Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids


Reason #295: Acting Like I’m Not Scared

I can’t even count how many times in one day that I act like I’m not scared when really I’m shaking inside.

My son sleeps in the dark, and I pray that he always sleeps in the dark. I am so afraid of the dark. But at night sometimes he asks for a drink of water, so I walk into his dark room like it doesn’t bother me at all, and I’ll hand him his cup of water.

I don’t want him to learn fear from me, so I act like I am completely fine being in a dark room. I learned fear when I was his age, in a terrible way.

Trying to give my son a drink of water at night when he asks for it. Yet another perfectly normal thing that has been fucked up for me, all because people sexually abused me when I was a child. That’s why you shouldn’t fuck kids.



Reason #276: My son won’t go to bed
January 18, 2012, 3:27 am
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Tonight my son didn’t want to go to bed. I naturally immediately wondered if he was getting abused at day care. Not wanting to go to bed, having trouble sleeping, peeing the bed – these are all behavioral signs of surviving abuse. My son isn’t having trouble sleeping, but he didn’t want to go to bed.

I asked him why he didn’t want to go to bed, and he said he wanted to stay up and play.

I looked at my ex-husband/wife, and he/she could see what I was thinking. He/she said “He’s not getting abused. All kids don’t like to go to bed.” He/she went on to explain that our son showed no signs of being traumatized.

I told him/her that when I was little, I would beg my mom to let me sleep with her. My nights were so freaking terror-filled. Ever since that babysitter hurt my brother and I, I have been scared of nighttime. I told the huz/wife that the idea of saying no to our son on this issue is something I just cannot do. I cannot force him to go to bed alone in his room because it reminds me of when I was little and I would beg my mom to let me sleep with her. I have no idea what is right or natural for kids to say or do because my experience of being a child was tainted with abuse.

This is yet another way that getting fucked as a kid has fucked me again in adulthood. I can’t seem to experience motherhood without re-living some of the worst parts of my childhood, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in normal mothering situations. My son didn’t want to go to bed, and since I can’t handle saying no to him on this issue, I sat with him on my lap until he got tired and then had the huz/wife carry him to bed when he was almost asleep. Then I cried about re-living through the experience of being a kid afraid at bedtime.

It’s late right now, and I should have gone to bed a half hour ago. But I’m freaked out and I can’t turn the light off, so I will watch tv until I’m too tired to keep my eyes open anymore.



Reason #206: It fucks our partners’ jobs too

The huz and I were talking last night about his job.  There is a possibility that another job will open up in his company, and he was thinking of trying for it.  I always think that trying to better yourself is a good idea, so I encouraged him to try for it.

Then he said “The only thing is that it requires a lot more travel than I am doing now.”

In a spectacularly selfish move on my part, I said “Ugh, forget it then.”  He is, of course, free to do what he wants.  If I know him, he’ll try for it anyway, and will try to take care of me in some other way (like hire his sister to stay with me).  He is a sweet man who tries to think of my emotional safety; one of the many reasons I love him so much.

The thing is, he married someone who is afraid to be alone.

Bad things happened to me when I was left alone, and consequently, I am terrified of being alone, especially in the dark.  I have already written about the trauma of his business trips before, and the idea of him having to take more of them in the future already causes me no small amount of panic.

The whole time we were dating, I tried to warn my husband about my fear of being alone, and I tried to warn him about it some more the whole year we were engaged to each other.  I tried to explain to him how difficult it would be to be married to me, and it was one of many reasons I told him it would be stupid to marry me.  There’s no arguing logic with someone who is in love though, so he married me anyway.  Plus, I guess you can warn someone all you want, and they won’t understand it until they are living it with you.

When I was still with my ex-girlfriend, she had this job where she was required to do overnight shifts.  Being left alone at night fucked me up so much that I asked her to ask for a different shift.  Her boss told her she would lose her job if she didn’t do the overnight shifts.  My sweet girlfriend chose me over her job.  I really don’t know why she or my husband put up with my shit, but they do, and I am eternally grateful. 

I suppose the right answer to all of this is for me to learn how to not be afraid of the dark, or to learn how to be okay by myself.  I am 37 – I haven’t figured it out yet, and I have tried so many things to reduce the panic that constantly encircles me.  I am not entirely sure there will ever be a ‘cure’ for me, though my marital therapist seems fairly confident that survivors of sexual abuse can heal.  I hope she is right.

I have already written before about how the abuse has fucked me, my mom, my job, my choice of life partners, and my partner himself.  Now we know it fucks our partners’ jobs too.  That’s why you shouldn’t fuck kids.  The effects are much more far-reaching than you’d think.



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 #82: The Shame Game
April 26, 2009, 12:54 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , ,

Last night, it got really hot in our house. I asked the huz to go downstairs to turn the air conditioning up. He got upset and said he was feeling comfortable. I said “Fine, get hot later on. Whatever.” Really I was feeling jealous that he is able to sleep with nothing but a sheet when I lay there huddled under everything and then some.

