I was gang raped when I was 11. This is the affect of a family that neglect their cHildren and use humiliation as discipline
hiding away was so important. Growing up, that no one found out how we live. The neglect. And the shame of living in such a dirty place. And of course, being home alone. So you shouldn't answer the door. As commuters my parents weren't just at work nine to five. It was seven until seven or 9, especially as the chosen to open university degrees. In addition to their work in addition to the commuting. And of course run in the Students Association as well. Or the railway users Association, and all the other things They used to do politically. So, hiding away is habit that I've never even questioned. And I still want to run. If anyone is friendly. And more than that of course being gang raped. As a child, the pain, the humiliation, the shame. Fear. It was so important, no one found out, because of the shame. And because they told me that my daddy would go to jail. And I guess I wasn't really afraid of daddy going to jail so much as I was afraid that he would be cross with me about going to jail. And that day. He was told about the rape (by my sister, not so much to report it, and certainly not in order to get me help, but in order to get me into trouble) and he shouted at me. Mum shouted at him and he shouts at me and I curled up in a ball so afraid such shame. Such guilt and humiliation pain and fear. But of course it was important that no one ever find out. No one could ever come to my house and no one could ever know me. And I could tell no one, and this is a lifetime habit that I continue to do, to this day.
When you know you could look Jesus in the eye, you can tell your story. The people who should be ashamed are those that should have behaved better.
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