My Broken Pieces : Mending the Wounds from Sexual Abuse Through Faith, Family and Love (9781101990087)

by Rivera, Rosie

  I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t want to do anything to upset Chay yet I didn’t want to upset Trino either. I was surprised and confused and frozen into silence.

  Moments later, Trino simply got up and left. He didn’t say a word or even look at me. He just left. While what he did to me that day didn’t physically hurt, the feeling that ultimately stayed with me was that he left me there, all alone. One moment he was all over me, giving me attention and telling me he wanted to play with me, and the next he was discarding me like a piece of trash, leaving me alone, vulnerable and half-naked. I felt ashamed and my mind simply couldn’t process what had just happened.

  I don’t remember the rest of that day. Most of my recollections come to me in flashes: the San Marcos blanket, the blond Barbie dolls, the bright blue sky, the look on Chiquis’s face. I know that eventually Chay came home and we all sat around the table and ate the spaghetti—and giant meatballs. For many years after that, once I fully understood what happened that day, I couldn’t bring myself to eat spaghetti and meatballs. The mere thought of it made my stomach turn.

  That day was the beginning of a nightmare that would last several years, and the blurry memories of what transpired often came back to me. I’d obsess and think of all the ways in which I could have avoided it, what I could have done to stop it from happening. If I hadn’t asked for meatballs, Chay wouldn’t have left . . . If I hadn’t said yes to his stupid game and just kept playing with Chiquis . . . If only I’d gone to the swap meet with the rest of my family . . . God . . . How stupid could I be? Time and time again, I blamed myself for everything that happened that day and from that day on, I thought I even deserved it for being so stupid. It took me many years to understand that it wasn’t my fault: I was just a little girl at the time and there was nothing I could have done to stop him.

  • • •

  That same summer, on another beautiful sunny day, I found myself alone in the bathroom with Trino. I’m not sure how I got there or why, but I do remember the exact moment with a certain degree of clarity.

  Trino was sitting on the toilet and we were, once again, playing the “love game.” He pulled down his pants and I saw he was erect. I had never seen a naked man before, let alone an erect penis, so I had no idea what it meant. I was so worried that he’d get upset and leave me again that I tried my best to stay calm. In a strange way, even though I suspected that what we were doing was wrong, I still wanted Trino to be pleased with me. I didn’t want him to walk out and leave me the way he had the previous time. So even though this time I was a little more aware of what the “love game” entailed, I didn’t offer any resistance.

  Trino sat me on top of him and I felt something hard between my legs and then right away I felt excruciating pain. It felt as if he had put a knife inside me. The pain was so sharp and so intense that I was convinced he had a knife and that he was cutting me.

  “OUCH!” I screamed from the top of my lungs. “It HURTS!”

  There must have been someone outside because as soon as I let out that scream he quickly covered my mouth with his hand—letting me know, in no uncertain terms, that I had to keep my mouth shut.

  “If you say one word about this, I will kill your brothers, and your sister,” he whispered loudly into my ear. “Do you hear me?”

  That’s when I understood something was really not right. I was hurting, I was in pain, and not only was he not concerned; he didn’t want me to tell anyone. That’s when I understood that this “game” wasn’t a game after all nor was it for children.

  A thousand thoughts raced through my mind as I tried to make sense of what was going on. Was Chay going to die? Was he going to hurt her? And my brothers? I was scared and in so much pain but ironically what worried me the most was that Trino was upset. He was visibly annoyed (probably because he hadn’t been able to fully penetrate me) and I didn’t know what to do because I never annoyed anyone! I was the baby in this big loving family and all in all, I was a great kid; no one ever had any reason to be annoyed at me. All I wanted was for him to stop being upset at me—I didn’t want him to hurt me but most important, I didn’t want him to hurt Chay. I looked up at him and without even meeting my gaze, he simply tossed me to the side, got up, and left. At that point, the pain was so excruciating that I thought I was bleeding, and in my eight-year-old mind that surely meant death. Why is he leaving me here? I thought. How can he abandon me when I’m in pain and I need him? Is Chay really going to die? From then on, I begged my sister not to die. I would tell her that without her I would go crazy, get depressed and die too. My sister didn’t know why, but my greatest fear was to lose her.

  I could barely make sense of these many thoughts swirling in my head. The pain between my legs eventually subsided and I later checked to find that there was no bleeding. But that feeling of abandonment—and the fear of losing Chay—never left me for many years to come.

  Just as I don’t remember much else about that day, my memory of the rest of that beautiful summer is equally blurry. The time spent with Chay and Chiquis, moments at home with my brothers and parents. Everything that wasn’t the abuse just disappeared from my mind. Gone.

  There are so many horrible things about abuse and I’ve had many years to reflect upon the ways in which Trino’s actions affected the rest of my life. But one of the things that hurt me the most was losing my childhood memories. I remember very little between the ages of eight and eleven and no matter how much therapy I have or how hard I try to remember, that’s something I will never get back.

