Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids


Reason #204: So you were never safe

This week I told my marital therapist – in one of our individual sessions – that my Dad used to punch my brother and I.  He would get angry, lose his temper, punch us, and then we were all supposed to act like nothing happened.

The weird thing about talking about it and remembering it is that I don’t feel a thing.  I can’t remember how being punched felt, I don’t remember it hurting, etc.  I don’t feel a lot even when I talk about it.  It’s like I know existentially that fathers punching daughters and sons is terribly abusive, but I am removed from it in some weird way.

Anyway, the therapist said “Where was your mom during all of this?”

I said “Mom has always had a way of dissociating for all of her life.  I mean, as an example, when she had my Dad arrested for almost killing her, he wanted to get back at her, so he called the electric, gas, and water companies and had all those turned off.  Mom lived in the house for a whole week before she noticed.  So she lived in a dark, cold, waterless house FOR A WEEK and didn’t even notice.”

Then the therapist said “Wow.  So you were just never safe, you were never going to be safe in a house like that.”

I think she hit the nail on the head.  It’s like I was never safe, never going to be safe, and now it’s like I spend all my energy trying to attain this elusive “safety”.  All my energy goes into trying to maintain safety.  I told the therapist “I think I married my husband because he is so safe.  I knew he would never push me on the sex issue.”  She said “I think that’s EXACTLY why you married him.” 

The piss of it is that I am fucking lucky that I married such a safe man.  So many of us survivors marry total shitheads who either beat us or fuck our kids.  I have already mentioned that when you fuck kids, you fuck us for life, you fuck our moms, you fuck our partners, and you fuck our jobs.  And now I realize – you fuck up who we choose to spend the rest of our life with.  We either recreate abusive situations or we marry total safety, for better or worse.



Reason #203: A truck on my street
November 16, 2010, 11:52 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , ,

Today, I was driving home in my car, and when I pulled up in my driveway I noticed a truck driving down my street somewhat slowly.  I was getting out of the car and meant to get the mail out of my mailbox, but I got so freaked out by the presence of that slow-moving-truck that instead of getting my mail, I panicked and fumbled and opened my garage door and ran in and closed it real quick and breathed really hard and my body was shaking and I hurried to see my doggie who I knew would make me feel better.  Once inside, I couldn’t quite catch my breath and I was just so afraid and I couldn’t stop shaking.

Later on, the huz got home and I asked him to bring the mail in.  In the rain.  But I was honest, and I told him why I didn’t get the mail.  It was humiliating, like so many other times I have had to come clean with whomever about some shit like this.

I bet that when non-fucked kids see trucks on their street, they think it’s a truck on their street.  When I saw it today, I thought it was some predator looking for prey.  I didn’t want to be that prey.  I have been that prey before.

I think everyone’s a predator.  Maybe I’m right, maybe I’m wrong.  Who knows.



Reason #202: Give it to me in nightmares

I once saw this movie where a 5 year old child had suffered through sexual abuse by his daycare provider, and his mother and him were suffering through the after-effects of surviving.  The child was having all the normal effects of surviving abuse: nightmares, bed-wetting, crying jags, phobias, flashbacks, panic attacks, etc.

The mother had not seen any justice in the case, and she said to some therapist “How long will it take for him to get over this?  And don’t give it to me in days, give it to me in nightmares.  Give it to me in sleepless nights, in flashbacks, in panic attacks.  Give it to me in those numbers.  How many nightmares does my child have to suffer through until he is all better again?”

Last night, I had a terrible nightmare about the babysitter.  It was one of those abuse-related nightmares that made me wake up in a panic.  I was scared stiff, literally.  I couldn’t move after I woke up because I was just so afraid.  So I lay there, shaking, under my covers, afraid to even peek out at my room.  It was like I was a little girl all over again, I was so afraid.  You’d never know I was a 37 year old woman.

This morning, the huz asked me how I slept, and I just lost it and began to cry from the memory of the nightmare. 

It’s been 30 years of nightmares and I am still not better yet, not even close to better yet.  That’s why you shouldn’t fuck kids.



Reason #201: Drugs to prevent PTSD

This weekend I heard about this hospital that was testing the effects of a pharmaceutical drug on child trauma survivors.  The traumas these children had survived were like car accidents, etc.  So, not the kinds of trauma that I was put through, but still traumatic nonetheless.  This pharmaceutical was given to these children as a means of staving off post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

Before I go any further, I think it’s important to note that these children had been through traumas, but not human betrayal traumas.  Child sexual abuse is a betrayal trauma – we are traumatized by the act and the human betraying us by doing the act.  In a car accident, the betrayal aspect isn’t there (unless they were hit by a car on purpose, G-d forbid.)  However, being in a car accident is still plenty traumatizing, so I am not trying to minimize that stuff in any way.  I am merely pointing out that they probably chose that type of sample of kids for a reason – maybe they thought the drug would work best on a sample that had not been traumatized by betrayal.

So anyway, I thought about this drug being used on child trauma survivors, and at first I thought – wait, is this a good idea?  I mean, won’t this fuck with their memory of the event?  Who knows what the effects of such a drug is on such little kids?  Then if the kids want to bring their perpetrator to justice, the defense attorneys will crucify them in court.

But then I had a much more sobering thought.  If someone had offered me a drug 30 years ago that would have erased the last 30 years of pain for me, I would have gladly taken it.  I wish I had been offered a drug, frankly, that erased the memory of all of this for me. 

I got so angry at the whole medical and therapeutic community then.  I mean, shit, this terrible thing happened to me over 30 fucking years ago, and here I am still fucked up enough about it to keep a blog filled with the many ways it has fucked me up.  And really, what has the medical and therapeutic communities come up with for kids like me???  No drug has helped me.  No therapy has taken away my symptoms of surviving.  Nothing has taken away my fear, and really, I have tried so many avenues at this point.  So many therapists, so many group therapy situations, so many pharmaceuticals, etc. I have tried chiropractic work for my headaches, and that hasn’t been all that successful.  Biofeedback was a joke.  I tried holistic medicine as well for my panic disorders, and still nothing.  I can’t even count all the money that has been spent on my healing journey so far.  For all their fucking research, and my time and my money, I am still fucked up.

I guess the truth about child sexual abuse is that you just can’t unring that bell.  The damage has been done.  It cannot be undone now, which is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.  It dooms us to a limited world where the knowledge of the worst of things overshadows our hope for the best of things.  And for me and all the other survivors out there, it has forced us to look at the world through the lens of children who have been hurt by adults, and we measure everyone, everyone, everyone against those odds.




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