If I could go back in time and tell myself at 6 years old?

I was only 6 years old. Laying in a couch in my mothers sisters house. My aunt and her husband lived there. 

It was dark, I felt my chest being caressed. I opened one eye. Frightened, I pretended to still be sleeping. It was him Armando. My aunts husband. He was kneeling and his hand was caressing my 6 year old chest. 

I didn’t understand at that time. I was only a child. 

My only memories that I would have for the rest of my life.

 Memories, are like pictures in my brain that I can go back and replay and have a satisfying smile of that memory. But not this memory. Not being molested by your aunts husband. 

This memory brings; fear, sadness, anger, confusion, betrayal. A memory I can never forget or block from my memories.

My mother worked the weekends in a backpack factory in Lincoln Heights. She has been mother and father to me. My father left when I was 3. She left me with my aunt on Saturdays while she worked.

I always hold a grudge against my father. for not being there for me during my childhood years. Maybe, this would not, had happened to me? What if, my dad was taking care of me instead? I spoke to my father of my molestation and forgave him for leaving me. It is no ones fault. 

My whole child hood was evolved around these people. The molestation continued. We took road trips, and I remember he was always starring at me. He always found away to get close to me. I never did or said anything to him. He creeped me out. He always called my house when my mother was not home. 

I remember when we would go to vegas I would stay in the hotel room with my little cousin at the time. My mom and aunt would be downstairs playing in the casino. Next thing you know he’s come back to the room. That one time, I ran out of there and told my mom, I was bored.

I don’t know why? I shut it down for so long. I never, ever told anyone. 

Every time I had to go with my mom I was scared. Being around this man was horrible. And not telling anyone was consuming for so long.

It was during my twenties when I was realizing that something was wrong. The one memory of me being molested by my aunts husband, being harassed my whole life. And me being silent about it was killing me. 

It’s not, until I had a conversation with a family members wife. We were at a party. She started to talk about how she was molested by a priest at her church.


I was in disbelief. Of how, I just had met her. and she opened up about such a personal tragic experience in her life. A memory.

Once, I lived with my husband I had absolutely no contact with my aunt or her husband. I was at peace. I was 25. My mother always visited her and communicated.

At 25 years old, I was already a mom of two. While in the car my mother asks me if we can go to my aunts house to pick up some bread? I remember clearly. I was driving to Target. And I said, “no.” ” I never want to go to my aunts house.” ” when I was little her husband harassed me through my childhood!” I cried so much!!

It took me, about 20 years to tell my mom. And I’m so happy I did. A huge weight I carried for so long, was finally being released. She cried, and she yelled at me asking me why? Why did I not tell her?

Till this day I don’t even know why, I never spoke up. He never threatened me. I was scared? I really don’t know. 

I hate this person with a passion. And I forgive but, I don’t forget. I asked god to please forgive me for the hate I have against this man. And I leave it all in his hands.

This is one of the many reasons I, believe also triggered my depression. I, kept it in for so long. that my mind was consumed. And now it needs time to heal, recover from all the damage my brain went through.

I encourage anyone, anybody to not ever remain silent. On any aspect of your life. 

If, I could go back to my 6 year old self, I would tell myself. 

This is not okay! Get up and start yelling. No, one is to touch you inappropriately. Call for help! You will be okay. You did the right thing. You’re just a child. A baby girl. I love you, Vicki.
Disclaimer: I am not a professional doctor or counselor. I am only speaking of personal experience. 

If you know someone or yourself is suffering abuse please don’t stay quite.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *