Something Else I Probably Shouldn’t Write About

My brother wasn’t the only member of my family to be inappropriate with me in my youth; not by far.

My sister also made me do gross things like suck on her toes. At the time, I thought we were playing. She hated me pretty much from the moment I was born, so any time spent with her, which I craved, was a blessing in my eyes. I always wanted to be close to her and to have her approval.

She only gave me that when she got something out of it. I didn’t realize until recently (again) what exactly it was that she got out of that brief period of time when we were close and she didn’t act like she hated me.

Perhaps she hated me so much that the sexual abuse was another way for her to punish me for being born and taking the attention away from her. I was born when she was four years old, so it’s not far-fetched that she could feel a great sense of resentment for me being the new baby. Again, I’m only just realizing this all in the last six months or so. My entire life, these interactions with my abusive, toxic family members felt commonplace to me. And I always wondered why my friends’ parents didn’t want them to have anything to do with me. It was because they could see how messed up I was.

I think I was the only one who was unable to see it. Until now, that is.

Words can’t really accurately cover what went through my head when I realize what my sister was doing while I was sucking on her toes. I’m disgusted, I guess, to say the least.

She always used to do strange things around me. She would stand behind me with her arms wrapped around my waist pressing her pelvis against my bottom, and just sway there with me while I cooked at the stove. I remember feeling extremely uncomfortable while this happened. She has even paid me (when I was eighteen) to jump in bed with her boyfriend who she knew wouldn’t have his contacts in. She knew he would mistake me for her, at least at first. I did what she asked; I kissed him. She paid me five dollars to kiss her boyfriend.

I don’t know why. That just always seemed weird to me.

Later in life, she would cheat on her husband with a guy she met at a dollar store. I didn’t know she was having sex with him, because she constantly told me I should go after him and that I should date him. She was having sex with him the whole time.

My best guy friend in high school and college was extremely friend-zoned, and my sister told him, “If you ever stop chasing Krista, I’ll screw ya.”


I never understood her, and I never will. She doesn’t speak to me now. I am glad that she doesn’t. She has been inappropriate with me, tried to go after most of my boyfriends, and tried to get me to go after most of her men. The father of her daughter told me once that she wouldn’t mind if he and I were to have sex; this was like two weeks after they met. It rang true to me. By that time, I was accustomed to being sent after the men in her life.

She and I share the same mother and father. Our other brother, who also shares our Asian father, once held my head in a vice grip between his knees and said he wouldn’t release me unless I “licked his weiner.” I told him I’d lick his knee. I was like eight or nine. I didn’t end up having to lick anything. Thank God.

My oldest brother, the subject of my first post, had a friend come stay with us for a long time, too. His name was Kevin. And he also was inappropriate with me. He touched me in my crotch. By that time, I had no idea what he was doing was wrong, because so many people had touched me there already.

I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but there are deceased relatives who lived with me also, who were also inappropriate with me on several occasions.

I can say with certainty that the only people closely related to me who were never inappropriate with or around me were my father and my maternal grandparents. My grandpa is actually my first influence when in came to writing. He was always in his room, sitting at his desk, writing something. I liked to sit on his desk and watch. They’d let me play with a pencil and some computer paper. I’d pretend I was writing just like him.

My father rented a karate movie with a very PG sex scene in it once when I was visiting. He wouldn’t allow me to look at it, though. That’s literally the only time I remember anything nearly inappropriate happening around him. My father was a good man.

I would really like to know how all this sexual abuse has resulted in the person I am today.

My sister also used to beat the shit out of me when I was very young. Like I said, a deep seated hate for me her whole life.

Today, I have some unusual quirks. I don’t like to be stared at. I don’t like for people to stand directly behind me. I can feel when a person’s eyes are on me; I am very keenly aware of it. I’m somewhat paranoid, jealous and insecure. It is sad to think that I may not be so much trouble in my current relationship if I was just treated right by the people around me when I was growing up.

I hate a lot of things about my past. I wish I could forget it all. Maybe I’d be an easier person to get along with today. Maybe I’d trust people a little easier. Maybe I wouldn’t be anxiously afraid of someone messing with one of my small children.

I wish I had a degree in psychology and could figure out for myself why my family members did the things they did and how I can learn to let it all go and try to live a normal life.


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