• Bridie Farrell

#KIDSTOO: My story.

My name is Amelia and I am the primary author of this blog.


This week, I thought I would start telling a story I know very well; my own. I'm not going to try to squeeze it all in to one post, so there will be more posts to follow.


We didn’t have a couch for a while until Don gave us one. The rug remnant in our living room was an ugly brown with yellow swirls. It matched the couch. Brown and old with sharp edges. Don was a superhero to our family and my brother's abuser.


Don's best friend was Joe, my abuser. You'd never meet more friendly, helpful, or funny guys in our conservative, pentecostal church. You could count on Don and Joe to help build the church, clean the church, help with the welcome committee, coach bible quizzing, and help out with youth initiatives.


A few facts about me: We didn't have a lot of money. We didn't have a nice house. My brother's room didn't have insulation. Our electricity was turned off a number of times. We once didn't have heat for three days. I didn't always have lunch money. I had a raging eating disorder from the age of 13.


Where it began: It all started with the massages. My brother and I were on the bible quizzing team at church. Joe and his wife were our coaches. I always had a natural interest in massage. I had studied it a bit so maybe that’s where it began but the massages started on the overnights at their house. I remember telling them how much I liked the movie Gone with the Wind. We watched it on their pull out couch bed and we all took turns massaging each other. My brother massaged Joe's wife. I was massaging Joe and then they gave us massages back. Joe's wife didn’t like Gone with the Wind,


Joe started touching my knee and thigh under the table at the diner his father owned. He would smile and I was panicked because I didn’t want to get caught.


Then one day, I think it was July. It felt like July. We were in his basement while Joe's wife and my brother and others were swimming in their pool. It was dark. I was laying on the couch in the basement with a blanket over me. Joe came down and put his head on my chest. He was touching my stomach and kept going down. He touched me for the first time for real. I didn’t want to like it. I didn’t want it to be happening but I felt like I couldn’t move. I was frozen.


Above is a google image of my old house.


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