I Was Raped at 7 Years Old, and I'm Still Surviving It

Editor’s Note: If you’ve experienced sexual abuse or assault, the following post could be potentially triggering. You can contact the National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline at 1-800-656-4673.

I was raped when I was 7 years old.

Now I’m a mom and I look into my child’s loving face. I hate myself when I feel he isn’t enough to keep me going. I feel suicidal sometimes.

• What is PTSD?

I was raped at 7 years old.

It’s 2 a.m. and I’m lying in bed staring at the ceiling while I struggle to breathe. My husband accidentally left the closet door open and now the flashbacks are hitting me like waves in a storm. I can barely keep my head above water while the darkness of the water keeps pulling me under.

I was raped at 7 years old.

I stare at the bottles of pills lined up across the bread box thinking I take six pills twice a day — and I still can’t get any sleep. The nightmares feel so real that I can’t tell the difference between being awake or asleep.

I was raped at 7 years old and my brother watched.

Holidays are the worst because family gatherings hurt. I stare across the table at my brother and wonder how we survived. It happened years ago and you think the trauma would create a strong bond, but we don’t even talk. The things we were forced to do, the way we were forced to touch — it makes my skin burn at the mere thought.

I was raped at 7 years old and my mother let it happen.

I’m sitting in the living room listening to my mom rant about her struggles. All I can think is my struggle to live wouldn’t be an issue if being a mom was just enough for her. She sent us away every other weekend to a man who’s home became a house of horror. She tried to convince me the trauma wasn’t real which only made me feel “crazier.”

I was raped at 7 years old and I can’t even admit it.

I’ve been in therapy for years and on so many antipsychotics. The only one to see me struggle and hold my hand is the man who I angrily lash out at the most. I tell him not to call my dad after attempting suicide. He’s holding me begging me to keep breathing. “Just wake up,” he says. I’m lying there believing he deserves better than me and I wish I would die. I need some peace.

I was raped at 7 years old and I can’t stand being alone.

I hear birds outside my window and my mind thinks of that TV room filled with his pet birds. The memory plays in my head like a home video. He lifted my nightgown and spoke “sweet” words. I hate being alone when everything’s a trigger.

I was raped at 7 years old and I want the pain to end.

I’m still fighting the battle to live. I tell myself to keep pushing through and that I get better every day. I wear a mask of happiness to hide my real emotion. Don’t speak or breathe the pain you feel because the ones around just can’t comprehend or handle it anymore. This battle is mine and according to my therapist, I’m winning. But every day I feel like I’m failing and there’s no point in the end. All my pills just numb the emotion but never eliminate the memory.

I was raped at 7 years old and my anxiety gets the best of me.

My son tells me he loves me. I hope that’s still true years from now after all the times he’s seen me crumble. He was supposed to be napping while mommy sat in the bathroom thinking of self-harming. He just wanted sweet tea. Mommy just wanted to sleep.

I was raped at 7 years old and I want to die.

I’m so tired. Every day is a struggle just to get out of bed to keep going. I want to die. I want to die so I don’t have to remember it anymore. I want to die to end the burden I’ve become. I want to die so my son never fully sees all my damage. I want to die so my husband can find a normal wife who doesn’t throw things when she becomes irrationally angry. I want to die and end my story because it can’t possibly get any better from here. All these pills and counseling sessions… I’ve been doing this for years and I’m still waiting for relief.

I was 11 years old the last time he touched me.

They say sexual trauma affects us all differently. We all handle it in our own way. My brother still struggles to comprehend the abuse we endured. Often his way of coping was to lash out at me, to inflict the same pain and assault we went through. Years later, I still feel dirty. Years later my skin still crawls at the thought of what he did to me.

I was raped at 7 years old and I’m still here.

I’m still surviving.

If you or a loved one is affected by sexual abuse or assault and need help, call the National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline at 1-800-656-4673 to be connected with a trained staff member from a sexual assault service provider in your area.

Getty Images photo via Archv