Our intention was to dance on his grave.
My beautiful cousin, who I’d not seen in 35 years, and I set out to dance on our grandfather’s grave. Our first dilemma was, of course, song choice. You have to have the right song. We bandied a few song titles about. Alanis Morrisette was a front runner.
Obviously.
We drove to the town where he lived and where he is buried. We drove to the town where we were abused. Driving down the picturesque New England roads, I felt a little faint. Mary felt a little barfy. We pulled into a store parking lot and Mary spent some quality time behind a dumpster, hurling. It happens.
We weren’t entirely sure where the cemetery was so we pulled into a police station to ask for directions. I said jokingly, We should go in and file a police report. Mary said, What would happen if we went inside and filed a police report?
I said, Let’s do it.
We walked in after Mary barfed again and there was a darling older police officer behind the glass window. Mary told him we were looking for the cemetery- and I had a moment of, We’re probably not REALLY going to do this. Then my beautiful cousin, who is the bravest person I know, said- And we would like to report a crime.
That got his attention.
She said, Our grandfather sexually molested us 35 years ago and we want to report him.
We were ushered into a conference room where a young officer came in to talk to us. He handles all of their sexual assault and rape cases. He introduced himself, sat down and proceeded to ask us questions about what happened. Names, addresses, dates. I called my sister and put her on speakerphone. We were all crying.
Sweetie, I said, He’s writing it down.
He wrote it down.
We said, This happened to us, and he listened. He WROTE IT DOWN.
I cannot begin to tell you how powerful that was.
He said several times, I don’t want to open any wounds, so if you don’t want to answer this, that’s okay. Finally, I said, The wounds are all still open. Obviously. What do you want to know?
I found myself saying to a police officer, I was raped. I never thought that would happen.
Then Mary asked a question I would not have thought to ask but the answer to which I really needed. She said, What would have happened to him, if someone had reported it? The officer told us the procedural things, he said he would have interviewed us, he would have interviewed our grandfather, he would have corroborated what he could. And then he said-
I would have driven down the street and arrested him.
That is what should have happened.
We know there is nothing to be done. We know there will be no consequences and no justice. Life is staggeringly unfair, sometimes.
But there is a record. We walked into that police station holding the jagged shards of our story, of our childhood, and said, LOOK. THIS HAPPENED. And Officer Paul Smith bore witness. He wrote it down.
In a few days, the police report will be available and Mary will go get three copies. Or, if she makes good on her threat to send it out in lieu of a Christmas card next year, maybe many more. But, at least three. We will each have a copy.
We asked Officer Smith if anyone else ever comes forward about our grandfather- because we know with absolute certainty there are MANY more victims- to please give them our information. We want to meet them.
At that point, we thought we were still going to go to the cemetery. Officer Paul offered us a police escort.
I think it is important to note, in the face of so much awfulness, that people really are mostly very good. He was so kind. He took it so seriously. He honored our loss.
Mary decided she’s not quite ready to dance on his grave. That’s okay. We’ve found each other again. We’ve got nothing but time.
That’s where this was supposed to end.
Then I got a call this morning, from Officer Paul. He said, Can you come in? I have something I want to tell you guys.
So.
Mary and I just got back. We were at the police station for hours. Talking to a mama. About her daughter. She told us what happened. Officer Paul wrote it down.
Guys, I don’t quite know what to do with any of this. It’s a LOT. I have a crushing headache, and Mary and I have made an agreement that we will spend the rest of the night talking about Adam Levine’s abs. That’s it. That’s all we’ve got. BUT- my world is lighter than it was yesterday.
Brave and fierce and true. Both of you. And officer Paul.
Wow!
Amazing!!! Follow me please 🙂
Powerful.
Laura, you are an unbelievably amazing and strong woman. Period.
I just read this for the third time. You wrote it down, too. Makes me cry. So proud of you.
I’m with Lisa. You wrote it down, too. What courage all of you have. You make me want to be a braver writer and person. I’m glad to know you.
Yes
God Bless You Officer Smith <3. Such brave girls! Thank you for sharing.
So much indeed. Take back your power, you are strong and coureageous. You have all gone through hell. All my life I have beat myself up for all the awful, stupid, REALLY STUPID, things I have done my whole life. You nailed it in a previous post when you said that what happened to you as a child affected every decision you ever made. It smacked me in the head. I understand a bit better now. And I hope I can grow and stop beating myself up now. Your words are helping me deal. I hope writing them is helping you too. xo
<3
Love that you and your cousin are taking back your lives. ❤️
That just made me cry. Words are powerful. YOU and Mary and Aimee and that Mama and her daughter are POWERFUL. Officer Paul is a HERO. (Most) People are GOOD.
My words exactly. I wish I had your courage. I was date raped & still feel like it’s my fault, 20 years later…
I’m going to state the obvious. It wasn’t, Lisa. Not for one second. I am so sorry that happened to you. I have a LOT of friends who have had similar experiences. xoxo
Gosh Lisa, when you got rape, it never your fault. You are victim. But then, you must move on and please don’t feel it was your fault. And im sorry that happened to you dear. Xoxo
My heart breaks for all of you girls. And Officer Paul, just doing his job, with support and compassion… Thank you.
What an inspiring thing to believe you are worthy of being heard. And then to act on it. True bravery. May your actions and your writing encourage others to do the same.
i find it astounding how many of us friends shared similar experiences but never spoke of it until we were adults. Think ofthe support we could been for each other trying to deal with all the horrible leftover feelings during our teen years. Think of the impact that knowledge could have had on our adult lives.
Laura, you are such a brave and strong women. I am humbled to say I know you even it has been years. I rarely speak for others, but I can confidently say, we are all proud of you.
Thank you! Husband of the (mama) daughter.
I’m honored to witness what you’re going through, Laura!
Thank you for being strong. Impressed.
Thanks for sharing your truth and thanks even more for this one sentence: “I think it is important to note, in the face of so much awfulness, that people really are mostly very good.”
I guess I need to tell somebody that would care. Mom just says shes sorry and forget about it. It seems the older I get the madder I get.
yeah… the older/madder thing. Totally get that.
Joyce, my mom said the same thing. I was angry for a very long time. Damn thing is my abuser(s) was her abuser also. I guess that’s what she did: tried to just forget. Probably her sister and her brothers did too…although, victim’s often become abusers as in this case.
So much yes. Sending you all peace for your hearts. And a very big THANK YOU to Officer Paul for bearing witness to your story. Many blessings to you all.
Bravo.
Speechless. . .you are brave women. Your emotion so raw on the page of healing. God bless you!
Bravo!
This is a beautiful story that came out of such a dark and terrible place. I honor your courage and bravery – to confront, and share this truth, and allow someone else to help you carry that weight. And in sharing this story here, you’ve allowed all of us to help carry the weight to.
I have a tattoo that says “Healing begins when someone bears witness.” Those words informed the volunteer work I’ve done on a sexual assault hotline, and stay with me every time someone discloses something like this. It’s a reminder that no one can do this alone – that we have a responsibility to help others heal.
You wrote it down. We read those words. We saw you, we believe you, and we wish you only lighter days from here on.
Wow. So strong you all are. I’ll be carrying you around in my heart today.
Just WOW! Well done ladies – you did an amazing and brave thing. You deserve the lighter load you now all carry more than I can even begin to articulate. I am humbled by your story and your strength. Sx
I’m afraid to write it down. The pain is so fresh and creeps into my life with every breath that I take even though it was decades ago.
Write and write and write.
Tell your story. You have a right to heal.
You and your sister’s are true warrior women. Even though you were quaking and barfing you did this…you told your story. And Officer Paul…he is a champion for warrior women~he wrote it down and offered support. You women are brave healing souls.
As someone who is still waiting for there to be a grave to dance on, thank you. I was brave enough to tell my story once as a child; they didn’t write it down.
When I saw the link to this, it was accompanied by a trigger warning. I’ve just got to say, nothing was triggered but hope.
Thank you for writing it down.
You are all awesome. How courageous and brave you are. Kudos to Officer Paul for listening and showing kindness. This is what we all need to hear and kniw so that it doesn’t happen again.
This is the first post of yours I have read. I’m so happy to read it! I am honored and privileged to be a part of your story. Thank you for the tears and bravery. I’m writing here along with you at http://thecounterstool.me/2014/11/13/pretty-tough-stuff/ Our words and writing make us so much stronger together. You might also want to check out http://triggerpointsanthology.com.
Thank you!
You guys, I am awed by your bravery and I vow to walk taller today than I did yesterday. Beautiful.
Writing it down is SO important. Naming it, speaking it out loud, having it heard and received by someone… oh gosh, that’s life changing stuff. Even 35 years later. Thank you for sharing this story: you are empowering SO MANY people to tell their story (and others, to HEAR the story) – because there’s power in the telling and the receiving, even if many years have passed, and even if ‘nothing else can happen now’.
You are a courageous woman.
Hi Laura: I didn’t know how to find you on twitter, but to say I included your post in my January round up of top reads. Thank you so much. http://bronlea.com/2015/01/30/pick-of-the-clicks-1302015/
@laura9perry for now. Haven’t set up account for the blog yet. Thank you so much for including it!
You are both brave. Thank you for sharing. It did happen and we have all read it, because you wrote it down too. Prayers for your healing.
At least there is a record. Wow. That’s all i have too, but thank you for helping me realize that that is SOMETHING. Love to you and your sister and cousin and the others. May you find peace and may you feel God holding your hand through this. You are never alone and you are loved.
I’m crying with you <3 Happy tears for the brave women you are… and heart wrenching tears for the innocent girls you once were.
Wow. That is all. Just wow.
I am overwhelmed with sadness for you that you held this to yourselves for so long. I am hopeful that this truth will set you free as truth always does. I pray for continued healing of your spirit
Reblogged this on Joanie's Blog and commented:
I have known many women that this atrocity happened to. But not until reading this do I fully appreciate the significance of being heard, of there being a safe “witness”. This is so important and gut-wrenching. Thank you for illuminating the darkest of subjects.
Yes. This.
For so many beauty~full souls out there…this.
I could barely breath reading this because it hit home.
