Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids

35 Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids: 2008 in Review
December 31, 2008, 8:41 pm
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On September 6th of 2008, I started this blog. I started it because I had come to realize that almost every aspect of my life had been influenced directly or indirectly by the child sex abuse I had experienced in my life. My first entry was on Sept 6th, and it dealt with my fear of the dark. This was the first reason not to fuck kids. My third reason was fear of people. Fucked kids become addicted adults. Reason 5 was fear of the babysitter, for my beautiful son. When one person fucks us when we are kids, we think all people will fuck our own kids, as in Reason 15. Fear of bugs was reason # 7, and I came back to it again in Reason 31. Fear is a common theme throughout this blog (and my life), and I revisited fear with doctors in Reason 17. So is Panic disorder, Reason 14. Fucked kids become panicked adults who miss work, trouble keeping friendships, and a whole host of other shit that you the taxpayer are paying for now. I revisited fear in Reason 30, with Agoraphobia. Yet another reason not to fuck kids – we can’t leave our house.

My second reason dealt with sex, and it was something I dealt with in Reasons 9, 20, 23, 25, and 33. Six times this sex thing has fucked me up in adulthood due to the sex thing fucking me up in childhood.

Reason 4 was Addiction. Reason 6 was Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD). When kids get fucked, they form all sorts of rituals to protect ourselves, because we now have an intimate understanding of what happens when we let our guard down. I revisited that in Reason 13.

Flashbacks, reason 10. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids. Plus, as in reason 11, our memory is lost. I haven’t slept a peaceful night since I was molested at the age of five, (Reason 12). When I was 12 and 19, I almost killed myself. Since I didn’t, I was alive to write Reason 16: Suicide. You know how I survived my suicidal tendencies? Therapy, which was Reason 18. The other way I survived was by crying a lot. That was Reason 19.

Most of the times, living with these reasons brings me shame (Reason 21). Shame and blame was reason 8. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids. We think it’s our fault that you fucked us. Another thing that brings me shame is my bulimic secrets, which am trying to free myself from in Reason 24. Equally shameful to me is that I took candy in exchange for my body, and I talked about that in Reasons 28 and 29. Some part of me understands that I was probably seeking love and acceptance, and willing to sell my body for it, but that part is buried way deep down and I am only sometimes able to access it. The adult me says it wasn’t my fault and that I should never have been propositioned with such a choice, but the child me says “I am a bad person and that is why this happened to me”.

When I wasn’t busy thinking about suicide or throwing up, I was busy cutting myself. That was Reason 32 why you shouldn’t fuck kids. It was always difficult to clean my self-inflicted wounds since showering was so fucking hard for me too, as I talked about in Reason 34.

An interesting part of living with the effects of being abused is that whenever I see a tv show or movie that reminds me of what happened, I get fucked up. This happened when I saw an episode of My Name Is Earl (Reason 22), Georgia Rule (Reason 26), and Fred Claus (Reason 27). What I learned from Earl though was that being abused by these adults in my life not only opened my eyes to the bad in the world, it also closed my eyes to all the good in the world. All of this caused me to have a lot of nightmares (Reason 35).

May 2009 be a wonderful year, a year where no children get fucked. May we all live in a world where 18 years from now, we have no new adult survivors of child sexual abuse. Andrea Dworkin asked for one whole day free of violence against women. I am asking for the rest of time. She said “And how could I ask you for less–it is so little. And how could you offer me less: it is so little.” And really, it is so little to ask.

May the next beautiful butterfly not have to experience her body being used for adult’s sick love, not have to write a blog about surviving it, not deal with all these aftereffects. May she just enjoy being a beautiful butterfly, and go about making the world beautiful with each flutter of her wings.

Reason #35: Nightmares
December 30, 2008, 4:56 pm
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I have had nightmares as long as I can remember. Everybody has them. Mine seem to always center around the theme of evil though. Some evil person or people are trying to get me in my nightmares. It doesn’t take a psychic to figure out the source of these dreams; evil was done to me, and now I have bad dreams about it. That’s not really a shocker.

Ever since I got pregnant though, my nightmares center around people trying to be evil with my son. These nightmares are horrible, and after a long night of battling these demons, it is very tough to face the day. Last night was one of those nights where even when I woke up from the nightmare I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and when I fell back asleep, I’d go right back to where I had left off in the dream. Horrible.

This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids. We have as much right to peaceful sleep as the next person, but because you fucked us when we were kids, we haven’t slept well since.