  The thing is, in so many ways I live off my childhood memories. I love remembering my family, laughing at all our crazy stories, reliving the great times we shared together. My family is my rock, my foundation. They are what I live by and whenever times are difficult, whether it’s a family issue or my own personal problems, those memories are what fuel me. At the time I was being abused or even later, when my life seemed so grim that I could barely hold it together, the love of my family kept me afloat. Knowing that there are precious memories lost to me forever tears me up inside. I tried so hard to block out the bad stuff that I also lost all the good stuff along the way. When I think back to that afternoon when my sister was making spaghetti and meatballs for me, it kills me to think that Chay made my favorite meal and I can’t even remember eating it.

  • • •

  If ever I had felt love for Trino for being my sister’s husband, it all disappeared the instant I understood that there was something very wrong with his game. Things got strange whenever I was alone with him so I decided that the best way to deal with the situation was making sure I was never alone with him again. Just stay away from him, I thought. And that’s what I did. Despite how much I hated it, I started to go to the swap meet again. But my sister missed me and it was so hard for me to be away from her that I’d still end up going to their place from time to time. But whenever I was there, I made sure I stuck close to my sister and shadowed her every move.

  As time went by and the reality of what Trino did to me kicked in, I started to ask myself so many troubling questions: Am I the only little girl this happens to? Or do men do this all the time and nobody talks about it? I would watch TV for hours and hours, trying to escape my reality but also just wishing someone would come out and talk about what I was going through. Surely, this must happen to other girls, I thought. But no one did and I was left feeling lonelier than ever.

  I started to become more and more of an introvert. I hated Trino with all my being but the truth was I hated myself even more. I feared him for what he was capable of doing to me but deep in my heart what was destroying me was that I despised myself for allowing the abuse to happen. I compared myself to all the strong personalities in my family and I saw myself as weak, no more than a coward.

  I ceased to be the cheerful child I had been prior to the abuse, and I began to pull back from my family in so many ways. I’m sure they all notice
d but no one ever confronted me about it. I guess in their eyes I was just being rebellious.

  Soon I found myself starting to lose trust in all men, thinking every one of them could be like Trino, even my brothers and father. I never tried to discuss this with anyone so the thoughts just grew in my head and before long I went from wondering whether all men were the same to believing it with absolute certainty. Juan had always been my hero and I would do whatever he asked of me. But when this started happening with Trino, I suddenly stopped wrestling with him. While I used to throw myself on the ground with him, tossing, tumbling, and tickling each other until we turned blue in the face from laughing so much, I wouldn’t even let him near me. The little sister who had cuddled, loved, and followed him all around the place now drew away, and he didn’t understand why.

  “Don’t touch me!” I’d yell at him. “Don’t hug me! Back off!”

  “What’s wrong with you?” he’d ask, bewildered.

  “You’re gross! Get away from me!”

  And Juan wasn’t the only one who’d lost me, so had my father. I no longer wanted to jump on his lap for breakfast and whenever he tried to hug me or kiss me as any father would want to hug and kiss his child—his little princess—I would shrug away. It broke my father’s heart to see me behave that way, but he was always respectful of my wishes, so he left me alone.

  The only thing I remember caring about in those days was reading. I’d spend hours escaping into my favorite books—somehow it was comforting to read about realities that were so far removed from my own. In my mind, I had rehearsed a thousand times what I would do if Trino ever approached me again, and I decided that I would just shut down and let my mind wander to faraway places. I must have read every single book in The Baby-Sitters Club series so whenever Trino did manage to get close to me, I would shut my body down and escape into my dreamworld, thinking about my favorite characters. While he touched me, I would close my eyes and imagine I was Claudia. Claudia lived in New York and she was really into fashion so I would create a whole fantasy in my mind where I was just like her. I lived in my own apartment in New York and was into fashion, beautiful and popular. Focusing on these stories allowed me to escape from the reality of what was happening to me and it allowed me to hold on to the little bit of self-love I had left.

  I don’t remember anything else about being ten. All I knew was that I had to focus on staying away from Trino. My poor sister had no idea what was going on, nor did anyone else. I was so afraid that he would kill my sister that I took extra care not to let anyone else find out. If I happened to find myself in the same room with Trino, I would quickly slip out before anyone noticed. I thought I was being subtle but soon enough Trino realized what was going on and he asked:

  “Why do you stay away from me?”

  Isn’t it obvious? I thought, but I wouldn’t say anything and just run away to play.

  • • •

  By the time I was about eleven years old, Chay and Trino had moved into a house on Fifty-fifth Street in North Long Beach, on the block behind my mother’s house on Ellis Street.

  One afternoon I was over at their place, visiting my sister. Trino was outside doing something on the car and I was sitting on the porch. It was a quiet, peaceful afternoon and I was making sure I stayed away from Trino, barely speaking to him unless it was absolutely necessary. I was always afraid of him but somehow being out in the open like that, I didn’t feel so threatened. Suddenly, in the most matter-of-fact way, Trino said to me:

  “Hey, Rosie, do you want to learn how to drive?”

  And immediately forgetting everything, I jumped up and yelled: “Yeah!”