He got upset with my nasty reply (justifiably so), and said “Do you want to go downstairs and turn the AC up?” He asked this knowing full well that I wouldn’t go downstairs.

I played it out in my head, going downstairs to the dark room, creeping over to the thermostat and turning it, all the while listening listening listening until some sound made me tremble and shake and run back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me quickly and locking it, checking the lock and latch again and again and again. Standing in the dark bedroom after my run up the stairs, listening listening listening – is the man downstairs following me? Did he run up the stairs after me? Quiet. Listen. Listen. Try to walk calmly to the bed, but run instead. Jump back into bed, put the covers over my head, lay there with my heart beating in my head.

Out loud, I said “That is the second time in two nights that you have shamed me about my nighttime stuff.”

Did he shame me? I don’t know. I sure felt ashamed after our exchange, that’s for sure. But at the same time, all he really did was ask a question. A very loaded question that led me down a terrible road.

The truth is that I was walking down that road a long time before I met my husband. He just reminded me of the road, and it hurt to be reminded of it in that way, at that vulnerable time.

Not being able to turn up the air conditioner when you are hot, because it is located downstairs in a dark room. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.



Reason #73: It’s like a war

My husband is home from his business trip. Thankfully, it was the easiest possible of hard time that I had to do, with the circumstances I was in. My sister-in-law agreed to stay overnights, and I paid someone to stay with me babysit my son for some of the other time.

I cried every day, especially in the mornings. I thought to myself on one such morning how being a parent means waiting till you are in the car alone to cry so that your kid doesn’t see that mommy isn’t okay.

Tonight, my husband and I were talking about the fact that we were both coming down off of a stressful week. I said “I really can’t even compare my stress level today to what it was every day previous. I mean, it would be like comparing how I would be in a war to how I would be well – now.”

This week was not nearly as bad as it could have been. I could have had the worst – being alone over night. For me, that is the worst. I didn’t have that. Yet I was still constantly hypervigilant each second. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t breathe easy. Every moment I was “on”. And now even though I am no longer in that situation, I am still fucked up and having a hard time coming down. Gee, what situation does that sound like? To me, it sounds just like the situation of being sexually used when I was a child and now I am an adult, and yet I am still fucked up. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids. It’s like a war, and even when the war is over, we’re never right again.

I have to say though, through all of this, I really feel like G-d provided for me here. I try not to get too spiritual in this blog, although sometimes I can’t help it, but honestly – I begged G-d to let me do easy time instead of hard time. I feel like G-d said yes this time. I am grateful. It was a war, but I lived through it and I came through it only partially scathed this time, unlike the original war that was going on when I was surviving the child sexual abuse and I came out totally fucked up.

Everything comes back to that for me. It’s like I can’t say that it’s okay for me to have come out okay this time, because I know I didn’t come out okay the first time, and I am terrified that there will be another time when I also won’t come out okay, when I also will be powerless to idiots who say it’s okay to fuck kids. I pray this never happens again. Not to me, not to you, and not to any other children anymore. Please G-d, no more.



Reason #36: The Morning
January 6, 2009, 1:30 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , ,

On the weekends, the huz and I take turns getting up with the baby. On Saturdays he gets up. On Sundays I get up. During the week, I get up with the baby, get him dressed, feed him, etc.

The baby generally wakes around 6AM. It’s still dark out at 6AM. The huz doesn’t like to get up with the baby because the thing he fears most in this world is shit. Literally, shit. He is afraid the baby will shit and he will have to change a diaper with shit in it. Shit doesn’t bother me for the most part, thank goodness. (That’s marriage, being strong where the other is weak, and vice-versa if you’re lucky.)

Anyway, getting up with the baby is difficult for me because at 6AM it is still dark out. I am afraid of the dark – that was actually the very first reason I brought up for why you shouldn’t fuck kids. So here’s how my morning with the baby goes. Baby wakes up, I look at the clock. 6AM. Fuck. That means it is still dark out.

Take the baby downstairs. All the lights are out. Start breathing funny, while talking to self “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.” Turn on all possible lights. Check the locks again, even though I did so last night before going to bed. Wait, wait, is that a sound I hear? Everything be quiet right now – let me listen. Listen for a few seconds. Everything is still and quiet. I am terrified.

Turn on Sesame Street, change baby’s diaper. Furtively look around. Is someone trying to break in? What time is it? 6:15AM. About 45 mins till some light starts to appear in the sky. Make baby some breakfast, which means going into the kitchen. Through the kitchen is a window in the other room that has a broken venetian blind slat thing that I can see the darkness outside. Can they see me too? Horrible. I am terrified. What time is it? 6:20AM. Okay, only 40 mins till light.

And that is how my morning goes until the sun comes up. I am missing out on this precious time with my sweet beautiful son, and my son is missing one ‘whole’ mama till the huz gets up. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.




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