Reason #34: Showering
December 29, 2008, 9:40 pm
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Yesterday I needed to take a shower. Showering has always been difficult for me. The water comes over my eyes and I can’t see. The water rushing out of the shower is loud and I can’t hear. If I can’t see and I can’t hear, then two of my senses are taken away and ‘they’ can hurt me. Who are ‘they’ in this scenario? I mean, I am 35 years old. Who is it that is waiting for me to be otherwise occupied so they can take advantage of me by surprise?

This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids. I want to be able to shower like other people. I like to be clean just like everyone else. Showering shouldn’t be a big fucked up hairy deal, you know?

Yesterday when I told the huz that I was too scared to go upstairs and shower, he suggested that he stay upstairs with the baby so that I could shower. I was grateful, and I agreed to his suggestion. Then I sarcastically said “This isn’t humiliating or shameful at all. It’s not weird for me to need my husband to be upstairs so that I can take a shower.”

The huz said “It’s not shameful, and it’s not humiliating. It is what it is, and it is valid.”

Reason #33: Realizations about Sex
December 27, 2008, 1:25 pm
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I mentioned before that I used to be in gay relationships. My first gay relationship lasted for two and a half years, and we were completely in love with each other. One of the reasons I fell for her was because she was a survivor of incest and child sex abuse, like me.

She used to work a night job as a security guard. She would get off of work around 2 or 3AM. Sometimes 4AM. One night I waited up for her. I dressed up in some pretty lingerie and lit some candles and had some music playing. I heard the front door open, and then she walked into our bedroom. I stood there, dressed like that, and she said “I’m hungry” and walked out of the room to go get some food.

That was about 10 years ago. I just realized this morning that her reaction to my being so overtly sexual was to run away, much like I do and have always done when I am on the receiving end of such advances. I used to marvel about how she was so okay with sex, how the sex abuse didn’t seem to affect her, but now that I think about it, she had her effects too. She could only sleep facing the outside of the bed, never with her back to the outside of the bed.

Now that I am married and not having any sex, I have lots of time to think about this stuff. 🙂 With my lover though, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to have sex with me that night, it’s that the prospect of someone being so wanting of her and her body was scary to her. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.

Reason #32: Cutting
December 23, 2008, 1:16 am
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It was a week before my nineteenth birthday when I first cut my arms. I was in such emotional pain, and it seemed like it would be such a relief to cut my arms up. I knew that I could see a cut on my arm and say “Yes, this is real”, whereas when I said I was hurting inside because my brother molested me, no one could see that was real.

In my senior year of college (when I was 21), I lived with my two best friends. One was my roommate, and the other was my housemate. One day I cut my legs since my arms were already all cut up. I had just finished cutting when my roommate walked in and exclaimed “Oh ‘Butterfly’, not your legs too.” She looked so sad when she said it.

If you are unfamiliar with the world of cutting, you would probably consider it weird to inflict a physical wound for the relief of an emotional one. And you would be right. It is weird. This is yet another reason you shouldn’t fuck kids. We grow up and cut ourselves to make ourselves feel better about the disgusting ways that you cut us first.

Reason #31: Bugs Revisited
December 18, 2008, 1:17 pm
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Yesterday morning, I woke up with a bug bite on my wrist. Needless to say, last night I was afraid of the bed.

The huz checked out the bed, between the sheets, under the blanket, over the blanket, the surrounding area, the ceiling, and under the bed. I was still afraid to go to sleep.

We are sitting there in bed. Actually, he is laying down, and I am sitting up. I am staring at everything in the room, trying to detect the slightest trace of insect. The idea that I might have to go to sleep with a bug in the bed is just too much for me. The idea that it could touch me without my knowledge or permission is just too much for me to handle. And I am not going to let this happen to me again.

Him: Honey, it’s safe. I checked out everything. You saw me check everything out.
Me: I am afraid.
Him: It was a one-time incident. That bug is long gone by now.
Me: You don’t know that.
Him: Baby, we checked everything. If there was a bug, we would have found it. How do you know it was even a bug bite on you?
Me: It was. (Looking around the room.)
Him: (sigh)

I have done my time with getting touched without my permission. I couldn’t sleep last night for fear of this bug. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.

Reason #30: Agoraphobia
December 17, 2008, 2:35 pm
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I am afraid to leave my house.

I once read that people who are afraid to leave their homes don’t start out that way. They start out with other kinds of fear, like for instance my fear of the dark and of being alone. Or of driving. So then they are afraid to leave their neighborhood. Then their house. Then their room. They end up holed up in their room, afraid of “out there”.

That is me, now. I am having a bad day. The anxiety has been building for a while now. I imagine this is the time when I should be seeking help. Another fucking therapist.

Now that I know that bad things happen to people, evil things, I am afraid to go outside and face the world. A world that has evil in it. Evil people that fuck children. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.

