Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids


Reason #142: Good Will Hunting

Have you ever seen the movie Good Will Hunting? It’s about this boy genius (Matt Damon) who has been so abused in his young life by his foster parents that he trusts no one. He is mandated into treatment with a therapist (Robin Williams).

There’s this one scene that always gets me. Will goes on this job interview where they want him to crack codes all day long to help us get into wars. He basically tells the interviewer to go fuck himself, but in a nicer way than this blog usually puts it. Anyway, the very next scene begins with him in a therapy session, and the therapist says “Do you ever feel alone, Will?”

At first, Will plays it off like he doesn’t feel alone, but the truth is, he spends his whole life trying to make sure that everyone but his most trusted allies can’t get too close to him. And when he finally does get ‘vulnerable’ with the woman he is in love with, he breaks up with her. He’s so afraid that if someone finds out who he really is – a grown-up battered child – then they will reject him. So he rejects them first.

My husband and baby are asleep. We’re in marital counseling, so you know we are having problems. It’s dark and it’s late, and I have that therapist’s question running around in my head. “Do you ever feel alone?” Yes. Yes I do. That is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.



Reason #141: “Puberty was a weird time for me”
December 28, 2009, 12:36 am
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On Postsecret this week, there is a secret that says “I’m sorry I touched you. Puberty was a weird time for me.” The picture on the card is a female. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was from her, that fateful babysitter that changed my brother’s life and mine so profoundly.

She is the reason that evil lurks everywhere for me. I would not have known that evil even exists were it not for her. She showed me that evil comes when your guard is down, and consequently my guard is always up.

“Puberty was a weird time for me.” Yeah, me too. Really weird, since I couldn’t be okay with my body becoming womanly, since that would mean that men would be attracted to me, and that might mean that someone would touch me. And I couldn’t bear anyone touching me because all of their touches would feel like scary betrayals the way your touch was.

“I’m sorry I touched you.” Yeah, me too. I almost killed myself over it, because I couldn’t get over it, and I couldn’t see a light at the end of the very dark tunnel I was in. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.

But if you were really sorry, you would find me and tell me. If you were brave enough to fuck us when my mom wasn’t home, be brave enough to find me and apologize.



Reason #140: Precious

Have you guys seen the movie Precious? (SPOILER ALERT)

It’s about a child whose stepfather rapes her repeatedly. And her mother lets this happen.

My mom took my brother (one of my three molesters) to this movie. It was actually my brother’s choice, to be honest. Just to be clear – my brother apologized to me years ago about the sexual abuse, and I have long since forgiven him. He was just a child when he molested me, and I now understand that he was just doing what the babysitter had done to us. However, be clear that forgiving does not mean forgetting. I am not mad at him anymore, but I am still afraid of the kind of person that he was/is.

Anyway though, Mom said that after the movie, both of them were very upset. My brother was upset because of what he did to me, and Mom was upset about hiring that babysitter. I said “Mom, you are not guilty here. You did nothing wrong. You hired a babysitter, and everything in your previous experience with all other babysitters told you that hiring babysitters was a safe action. This particular one was not safe, and you didn’t know that. You are judging yourself for knowledge that you have now, but you didn’t have that knowledge then. If you want to blame someone, blame HER. She wronged us, not you.”

I, of course, am still in this horrible place where I have exactly no memory of this babysitter. All I have are these fears that have plagued me since she came into our lives, and my mother’s and brother’s memory of the events. The funny thing is, apparently about a year after she molested us, after we had moved out of the area, I told my mom “I saw licking the babysitter.” So, apparently at some point I did have conscious memory of it, but no matter how hard I try now to remember it, I cannot. I wish I could, so I didn’t have to be afraid all the time.

My mom and brother saw a movie. An innocent action that brought up a lot of shit. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.



Reason #139: We “waste” electricity

We visited family in another state to celebrate Thanksgiving. We hired the huz’s sister to walk our dog a few times a day for us, since we couldn’t be here to do it. I found out later from the huz that she told my mother-in-law this whispered atrocity: “They leave the lights on, even when they’re not there!” Quite the shonda for the neighbors. (Shonda is a yiddish word for ‘shame’.)

Anyway, as is usually the case with family affairs, his mom told him, and he told me. The huz got a kick out of it, but I was of course ashamed. The thing is, I leave the lights on because I am terrified of the dark. My fear of the dark was actually Reason #1 why you shouldn’t fuck kids. Well, in order to live with a fear of the dark, it means living with the lights on all the time. Even when I am not home, because I can’t bear to be in the house for that last second while I shut off the light and go out the door. And I certainly cannot bear to walk back into a house with no lights on.