Hard.
Everyone should be treated this beauty~fully.
Bless you sweet ones.
May your healing begin.
And blessings to this gentle protector of human rights who heard you, truly listened and wrote it down.
Thank you for this.
Me too.
It happened to me but not with a relative – a perfect stranger. I have never told a soul. I’m now 60 years old – I was 7 then. It has effected my whole life. Thank you for being able to tell someone.
I hear you. I believe you. I believe in you–that you can receive healing and be whole. Brave, you are. Thank you. You gave me needed courage today.
Dear Laura,
As a long time Momastery fan, you are, as G puts it, “Our Laura”. I have always thought you were strong and you shone so brightly but now I see that your power is volumes above what I have seen. I had no idea this was part of your story. I want it not to be true for you, your cousin, sister, the mama (daughter), everyone! I’m so sorry. I pick up a piece of your pieces for you and I send my love and support. You are only shining brighter and getting stronger now. And I can tell by the comments on fb that you are helping many others so there is much good coming from this horrible thing. I have an image of a HUGE huddle of Momastery sisters and officer Pauls and the like surrounding all who have been hurt with love and support. May the healing continue for all.
Oh, Kerry. I did not think I could cry any more today. I was wrong.
“I pick up a piece of your pieces for you….”
THAT’S IT!!!
THAT is what is happening all over this blog!! Pieces are being picked up, loved on, VALIDATED, and gently handed back to these who can’t reach them yet….
Think of that visual with your quilt patterns, Laura!!
How eloquently spoken, Kelly, and powerfully felt by The Shattered.
EXACTLY. It’s a sort of emotional, “many hands make light work.” Love, love, love.
WOW, what a powerful story! You are so brave to report what happened to you and Officer Paul is incredible for helping to make you feel stronger. So much <3 and many prayers to you!
Oh the courage and strength. I am sitting here in awe. I was directed to read this post and it left me speechless. And then I read more of your posts and I have been sitting here in stunned silence because I know without a doubt I was suppose to read your words today. These things happened to me when I was young and innocent and I never had the courage to tell. I am 52 years old and I’ve kept the secrets for oh so long. After all these years how do you tell a loved one that your first time having sex was being raped at 12 by your brothers friend? Things were already a big fat mess in my home before that anyways, so somehow this happening was almost par for the course. I went into life knowing I was broken and defective and used up and I just learned to operate under those. I knew that I was not wanted from the very beginning of my life. Born to very dysfunctional parents that already had a slew of children, I was another burden for them to bear.The weight of carrying secrets is exhausting and really does suck the life out of a person. I’ve performed my whole life, thinking that if I just put everyone first, gave all that I had to give to others and never give much thought to all the things I survived(lets just pretend these things didn’t happen) then just maybe I would have some bit of worth and damn it maybe once in awhile out of all that giving myself away I will feel that feeling of being wanted.
I have some health issues(thyroid, adrenal and hormone) and at my last doctor appointment my doctor told me that I need to stop swallowing down my feelings and starting finding my voice. Ironically, for 2015 I have made getting my health back my intention for the year. My doctor told me that I have got to start making myself a priority and learn how to put myself first. I have to start saying no and find my voice and figure out a way to some how vomit all this brokenness that lives inside of me. Will I still be loved when I start saying No? Will I still have value if I am not “doing” and taking care of others?
In reading what I’ve written so far it seems like my life must be horrible but really I do have a very good life. I am grateful for the life I have and for getting to this place in my life. It’s just that I am a master performer at pretending and some times I just this veil to fall off me. Thank you for sharing your words..your story of strength has deeply touched me and have a lot to teach me.
Anyone worthy of being in your life will not only still love you once you start saying ‘no,’ they will REJOICE in it. I promise.
Incredibly moving. <3
I didn’t realize this could be done. I’ve wanted my abuser to pay for what he did, but it never happened. There were no report, and the only justice that came was from my own path of healing. This inspires me greatly! Thank you!
I think he IS paying for it. One way or another. xoxo
It’s all about being heard (and at times seen)…so very proud of you both. I went to my grandfather’s memorial service…and said what I needed to at his picture (he was cremated)…most liberating I felt in years. As one therapist said to me when I thought I was crazy for traveling 11 hours to go to my perpetrator’s memorial service, “You need to go to make sure he’s dead…put the nail in the coffin…” It made me giggle…and go.
I dedicate my life to helping survivors find their voice. I’d love for you both to check out my website and the “I Have a Voice” videos. http://www.hopefulheartsministry.com
Blessings
Shannon M. Deitz
First of all, I love your therapist. I will be checking out your website, Shannon. We might need to chat.
Yes, let’s! It’s my soul purpose to help other survivors TELL their story…by having our voice we help others to heal. I have been reading everyone’s comments, stories, etc and it is heartwarming to know your post has led many to finally SPEAK. So much empowerment comes from having our voice.
Check out my personal “I Have a Voice Video” it was filmed two weeks after my journey to my grandfather’s service…it’s a bit raw…*might be a trigger to some…please be cautious*
http://youtu.be/X2Lafso2sWQ
So brave. I haven’t yet had the courage to confront my molester. My husband knows at least but when I finally had the courage to tell my mom when I turned 18 (years later) that I was molested for 5 years by my father, she blew me off basically and I haven’t spoken of it since. (I’m in my 30s now). How do you get the courage to destroy your family? It’s hard enough just to write it here.
Well, I guess the answer to that is- my family was already destroyed. Obviously. And I am so, so sorry you were not believed. I believe you.
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that you were destroying your family, or even that I destroyed mine. I am having trouble imagining what will happen for my mother, my brother, my children, etc. if I say something. I worry about how it will affect them and the idea they have of family. I feel like everyone thinks my dad is awesome and I worry at this point I will just be ruining our “family.”
Nothing truly bad ever comes of shining a light on the truth. There’s a reason you put the word family in quotes. You can only be ready when you are ready. I totally get that.
My family would tell you that I ruined everything when I told. Most of them wouldn’t speak to me today if we met on the street, but that’s okay… I didn’t lose anyone worth keeping. For me it wasn’t a matter of deciding when to talk about it. It was just that one day, I could no longer NOT talk about it.
I’ll tell you what I’ve told so many others, and what I can tell you already know in your heart- your family was already ruined. The truth cannot shatter an intact, healthy family. And I know what you mean- there comes a time when not speaking your truth is no longer an option. Hallelujah. xo
Oh, absolutely! I never saw such as messed up family as the one I came from. I left them 14 years ago. At first I thought, “I’ll miss some things about them, but it has to happen”. Well, I was wrong. I haven’t missed them. Sure, my dad has a great sense of humor, but you know what? LOTS of people have a great sense of humor, and most of them don’t belittle and insult me. And I could say something similar about each of them. I’m not saying life has been perfect in the last 14 years, but it is so much better than the first 36 years… I can’t even describe the difference.
I can’t seem to leave this page. Tears from pain and empathy and amazement. Thank you.
Just, (deep breath)..
Thank you. I had to write down my own report. It was important for me to do so. Thank you.
YES.
Brave! You are brave and inspirational! Just to be treated like you are telling the truth by the officer. He saw you. Listened. Wow! I’ve heard it said that, “Living well is the best revenge”. Keeping living well, and one day you’ll be dancing. Thank you for encourage the rest of us to take another step closer to dancing!
I have no words that will matter except thank you.
“He wrote it down” Those words have me in tears at my desk. I completely understand how powerful a moment that must have been. So courageous!
I have wondered what would have happened had I spoken up earlier.
Thank you so much for sharing your brave hearts.
Facing our truths and embracing that which has made us who we are is empowering. Not only surviving, but thriving makes us stronger than the perpetrator…telling our story again and again, reaffirms that which we overcome…reaching out to others with our story makes us whole. Sending you a hug for your amazing courage and desire to heal. Remember, each time your story is told, you leave a piece of that pain behind and in it’s place, a beautiful gem emerges that becomes the essence of you.
Jen Bartell
Your writing is exquisite. I grieve with you today, and hope this post (and the feedback you receive) is another piece of your healing. Thank you for sharing something so personal, so powerful, so painful – you managed to do it so beautifully. xoxo
POWERFUL. Thank you for sharing.
Stunning – honesty, love, HOPE! You are heroes! And Officer Paul has renewed my faith in law enforcement! Thank you for sharing. We honor your story!
Laura, once again you leave me with tears and amazement. I am so proud of you and happy to know you are lighter than the day before. Hugs!
It gets easier. I have found that after the first time I said it and had the worst panic attack I have ever had. But now if I feel that I can say it to someone and trust in the response it is easier. No panic attack!! I applaud you! There are so many more sisters out there that need to know that no matter how long ago it happened say it. Tell your story. Thank you for being brave! You probably will never know how many lives you just touched and how much this may have freed someone to tell their story. From the bottom of my heart THANK YOU!!!
Thank you for writing this. It moved me to tears and means more than you know. We share similar stories. No one wrote mine down, but I DO have a grave to dance on…off I go.
let me know what song you pick. we are still pondering that one. xo
So powerful. This essay is too.
So powerful and beautiful. Thanks for putting it out there.
As I read with tears running down my face my three year old boy saw your photo and asked, “who are those guys, mama”? I took a deep breath and told him between ragged breathes that you were super hero’s. “What’s those guys powers”? They tell the truth, baby, even when it’s so so hard. Now the next question is obvious and I wasn’t able to give him an answer. “Where’s their super capes”?
Do you have capes? Do you need me to make some and send them cause I sew and I could make you the best super hero cape ever in the world because that’s how brave you are and hero’s need capes. You just let me know, okay?
But there WILL be consequences and there WILL be justice for all that he has done–please know that. What a beautiful thing it is, to start healing. May you feel our Redeemer’s love who bore your burden as His own. He has the balm for your open wounds.
Found you through Momastery. Absolutely brave and beautiful. Keep writing it down!
how awesome for you to speak your truth and release your childhood self from the burden she’s been carrying. I am still so grateful to the God/fate/the universe that Officer Paul was working on that particular day. It was the right time for you and your cousin and sister to start healing, and with a police escort no less. Holding space for you strong women!
