Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids


Reason #196: Hide and Seek

This week I had to give my personal number out for a work project.  This may or may not be something for other people, but for me it was pretty huge.

When I went to college, I also went into hiding from my dad.  I didn’t give out my home address or home number very easily, and I certainly never made contact with him.  After I graduated college and got a job, I kept myself hidden.  With each move, I stayed hidden.  Interestingly enough, I had the weird feeling that I was being followed (and as it turns out, I was). 

In one of my jobs over the years, I came clean and told a friend that I was in hiding.  That my dad threatened to kill my mom, and we were in hiding.  My friend said “My G-d, why don’t you run far away?”  I understand he was looking out for my safety, but at the time, I felt so indignant.  I mean, excuse me, but I am the injured party here.  Why should I have to leave my job and life and everything I have created?  Shouldn’t the fucking perpetrator have to leave everything they have known??  I wasn’t the one who committed a crime.

This the life of a survivor of child abuse.  We spend our life hiding.  Sometimes we put a lot of effort into hiding, and it becomes a prescriptive thing, like the way I did from my dad.  Sometimes we get social phobia, and hide from the rest of the world too.  This is the way I hide now.

I have often thought it is fucked up that when kids finally get the courage to tell about the abuse, the answer they receive is for them to be removed from their own home while everything gets checked out.  Shouldn’t the abuser have to leave?  It just doesn’t work like that.  If Mom wants to hang onto abusive Dad, Daughter has to leave the house.  Shouldn’t the criminal be the one to leave??

When my boss asked for my home number, I visibly hesitated.  I had a realization – I am not in hiding anymore. There is no reason not to give my home number.  But I was in hiding for many years. 

Old habits die hard.  That’s why you shouldn’t fuck kids.



Reason #195: Cleaning out the attic
September 15, 2010, 12:51 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , ,

A few weeks ago, we decided to clean out our attic.  The huz and I looked through all our old shit, deciding what to keep and what to toss.  For the huz, every artifact he came across brought a smile to his face and a lovely memory that he shared.  For me, every thing I found reminded me of the age I was then, how I looked, how I felt, what stage of the sexual abuse I was experiencing at the time, etc.  Each new item I found was a reminder of how I grew up in a family that would have had to take a step UP to be dysfunctional, whereas for the huz, each item was a reminder of each wonderful experience he had grown up with.

I tossed a lot of shit into the “Burn it in the fireplace pile” with a vengeance, as if I could burn the memories as well as the actual items that were being tossed in. 

At the end of the day, the huz goes “What a great day we had today!”   I just stared at him – I had no idea what to say.  Looking through these physical reminders of my shit life before I met him was not a great day, and if anything, the experience was just downright painful.  Looking at my husband’s smiling face though, I felt like such a fucking loser.   Yet again, I felt like Jenny from Forrest Gump, where Forrest is doing all this stuff and not-so-secretly pining for Jenny, and there she is with her dad fucking her and then a long string of guys fucking her while she’s drugged out trying to dissociate from all these terrible experiences.  It’s like the whole time Forrest is pining for her, and yet there she is on a fucking ledge trying to end the misery.

Cleaning out the attic.  Perfectly normal activity that is completely weird and fucked up because I am weird and fucked up because I survived child sexual abuse.  That’s why you shouldn’t fuck kids.



Reason #194: It fucks our mothers too

This post is about good moms, not the kind who look away while their kids are getting abused, or are the actual abuser.  I think there are moms like mine who immediately believe their daughters and who take strong action to stop the abuse immediately.  I think those moms are unfortunately in the minority.

Recently, I had a mom comment about her daughter’s sexual abuse.  I couldn’t help but think about my own mom, and what would happen if she found this blog.   When I first started this blog two years ago, I told mom that I was doing it, and I told her what I was calling it.  And I told her it would be completely anonymous.

A few months ago, she asked me if she could read my blog.  I said “What blog?”  She said “You know, your blog.  Don’t fuck kids, or whatever.”

I said “Mom, that blog is not for you.  You’ve been living all this with me, you know how the abuse fucked me up.  There’s no need for you to cry more, and reading this blog will make you cry more.”

My mom carries a lot of guilt about hiring that babysitter that fucked us.   That babysitter abused us, and from that, my brother abused me later on.   My mom talks about that babysitter as if it is her fault, as if she could have prevented the whole thing, as if she could have been psychic about it.  My mom had been babysat, she had been a babysitter herself, and she had hired other babysitters for us.  Since all of those experiences were good and wholesome, none of those experiences would have alerted her to the fact that unsavory assholes will jump on the chance to babysit your kids just so they can get the chance to fuck them. Especially in the 70’s, which is when that babysitter came into our lives.  It’s not my mom’s fault, and it’s not mine either.  It’s the abuser’s fault.

This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.  We know it fucks us up,  it fucks our job it fucks our partners, and apparently, it fucks our mothers too.




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