Hello, my name is Jeanine. I was born to a Pedophile dad. My abuse story is quickly summed up in these four Project Unbreakable images I drew.
I have several reasons to believe that my father started molesting me even as an infant. This specific abuse claim is not because I have specific memories of him abusing me, but because I have first hand knowledge of him abusing other infants. When it comes to pedophiles they all have a pattern, if the pattern is seen in several victims it is reasonable to consider that the pattern was present in the other victims too. For these reasons I believe my father started molesting me as a baby.
When I was seven my dad brutally raped me repeatedly. He was so brutal I could not walk from my bedroom to the bathroom without crying because of the pain. When I got to the bathroom I saw blood.
I do not know how long the rapes went on. I do not know when they came to an end. But they eventually did. When I was 12-13 I started to have puberty show on my body. At this time my father started terrorizing me at night to Groom me and set up mental control over me. At the end of extensive grooming and mind games, when I was about 13, my dad assaulted me and molested me again. During the assault I found a way to escape his restraints and almost started yelling “Leave my room or I will tell mom.” I had no faith that my mother would be of any help. My pedophile dad had already firmly established in my mind that my mother was under his control through extensive grooming. I was just panicked and needed some threat, any threat, to stop the abuse from continuing. My father did not believe me, he tried to regain control over me, but I was in a state of panic and getting louder. He finally left my room. That was when the Sexual Abuse ended. But I did not know it had come to an end, I still lived in constant fear of him. That is when the mental and emotional abuse increased.
My father continued to use many forms of mental and emotional abuse to keep me inline and silent. I repressed all abuse memories and believed that, at most, my father had only had inappropriate intentions, nothing happened. My father manipulated me and all around me until I believed his lies.
From there I thought I was your average girl, with an above average family. I worshiped the ground my dad walked on, felt he was the best man in the world and constantly tried to please him.
I married and had four kids. In October of 2006 I had a miscarriage. Seeing all that blood come out of me reminded me of the brutal rapes, but only at a subconscious level. I did not remember the rapes until many years later. What I did remember was the extensive grooming when I was 12-13, I did not even remember the molestation. I started having anxiety attacks and depression.
I had a second miscarriage and I was sure I was being emotionally taxed to the greatest degree a person could be taxed. Then shortly after my birthday in March of 2007 we had a major house fire. My kids were at home with the baby sitter, thankfully they all got out safe. The Basement of the home was totally charred. My family moved in with my Sister in Law for about six months. Then we moved back into a home that was still being remodeled, and I was pregnant again. I don’t know what kept me going during all that. But now finally alone, back in my own space, I started to break down from the extreme anxiety and depression. Then I had a third miscarriage.
I fought with suicidal thoughts, memories of my fathers manipulative sexual grooming, and medical messes as we tried to find a solution to the flood of negative emotions I was facing. I started seeing a crisis counselor, which barely managed to put a band-aid over the problems. Eventually my emotions calmed down to the point I could mostly repress them, and mostly go about life looking normal.
We moved into a new home in December of 2009. I was once again pregnant with our fifth child, our last child. It might be because we were no longer living in a rental owned by my Mother in Law… It might be because we finally owned a place of our own with land and freedom to play with Homesteading, something I always wanted… But for some reason my inner child decided this new home was a good place for her to start to emerge. Oh.. I know what it was… My oldest daughter was turning 12, the same age of the abuse I was starting to remember.
I found myself repeatedly curled up in a ball at night sobbing uncontrollably full of anger and upset at my father. I did not even fully understand why I was so upset, I was still in denial. I would not wake my husband, and in the morning I would falsely tell myself, now that is over, and done. But the crying sobbing fits kept coming. One night when I was having a bit of a break in the middle of sobs I emailed a woman at church who had recommended the Therapist she was the office manager for. I emailed her and said. Dont let me forget that this is awful, this is not ok. I will try to deny how bad this is and believe that everything is ok, but this is not ok. So she reminded me from time to time. I continued to have sobbing fits at night. Eventually with great fear I started real Therapy.
Somewhere in there I started blogging under Daughter of a Perpetrator, and then eventually moved on to my blog Breaking Generational Chains. At this point I got a twitter account, Facebook account, Survivor Chat account, and pretty much every other social media account. Social Media and Blogging became part of my Therapy plan.
After two years of Therapy I was finally brave enough to report my father to the State. He was investigated by the State’s Attorney Generals Office because of the validity of my case. The investigator said I had the “most documented” case he had ever seen. I had a strong case, and if I made it to court I had a good chance. But I never made it to court because of the statute of limitations.
Eventually I started to believe I was strong enough to report my father to his church. I was afraid but hopeful.
But Unfortunately reporting my father to his church resulted in me being back-stabbed and betrayed by my sisters who I thought supported me. Reporting my father to his church ended up in me be extensively re-traumatized.
I was left a drift, short on hope, finally fully separated from my birth family, suspicious of trusting everyone including my husband and therapist. I started doodling at this time just to give my emotions somewhere to go. And I started a new blog that was hidden from my two-faced sisters MiaThriver.com. On this new blog I drew these Project Unbreakable Images, and tried to regain the strength I had before reporting. This last image in the series shows the hope I was striving to get back.
My Mia Thriver blog experienced technical difficulties and crashed. It was a beautiful artsy blog, I am sad to see it go. I am in the process of trying to reclaim my Mia Thriver blog posts out of the sql file that remains, I will slowly be posting those posts as I reclaim them. I am now coming out of my shell a bit, and tackling the next big battle, going public. Going public is something I will do in baby steps and stages.
This blog is a joining of all of my blogs, my Personal Blogs and my Survivor Blogs. As I look at what Thriving means, I see that it means, a whole life full of everything I want to fill it with. So, I will no longer segregate myself and my blogs by Survivor blog vs. “Real Life” blogs. This new blog Jeanine A Thriver will be a uniting of me, bringing all the parts of me together in one place and presenting my whole self. Maybe one day, God willing, and if my strength holds up, these blogs will tell the people I grew up with who my father is, what I have endured, and who I am now.
Thank you for reading, and being here with me on this journey.
Jeanine A Thriver.