There are similarities I can relate to. My cousins and I went through different experiences at the hands of our step-grandfather. He groomed us all for some time – tickling us multiple times through the day when we would be visiting, even though we didn’t like it or want it. Of course the tickling gradually moved to touching inappropriately on the outside of clothing. And when I was 11 my grandparents were at our house watching myself and siblings for the weekend while my parents were away at a conference. He caught me in my room in the morning and touched me under my nightgown—no penetration thank God—but it was traumatizing. I remember glaring at him and his awful blue eyes. I took a shower and cried. It was a couple days before my parents got back (or maybe it was the next day) but by that time my brain was coping by denial….or whatever but I didn’t know how to talk about it or bring it up to my parents. I just remember some time later finding out from my cousin Becky that he touched her too. And we warned our younger sisters and cousins to stay away from him – if he tries to tickle you — FIGHT we said. Somehow, as children we were unable to fight by talking about it to the adults in our lives. I had a dream I stabbed him to death. I hated him. Well, a couple years later my parents were in the middle of a divorce and we had moved to the same town as my grandparents. A different cousin living in Michigan had come forward to her Mom about him touching her when our grandparents were over in MI visiting. She reported it to the police and an investigation was underway. I felt like it was my fault that he had touched my cousin because I wasn’t able to say anything before. Many years later my sister told me he had touched her when she was 5. So that means he had touched her before he touched me. The point is. It wasn’t my fault what he did. Anyway, I finally got the courage to break the silence and I told my brother and my boyfriend on December 30th. The next morning he died of a heart attack. I was incredibly happy. We went to the movies (my brother and I with a friend of ours who had a car and could drive us). I am still glad to this day he died. I cried at his funeral—not out of sadness, but a release and a relief that he was dead. I can totally relate to the sentiment of dancing on someone’s grave, although I haven’t literally done that. I know what it is like to share a bond through trauma with my cousins and I know the joy of celebrating someone’s death.
I was 13 when he died.
You are heard, anonymous. Brave for posting. Mine committed suicide 3 yrs ago. I’ve processed the side of him that was a family member. I don’t know how to process, or even start processing, that my abuser is dead. He can’t hurt me anymore. He can’t see me anymore.
Thank you for pointing out to the rest of us the dangers of not speaking up, and bottling up the pain.
While not easy to hear if one is keeping quiet about your emotional, physical, or spiritual abuse, not speaking up is really silent consent to evil. It harms others. Then, adds guilt to the other pain we feel …constantly!
I am 72 and a male. The sexual abuse I suffered at the hands of my Scoutmaster, as an early adolescent and for several years, I bottled it up and pushed it down inside for a few years.
I behaved like the many, many, many men who are not sharing here and would be wise to do so.
Then, one youth had the courage to cry out about how he’s been wronged. I gained courage from his. I did too.
That teacher / scoutmaster went to jail. I dance on his grave every time I tell my story.
I do again every time I forgive Bob because bitterness and hate of our abusers are simply other forms of prison. And forgiveness is like peeling an onion. It has lots and lots of layers.
By sharing my story and its awful consequences for me and those I didn’t protect because of my silence at every reasonable opportunity, I continue to implore men, whenever I can, to SPEAK UP!
GET FREE! Don’t allow Satan to get away with the pain he’s causing you.
I am so sorry that happened to you, Gary- and so proud of you for speaking your truth when you were ready to do so. Maya Angelou said, “When you know better, you do better.”
Love the quote you used to encourage me! Thank you for your kindness!
You and Mary did more than dancing on the grave could have ever accomplished. You bravely gave voice to a silenced story and opened the door to living in your truth and in freedom. Whenever we find the way and the courage to stand confidently (even just a little confidently) in the full light of truth, we save ourselves and others from the dark. Bless that scribe in a uniform. Bless you for showing up and being willing to do the crazy-brave and right thing that you did, and thank you for writing, empowering your experience, in words for others (even people like me who don’t know you) to read. There are too many women hiding in the dark of the secrets imposed on them in childhood and your story might give others the permission they need to walk towards freedom, too.
Thank you.
Laura. You are by far my favorite commenter on Glennon’s blog. How did I not know you had your own? Never you mind. I am just grateful I know now.
Let us weave that net so you and Mary and Aimee can rest, knowing you are loved.
Healing happens in some of the strangest places. I wish you all a little more healing than you had yesterday. Thank you for sharing your story and reminding us that it is never to late to share ours.
Bravo!!!! Standing ovation for you beautiful, brave souls.
Sometimes truth is not beautiful. But bravery is. Real bravery. This bravery. And the ripples…. staggeringly beautiful.
YES. Rhea, sometimes the truth is so ugly. Bravery never is.
So powerful, to take that step, to speak that terrible truth. I want to call it a triumph; it is justice regardless of the fact that no judge will ever convict, no years behind bars will be served. It is still justice. Love and healing to you all.
You have a gift for putting your thoughts so beautifully into words. I’m thankful that at the time and place you were ready to tell, that God placed the perfect person to listen and write it down. No judgement, just a simple understanding that as victims you were ready to let out all that you had kept in. Thank you, for your courage and strength!
My name is Marche and my grandchildren call me Momelle!
What a brave and courageous truth you lived. The unlived and loss of your story was lived out, with fear and trembling. Compassionate Empowerment changes us and in turn changes the world. So beautiful, so inspiring. Such love.
i am going to pass this on . there are no words for the pain sexual assault causes but our voices must never be sillent.
He woete it down
eaxh of us MUST WRITE it down
Writing it down helps so much, even if you do it yourself. I thought telling my parents about my childhood piano teacher would help. During a college break, I told my mom. She got upset, called her boyfriend over, and when he showed up they went into her room and had loud sex. This was in a small one bedroom apartment. I played piano to cover up their noise. Not what I needed to be doing at that moment, within half an hour of telling my story! Later that week I told my dad. He said that maybe I had allowed it to happen because I liked it. No. My teacher went to school with my grandparents. He had bad breath. He told me my only way to get into college was through him. I got into college on a different instrument. I tried counseling, but never really felt heard. Finally I wrote down my story, and that made all the difference. After that it turned into a piece of my past, not as much a defining part of my present. It is not gone from my memory, but my thoughts on the subject are now much more detached and less visceral.
All those responses were ignorant and WRONG! I’m sorry you didn’t even feel heard by your counselor. That counselor should loose his/her license. It was NOT your fault, you were a child and he was an adult who was charged with caring for you and he didn’t. He took care of his own needs at your expense. I’m so sorry that happened. Please forgive yourself because you did no wrong. A good counselor would help you gain some self-care skills, but it sounds like you are doing that on your own. Good for you. You deserve all good things.
YES. Every single thing she said.
Tremendous. Ginormous. Amazing. thank you.
I don’t know his name…he was a teenager and his family rented the home owned by my family the house was on the same lot. I was under 9 years old! I hope wherever he and his sister are they find peace because this has not affected my adulthood.
Gasp! Rereading my comment and it has affected me…i believed it didn’t but reading this hurts! What awful thing to happen to anyone and i was just a baby…(sigh) i am crying out loud!
I was 6, it was the babysitters daughter. It’s been almost 30 years and I’m just now realizing the effect it had on me.
I don’t know the right thing to say, but I had to say something. You can write and face this with no response. I read it, and my heart aches.
I am so very sorry. You have written it down. You have made a start. So brave.
YES! I am so glad you wrote about not being affected/being affected, This is EXACTLY how I felt. I thought I was over these things, but I was recently confronted with someone living through similar abuse, and it ALL came back. I realize now that those fears from that time affect my choices DAILY. And it makes me so ANGRY.
I’m angry, too. I’m angry for all of us.
WOW! YOU ladies sport bigger cajones than most people can lay claim to. Bravo for your courage and willingness to grow and become outstanding people in spite of what happened to you. I commend you!
http://meaganmcgovern.squarespace.com/imported-20120513033717/2013/7/3/my-mothers-world.html
I bear witness. I honor you. Solidarity.
Bless your hearts for sharing this poignant and powerful story.
Just cheering you on for being so brave, and true, and filled with such grace. What an exquisite piece of writing and message of hope to show many out there who suffer in the darkness. Just so much yes to you, and Mary, and Aimee.
My 8 year old son told a doctor that he was molested by my step-father, but when CPS got involved my son denied it and there was nothing we could do. I feel sure that something went on and hope he’ll tell me about it when he’s ready. Luckily we have moved out of state.
can you do this for me? Can you tell him, every day, that you believe him? Kids don’t lie, as a rule.
He refuses to talk about it. My mother abused him physically and he goes crazy at the mention of their names. He is in therapy because not surprisingly he is prone to anger.
AMEN! I’ve read so many comments…and reading the request to tell him every day that you believe him…opened the floodgates. That’s the healing I need. I need to be told I believe you. WOW–there is healing starting up in this place. Praise the Lord, Christ Jesus saves and restores!
This is astonishingly good. My mother couldn’t write hers down. Too many years of poison and abuse. Too much pain. I wrote down what I could.
http://meaganmcgovern.squarespace.com/imported-20120513033717/2013/7/3/my-mothers-world.html
going and reading it now, Meagan.
I plan on wearing red to the funeral and singing Bob Dylan’s “Masters of War” when my abuser dies. This must have been such a release for these woman. Xo
that is a good fucking song.
Bravo. Literally. To you both, and to Officer Paul Smith.
Impressive! Thank you for having the courage to unite and share. You are a kick ass writer.
Isn’t she?!
My uncle abused me for four summers until I gained so much weight that he found me unattractive. He laid in a nursing home in a vegetative state for years and I could never make myself go and tell him that he what he did to my soul. Over 40 years have passed and I am still haunted. No one ever knew.
I know. You told me. I’m going to write it down.
I am writing it down in the pages of eternity. I am praying for your healing.
I’m writing it down too. All of it for everyone of you.
You are so brave even though you may not feel like it, maybe you do, I hope so because you are. I am grateful that you shared this to the world. I’m grateful that when you turned to Officer Paul that he gave you want you needed and DESERVED. “He wrote it down.” It is on the record. He not only wrote it down, but seems to have given you the time and care this deserved. “He wrote it down.” It’s there. For me he died in 2005. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it then and now I feel more sorrow for him than anger. I feel that I have time, he doesn’t. “He wrote it down.” And it cannot be erased.