Maybe it is a waste of electricity. I guess it is a waste. I guess we can all choose to be upset about the wasting of electricity, or we can look at the cause of the waste of electricity in my case (fear of the dark as an after-effect of surviving childhood sexual abuse) and be upset about that. Maybe if we all got as upset and vigilant about stopping childhood sexual abuse as we are about shutting off our lights, no new electricity would need to be wasted.

My name is Butterfly and I leave the lights on when I’m not home. I waste electricity because I am afraid of the dark. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.



Reason #138: Another fucking therapist
December 16, 2009, 2:29 am
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Tomorrow the huz and I are trying out yet another fucking therapist. The use of the word ‘fucking’ in there is actually a double entendre, because literally we are seeing her to help us learn to fuck each other, and also I am using it as a curse word because it’s our third fucking one.

We saw our first one when we first got married and realized we weren’t fucking each other. We knew it was weird because we were still newlyweds in our first year of marriage or so, (and aren’t newlyweds supposed to be fucking each other senseless?). She was a complete quack, and by the third session she had disclosed to me that she came from a family of gypsies, she told me the price she had paid for her home, the fact that her daughter was an aspiring singer, and that her boyfriend helped her fix up her home. That’s way too much self-disclosure for my comfort level. I like to go ahead and have the therapy sessions focus on my shit, not the therapist’s.

Our second therapist came less than a year ago, and I wrote about our experience with her in Reason #50. She was really terrible with the sex abuse stuff, and the worst thing about her was that she thought she was good at it.

Now we have to go to yet another one, because our problems are bigger than us.

I was asking my husband why his family doesn’t believe in therapy at all. My husband comes from an Irish Catholic background, and as you know, I am Jewish. My family believes pretty strongly in the value of therapy, and his family pretty strongly believes that if you need therapy, you must be fucking nuts. Anyway, when I asked him why his family didn’t believe in therapy, he told me that his mom once said “There’s nothing about my children that I can’t fix myself”. I said “That’s all fine and dandy until someone comes along and fucks your kids. No one can fix that themselves, and certainly not your mom, because she’d have no idea where to even begin.” This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.

Man, I hope this one works.



Reason #137: My Sexless Marriage
December 9, 2009, 12:09 am
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They say that female survivors of child sexual abuse either turn into sluts who fuck everyone (basically recreating a situation where they are being used for their body only, instead of having their heart involved), or we marry men who don’t much give a shit about sex at all. I did the latter. I married a man who doesn’t want sex. I know I have spoken before about the fact that we hardly ever fuck each other, but usually it was because of me that we weren’t fucking each other.

The truth is that some of the reason for our sexless marriage is that he doesn’t particularly want to have sex, ever. It’s just not something he wants, or has ever really wanted. Some men are like that, even though we expect them to always want sex.

However, on behalf of me and all the other fucked kids in weird sexual relationships, this is why you shouldn’t fuck kids. I am very glad to be with my husband, lack of sex or not. He’s a wonderful, kind, and generous man who has shown me the depths of my dreams and has handed them to me one by one. But we don’t fuck, and that’s why you shouldn’t fuck kids.



Reason #136: I hate the 70’s

This one is truly great, in terms of fucked-upness. So, I hate the 1970’s. I don’t even like typing it.

Yup, a whole decade shot to shit for me. Hearing music from the 70’s generally induces a panic attack, and I don’t like any visual reminders either, such as 70’s hair or clothing.

There was this one song that used to come on the radio and whenever it did, it would freak the shit out of me. I never understood why until I finally realized that it was in the 1970’s when that babysitter fucked my brother and I against our will. I would have been five years old or less, and he would have been 8 years old or less. We know it happened somewhere before 1979.

This reason really makes me shake my head. Hating a whole decade. Yet another way that surviving child sexual abuse has left me with a lifetime of fucked upness, with no real assurance that any of this weirdness will ever go away. I mean, I am sitting there watching one of my favorite tv programs, Dancing with the Stars, and they go and pick a fucking 70’s song. And I am instantly uncomfortable. And I start squirming in my seat, looking around. Can anyone see me, what is happening to me? Do I change the channel, or should I wait this out? Maybe the beauty of their dancing and the fact that people exist in the world who have such amazing relationships with their own body will make me forget about the fact that they are dancing to 1970’s music. I am getting more uncomfortable by the second. What did she do to me? Did she start right away, as soon as my mom left the house? I bet my brother was so uncomfortable too, just like me. But we were both kids and really, what the fuck could we do about our discomfort? I wish I could have saved him, and I bet he wished he could save me. And neither of us could save each other, and now I have to sit here watching people dance to the music I was molested to.

Hating a whole fucking decade. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.




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