In early spring of 1997, Watertown, South Dakota, my hometown, was facing one of the biggest floods known to the community. It engulfed homes. The flood waters forced countless families out of their homes. In the tragedy of it all, the community came together. They began filling and placing sandbags to prevent the rising waters from reaching more homes and businesses. Countless times people wanted to give up, let the waters in, because simply, it was easier. I envision my childhood much like a home surrounded by the water. There is nothing able to be saved by the way it looks. Help can be standing 20 feet on the solid ground outside, but unable to reach me. It appears as though whoever was in the home at the time the flood waters rose, was able to get to safety. They never thought to investigate further, if they had, they would have found and helped me. The waters just kept coming in. There is no stopping them. My emotions locked inside and no way to reach them. The water rises higher and faster. Before I know it, my emotions and childhood are trapped. I worked tirelessly filling sandbags, reaching my hand out for someone to come help me. It was too late. The havoc-destruction-devastation caused by this flood is the same feelings I experienced growing up being sexually abused as a child. And I know many other survivors have went through trials similar to mine. I am an incest survivor. I continue to heal each and every day with the help of God, my family, friends, and the amazing advocates I have come to know. I don’t recall all of the details, but I do remember before I was in grade school another older female cousin of mine would have me perform oral penetration on her. I remember I did not like the smell, or the taste. It felt as though I had to go through with it though, or she may tell on me and I did not want to get into trouble. This occurred at least a dozen times. It was always at her house, never mine. I was next abused by my brother. I was in the third grade. It may have started before this, but this is the earliest memory I have. I was so unsure of what was happening. All I knew is I did not want him to not love me, or to beat on me. As the sexual and physical abuse was something normal for him to do almost daily. He blamed me for the abuse. I remember telling my “big sister” from the Big Brother Big Sisters program I was involved in through the Boys and girls Club. She then turned it in to authorities. They came to my school and talked to me….pulled my mom out of work and talked to her. At home later that night…I sat atop the steps while my parents questioned my brother and frequently I heard him saying “She made me do it.” I felt ashamed….I felt dirty….I felt sick…I felt as though I had been thrown down into a hole dug six feet down under, dirt and rocks hurled at me as I lay there crying out tears, but no one could see or hear me….I was too far away. He touched my privates…he groped me in the middle of the night…I prayed this was the end….boy was I wrong. I felt as though God didn’t love me, that he failed and left me. I was all alone. For a very long time, I blamed my parents for allowing the abuse to continue, even after it was brought to authorities attention. It felt as though they chose a side in all of it, and I wasn’t worthy of being fought for or believed. I felt like the dirty torn apart shop rag thrown into the corner, waiting for someone to sweep it up into the trash. How was I not better than the rag in the trash? My cousin/best friend was also abused by my brother. Her and I are the same age. Thankfully, she was practically one of the only people who believed me the abuse happened and continued to happen. When I would try to express concern to others about leaving their daughters alone with him, I would get told, “Oh, Stop, you are just holding a grudge. He is a big teddy bear.” This made me so angry. I prayed he did not ever steal any other persons innocence, as he stole mine. My heart hurts deeply to admit, but this also led to her and I engaging in oral penetration on each other. I believe there were sometimes we also physically penetrated each other. I always excused this away as we were comforting each other. I know it doesn’t excuse or make any of it right, but it is how I rationalized things in my mind. She was afraid to spend the night with me because my brother would abuse her. I wanted her to stay over so I could avoid being victimized for once. I carried around so much guilt and shame for this. It progressed from there….eventually to him performing oral sex…and penetration. I dreaded sleeping. His abuse didn’t just progress for me, but my cousin as well. Even though we both were going through Hell, neither of us spoke of what had happened. We were both the youngest of our families, and did not want to cause trouble for anyone. So we kept this heavy-boulder-mountain of a secret to ourselves. I came to despise my brother, from whom I should have felt love and protection by. I couldn’t call out for help…no one would believe me…or hear me anyway. I remember a time there were many of us gathered at my grandparents house. It must have been some sort of holiday. The adults were in the kitchen and dining room. The kids were supposed to be asleep in

As a five or six year old, my parents worked hard. I was left with my dad’s parents’. My uncle started molesting me. Then soon after, so did two of my oldest cousins. I remember this going on until I was twelve. I found out what was happening to me from an encyclopedia. I knew it was scary,  hurt, and left me feeling all alone. Never thinking once about telling anyone. My grandparents fought. My granddad, was scary with butcher knives, either at me, or the latest dog’s tail. Just for fun. My dad abused my mom, when he was drinking. Many nights we were running anywhere for help, or putting furniture against my bedroom door just to keep him out. My mom couldn’t stand to have me around any other time, as long as I was away from her, she was happy, if she was home. I became an addict as soon as possible. It seemed comfortable. More than ever,  I felt comfortable. As a child, I heard voices, felt people coming after me….all the time. Even seeing them at times. Alcohol,  drugs of other kinds,  gave me reasons for these things to be happening. That was my reasoning. I have made peace with my abuse. I am clean and sober now, since August 28th,  2011. One of my abusers is dead. One lives on, and one still lives a screwed up life. ..in my opinion. Saying that, I guess it affects one different than the other. Me, I’m not sure I honestly will ever be free from it all, but I don’t really want to be. It’s part of me. One of my chapters. One of my stories. Thank you.