As part of my adventure into writing, I'm going to start writing about some of my memories. I believe these are going to undergo several edits as I learn to write in a way that conveys more emotion and feeling. I've talked about this one in counseling recently, so I'll just use it first.
I was somewhere around 12 years old. I remember because my memories are all based on where I was living at the time, and we moved often. In this particular memory, we were living in my favorite of all the rental homes we were in. It was a large 2 story brick home - originally purchased as a kit through Sears and Roebuck. If memory serves me right, it had 4 bedrooms. As the oldest of 5, I had the luxury of my own room. The house was probably in great need or repair, but to me it was a castle. One of the problems I was very aware of was the lack of central air. Even though Michigan is a northern state, summers can easily reach 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Often times, the setting of the sun brought no relief. For pajamas, we would wear over-sized men's t-shirts.
When the heat was especially relentless, mom and dad would let us sleep on the living room floor, instead of upstairs in our bedrooms. It wasn't much relief, but we took what we could get. To my sisters and myself, it was an adventure: our own little sleepover. To keep an eye on things, dad would sleep on the couch.
Although we did this on several occasions, only one stands out in particular. I was in a dead sleep, in the middle of the night. Something woke me up...a strange feeling. In that moment between awake and asleep, it almost felt good. As I woke a little more, I realized the feeling was coming from between my legs. I looked down and saw my step-dad laying by my feet, his arm reached up as far as it would go so that he did not awaken my sisters who were sleeping on either side of me. His fingers were rubbing my vagina through my underwear. I squirmed and rolled over, pulling my knees up and together, pretending to still be asleep. He left me alone, and I fell back asleep, but fitfully so. I remember waking up and making sure he was still sleeping on the couch.
I think this memory is so vivid for me for several reasons. For one, I think it was the first time he had been so sexually direct in touching me. He didn't touch me again like that for quite some time. Also, I think it was one of the first times I realized that I was no longer safe with my family around me. He was getting sloppy. Anyone could have woken up and seen him: one of my sisters could have simply opened their eyes. Mom could have come downstairs at any given moment. But he must have reasoned that the risk was worth it, although I doubt he bothered to think about it for too long.
"If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud"
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