Absolutely powerful! Thank you for opening your wounds and your hearts to us. To the world. There are so many of us who have suffered because of others. Writing it down, speaking about it are healing. When I recall the people and situations in my life that hurt me, I try to remember that I was put in that situation for a reason, for a bigger reason in my life, in someone else’s life. I may not know who or why yet, but there is a reason. I can remember but I can’t let the hurt and the wondering why hurt me anymore. To much life to live. Bless you, again for sharing.
What a wonderful police officer. I’m so glad they exist these days. Unfortunately, not all people in police and legal work are that compassionate or understanding. Back when it happened, and even years after, if a young person tried to report such an event, they would be questioned in a blaming and harmful way, required to go through medical tests that were equally abusing and required to testify in court with an actively hostile lawyer on the other side challenging their experience. I’m glad you avoided that part of the reporting! As recently as 5 years ago, this happened to a teen in Montana whose teacher had an “affair” with her. When she reported it, the legal system was abusive and she was blamed by the judge in the case. She eventually suicided and the man of course broke his parole and was given one month in prison for that. The judge was drummed off the bench by public opinion and the offender was re-tried, but that didn’t help the victim. I’m sorry to remind this group that we still have a long way to go before victims of sexual abuse all receive compassion and the care they need. The report by these women was tremendously brave and I’m so glad they found it to be healing.
There is not a doubt in my mind that our experience was not the norm. But this is how things change, yes? Saying things out loud. Having the hard conversations. Looking at the broken pieces. Thank you for saying this. What was that girl’s name? Let’s say it out loud, like a prayer.
Cherice Morales
Thank you! For speaking out when so many still can’t! Your both Amazing!
I am wondering if you have the time to take out of your incredibly brave and shakey and ‘oh my gosh life is cruel but beautiful’ day to send me an email. I have a request for you if you are willing. March on you little warrior!!! XOXO from Montana.
My email address is inotherswordsblog@gmail.com I am waiting to hear from you.
Reblogged this on AMentalHealthHack and commented:
Breath Taking. Thank you Laura <3
I’m so impressed with the police officer who handled the entire process with such respect and honor. I don’t imagine that taking down the report was NECESSARY (in the legal sense) after so many years and since he was dead, but the fact that he did so anyway is obviously such an important act. I’m so glad you guys decided to stop at the police station, and I’m so glad he was the one to take down your words.
LAURA! Just Wow. Your Courage is breathtaking. It is work like this that allows me to keep moving along in my own trauma work. Thank you for sharing your experience and continuing to remind us all that we are not alone. I reblogged to share with my people. Big Love to you and your cousin <3
Gratitude, gratitude gratitude.
LIVE.OUT.LOUD.
Bravery. Thank you for sharing your story. Even though I was not sexually abused as a child I was abused by my first husband. Verbally, mentally, and sexually. Many people have brushed off that a husband can sexually abuse a wife because I was married to him. Well I’m here to say that they can and do. When I got divorced, I waited 10 years to get an annulment in the Church. When I had to go in and “testify” the young man recorded everything and I had to bring in a written testimony. It was very powerful writing it down and telling someone else. My ex-husband didn’t go in in the prescribed time frame so the Monsignor in charge of the “case” ruled that my husband treated me like his personal property, not a human being. I finally felt VALIDATED. It was a feeling that I cannot even put into words. I felt that someone finally had heard me and treated me with dignity. My ex decided to go in and give his testimony then, even though the time limit was past. After he gave his side of things the Monsignor CHANGED his decision basically to say we got married too young. I felt stripped. It’s been 6 years since I went in for the annulment. I received the paper for it, but now it really means nothing to me. How sad that that Monsignor changed his reason for granting it. If he had added that reason to the decision that’s one thing, but he actually changed it. Ingorance. I may write a letter someday to that Monsignor to tell him how discarding my testimony made me feel as a human being. I don’t feel like he treated me with the same respect he gave to a man.
That is maddening. And madness. I am so sorry that happened to you, and so proud that even though you did not get the outcome you deserved, you SPOKE YOUR TRUTH. xo
I am so sorry that things happened that way. It is absolutely disgusting that the Monsignor did a 180 on you. Please don’t let the fact that the annulment got an official okay mean nothing — he got it right the first time. I have a little familiarity with the process and know that it’s not designed to be easy, but to have done this to you is so wrong. But you got it, and you know why, and now so many more of us know why.
Having worked for “the church,” I’m sorry to say that your last sentence has a 99% likelihood of being true.
I don’t know what to say except I support you and can feel the relief of someone taking this seriously. On your team!
Reblogged this on BraveGirl Coaching and commented:
Trigger Warning: sexual assault mentioned, not described
Thank you for writing this. Thank you for reporting it so many years after it happened. Yes, there is no re-opening wounds that never closed. I was six when it happened to me. I didn’t realize I’d been blaming myself for it until I was 35 and my daughter was six. Every time we write about it, we give someone permission to do the same…to release themselves of that crushing weight. Big hugs to you and love on your journey.
I only wish the Catholic Church took these reports as seriously as Officer Paul did when their victim survivors found the strength to tell their stories after many years of suppression. Acknowledgement by “writing it down” is so much better than hiring lawyers and spending millions of dollars to fight these brave survivors in court. Shameful indeed compared to Officer Paul’s interest in helping you girls heal.
You ladies are amazing. I don’t know that I would have been able to share something like this if it happened to me. I was blessed with an amazing Aunt who shared a similar story with me and I feel so honored that she trusted me with her pain. Thank you for trusting all of us and thank you to Officer Paul – what an amazing man. A tribute to the badge for sure!
I have never written mine down, and doubt that I ever will. I still feel guilty that I didn’t tell my parents when it was happening. Go figure.
Tell me. Start there. My email address is inotherswordsblog@gmail.com I will listen.
I hope you read my post below. I never told anyone either….until today. I wrote it down here.
Connie, I read your post. I have a couple of thoughts. You saying, “it wasn’t rape” seems as though you think we are in the Hardship Olympics. We are NOT. Honey, you do not have to out-suffer me. I hear your story. It HAPPENED. I am right here with you. You SURVIVED. Well done, you.
It was my step grandfather back in the late 1950’s early 1960’s. I was under 10 years old. I never told anyone at the time. It lasted for a few years. He and my grandma were only married about 7 years. They never divorced but he moved out and they continued to see each other everyday, so I saw him all the time until he died in 1977. I never wanted to have anything to do with him during all those years. My dad and stepmom saw him a lot too. My mom and her brothers never liked him. I should have told someone but I was ashamed. It was not rape, but fondling me and him putting my hand on him….and French kissing. He said he was doing that to make my grandma jealous. He would call to her in the kitchen and tell her he was making her jealous. So yes, I think she knew what was going on, but I think it might have happened to her when she was a little girl and she thought it was somehow ok .I’m so glad that I never lost my love for her. That would have killed her. I should have told someone. I’m 64 and have never told anyone before today. Not even my hubby. I am writing it down here with you all. Maybe I’ll feel better now.
Connie you are a survivor. You are brave. You are worthy.
You shared your story with us today and I am so glad you did. Please don’t feel alone. You’ve taken a step into the light by sharing this and there are so many of us survivors standing next to you in that light.
Connie, I hear your story and I validate you and your bravery for telling it. Blessings on you, sister.
Thank YOU for writing it down! Powerful, heartbreaking, and inspiring all at once. Thank you.
Within a similiar context..
i wanted to divorce both of my parents.
I was that angry.
Then a child star beat me to this action and became the first one to do so.
I still thought about the need for action, while keeping my motives in sight.
I told others what was happening to me.
I heard from many to let go; of course no one i told had similiar experiences or they were like loyal soldiers putting on a front.
I confronted my parents who replied that ‘others had it so much worse’ and i was just ‘feeling sorry’ for myself. Much later on i found out that both of my parents did have it much worse and had lived in silence and also repeated this abuse…that was what they were taught…they did not know different…they had just passed abuse down…oh that is hard to swallow.
Then one day i found myself at one of my parents funerals. It had taken every ounce of a friends courage for me to just show up and stand there and come face to face with one who had brought me into this world and was now stone cold silent.
My anger had become like malicious rust. I wanted so badly to give the shame and hurt back or it at least to run it over but found it still alive in my rearview mirror… what about that would biblically ‘honor my father or mother?’
Instead i gave myself a gift…to leave that chain there…to be free.
Walking away and knowing better and teaching my children different and creating a new family legacy of seeing and hearing and honoring one another is enough. I walked away in peace. I am sharing the gift of this peace right now, for the first time. I believe i honored truth that my family had yet to be able to.
Thank you for sharing your story…you gave me permission to share by doing so!
Here’s what I have found myself saying OVER AND OVER AND OVER. This is not the Hardship Olympics. Just because someone else had it “worse” doesn’t mean your story isn’t worth telling. Nobody wins in that contest.
I think the point is missed and maybe it was my error for trying to jam my story into a few minutes before i had to run out the door to wear my taxi driver hat.
What was the worst was my parent did not ‘rest in peace’ by sharing, seeking and letting go of life taking secrets.
Because i did theses things i can LIVE in peace as well as rest.
I found compassion for my parents.
I see where abuse started in my family shame chain.
I am grateful to be released from what bound me.
I made it to the other side.
I am a new creation.
Oh. Sweet sister. YES.
I was molested by our neighbor from the age of 8 until I was 11 (I am 36). I never disclosed. He committed suicide 3 years ago and I often thing about visiting his grave, perhaps to dance, perhaps to pray, perhaps a little bit of both.
Dancing, praying…. same/same?
I am sobbing at the gift the officer gave to you guys. He wrote it down! How many more of us are there out there who just need to report a crime – and have the officer write it down? Thank you for telling the story.
The headline to this story took my breath away…but I still felt compelled to read on. Something old and almost forgotten stirred in me. Seems dancing on a grave might be a victim’s way of saying “you can’t hurt me anymore!”
