Living with nystagmus #1

If you want to read a happy story, you will be disappointed, as my nystagmus is something I needed over 30 years to fully accept. It wasn't just the godawful start at life, being accused of being possessed by an evil spirit, needing to fight off a disgusting guy, who kept visiting us and conned us out of our money, while I was still a tiny and vulnerable baby, and getting beaten up and hated by my own family, who were supposed to love and protect me. Afterwards, I also got targeted by an old guy, who kept posting ads in newspapers, searching for a cleaning lady, while emphasizing about his wealth. I told my mom to do that job and earn her own money, as I got sick of the many fights my parents had over money. My kindergarten teacher's faces looked a bit strange and they were vague about how it is better not to go, when I told them about it, but I childishly thought they wanted the job for themselves. The old guy came over to our house to check my mom's cleaning skills and he seemed more interested in me. He kept pushing about putting me in bath, even though I was still clean and didn't poop in my diaper or anything. At a certain point, he just spilled the cup of coffee he was offered by us on me. It got even stranger, when he forcily put me in bath and wiped my body with his hands with the excuse that there was no towel nearby. He also tried to stick his finger into places and as a reflex, I peed to protect myself. For a long time, I felt an unexplainable urge to pee, when my ankles touch lukewarm water, and now, I know why. I regained access to these memories, when I recently read a book, as there were shockingly many similarities. I remember that he kept bringing toys and that he wanted things back for it. Very early in life, I already understood what a bad touch is, so I got really angry at him. I threw the toys back at him and yelled that he was supposed to buy me gifts to compensate for the harm he did to me and not harm me even further. The funny part was that the kids that lived in the neighborhood all came to steal the toys I threw out like cockroaches, or more kindly said, like a bunch of ants. They cared less about what was going on, what the toys were used for, and how dangerous the situation I was in. The yelling that I did, somehow did reach some adult neighbours who were curious about what the ruckus was all about and he went away. However, he kept coming back and from afar, I once saw him whispering with the old man, who lived next door to us. The elderly couple were like friendly grandparents to me and my siblings, so I didn't expect to be betrayed. The old guy, who looked for a cleaning lady, kept harassing us, but after yelling and crying, trying to stab myself with a knife and throwing myself in front of a running car multiple times, he seemed to realise that he really did harm me. He could no longer lie to himself that he is doing a fair trade, that if I get the toys, he could get what he wants. Afterwards, he never came back. As much as I want to take the credits of changing this guy and helping the girl in the book that I read, the timeline doesn't seem to match up, but I somewhat take comfort in the thought that there might be another girl out there, who I saved. That my existence, which has always been a hassle, a burden, and an annoyance, causing everybody discomfort, is important to someone after all.