  My brothers learned to drive when they were twelve and my brothers were the coolest people in the world to me. Of course I wanted to learn how to drive! Of course I wanted to be like them! I didn’t even stop to think twice about what might happen if I was all alone in a car with Trino. All I wanted was to learn how to drive. I was still this innocent little kid. Thinking back, I’m infuriated that I let my guard down so easily. I spent many years asking myself, how could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so naive? How could I have forgotten it all at the mere mention of learning how to drive?

  “Okay,” said Trino as he pulled himself up from under the car. “But you’re going to have to sit on my lap.”

  Trino climbed into the driver’s seat and motioned for me to get in.

  “Okay!” I answered, ahí va la mensa, and I climbed onto his lap.

  “I’ll do the feet because you can’t do them and you can do the wheel,” he explained.

  Trino revved up the engine and there I was sitting on his lap, so happy I was driving that I forgot all fear, all confusion . . . everything that had happened. For that instant, I was just a happy little girl learning how to drive.

  We hadn’t gotten to the end of the block when I started to feel his hand under my skirt, trying to get into my panties. And I immediately remembered: Oh my God, I’m alone with him, we’re in a car, my sister isn’t near. This is not good.

  I was so scared that I just started begging him: “Please don’t. Please don’t do this to me. Please.”

  Trino got upset and after a while of listening to me beg he tossed me over to the passenger seat. That time, he didn’t do anything to me but I remember thinking I was an imbecile. How could I have possibly forgotten?

  I never wanted to fall in his trap again and because I couldn’t trust myself completely, I promised myself something that day: No matter what Trino—or anyone—ever offered me, I would always say no. I would systematically always say no.

  four

  dark times

  Sexual abuse changes everything you’ve ever been told. My father had always told me I was a princess and I could conquer the world and be whatever I wanted to be. But once the abuse started, my bubble burst and everything I had ever believed about myself came crashing to pieces. I realized I was no princess—how could a princess be a part of something so dirty? How was I ever going to conquer the world? I wasn’t even able to get away from Trino! Slowly, I started to believe every single twisted thing my mind told me and I completely forgot all of my dad’s lessons and positive affirmations. The only thing I knew for sure was that family was most important. Everything other than that became a lie. I was worthless. I was dirty. I was weak. I didn’t deserve anything good because deep down in my mind, I believed I wasn’t good. I knew I was a bad person.

  I stopped speaking. I became a difficult, gloomy child who wouldn’t let anyone near her. At the time, I had a diary and while now I think writing could have been a way to reflect and release during such a difficult time, I stopped altogether. I was too afraid that someone might read it and then my life would really be over. Trino never repeated the threat of killing Chay if anyone ever found out about our little secret, but in my mind, it was on repeat every time I saw him. I was genuinely terrified of losing my sister, so the thought of saying anything was out of the question. Chay’s life became my responsibility and if it meant that I had to endure all the pain and humiliation on my own, then that’s what I was going to do.

  Keeping the secret of sexual abuse forces you to live in a continuous lie. You lie to the people around you and you also lie to yourself. Your entire belief system is turned upside down and you start to question everything you’ve ever known to be true, including the concepts of love, desire, and affection. Trino had said that the game we were playing was called the “love game,” but I didn’t know what that really meant. Are love and sex the same thing? Is sex what people do to show they love each other? What about my parents and my brothers—they don’t do this to me. Does that mean they don’t love me? Is Trino the only one who loves me? And if he loves me, then why does he hurt me?

  Over the course of that summer, everything—absolutely everything—in my life changed. I could no longer stand my brothers, whom I had always adored; I was afraid
of my loving father; I was terrified that my sister might die. Life became a series of extremes, and there was nothing in between to make me feel stable. Everyday life continued its pace while my soul became a black hole that was sucking the life right out of me. Even the things I used to enjoy, like playing with my Barbie dolls, became tainted with my experience of sexual abuse. My Barbies were my only witnesses that day in the mobile home and although I hardly played with them anymore, when I did, the dolls would inevitably end up having sex with each other.

  Everything around me became sexualized, and I no longer knew the difference between what was normal and what wasn’t. When your body is exposed to sex at such a young age, you don’t yet have the maturity to understand what you are feeling. Your body just wakes up. The sexual desire that grows inside you doesn’t know how old you are or who is touching you; it doesn’t know that it’s your brother-in-law or that it’s incest. It just knows that it feels good. So you start craving sex and looking for it in everything around you.

  I understand this now that I have read the books, done all the work, and gone to therapy, but at the time my mind couldn’t process why I was craving something I hated so much. I hated my body because my body liked what my heart and my mind clearly didn’t. What’s wrong with me? I asked myself over and over again. Sex is gross! But no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t stop myself from feeling what I was feeling.

  By the time I was eleven, I became addicted to porn. I would look for it on TV or find magazines, looking at anything I could get my hands on. I’d hide in my room to watch as quickly as I could and then when everything was done, I’d rush to hide or throw everything away, feeling so dirty and ashamed. I’d promise myself that I was never going to do it again, but the next day I would start all over again. It became a vicious cycle that haunted me for many years to come.