I too, thought dancing on his grave would somehow bring me JOY. How many of us are there…I wonder? Victims of those who were supposed to love and protect us…
How beautiful the healing that comes when the Truth comes to Light! Only God can bring such beauty from the ashes. May HE strengthen and bless all (those who are injured/broken and those who deeply care and encourage them). May you now – dance in the light of freedom from your past!
I’d love to have you guest blog on my site. I write through the lens of recovery and deal with issues of sexual abuse/incest/addiction/recovery. I have a lot of woman asking questions and coming clean with their own abuse. This would be such a brilliant resource for them to feel heard, validated. Please check out this entry for more info on my work and let me know if you’re interested. Thanks so much. Matt Bays
http://mattbayswriter.com/past-away/
I am interested.
Matt- Thank you for continuing to put traction on this, to me, most important issue. I hope to see this and more of your work up 🙂
amgregory…you are welcome. it’s difficult to get anyone talking about these things…and men really struggle to come forward. Blog articles like this one give people a “safe place” to hear another story if they are not ready to tell their own, while building up courage because they realize they are not alone, crazy, they weren’t complicit with their abuser. These words just tore me up yesterday, yet I couldn’t be more grateful for them.
my abuser is my big brother … you know, the one you should be able to trust … to be there for his little sister. I told my parents when i was 16 and he admitted it but also said i asked for it. I was only 5 when it started … i didnt know what IT was, so how could i have asked for it. he finally left me alone when i got my period at 14. My mum told me i wasn’t allowed to tell anyone else… as it was my fault anyway. She stilll does not believe me an wants us all to be together again as one big fake happy family. He’s got his own daughter now and teaches 5 and 6yr olds. Still waiting to truly tell my story… but will wait until my parents pass away… then i will yell it to the world … thats my plan anyway … if i can be as brave as you!……………………… for now i just keep on hiding and hoping he isn’t hurting anyone else……………
mouse, I don’t know if I have the right to reply to this, not having been in your situation, but please — he has a little girl. He is teaching small children. People do not simply stop abusing children — they keep going until someone stops them. Please tell. Please report him. Maybe Laura can help you figure out what you might be able to do with this.
I wish i could …
Oh, baby. You asked for exactly nothing.
Please. This happened to my friend too. And my mother. And her adopted sister. It will continue to be common if we are silent. So many of my friends have told me about their own sexual abuse. It is unacceptable. Even I was molested. I told my mother. She wouldn’t and still won’t believe it- even though it happened to her. You have to stop the cycle. And find new family who supports you. Family doesn’t have to be blood relatives. It’s whoever cares and wants to be there to support you. I’ve given up my relationship with my mother, and it truly is freeing.
Please don’t keep it to yourself. There are so many potential victims that you could save from the atrocity. My son was abused by the son of a daycare provider. We never doubted him and went all the way to court. He still deals with residual issues as a young adult despite years of therapy when we found out. The thing that makes me so sad is that abuser as an adult just recently was arrested for multiple felonies related to the same abuse. They could have been prevented. We did everything we could and have no regrets or guilt. If you know he is a risk to other children you will be crushed to find out he is still victimizing. This us just my humble opinion. God bless.
i can’t … i have no energy to fight this. i have so little of me to put out there, so i save what i have to be the best mother for my children. i wish there was a way i could without my family knowing that i was the one to step up.. they will crush me more than they already do. i shrink away from confrontation, as abuse was a daily part of my childhood, accompanied by another brother who was violent. not now, not yet … one day i will find the strength.
Girl, in the words of Oprah Winfrey in The Color Purple “You oughta bash Mister’s head and think about heaven later!” My point is, as Anne Lamott has said, “If people wanted us to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.” WILL it hurt the family? Yes. WILL it screw things up? Definitely. But Mouse…you must tell your story. It is not your job to protect your family. Start with a therapist first. And you may never need to speak with your family about it…because they may not be worthy of your story (YOUR TRUTH)…but that doesn’t mean you have to hide it…those days are over. Hoping you get some help to walk through all of this. Hiding it will only increase the shame and put way to much responsibility on your to keep the peace.
YES. Everything Matt said. your ONLY job in this, Mouse? Is surviving. And I don’t think you are a mouse. I think you are a lioness.
I love that Anne Lamott quote.
my therapy is my painting .. though when i get interviewed for my exhibitions i can not tell the true meaning behind my art work. The truth that i would love to be able to let free…
mouse, I don’t know if you will see this or not, but I will be holding you in prayer. You are in a painful situation and hanging on as best you can. Having suffered from depressing for decades, I think I have at least some grasp of the “this is all the energy I have” state of being.
Something you might want to consider — in our state, I’m almost positive that you can report anonymously, or at least in confidence. You might want to call your local Child Protective Services and ask them if that is possible. I am NOT trying to badger you into doing something for which you are not yet strong enough, only thinking that you might be able to get some information or lay the groundwork for the time when you feel more ready.
Even it you aren’t able to report at this time, HE is responsible for the damage he is inflicting, not you. Have you been able to talk to someone else at all about this for support? Maybe an online group? My heart aches for you.
mouse, I am glad that painting helps. One day you will get to the next step, and until then, paint away. I am glad you posted again, because out of all of these sad stories, yours caught my heart particularly. It’s not a matter of comparing one story to another’s – I have read almost all of these – but something about yours…I don’t know. I’m happy to have found it again, because I wanted to tell you that I have been praying for you.
I am crying. I am sat here on my couch at home, crying. God bless you both. From one who survived to another who survived, God bless richly. Also Officer Paul, who wrote it down. God bless him so very much too.
Thank you for sharing this story
Thank you for this incredible story. WOW!
I don’t read blogs. I don’t search for things like this on the internet. My wife likes to text me links to things that may “help” me sort out the chaos from my past. Admittedly, most of the time I don’t actually read them. I am kind of a jerk that way. For some reason I read this post, not sure why, but I did. This in turn, lead me to read several of your others on this topic. I am 33 y/o. I am a husband, father, son, and brother. I am paramedic. I ride a motorcycle. I shoot guns. I build custom chainsaws. My friends tell me I can be intimidating. I tell them I am an ego-maniac with an inferiority complex. I am a recovering addict. I am a fixer. I’m a know it all. I am a victim of sexual abuse. I starting “working” on this part of my past within the last year. My “monster” is also my grandfather. He is still living. Makes for some interesting circumstances when I start setting these “healthy boundaries” that people keep telling me about. I can definitely relate to the shame. I have spent my life thinking that this thing inside of me was so insidious that I couldn’t possibly put that ugliness on anyone else. Besides, who would believe me now? How would that change the way the world sees me? My son would then view me as less of a man. That is how this disease has kept me sick. It has tricked me into thinking that telling on it will make it worse. I heard someone say ” what grows in the dark, will surely die in the light” This has grown in me for years and years. It has consumed every aspect of my life. It has ingrained in me the true meaning of hopelessness. I know that there is a ton of work to do on my part. I find myself truly terrified at times. Terrified at what memories will come back now. Since I started working on this, my memory has went into overdrive recounting things that I had forgotten and buried decades ago. The details don’t seem as bad as the feelings and emotions that come with them. My shrink says the only way out, is through. I have put my complete trust into her, so I am going with it.
To make a long story short, Thank You. Thank you for having the courage to write so openly about what has happened to you. Thank you for letting me read your story. Thank you for sharing hope. Boy that is something that can be in short supply. I admire the strength you have. You story has given a boost in the “faith” area. One of the things I try to do these days is express my gratitude. I am afraid I can’t put into words the amount of hope I get when I see that other people have made it to the other side of this. So again, Thank you for sharing this with me.I think I will start to read those little links my wife sends me. (Bless that wonderful woman)
Oh. Danny. I do not actually know what to say to you, right now. I am going to sit. And pray.
I am really proud of you.
That’s all I’ve got right now.
In some circumstances words are not necessary. I find solace in simply knowing there is someone else out there that understands what I can not always put into words. The paradox is that I also hurt for you (and anyone else) who has had to bear such a horrible thing. I am grateful for having “met” you even if only through a few short messages.
With you too, bro. I understand, I’ve been there. Honestly, Danny…my years from 28-35 took the deepest toll negatively on me. All the memories and questions stung the most during those years. I couldn’t get away from them, so I drank. Stay with your therapist and remember that when it feels absolutely out of control, that’s when you are probably closer than ever to a breakthrough. (on a side note…don’t drink too much 🙂 …really slowed down my progress.)
Danny I stand in solidarity with you as a survivor of sexual abuse. I am holding space in my heart for you and your pain and your recovery.
I hope it is okay that I’m sharing here on a blog that is not my own. But I’m just so overcome by everyone and I’m inspired to keep our stories shouting out loud and clear. I think together the shame can finally be placed on our abusers instead of owned by us. Danny, I am so proud of your strength and moved by your words. I would love for you to check out this site: http://triggerpointsanthology.com . I learned of them when I shared my own story at http://thecounterstool.me . They are looking for people to share their stories. They’ve been reaching out to men because as you say, your wife is the one who usually reads and shares these with you. Maybe things all happen for a reason. I’m holding you in a loving space. Thank you
Danny.. saying a prayer for you tonight 🙂
Thank you for the kind words.
Danny, something you said here really stuck to me. You referred to believing your son would think of you as less than a man. I think so many men feel or have felt like that. I am currently working on a project for survivors who are mothers and fathers. I would very much like for you to join our community and considering submitting an essay to our project. We need fathers like you! Even if you are not interested, I would love the opportunity to talk to you more about what it is like for fathers, as we have had very few men reach out to us. Here is the link to our Facebook page. You can learn more about the anthology and reach out via email if you have any interest at all in talking more in private. Thank you so much for you response here…many are reading it and your bravery is contagious. ~Dawn
https://www.facebook.com/TriggerPointsAnthology
Dawn,
I will check out that link sometime later today. I am probably the last person on the planet that isn’t too familiar with facebook, but I’ll give it a shot. I also drive a snow plow truck, so the weather has kept me very busy the last few days. It is 2:30 am here and I am getting ready to go out again. I tend to be overcome with anxiety when I start to talk about this topic so I have been trying to practice “baby steps” maybe talking to you first would be a good way to ease into it. I will contact you and we can start there. Thank you for your kind words.
