Notes: Is this better than the earlier version I wrote? It’s not the truth but it’s more acceptable. I mean I don’t want to look like I was condoning anything by sharing that one experience that I had. I know this is a serious issue and that others were traumatized. I never thought that my experience, which didn’t leave a negative hand print on my life, would hurt others who went through child abuse. However, shame on shiny and sweet people holding hands when they try to force THEIR experience on others as if life is some kind of pre packaged cereal you can purchase and distrubute to everyone, in the same store and with the same taste.
***
Last night, I remembered a very bizarre episode from my childhood.
I remember clearly that I had just turned 12. Because of the barrage of missles falling on Tehran on an almost hourly basis, my parents decided that Tehran was too dangerous. As a result, we temporarily moved to a smaller city.
I welcomed this move, a feeling I ended up regretting. Even though most of my friends had also moved away, mostly to Shomaal, and others had left the country all together, I didn’t feel like I was losing them.
Those of us who were left behind during those stressful days had a lot of fun. Those days, most of my family would huddle together at different locations around the city, based on which neighborhood was considered more safe, that week. So my cousins and I were having a blast. It’s only natural! No school, no teachers and family sleep overs! Who could ask for anything more?
In any case, the point is that it wasn’t all bad. We, the children, didn’t mind the war. So when my cousins and I found ourselves on a mini vacation, we enjoyed every minute of it.
Once we arrived at our temporary hide out, we went wild. There was a big baagh. We could pretty much do whatever we wanted. For the first time in months, our parents were some what relaxed and we were free.
One day, as I was playing soccer, indoors, with 2 of my boy cousins, a distant family member decided to join. He was hairy and scary looking. I’m guessing now that he was probably in his mid to late 20s at the time. I’d never met him before because he didn’t live in Tehran. I didn’t like him. He forced himself on our game. We felt we had no choice but to let him play soccer with us. I was annoyed.
It didn’t take long for soccer to turn into a one on one fight. He was taking it way too seriously and as his opponent I was getting attacked constantly. He was aggressive and mean. These attacks were peculiar because they resulted in me falling flat on the ground desperately trying to catch the ball, and with him (mardeh gondeh) on top of me.
The first couple of times I didn’t mind. I thought we were really playing. On the third try, he slipped his hand in my shirt. Oh Shit. I let him catch the ball and I was kind of shocked. Did what just happened really happen?
A few minutes later and on some false pretense, he got me to sit on his lap and he attempted to feel me up again. I was in an awkward situation because my 2 cousins were in the room and totally lost in their own game. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to do. I was embarrassed.I left the room as soon as I could.
This is the first time I’m talking about this. I never told my parents. All throughout the trip, the fact that he was there tormented me. I never recovered from this experience.
My relationships with men have been awkward. And I can’t seem to find the right person to be with. I jump from one man to another even though I’ve never had a decent orgasm in my entire life. I’m on my road to recovery, because I’ve decided to heal and move on. I want to make sure that all other victims of child abuse are heard of. Today, here, I want to solve this issue.
