had the courage to leave a bad marriage, raise my daughter alone....I most certainly had the courage to try and heal.
Besides....we BOTH know that Karma is a real b*tch LOL Thank you for your kind words. I noticed it said in your quote, that you love someone with DID. That's not easy either. In fact, at times, it's-down right scary, if she's/he's anything like I was. Bless you for having the strength and the courage to love someone who depending on their stage of the journey may not be able to give back much, until the day, they finally can.
~Holly~

Hi. I have to say that you're very strong to bounce back from an experience like that and I hope you're path to healing is as smooth as possible.

I just wanted to ask, is it possible to have been sexually abused but not remember it? I ask since Viola can't stand to be touched and sexual or intimate things (IE kissing, hugging, etc) make her uncomfortable but I have no idea why and neither does she.

Hi Holly,

Your words are deep, you know? With a lot of texture, and what you say touches me deeply, very deeply. So thank you.

Other members have said it here and done as you did, "I broke the abuse cycle". I'm glad you guys have, I feel so proud of you, I feel proud of the humanity in you. I'm glad your daughter never suffered the abuse you did, and I'm also glad for the live's you've touched in your work.

Angelofmercy wrote:I noticed it said in your quote, that you love someone with DID. That's not easy either. In fact, at times, it's-down right scary, if she's/he's anything like I was. Bless you for having the strength and the courage to love someone who depending on their stage of the journey may not be able to give back much, until the day, they finally can.

Wow Holly, your words touch me really deep. I'm in tears right now. I did Holly, I loved them very much. So thank you for your words.

Thank you for showing one of the many paths that can be walked.

Sea