Danny,
One in 3 girls will be abused before their 18 birthday, and 1 in 5 boys. This translates into millions of young men struggling with the after effects. Millions of young macho athletic boys have been molested by their coaches, agents and other people involved in their sport training and careers. This doesn’t make them less macho or less manly. They were still children whose trust was violated and lives shattered. I hope you find the courage to tell your son. It is only through education and information and letting him know that this can be talked about in the light of day, that he will a) know abuse when he sees it , and b) have the voice, the words and the haven to speak should it ever happen to him. Don’t deny him that. I didn’t find out about my children’s decade long abuse from their father/step father until my youngest daughter turned 18. It shattered the entire family. Every life was turned inside out. One son withdraw-no admission no denial but a history of self mutilation. The eldest son (his bio son) seems to have dissociative personality and the daughter has severe PTSD and is suicidal. There is nothing left of my family. Nothing. I never knew. I never suspected.
The statement I made in my initial comment about my son thinking less of me is a thought I have fought with since the day I became a father. The only thing I have ever experienced in my life, that has had a greater effect on me than my childhood, is my drive to protect my child from any harm that may come his way. By the grace of my higher power I managed to have a conversation with him almost a year ago. He doesn’t know all the details now, but they are not relevant. He knows in very clear terms what happened to me. I chose not to mix words or find an “acceptable” way to describe what we were talking about. I spent quite a bit of time trying to decide what I would have needed to hear, as a child, to feel safe enough to tell my parents. So it prompted a very open line of communication between the two of us. Part of the reason I didn’t talk about it as a child is because I didn’t know how to say it. My son will never be at that same loss for vocabulary. I am sure there is a long list of mistakes I have made as a parent, but two things my child knows with certainty: he is loved, truly loved and that I will protect him until the last breath of life leaves my body.
Danny, as I am sure you know, those uncomfortable conversations- while not a fail-safe against abuse- are your child’s very best protection against something similar happening. Good job.
It is not your fault…I feel so badly for moms and dads who had no clue and then wind up feeling responsible. These people are GOOD at what they do. They know how to choose their victims, how to hide things, how to make it look innocent, how to make you feel like you’re jumping to conclusions or going crazy. Don’t place blame where it doesn’t belong. I’m so sorry.
It is not your fault…I feel so badly for moms and dads who had no clue and then wind up feeling responsible. These people are GOOD at what they do. They know how to choose their victims, how to hide things, how to make it look innocent, how to make you feel like you’re jumping to conclusions or going crazy. Don’t place blame where it doesn’t belong. I’m so sorry.
Beautiful story! Shared. 🙂
I am survivor as well, abused by a family member too. I want to thank you and your wonderful cousin a thousand times for doing this and sharing this. Then I want to give Officer Paul the biggest hug ever given because we need more Officer Paul’s in this world.
Thank you for sharing your story; beautiful craftsmanship in your writing. You and your cousin chose to be so brave. Seeing the healing that is coming out of it through reading the comments is touching. “The truth will set you free…”
This is so incredibly powerful!! I adore these two brave women and their courage. I’ve walked a similar path and know the incredible courage it takes to do what they did. Reading this brought instant tears to my eyes, I sobbed like a baby. It took me nearly 30 years to do this very same thing. The difference was that my abuser was my best friends grandfather. I decided I would finally report the abuse when I found out from my friend that he was on his death bed. I didn’t want him to die thinking he got away with it. I knew nothing would happen to him, but it was for me and my recovery, not for him or any punishment. It took every bit of courage I had to walk in to that police station and report it. I shook like a leaf and was nauseous. The police officer almost refused me because of the SOL laws in NH, but thank fully had to do it because it happened in California where I grew up not NH where I live now. He wrote it out reluctantly and it was faxed to Los Angeles County SVU. Thankfully the officer in LA was very kind to me. He said ” I’m sorry there is nothing we can d, he is dying, but I want you to know that I’m sorry this happened and I want you to know, I believe you.” I sobbed on the phone and thanked him. His words meant more to me than words can ever say. I can’t explain exactly what happens to you when these things happen, sexual abuse but it changes you forever. Something dies inside of you that can never be fully returned. This is part of what I want people to understand when it comes to these things and reporting especially in cases like Bill Cosby where it takes the victim 30 years to report it. It takes as long as it takes for us to find the courage and face the incredible pain we feel and usually incredible shame as well. It’s not something we are raised to talk about, nor do we really want to talk about. It’s our dark secret that we hold dear to our heart and carry with us wherever we go. This is why even if nothing can be done and even if the person is already dead the victim should be able to have and officer take down the report, then tell them I’m sorry this happened to you and most importantly say to them “I believe you.” No victim should ever have that huge step in recovery taken from them.
This was so, so beautifully poignant. Shared on The Mama Bear Effect’s Facebook page. I’m sure our followers will appreciate this!
Wow. WoW. WOW! Bless you for tearing your dignity out of the clutches of shame. Rock on, sister!!!
I intend to do just that, Julie! xo
You are a wonder. I found your blog via Momastery, and saw your mention of Kintsukuroi in another post & I would love to send along – privately – something about that concept…can you see my email address?
I can. My email address is inotherswordsblog@gmail.com Thank you, Kayla.
How wonderfully brave you both are. I am not there and am not sure that will ever be, but you both give me hope.
I have so much love and admiration for you. And that officer… wow. We need more officers like him! From one survivor to another, I salute you!
After 30 years of pretending and 2 years of lots and lots of therapy, I have forgiven my abuser… my big brother…It took him ruining his own life to push me to the point where I was brave enough to shout all of the reasons why outloud. Whose life is this? Who has to say these things and then learn to find peace with them? Well its my life. It was me that had to admit the things my big brother and his friend did to me. But now? Our family is whole and healed but broken at the same time because my brother’s abuser who started all of this is still denying any of it happened. I am sad that the cycle of abuse might not break because that man is too sick and broken to deal with what he did. I am blessed that people finally listened and I have peace. Bless the officers and teachers and families and friends who believe the abused and give then a soft place to land.
Yes. Bless them indeed.
I wish someone had validated what happened to my mother before she died. She was told to keep quiet because it will “upset the family”. The thought that she died with this pain still in her heart is unbearable to me right now. Thank you for sharing your story… just beautiful.
I don’t know how I stumbled on this. I was abused from the age of 6 until I was 10. I have only recently found the courage to talk about it. I have never written about it. My mother knew but she won’t talk about it. I thought for years I was alone in my crazy world. When I was 38 I found out my sister was molested too. She is in prison. My family fractured.
Chills. Reading this gave me chills. Thank you for being brave. Brave at the police station, and brave here. Blessings on your head.
I have read this twice today with tears streaming down my face. I have things to say but thinking about writing them makes more tears and trembles and makes me feel like I have a big weight of sadness in my heart. But, I did want to say, that I read this, I found it beautiful and it affected me. Thank you.
When you are ready to tell me, I will LISTEN.
Seriously powerful story with an amazing message about healing. The power of the line “And then I would have ARRESTED him” (sic) has amazing potential to empower those coping with assault in the present and recent past. Thank you for sharing.
I have been sitting here staring at this comment box for a while, trying to decide what to do, write it down or just keep it inside still… The truth is for years I haven’t been sure I could call it anything or not and honestly I’m still not sure really. At 15-16 yrs old you think you should be old enough to say no and not let it happen, to get yourself out of the situation and because you didn’t or couldn’t get out of it you CAN’T call it anything because it was your fault… you were old enough to stop him. I dated a guy that was couple of years older than me and he liked sex. I had never had it before and was curious of course, but really wasn’t ready for that, I was good waiting. I was good with kissing and so was he, until he wasn’t anymore. He started getting really angry when things kept stopping at kissing and that anger quickly escalated while we were alone at his house. The first time he started having a pretty provocative convo with another girl online right in front of me, I got upset and asked him to drive me home. He flipped out, starting yelling in my face, throwing things, punched the wall right next to me and started grabbing me I was so scared I was just kind of paralyzed and didn’t stop him because I didn’t know what he was going to do if I tried. I was crying and I told him I didn’t want to have sex, he yelled and punched the wall again and before I knew it sex was over and I told him to take me home. The next time it was oral sex, he used his anger, rage and fear to make me give him what he wanted and once again out of sheer fear I did what he wanted. I was so ashamed, embarrassed and scared, I didn’t say anything to anyone. I called him after the second time and I told him to never get ahold of me again and he didn’t thankfully. I am still ashamed and embarrassed and 17 years later I still haven’t told anyone, not even my Husband, just typing it out here brings enough anxiety on it’s own. I still struggle with it all the time, it’s not something that ever just goes away, it haunts you. It sucks. I hate him so much for it. I dislike myself for not stopping him. If only we could go back in time!
Thank you so much for sharing your story with us, and to everyone else who has also shared theirs, it gave me that giant nudge I needed to finally tell someone even if I don’t know any of you, but I think that’s what helps. Praying you all sleep more peacefully tonight after getting it out, after writing it down.
Coersion=Rape. You said 15 or 16 is old enough to get yourself out of a situation or say “No.” Honey- you DID say no. You said no. And you were scared. Next time you are around a 15 year old girl- pay close attention. They are BABIES. They don’t even know what they don’t know. Please extend a little grace to younger you. And maybe look into getting some help. You should not have to carry this heavy thing. xo
What they said.
Sixteen is really young – but also, for anyone, in a brand new situation, there’s a lot of shock. The idea that somehow you are just magically going to know what to do and how to do it and how to do it in a way to protect yourself is expecting an awful lot. Also, you describe him as angry and violent – think for a moment that your instincts might have been protecting you. You got out of it with your skin intact. Maybe that seems pretty hollow, but it’s real.
My Uncle. I hate him. I invited him to my wedding last year. I didn’t want to hurt my cousins feelings or his wife’s. It was only touching: small mercies. I let him so do it so he’d leave my little sisters alone. He got to them anyway. I hate him.
