Broken Trust

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TW: I had the world’s best parents. My parents were my best friends. Since I’m the only child of my parents they used to spoil me the most. I still remember every Sunday. I and my parents used to go to my favorite ice cream shop to have my favorite ice cream.

But it all changed one day. I remember I was 12 years old; my paternal uncle came to visit us from Australia on my summer break. He was the most loved son of my whole family. Everything was going smoothly for the first few days. But one day I noticed whenever he used to touch me I used to feel dirty.

It was my parents’ anniversary. My parents went for a late-night dinner. I was alone with my uncle. I had my dinner and went to my room to finish my homework. That day was the first time he molested me. After my parents came back I immediately ran to my mother crying and told her everything. My mother was not at all ready to believe me. She called me a liar and told me not to mention this to my father. I was too shocked to respond. That was the day I lost my one best friend, my mother. The abuse of touching me and holding me continued, I was helpless and had to endure it in the way I best could. A few days later, my uncle went back to Australia, I was very relieved.

The second time it happened was when I was 15 years old. It was my cousin’s marriage and my uncle, once again molested me. That day I just could not contain myself. I told my father about the abuse. His reaction shocked me to the core. He immediately slapped me in front of all guests and called me a liar. It brought back memories of the past. I remembered my mother screaming, calling me a liar. I remember the disappointed look on my father’s face All that I registered is just that picture. The rest of the space looked blurred. That day I lost my second best friend, my father. I lost faith in something I revered and looked up to, I lost both my parents and I could not respect them anymore.

This incident changed my outings with my parents. I stopped going to my favorite ice cream shop. I talked less while I was at home and started to be aloof in the room. I started hating my body and I felt very dirty within me. To overcome the feeling, I started cutting myself. Whenever I got the feeling of being dirty, I felt better by cutting my inner thighs. No one was able to see it. The feeling of blood made be feel better and more composed.

After completing my 12th board examination, I got into a good university. It was a good feeling to be away from my home. One day my hostel roommate noticed my cut marks and she asked me about them. I started crying and told her about the abuse, my relationship with my parents, and my cutting behavior. She was the first person who hugged me and told me that she believes me. She told me to talk to a therapist about it. A few days later, I met the therapist she recommended. It was difficult to find the right therapist for my problems. I kept changing the therapist until I found the right match. The therapist made me take a few personality tests She told me that I need to work on myself. She put me through dialectical behavior therapy with a trauma-focused approach. I have walked a long way and have miles to go before I feel completely healed.

(this story is a creation of the writer and not a true story)

Himashree Das

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