#triggerwarning #childhoodsexualabuse

I was five years old, and when family and I went to the new church that my mother would be playing the piano for, and my dad would be a reverend in. That’s when I met him. He was the pastor of the church, and he seemed like a lively and loving person. Pastor is what I would call him.

At around 8 years old, my mom and dad were going through a divorce and not too long after, he started visiting my mom, me, and my brothers a lot more often. He was very fun and affectionate and gave me constant hugs and kisses. While I wasn’t used to getting this kind of affection from a man, I enjoyed it. It made me feel loved.

After a while, those hugs and kisses turned to fondling and touching me in places that I had a strong feeling that he shouldn’t have. Even though I had my doubts, I still craved the affection that he was giving me. He became the person I would vent to and confide in. He would comfort me when I would get punished by my mom.

It was such a double-edge sword, because on one hand, I believed that he loved and cared about me. On the other hand, he was hurting me just as much. It was very confusing for a girl and adolescent to understand. If this wasn’t love, then what was it? Even when he would punish me, it was a power struggle that I couldn’t win.

When he married my mom, things got worse. He would use opportunities when my mom wasn’t home or sleep to do things to me. He would come in my room at night when everyone else was sleeping. I would also catch him going through my things and my money would go missing. After a while, I became a mastermind at hiding my possessions.

By the time I was a teenager, I felt like I was in my own personal hell with no way out. I felt like I couldn’t tell my mom in fear of her not believing me. I also didn’t want to be the one who was responsible for breaking up our family. All of the pressure led to depression and me feeling suicidal. Self-harming became my outlet of choice.

One night, when I was 14 years old, he came downstairs into the room that I was in with my brothers watching tv. He came in the room, sat next to me and started rubbing the inside of my thighs. Little did I know, my mom came downstairs and saw him.

I went upstairs and she came in my room and closed the door in panic. She asked me if Pastor was touching me inappropriately. I was so scared that I don’t even remember what I said. My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. She then said, “If you let him do it again, I’m going to beat your ass.” As a child, I didn’t understand her reaction, but as an adult, I can’t imagine the emotions that she was feeling with that revelation.

I didn’t know what was about to happen, but I knew things were about to change. After that, he acted very cold towards me. I hated that he was angry with me. I didn’t want him not to love me anymore. A few days later, my mom got up and started packing his things. I started helping her. It took about an hour to pack everything up, and we put them on the porch.

That evening, he came and picked his things up, and it was a bitter-sweet moment. I didn’t know what was next for us, but I could exhale a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t be abusing me again. Our new family dynamic was about to enter into another chapter. But for the next month, I could sleep a little easier.