My parents know. His sister knows. We kept quiet so my grandma wouldn’t know, it would have killed her. She’s died but we still keep quiet. They prayed. It might have worked.
One sister says she has forgiven him. The one I managed to protect a bit.
I can’t. I want to tell him everyone knows. I want to watch him squirm and see him collapse and suffer and die under the guilt. Thats vengeance though not healing. He’s a damaged man. I know that now. In some sense I knew it then.
I have a loving gentle husband, I have moved on. I still hate him. I want to hurt him for what he did to my sisters. I pray that they have escaped from the cycle. He was my first abuser. I did not feel I owned my body for many years. I let it belong to others who took it. I pray my little sisters had a better role model.
Thank you to everyone who stands witness, to everyone who writes it down.
My heart is breaking, not just over this beautifully written blog, but for all of the women who are posting comments here saying, “Me too! It happened to me too!”
You and Mary have done something here that is so brave and validating. Thank you for writing about it and sharing. I attempted to make a report years ago but unfortunately, it wasn’t received the way your story was. It was discouraging. Maybe again one day. This is most definitely a motivator to get me to that place again. What’s worse is my abuser went and found himself some Jesus juice, drank it right down and is now seen as a pillar of the community. I would be a villain if I spoke up…Someday I won’t give a shit. FYI…You’ve really made a mark with this piece. My partner shared it on our survivor community Fb page and it has been viewed almost 500 times. Just thought you would like to know that. YOUR STORY MATTERS TO US ALL! ~Dawn
Your story matters to me, Dawn. I’m sorry you didn’t have an Officer Paul. I am looking forward, with joy, to the day you no longer give a shit. I no longer give a shit. xo
You matter and there is healing. It’s not about sex but about power. Know you are not alone!
Dawn, your story breaks my heart, it took me 30 years and many battles with drugs and alcohol before I told anyone what happened to me. I applaud you for breaking your silence and your work on Facebook. I honestly don’t want to push or pressure you into anything you’re not ready to do. I totally understand your reluctance to be “the villain”, but please consider that Jerry Sanduski was once thought of as “a pillar of the community”. Studies show that most serial perpetrators spend as much time “grooming” the community as they do “grooming” their victims. The “Jesus Juice” you mentioned may just be a way for him to gain access to potential new victims.
Whatever you choose to do, I send all the strength and support you need. It may be additional motivation to surround yourself with friends and other survivors when you do reach “that place”. Please feel free to contact me via FB or directly at my email midwestmalethriver@yahoo.com
R. Carl Hart
BoD JustTell.org
BoD NAASCA.org
Dawn,
That’s even more of a reason to speak out. You would not be a villain! You would possibly be a hero. I can’t say what the heart of your abuser is, but what if he’s just playing the part and is a danger to others because he “seen” as a pillar in the community. You are important and what happened to you is important to be told. Get you some closure sweet girl.
~Angela
To drink the Jesus Juice may change his future and how he chooses to live, but it does not change his past and for that, there is a consequences, He needs to take accountability for his sin and the ripple effect sexual abuse has. Besides, you have no idea if his “holy roller” status is a license for him to take advantage of more victims as a “person of trust”
Oh Angela I feel that I would be seen as a hero in the right company, but truth be told most around him, including his mother and other family know what he did. They choose to look the other way. I spoke out years ago and once again wasn’t believed. Even had a DA tell me the case would be too difficult to prosecute. I’m one in many that will just have to wait to dance on his grave.
Jesus hates abuse and your abuser has no excuse for it. If he truly was a Christian he would feel conviction and admit fault. Otherwise he is a liar and a hypocrite, another thing Jesus hates. Any church that would support an abuser is a false one. I am so sorry that this is your experience.
I agree on all points but one. The Church (not a church) should definitely support the abuser. That support should be to help him take responsibility for his actions, to authentically apologize for his despicable crimes and to accept whatever punishment our society doles. One of the biggest challenges a person who has survived abuse faces is understanding the balance between justice and forgiveness. Justice is met by our society, forgiveness is offered to set the victim free. It doesn’t lessen the abhorrence of the abuse, but if offers real relief from the burden of hate.
I hear what you are saying. And I know, in my heart, that justice and forgiveness mare not the same thing. And that no abuser was born. They were all crafted.
If he truly got some Jesus juice, then he will understand that these things need to be addressed and he will seek forgiveness. Don’t be afraid to speak up. If he is just playing the role of Christian, then perhaps your testimony will still save others.
I wouldn’t think you were a villain. The people who would see you that way are as evil as the person who did that to you.
The people who would look at you as a villain are as evil as the person who abused you.
Dawn,
I beg you to try again to tell your story. Don’t wait until you don’t give a shit. That day will never come. Do it for yourself and do it for the victims current and future. Because there are undoubtedly both. One big reason sexual predators find religion is to create a facade of respectiblity behind which to continue their hunt and to open new avenues of access to victims. Tell until the right person hears you. They are closer than you think.
Dawn,
Your story MATTERS. I am so deeply sorry that your reach out was met with anything less than sympathy, acceptance, and compassion. It is troublesome that this individual is hiding under his cloak of lies but that is all they are, lies. In all honestly you are probably not the only victim and there are others out there. Maybe someday, somehow, another will speak up and start a landslide. I know personally that it takes a long time to no longer give a shit but when you do get there it is so immensely freeing. May your powers of strength, love, and grace multiply in vast quantities until one day you’ll realize you don’t give a shit too. Having that moment takes all of his power away and you’ll be free of his lies. Until then please know, you’re surrounded by those who love you and your combined strength is your best shield. Have peace…
Rebekah
Dawn, If your abuser really has drank the Jesus juice and is a true believer, one of the first things he should have done is come to you and beg forgiveness. And he should have done it knowing there was the possibility that you would spit in his face and unload all the pain and rage for what he stole from you; knowing that you might tell him that you will never forgive him. He should have done it anyway. I hope that you have someone that you can unburden all your pain to. I’m just now beginning the process. Until I started putting pen to paper and telling what happened to me, I didn’t understand how important is was for me to do so.
It takes a lot to come forward. It’s putting yourself out there to feel vulnerable when we somehow blame ourselves even though we shouldn’t. It’s a dirty feeling, a sickening feeling that was given to us survivors from our attackers. I was fortunate enough to come forward right away and had a wonderful officer as well. In my case, I was a freshman in college and I was just sitting on my front porch when I was attacked from behind. I cannot tell you all the years of feeling scared and petrified knowing this person was out there but never caught. Then 17 years later, March 2011… My attacker was booked on another charge Andy new law to get your cheek swabbed for DNA, was just put in place in January 2011. His DNA was matched with 3 women in the system. They know they were more women that either did not report it, or did not make it out alive. Do you have all rapist was now named Curtis Boyd. There was now a name to this monster.
I had known since 2005 that I had that there were two other girls and that we all match the same DNA… Police just didn’t know whose DNA. He denied it for almost 2 years while he awaited his trial. He asked for a plea deal 3 days before his trial was to begin for all 3 of us together ready to testify against him. None of us had knew our attacker and we were attacked a few years from each other. But we were a common thread as survivors and we were ready to see him get finally get justice on Earth. It was hard. It’s still hard sometimes, but I feel stronger with every moment I volunteer for PEACC, with every word I speak to advocate standing up against sexual violence. Everyone heals in different ways. For me, I heal by knowing I’m helping others. That volunteering at PEACC give me true peace. To speak and tell my story, knowing I could help just one person come forward or educate gives me such healing. In my opinion, just because we don’t talk about it, doesn’t mean we don’t feel it and see it and know that it’s happening. The more that survivor speak up for the voiceless… The more the voiceless can find their voice.
I want to say that out of my experience… I am now very good friends with the police officer, Detective Anne Cohen (sex crimes) who caught my attacker. Our friendship is one light that has come out of this tragic experience. So, I heal by knowing that I can use my negative as a positive to make a difference. That my life matters and my truth can help others.
In late summer 2013 he was finally sentenced to 33 years in prison. 11 years for each one of us. This was the beginning to my soul healing. Almost 20 years… I am now on a mission to help other survivors and keep helping with the It’s On Us campaign… Paying it forward. That is what’s right for me.
IT’S ON US to use our Green Dot!
yes, it happened to me too, by my grandfather. Oh how I hated him for wrecking me, and our family. We were never the same after that. Gone were the wonderful, absolutely wonderful weekends I would spend with my grandmother. He denied it all after it came out. My life at home had always been difficult and I had always looked forward to staying at my grandparents house on the weekends. Until that happened. I missed my grandmother so much. She was elderly and had never driven a car in her life. So she couldn’t come to see me. I struggle with so much hate in my heart. The only time I could see my grandmother was at church. And he was sitting right next to her. I pray for God to remove this bitterness from my heart. I have been praying this prayer for a very long time. I am a pastor’s wife, and I love the Lord. But I still struggle greatly.
Praying for you. I am also a pastor’s wife and hurt is real for us all but sadly I think most pastor’s wives think they need to be super-human, we aren’t. Your pain is your pain and God is carrying you through it until you and your heart are ready to move on from it. Please do not feel guilty for the struggle but empowered that God is using you to reach others and connect with them in a way that only you can! God bless you.
Dear Lunalou,
The brokenness that has been brought upon you by your grandfather is far more than anyone should have to bear–especially as a young girl who was betrayed by a trusted loved one. But I have great news for you: God has provided a magnificent way to escape the bitterness you bear toward this man. As a pastor and missionary, I have come to know a couple who are now dear friends, Bruce and Toni Hebel, to whom He has given a ministry they call Forgiving Forward. They have ministered throughout the U.S. as well as in Europe, Aftica, Israel, and South America through their Forgiving Forward conferences. It’s a very powerful ministry of freedom and release, and literally 1,000s of folks have experienced God’s ministry of freedom in their lives through Bruce and Toni. They’ve also written a book titled, Forgiving Forward. I have personally witnessed the power of God’s forgiving ministry in the U.S. and Romania with Bruce and Toni. I urge you to at least look into this for your own healing, and decide for yourself. I have no personal interest in the FF ministry. I simply share this with you as a brother in Christ, because I have witnessed its power both personally and in the lives of others whom I know and love. God keep you, I pray, in the gentle warmth of His loving care.
