My Story…

First I will say this post will be the longest I ever have written and it will have many updates. I will tell my life story as a victim of abuse and sexual abuse. Some other memories too.


It began around age 2-3. The first time she hit me with her baking stick. I cried, and it stung over my fingers and on my thigh. I was too young to understand why. She must have been mad at me for something. It wasn’t last time she did that, it happened often.

I must have been around 3-4 years old when I went blueberries picking with my eldest brother. I had picked some into a cup when I suddenly see something amongst the berries. I ask my brother and point to it while my head is only centimeters away from it. He grabs hold of my hand and next I know I am flying away and lose my boot. The cup got left behind too. Later I got told it was a poisonous snake, an adder. Scary!


At age 4 I started bathing with my 6 year older sibling. The reason we had to bath together we had our own water supply and it was shortage caused us having to bath together. They watched him rubbing his body towards mine and him touching me. I didn’t like it and told my parents but they didn’t make him stop. We bathed together until I was 6 years. At the end he started putting his fingers inside me. He also had ejaculation in the water. I remember it as gush and jumped out of the water. I ran into the living room, but my father forced me back to the bathroom. On the way I grabbed hold of the door frame and a small piece of wood came loose with a nail stuck on it. My dad took it from my hand and hit me with it on my bottom, before he forced me  back into the tub and washed my hair with the gushy water.


I slept in my parents bedroom until I was around 6 years old. Then I was moved to sleep in sofabed sharing with the abuser. He touched me outside my night gown. Then he put his fingers in my pants and into my vagina as he did in the bathtub. I once confronted my mother what he was doing and didn’t wanted to sleep in the sofabed with him anymore. She refused to believe in me and told me I had to sleep there. I remember I held onto her shirt and tore it apart then I ran from upstairs where the bedroom was and down to my parents bedroom in protest against it. I ended up sleeping upstairs anyway.

I grew up on a farm. My father had a work car and my brothers sometimes drove it. One time my abuser drove it. I was laying in the back of it, if I had been seating I am not sure if i still be here… My eldest sibling was in the car too when it happened. The abuser drove fast and suddenly a big bang and sudden stop, we had crashed. I flew into the back of the front seats and ended on the floor. I was bare feet and ran to the barn and told my father what had happened. Then I ran to the house, the abuser was there too, he looked us in and both my grandfather and father tried to get into us. They sounded mad. Most likely they were conserned we were injured, but were kids and frightened by angry sounding voices.

From age 6 to 11 my abuser was touching my body and teasing me. He was annoyingly towards me. Pinched me and pulled my hair. But we also could play together on old fashion PC comodore 64 and 128. Also plaid with cars on a play mat.

At age 7 my grandfather died. The night before I had confided in my grandfather what my sibling had been doing to me. Touching me and  fingers in my vagina. He said he would confront my father with it. The next day I remember my mother and grandmother talking at the top of the stairs. I went outdoors and climbed in the window to see my grandfather, he was screaming in pain. I remember him red and sweathy. I opened up the buttons on his shirt as he asked me to and he asked me to call the docter. I went out the window and upstairs and told my mother to call the docter. I took the phone and started dialing number. She took the phone from me and placed it back down. I remember laying under the table and listen to my grandfathers loud screams from the basement. When my father came home they called for the docter and ambulance came to get him. I had my last hug with my grandfather while he was on the stretcher. He died before getting to hospital. I don’t know if everything could be different if she had called the docter when I told her to… I carried with me for a long time I might had triggered the heart attack he died of. Caused me think my father would get the same if I ever told him what his son was doing.

At age 9 I and my youngest brother watched Pinchcliffe Grand Prix. He went out of the room for s short while. When he came back he was rubbing his fingers so I got up and checked my eldest brother room. When I came in there the bin my brother had standing by his bedside table was on fire. I closed the window and closed the door behind me. I went down the stairs screaming to my mother that there was a fire in my brothers room., to me it all went in slow motion or I went so fast my brain reacted to it slow motion. She came running upstairs.I ran to the kitchen and turned off the stove. Then I ran upstairs to get my youngest brother and we got outside sitting by the flagstaff. I put my hands in front of his eyes so he wouldn’t see that she threw the burning bin out the window. She managed to put out the fire and the house was saved. If I hadn’t gone up and checked who knows what could had happened? I must thank school for all the drills we had about fire and close windows.


At my 11th birthday after the guests had left  I was alone with the abuser. It happened on the sofa upstairs. He sat me down and took off my pantyhose and pants. Then he put his finger up into my vagina again.

