Came back to post more. Thank you to everyone here who shared their stories. I wish I had a place to share with seats for everyone, a big room to talk in as a tribe, quiet rooms, gardens, tea, lavender, warm beds with locking doors where only the person inside has the key, and a sense of peace and tranquility, for each of the survivors here when we trigger and need help feeling safe again.
In no particular order:
When I was 3, my mother had a black tar heroin addiction, and I lived with her part-time. There were other people who lived in that place, and others who were in and out. One of them might have molested me. I say might have because I have fragments of memories, and my father and the rest of my family noticed changes in my behavior that point to it. My mother does not believe it really happened, and has since posted a picture of the man who did that on her Facebook in a way that feels like honoring or at least acknowledging his memory - he died when I was 10, and I remember feeling guilty when I found that out.
My godmother began doing inappropriate things when I was 16. I don't want to talk about what she did. It brings horrible symptoms when I do.
In a halfway house, a man twice my age was hitting on me. I told him very straightforwardly that I was not interested in him. He wound up locking an arm around my neck and forcing his tongue down my throat. I wish I would have bitten it off, but I was terrified and froze up. I had struggled, but I couldn't get him off, and that was when I froze. I told staff, they sat us down, allowed him to tell his story first (which was full of disgusting lies, of course, and I felt sick every time he looked at me). By the time it was my turn to talk, I was so furious that I said out loud how much I wanted to stab him through the heart with a pencil. (Pretty sure that's a huge reason why staff made me, and not him, sign a contract saying I had to stop interacting with the opposite gender in the house, and that I couldn't be in common areas without a staff member present.). They asked several times, "How did it go from 'you're my grandfather figure' to you two slobbering down each others' throats?" Nothing was done, and I was further humiliated. Later that week, a male staff member talked to me about what I choose to wear and how I might be asking for bad attention (during the time of our talk, it was about midnight and I was wearing pajamas and had come downstairs in the first place because I couldn't sleep and was looking for support.). So when another fellow client began inappropriately hitting on me and ignoring me when I told him to back off, I didn't expect staff to help. We fought one night in the kitchen, and I heel-palmed him in the face. Gave him a bloody lip. I was kicked out of the halfway house for my troubles. Naturally, he got to stay - even when he hit another client a week later, he was STILL allowed to stay. And if it sounds ridiculously like the staff was blatantly going against me, believe me, I've had the same thoughts, to the point I wonder if it really was all my fault.
Plus, add to that my grandfather groping my butt while I was washing dishes (I was told by my father, "He's the other safe male adult in your life, aside from me. The therapist says that a kid will attack the safe adults because the safe adults have proved they aren't going anywhere and are safe to attack," or words to that effect), the ice cream man who assaulted me similarly to the halfway house guy and forced a disgusting kiss on me (I was told by my godmother, "This is why you don't talk to strangers."), the many guys who have tried to get me in their cars or talk to me while I've been out waiting for a bus, especially during my teen years, the ex who did unspeakably horrible things that I still blame myself for because, after all, I didn't leave him immediately, and something very unfortunate Mr Silver did when he was having a psychological crisis in 2016 (the incident with the lighter)... Yeah, I frequently feel tainted and like so much of this is my fault, that I put myself in these situations, and I hate myself for that. Maybe I'm so angry because I know they'll never change or have to face consequences, even though I spoke up. I have to carry around all the consequences.
I had some time to think about what I posted last time. I don't think I could honestly take out an eye from any one of the abusers I just named. But I could beat the shit out of them if they ever pulled that shit again. I could definitely punch them, kick them, and generally make them say "ow", and not feel guilty as long as I didn't do them permanent damage, and as long as they learned not to lay a hand on me again.
If it were a complete stranger, and they were going for worse, then I would probably do much worse. I'm mad at myself for all the times I froze. I'm mad that I let fear control me. I'm so angry that I'm afraid sometimes that it will just explode out of me. So I remind myself that if anyone assaults me again, right then is when I need to let the anger explode and not let the guilt stop me. I would rather be a violent person than an assault victim ever again.