Knowing the Signs

I wish someone would have seen the signs; I had bursts of anger, I self-harmed, I wet my bed until I was in second grade, and I never seemed to know my boundaries. When I was in elementary school, I was the sort of kid that everyone knew because I was always in someone's face, gleeful and bright. I was kind, intelligent, and played in the dirt until my hands and clothes were covered in muck. But when I transferred schools, I started to remember things that I had hidden in the back of my mind.

The violent outbursts started occurring, as well as the sexual exploration. Third through fifth grade was a whirlwind of staying home from school, because I had broken down the night before, and having to sit in a classroom alone because I almost beat someone with a hockey stick for calling me a faggot. I cried a lot. In little boxes scattered across my room were broken pencil sharpeners and suicide notes. It never occurred to my parents that there was probably something terribly, horribly wrong.

An eating disorder came into play as I ascended into middle school. I dropped to 85 pounds, still cutting in the bathroom of the locker room after gym because of images that I just couldn't escape. I tried to kill myself in 7th grade. I was hospitalised and sent to inpatient. And the one thing that gets me five years later is that no one bothered to ask me why. Why are you doing these things to yourself? What is going on that you can no longer function in settings that used to be so easy for you? I was just shuffled from therapist to therapist, until I simply couldn't take it anymore.

It wasn't a secret from my close friends. But, as I started talking about it with my family, the gravity of what took place during the crucial years in my child development started to take a toll; I was molested.

I was molested and my mother stood there oblivious. I liked him, I really did. He always let me watch shows my parents would have never let me watch and he always favoured me over my sister. However, coming from a family where sexual abuse and other misconduct is not uncommon, I can't help but think how could she not have known?

She tells me she knew nothing, suspected nothing, even as my teenage years passed me by and I had panic attacks at the thought of being in the same room with him. I was so obviously not well for eight years before I told her what happened and it never occurred to her to question my behaviour? Perhaps she thought it was all a rouse for attention, which it partially was because I would never again have the kind of attention I was given in my childhood, but it seems so blatant; if your kids are cutting and depressed in middle school, something is gravely wrong.

Parents, I urge you to watch your children and to ask them what is going on. I don't remember a time where my parents asked me how he was as a babysitter or inquired why I was telling them I hated them. They never asked why they were finding porn on my phone when I was in 5th grade, or how I knew what masturbating was when I was 5-years-old.

Someone will tell you not to blame yourself. But as a child of parents who stood there and chose not to look deeper because the thought never even crossed their minds or they were too lazy to dig any deeper than they needed to; you are partially to blame. My abuse went on for years. It wasn't as though my parents were absent or neglectful or didn't love me, but at the very least, I blame them. I blame them for not saving me. I blame them for watching my mental and physical health deteriorate for 17 years without attempting to figure out why I was the way I was. I blame them for the majority of the problems in my life because they didn't, or chose not to, see the overarching issue contributing to my distress.

The moral of my story is that if it seems out of the ordinary, there is a reason. And whatever reason you could possibly fathom, it could be far worse. Listen to your children. Do not leave them alone with someone you are not 150% sure are okay, even if they’re your nephew. Know the signs, and when they're present, figure out the cause before it's too late.