I was 5 years old…

I was 5 years old. I was sexually abused by my godfather on multiple occasions. One of the times was when him and his wife offered to watch me while my mom was giving birth. I remember being picked up and taken to his bed. I just pretended to be asleep while he touched me and tried moving around constantly to try to get him to stop. He didn’t. I didn’t tell anyone until 2 years after. My mom didn’t know what to do. I mean who was going to believe me, especially 2 years after the fact? All she could do was keep me safe and she never spoke to them again.
Fast forward a few years later and we find out there were other kids, his own nieces and nephews who went through the same thing and that there was an active trial against him. It was a relief to testify but at the same time I felt a guilt that maybe if I had said something sooner, others wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Truth is that none of us should carry the guilt. We were kids. In no way were we responsible for what he did.
As of today, he’s in prison for life. We won the trial and while the physical abuse is over, but the road to recovering from the trauma is just starting. Just recently I had a vivid dream about one of the nights he abused me, I woke up crying and shaking and it just kept replaying over and over. I didn’t know that I could relive the same moment 16 years later. Kind of a cruel joke the brain plays.
Since then, I’ve gone to therapy, I’m doing good, I’m happy and loved. I know others have had a harder time healing and all I have to say is to keep pushing. It really does get better. I think one thing that keeps me going is knowing that he will never be able to hurt anyone else again. We deserve better and we will have better.

-P (she/her/hers)