I am Debbie

I will recount a story I heard many years back as told to me by a friend. It is based on what really happened. It is sad but my friend wanted it retold so that people must remember to be slow to pass judgment because they don't know the road a person has travelled on.

' I begin with trauma and end with drama.

I tell you I was traumatized. Yes my mind. My mind. I have to fight to keep the memory of the trauma haunting me. The scars do not go away. They run through my mind and they run deep.

I am a mother of three beautiful children. A son and two daughters - they should never have to go through what I went through. And they shall never know what I did to keep them in the life they have. 

My son - I only hope he grows into a man that knows how to treat women. That is all I ask of him. 

I work. I have found work and respectability. I work for a company of international repute and standing. 

I am twice divorced. My first two children are from my first marriage and my last one from an elderly man I married from Singapore. My first husband never was a responsible for us. So I worked and earned a living. I shall tell you more on this. You must follow my story. 

Him, my grandfather. Him, the one they looked up to as the elderly one; the wise one. It is him, that is the man that forced himself upon me. 

Yes I was raped by my grandfather. 

Who would believe it if I told it so? 

I felt violated. I felt awful. I lost what was precious to me. I as a teenager.. Coming to bloom as a woman.. Confused at what all these changes in me meant. My moods changing. My skin breaking out. My breasts growing bigger. My embarrassment at my own nakedness and along he came and threw me into a world of confusion. 

I wanted to end it all. I could not bare it. I could not tell it to anyone. Who would believe. I Lived in a village in Indonesia and he was respected. I would be the one to face the trouble. 

As a teenager I did not have a sense of self worth. What was I but a dirty rag. My mother, my grandmother, treated me no better. 

I felt more worthless. I wonder did they feel the same? Is it true women do more harm to other women, even though it is men who oppress us?

Maybe my mother did not like that I was beautiful. I was fair skinned and attractive. But this did not save me from the actions of my grandfather. 

Behind the closed doors and curtains, the fire still burned in his loins.. He had his way with me.  His crazy and disgusting fantasies. 

I did not fall pregnant because he gave me contraception. He gave me pills to arouse me.

I am smart. I am intelligent. I am beautiful. I carry a heavy burden. I have lost my confidence. 

I cannot stand the sight of men or boys. When all that the other girls would ever want to talk about is boys...I shied away from these conversations. Boys or men all they wanted from me was to have their way with me...

I never formed any meaningful relationships with any boys as a teenager because I didn't trust them. 

It was that much harder because my beauty attracted them to me, my body with it's curves. 

I went to high school. A great place to learn, to grow and to thrive. And thrive I did...