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old memory

I grew up in foster homes up until I was 18 and joined and stayed in the Air Force for 24 years. Last week I was looking through a box of pictures a friend had stored away for me over the years. I came upon a picture of Edna who fostered me for a little over 2 years. It was a picture of me, Coleen, Edna and her husband. If I remember right I was 11 and was with her up until I was 13. I never thought about it much over the last 30 years or more but think she was a female pedophile. She was very attentive to me the entire time I lived there. There was another kid she fostered, a girl named Coleen who was 9 at the time. Edna's husband worked shifts and payed little attention to either of us, it was all her. She was kind most of the time but also very strict. Each night she bathed Coleen first and then embarrassed the hell out of me. There was no arguing with her and I had to put up with my nudity around her. She took charge and washed my body from head to foot. I never had any other foster mother treat me that way or ever touch my genitals the way she did. If it was real hot weather she made me lay down on my bed and sprinkle baby powder on my crotch. Worse was when she rubbed it over my penis and scrotum then roll over as she put up the crack of my butt. I never once was allowed in the bathroom while she bathed Coleen but she never prevented Coleen coming in when I was in the tub. It was ok for Coleen to see her put the baby powder on me and I don't remember ever seeing Coleen naked. I don't recall how often it was now but several times a year both Coleen and I were subjected to enemas. Aside from the humiliation of it I just hated the feeling and pain of it. It didn't happen often but there were times I would unconsciously get an erection when Edna touched my testicles and penis. She would always say that it was unacceptable and tell me to control myself. I don't think I thought of it at the time but think she may have wanted me to get an erection. Often when it happened Coleen was in the room but Edna said nothing to her but scolded me about it. I don't know why or recall exactly when but DHS moved me to another home just after I turned 13. From that time until 18 I was in 2 different homes and never treated any way like that. I don't know whatever happened with Coleen and never saw Edna again. Another way she humiliated me was when she would pull my under wear out to see if it was clean. If not she would make me undress and scold me about wiping myself better. She would often make me bend over and wipe my butt telling me how to do it. Other than the nudity in front of her and Coleen she always made sure we were well fed and did our school work. She would take us to movies and on weekend holidays to the amusement park. Aside from the baths and other nudity in front of her she seemed normal. I can't say for sure but do believe this woman enjoyed embarrassing me and intentionally let Coleen see me naked to further humiliate me. I always got along with Coleen and she really never brought up seeing me naked or watching Edna wash me. One thing was that at least Coleen was younger than me because she never made a big deal out of seeing me nude.
anonymous Miscellaneous May 27, 2019 at 11:37 am 1
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Thank you for your story. Now that it's been about 30 years since the incidents you've described, I hope that you go online and seek out both Edna and Coleen and try to reconcile. You three have an opportunity to lift burdens from each other's hearts.

My story: I've found that some people change (often when life's events humble them), some don't (they remain unapologetic and think that everything was justifiable and correct). I grew up with incest. My sister and I, her older brother, were the victims of my parents' lack of life skills. When my sister and I were young adults, we barely got along with our parents.

One day, when we were in our 20s, my sister and I decided to tell each other secrets about growing up. We had no idea what had happened to the other. We sat in amazement and compassion, one listening to the other. It was as if each of us held about half the pieces to an old puzzle and together, she and I put all the pieces together. It turned out she and I had witnessed things about each other that the other had forgotten or hadn't previously made sense of. Yes, the conversation was often about sex, how it all affected our now-adult sexuality and our adult, often failed attempts at intimate relationships.

Above, I said that my sister and I didn't get along well with our parents when we were young adults. One negative side effect of that was that I didn't pay much attention to how much my parents were growing and changing as people. In the meantime, my sister and I got a lot of help from people who could understand what we'd been through and could model much healthier relationships for us.

About 15 years later, with years of sobriety under his belt, my father called me one day and told me how deeply he regretted what had happened I was still somewhat angry and ambivalent, but I listened. In the last year and a half of his life, we reconciled, and I was able to forgive him. He'd grown and changed as a man, made his amends, and was no longer behaving like the man who had raised me.

After my father passed, one day my sister said she wanted to stop hugging me: I looked too much like our Dad - and reminded her too much of him, even though I never did to her any of the things our Dad had done to us. I was shocked and saddened, but I accepted it.

After my father passed, my mother and I got along even worse, at first: shouting matches over the phone followed by slamming the phone down to hang up in mid-conversation. A few years later, I simply stopped all communication with her, occasionally listening to my sister's accounts of her relationship with our mother. About 10 years after my father passed, I was listening to a woman my age trying to reconcile her relationship with her father. Something inside of me began to dissolve: my resentment toward my mother. I realized that I was holding on to the idea of who my mother had been and not allowing room for the woman she had become. So I phoned my mother and told her roughly the same as the previous sentence, and that I was willing to start talking to her again.

Mom and I had changed so much that we were able to get along with each other in new, healthier ways, and we did, for the last 15 years of her life. One day, about 10 years after my reconciling phone call, she phoned me, and out of the blue, she announced that she was getting old and didn't want to die with any family secrets. So if I was willing to ask, she would tell me the whole truth about anything I asked, as best as she could remember it. So I wrote out about 25 questions (20 of them were about sex and my sexuality), and when I went to visit her, for 6 hours, she, now an old woman (who still had her marbles, no dementia), patiently answered all of my questions thoroughly. And she had related questions for me, often about what she had caught me doing as a child, sometimes sexual in nature, sometimes not, and I answered all of them without hiding anything. Often the conversation was compassionate, intimate, other times amusing, funny, ironic. From then on, for the last few years of her life, we got along beautifully.

That same year, my sister was hospitalized for an injury, so I drove Mom and myself seven hours to the hospital for a multi-day visit. At the end of the visit, my sister exclaimed that I must have been some kind of saint to have survived 7 hours in a car with our mother and 4 more days of attending to her (it wasn't bad at all), and then my sister got out of her hospital bed while plenty of tubes and monitor wires were still in/on her and gave me a hug of gratitude, first time in nearly 20 years. I wept.

The reward of my letting go of all my anger and resentment toward my parents? The next year, I finally found the woman of my dreams, and we've been able to have a healthy, loving relationship ever since. She knows my sexual history and accepts me, enjoys me as I am.

I hope that some of my reconciliation and happy ending can happen for you.

(Note: I searched for and found your story because for me, being powdered has always been a fetish, a longing, a loving thing, and watching women powder their face lovingly is a delightful fascination for me. Yet I felt compassion for you when I read your story because for you powdering was a painful experience at the hands of Edna. I wish you peace.)
anonymous 5 months ago
Point of clarification for the story, above: My sister and I have never been sexual with each other. The incest, overt by our father, covert by our mother, occurred when we were children, and my sister and I had no idea it was happening to the other sibling at the time.
anonymous 5 months ago
Just for the record, I do not agree with ^^. We're talking foster care, not biological parents. Sounds to me like it was an old memory, and even if it might be good to get it out to confess it once, I wouldn't try to make "amends" because it could really open up old wounds. Also, sometimes people act nice, as if they've changed, and it's all honkey-dorey, but it's not, and they're still the same old perverted assholes on the inside.
anonymous 4 months ago
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