Reason #29: M&M’s part 2
December 14, 2008, 2:05 pm
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Last night, while the huz and I were watching tv, I told him about the M&M post I already put up on the blog yesterday. I told him how scary it was to write that post because it brings me such shame. I told him that I was afraid that someone out there would read that post and think that somehow I brought it on myself, or that it was my fault.

The huz said, “Well, if someone thinks that then they are an asshole. You were a little girl. What happened to you was wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong. What was done to you was wrong.”

I told him last night how horrible the whole experience was for me, and I recounted some details that I hadn’t told anyone else yet. I told him how hard I tried not to be there for the experience, to will myself away in my head. How I had to stare at the wall to not be there while my brother was molesting me.

Then I started to cry. It was just too much. And he said “Baby” in that sweet gentle way that he does when I am upset. And he came over and wanted to hug me. But I was sitting in a similar position that I was in when my brother was molesting me, and I couldn’t take it, couldn’t take any kind of touch at that moment. I said “Please don’t hug me!!”, quick, before he could get a hand on me. And my sweet husband understood right away, and didn’t press the matter.

I feel a little better today, having told my secret to the huz, and having him react like that. Sometimes I think that maybe it’s not so much the telling of the secret that is freeing, but people’s reactions to our secrets that is freeing.

I told the huz that I wish the M&M’s had never been involved. That food had never been a part of it, or bribery of any sort. But then I said “The truth is, most child sexual abuse doesn’t start out as full-on rape. It starts out little by little, where they are nice to you, and goes on from there. That’s the grooming process, and these molesters know exactly what they are doing.”

It wasn’t my fault. And honestly, it probably wasn’t my brother’s fault either. He was a child too. Older than me, but a child nonetheless. Somebody did that to him, and then he did it to me.

Reason #28: M&M’s
December 13, 2008, 1:23 am
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I hate secrets. This post is about one of my secrets, one that I could only tell one therapist because it hurt too much.

The memory that this particular post evokes brings me shame. But I am hoping that in the spirit of freeing oneself by telling secrets that speaking it here in my blog frees me from the shame of this.

When I was eight, I offered my dad some M&M’s that came from my desk drawer in my room. He asked where I had gotten them. I didn’t answer him, but in my head I thought “You should only know.”

My brother used to bribe me with M&M’s so that he could fuck me. For so many packages of M&M’s, I would give him so many minutes of doing whatever he wanted to me. I would lay there lifeless, willing my mind to be somewhere else so that it was only my body he was hurting, not my mind or heart. I was eight years old, and I was willing to sell my body for the utter scraps of love he was willing to give me in the form of M&M’s. He always hated me, and always treated me terribly. Except for those few minutes when he was sexually abusive with me each time. He would give me the M&M’s, and I would eat some of them. Then it would come time for my part of the agreement. At this part, I always said no. And I said no a few more times. But each time he would counter with something like “You promised” or some shit.

May G-d forgive me. Even after all these years, I feel guilt and shame about the details. I am 35. I understand now, after YEARS of therapy that it’s not my fault what happened there. But the fucking M&M’s still haunt me. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.

Reason #27: Fred Claus
December 8, 2008, 3:47 pm
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Last night, the huz and I were watching “Fred Claus” on DVD. *SPOILER ALERT* Santa asked his brother (Fred) to go through lists of children and mark them naughty or nice. Fred decided to mark every child as nice, even the child who hit the #1 spot on the “Most Naughtiest List”.

The #1 child was an orphan, living in an orphanage. What put him at the top of the naughtiest list was the fact that he tried to dissuade the other children from believing in Santa, and he started a fight amongst the orphans. When this happened, I turned to my husband and said, “That’s fucked up. That doesn’t make him naughty, it just makes him hurting.”

When Santa Claus confronted Fred about marking every child as nice, Fred explained to his brother Santa that every child is good, but some are misunderstood. This totally made me rethink the whole naughty/nice list thing. What child is so ‘naughty’ that they don’t get to have presents on Christmas? I mean, I am Jewish, so I didn’t get presents on Christmas, but I never expected presents for Christmas.

The more I thought about it though, the more incensed I got. Here are kids who are getting fucked left and right, and then they are expected to be nice about it too? I don’t think so. I was never a bad kid. I was a child who cried a lot, I turned into a bulimic and suicidal teenager, and I am now a woman with panic and anxiety and depression. But do these things make me bad?

The thing is, when an adult speaks these words, reasonable people accept these words as truth. When children speak them, they have to speak over and over again until someone believes them. And then they have to keep talking until someone does something about it. And all throughout, many people willingly call them bad. But they’re not bad. Adults who fuck kids are bad. But for the rest of our lives, survivors feel intrinsically, innately, inherently “bad”. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.

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