My First Memory...

~~~TRIGGER WARNING~~~

I wanted to speak, but I did not know the words for what I was seeing and feeling.

I was born into a “pedophile-led sex cult”. As a child, I did not know what any of those words meant; they did not exist in the vocabulary of the adults who raised me. Yet there were memories my mind could not process, that still haunt me today.

My first memory of my mother began in the bathroom. She brushed my teeth, washed my face, showered me, and dried me off. Then she instructed me to begin touching myself, while she watched and gave commands.

She had told me this needed to be done every day, for my health, just like a child needs to wash their hands. I do not remember when she started this, but by the time of my first clear memory, it was already an established routine.

As a toddler, I had no idea what I was doing, only that it was something I had to do every evening before I could go play or sleep. I wanted my mother’s approval and attention, and I got both when obeying her demands.

That night, something else happened. My mother called two of my older sisters, then teenagers, into the bathroom to watch me masturbate.

When I looked at them, towering over me at the door, I felt immediately that they did not want to be there. Their faces twisted into emotions I, at that age, could not even name, expressions of awkwardness, reluctance, fear, maybe disgust. I could not understand what I had done to make them unhappy; wasn’t I being a “good child” and obeying my mom? I wanted to ask them why they looked that way. But I was just beginning to learn to speak, and could not find the words to ask what I wanted.

Over 20 years later, through a long journey of discovery, I finally understood their reaction to seeing our mother sexually abuse me, and her demand that they watch with her. I finally understood it wasn’t something I did, but rather something done to me that made them unhappy. And through understanding this memory, I began to recognize the past I needed to heal from.

~E. Sky