He took me upstairs from the living room from time to time. He started using different tools. Like a screwdriver, a wooden stick, hairbrushes both with metal and plastic. He used to tie me to the sofa with different ropes. I remember having so much pain in my vagina area I had troubles sit still anywhere including at school. I remember blood flowing into the toilet after he had used the different tools. It was before I got my period. I also remember throwing bloody pants into the bin, but she who gave birth to me took them out and cleaned them again. I once cleaned off the blood from the hairbrush and  a screwdriver while she watched me. She didn’t ask why all I had to do was clean them. I also used to stand on my head so the pain got in my head rather than in my private areas. I sometimes fell asleep doing that.


At age 12 I once was tied to the sofa upstairs. I screamed out in pain as he tried to enter my vagina. He reacted with putting his hands around my neck and squeeze. I lost consciousness and was brought back with him blowing air into me and him being all red and sweating, and screaming “don’t die, don’t die”! I felt millions of needles in my body so he must have revived me again. I felt so dry in my throat like sandpaper also in my mouth. It ached all over my body. I had bad marks on my neck after his fingers and covered it up with a scarf. Couple days later I confronted the person who gave birth to me. She commented to my marks on my neck and told her he had done that to me while I was tied to he sofa upstairs. She said “stop pinching yourself and leave bad marks”, like she didn’t believe in me. I asked her to make him stop harassing me and leave me alone. I heard her doing that on my way downstairs. After that he kept away for a long while.


Some months later an insident happened. I must had upset her very much because she came after me with her baking stick. I ran behind in the corner of the sofa in the livingroom. She started hitting my head, I reached for a pillow from the sofa and put it on top of my head but she kept hitting my head with the hard bottom end. In the end she had hit me so much and hard I became paralyzed. I could’t even think all I did was stare right ahead. My eyes was running and my mouth dribbled on to the floor so made a big pile. I remember my little brother had stood in the sofa jumping up and down while she lashed out on me. The rest of my siblings and father was laughing at the whole thing.


When I was 13 and half years old I had gotten room beside the abuser downstairs. All of a sudden one night he came into my bedroom. Laid over me and held his arm over my neck and told me “if you ever tell anyone again I will kill you”, (this saying still stay stuck to my mind). He started using condoms when he came on to me, and it happened all over the house. Even outdoors and in the barn. I tried many ways to block the opportunities for him to come on to me. I put a hairband in the key so It would stay stuck so he couldn’t enter my bedroom at night, but he found out and stole the key. I found another and did the same in the end he barged on the door so it got opened even when it was locked. One time he come on to me and pushed me on top of the kitchen table. After that I couldn’t eat meals sitting by the table. I took my plate to the livingroom. Sometimes I was denied to bring my plate and it was taken from me. I couldn’t explain why he had threatened me. Sometimes he came on to me in the livingroom and I ended up laying under a blanket naked when my parents came from the barn in the evenings. My clothes law in  pile on the livingroom table. One time we had visitors I had to go to the bathroom and tried grab the blanket around me, but she got a glimpse and commented “are you all naked”? I told her yes and pointed to he pile on the table and also told her to ask the abuser why. After that I was told to lay my clothes behind the couch instead of the table, go figure how she was thinking. From age 13 and half to 14 and half it happened quite often sometimes more than once a day. After that it was seldom because he wasn’t that much around he was studying to become a pilot.


At age 21 I was studying travel and tourism in Lillehammer. I was home for the weekend, after 9/11. He came on to me on the sofa in the livingroom. He had condom his time, but I remember it broke. I didn’t think much of it. A couple weekend later I went to England with some friends and I wet to meet a guy. I staid one night something I shouldn’t had… He came on to me in middle of the night and i froze up, I got raped. I later found out I was pregnant and all I thought was that the guy in England was the father to that child. I wasn’t ready for parenthood. I got an abortion. I found out during the court case in 2010 and got my medical record that the abuser was father of the fetus I aborted.


I started seeing a therapist at college. She told me I wasn’t been raped only my normal reaction to intimacy. But I didn’t wanted that to happened, I hadn’t given consent then it is rape. She talked me out of it and suggested I kept a relationship to him. I did and got a beautiful boy with him and got married. That didn’t last more than 2 years and I got divorced.

After the divorce I have tried to have relationship but it hasn’t worked out. I was naked with a man 5 years ago but nothing happened.

I am now in a relationship with an American man for two years, but we haven’t met yet neither have we talked on the phone or live chat. We only chat in messages. I hope to move together with him this autumn in USA.


About Jane Helen

40 year old and single. Have a 15 yr old son that live in England with his father and family there. Got MS and PTSD.
This entry was posted in Abuse, All latest posts in English, Janne Helen's life, Ukategorisert. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to My Story…

  1. girl says:

    I’m amazed, I must say. Rarely do I come across a blog that’s both equally
    educative and interesting, and let me tell you, you’ve
    hit the nail on the head. The problem is something that
    not enough men and women are speaking intelligently about.
    I am very happy I found this in my search for something
    concerning this.

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