LunalouI just want to tell you, and anyone else who is struggling to forgive, that it’s ok! forgiveness does not happen over night, it’s a process. Some one once said to me that forgiveness is you choosing to accept the consequences another person inflicted upon you. Yes you wil struggle with bitterness, and that is totally valid! but you are trying to forgive and remove the bitterness, which means you have already started down that path and God will see you through to the end. I am personally amazed and blessed by the courage and openness really all of you have shared. To dance on someones grave who hurt me like that. I couldn’t even imagine the depths of that physical hurt. and yet you have experienced it and are all striving to forgive and move on and not just drag yourself away from the trauma but come away dancing. Don’t give up on yourselves. The fact that you’re all here saying something, trying to forgive, and starting to forgive, and starting to get a few loose stitches on those deep wounds is awe inspiring. Thank you all for sharing.
I think sometimes we get confused by the idea of forgiveness. I’ve been thinking about that a LOT while read these comments. I’m writing something about it.
Thank you for your bravery and willingness to speak out. I did give a report but it was deemed there was not enough information and my stepfather got off scott free. It’s heartbreaking that my mother didn’t believe me in the beginning and the police did not believe me. I know that my God believes me and so do other survivors. I hope this brings you some justice and closure. You deserve healing and joy! <3
Same song here…just a different verse. God has been a great healer in my life…I hope you find a similar peace…
I have my police report, too. My mom’s ex-husband did go to prison. Douglas Bruce Scott in Livermore, Ca. Has to register as a sex offender for the rest of his life. Only served 18 months, but molested me for almost 3 years. Not really fair, but some how it just worked that way 30 years ago.
Same here. Molested from the time I can remember until 9 when I told a teacher. Arrested the bastard, sent him home to do it again. Which he did. 18 months. Seems like a pittance. No offender registry back then. My mother told his gf what happened at one point because she had a 2 year old girl. SMH
Speechless. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I cant find social media buttons or any other way to subscribe to this blog
Mollie- I have a FB page and there should be a place to subscribe as well at the bottom of the blog post. If you can’t find it, let me know. Otherwise, I try to stick to a pretty solid Tues/Fri publishing schedule- although the events of this past week were so unexpected and overwhelming that I was thrown a bit. Hoping to get back on track this week. Thanks for asking. xo
I just want to commend the you, your sisters and the women who are coming forward to talk about this awfulness. I think it helps other women to see that it’s okay to come forward and not be ashamed. That is definitely something I think we as a society need to push as we see people blaming women for their sexual assault. I pray each and every one of you find your peace however you can. I
weeping. you have no idea. i hope one day i have the courage to do what you guys did. wow. bravest hearts. thank you SO much for sharing this.
Jess- when you do? Let me know.
Thank you for speaking up & sharing in bravery. I come from a hard place too. Praying for you today, please know you have a ton of sisters in your corner.
I was never raped, that I remember, but I think I was like some kind of magnet for pedophiles. I was molested numerous times by different men- a teenage boy my mom took in when I was 3 (I remember vividly everything that happened), my stepfather when I was 5-6, a family friend when I was 8-9, and another family friend during the same time.
My mom confronted me when my stepfather was molesting me and asked me (in front of him) if he’d been “touching me where he’s not supposed to” and I felt like I was the one on trial. I said yes. He said he thought I liked it. They sent me out to play, and she never said anything else. He stopped bothering me thankfully, but it was small consolation because she stayed with him. The next time she asked me, when the family friend was bothering me, I lied and said no. I was afraid she’d confront him in front of me. And the sad thing is that though I loathed what was being done, somehow I think I also craved that attention. Of course that made me feel dirty and bad and set a precedent for my behavior with men as I got older. It’s weird that I ran across this because at 41 all of this has recently been on my mind and I’ve begun writing it down. It helps to see that others have survived.
Thank you for sharing.
Abuse begets abuse begets abuse. I am so proud of you for surviving.
I, too, was molested by 4 different men by the time I was 12. I, too, felt like a magnet. I heard something once that helped me let go of some of the shame: “You were dumped into a nest of predators.” It was never my fault. Instead, it was the unsafe people my mother exposed me to. God has been my healer, and I’ve found peace. I’m now 46 years old, and I’m working on telling my story as a way to minister to others…
abuse begets abuse begets abuse. Predators are REALLY good at identifying their victims.
When i was young our neighbor babysat me and her husband raped me. Repeatedly. I tried to tell my mother that I no longer wanted to go over there and that I didn’t like Mr Dean but I got spanked for being disobedient. I developed a raging bladder infection that required powerful antibiotics….time after time. No one questioned why a 4 yr old would get repeated infections of that type. When I was about 10 yrs old Mr. Deans grandson came running over to our house saying that his grandfather had just died and my immediate response was to say “Good” which got me into trouble for being rude and insensitive. I’m 55 now and the lingering shadows of what he did and of the fact that no one spoke up for me or protected me from him still have profound effects on my life.
Robin- that Bastard. I am so, so sorry.
That’s so terrible. I’m so sorry that happened to you. It definately makes it hard to trust. I pray for your healing.
it is hard, but i told about grandpa when i was in 5th grade.. then mother brought me home, kept me up til 2am, and then we went back to the police the next morning.. where she had me say i lied.. when i reported my brother at age 15, i made sure to re-report my grandpa.. brother got CYA time (youth offender) and got out at age 23.. grandpa never got anything, and one reason i reported him the second time is he moved in with my uncle, who had 3 little girls
When I was 5, I ended up in urgent care with vaginal trauma multiple times. Nary a blip on anyone’s radar. Just a few years later, there would have been, I think (the difference between the late seventies and early eighties). I tried to discuss this with my mother* a few years back and she insisted this could have had absolutely nothing to do with my abuse. I didn’t even bring up that when I woke up screaming the first thing she’d do is sit me in a bath for half an hour. Or that apparently she’d decided by the time I was eighteen months old that I was competing with her.
* My mother is special. She told me flat out, five years ago, that when my father raped me, it was all about her. (Evidence does not in fact support this. But everything is all about her.)
Oh, Catherine. I feel physically ill reading this. Betrayal on infinite fronts. Have you gotten help? Please tell me you are not still carrying this around on your own. xo
I’m doing well – dealt with a lot of this in my teens, not to mention winning both my legal emancipation and continuing college support through the courts (and an additional financial settlement due to my father having stopped paying child support to my mother when I moved out on on my own when I was fifteen – it was all paid, with interest, to me.) I had, and have a good community – and I was incredibly lucky in a lot of respects in having kinds of wherewithal few folks due at that age. I’d started at the university when I was thirteen, so while this disrupted my education a bit, I had plenty of time to make it up. And… there’s no way I can describe the complexities, or all the people who have been involved, but just for a tiny slice, the parents of my godsons are the couple who let me stay with them when my mother refused to change the locks and my father was coming in and harassing me. (My parents had divorced, but my father still had keys.) The wife of the couple was a lawyer, and knew exactly the legal risks she was taking by sheltering a minor, and did it anyway. I have a lot to be thankful for.
And then later I was able to help my sister escape (literally through a window in the middle of the night). Though she had a really rough time of it for a few years there. She’s doing great now, and is hands down my closest family member.
I really don’t know how to deal with my mother. When I moved out on my own, twenty-six years ago, I stopped speaking with my father. It took me a lot longer to understand how messed up my mother was – my father was pretty blatantly monstrous, my mother more insidiously and pathetically broken. For a really long time I tried to keep her in my life… and I’ve mostly just given up. I mean, I tried again recently, both my sister and I did, when she was ill, and we both very clearly stated our boundaries, and she did not respect them.
And for the last bit, she’s been on the school board of the city I grew up in. I’m kind of appalled. (Though it does keep her out of other trouble, and considering how good she is at manufacturing trouble it’s best not to undervalue that.)
God bless you and the Courage you had! I pray healing over you and that someday you will dance! Thank you for sharing your story and writing it down!
Thank you for writing it down…it helped.
My father just died. Hours before the day of my birthday. I did not attend his funeral. He was a retired pastor, and I could not sit to hear his accolades and what a wonderful father he was to everyone, and calling everyone HIS DAUGHTER. Not me, not often. It started when I was 5 and he was an “aspiring-to-be-great” pastor. A church member molested me in the church parking lot. Of course I told my daddy! His response, “you keep this quiet, he’s one of my best members”. This was suppressed, but for some reason all during the years a certain uncle terrified me. He could not understand it, as he was always so kind. Years pass. Finally at another funeral, he sits down beside me! I wanted to run, but he would not let me! My heart is pounding and I feel ill. He says, “I think you were abused by someone who looks just like me”. It opened my repressed memory. I was made to realize – YES! It really happened. I saw who it was. The man is STILL living, a miserable person. With children of his own. My memories of my father went into the grave, but at age 62 I can say I’ve cried a lifetime of tears. BUT not this time.
Sigh… Live you, friend. I’m here if you need someone. I’m walking with you through God’s abuse. So many of us… It’s so sad.
It’s not God’s abuse. It’s Man’s abuse. And yes- so many of us.
I meant through God’s it. Not God’s abuse. Stupid smartphone! SMH
Grrrr… Hate my smartphone! Through it. Walk with you through it.
Hi there. In light of the story, I would like to offer my hand to those still hurting and unheard. I am a law enforcement chaplain. I offer 100% confidentiality to those needing a sounding board or direction. I am here, I love you, and I want to help. You don’t have to carry this burden alone. My email is flyboypike@yahoo.com
Kevin- I can’t tell you how much that means. No one should have to carry it alone.
If you are a chaplain, you need to provide a work email, not a personal one. In any situation, but especially this one, women should not be asked to send personal stories to a stranger’s personal email address.
Kevin,
I created a login just to say thank you, thank you for caring.
I love this story. My friend and I drove to the cemetery where her horrifying pastor was buried, the pastor who raped her for years, started at 4 years old, and said Jesus told him to do it — really I’m wondering how f’d up a single person can be — and we got out, she was trembling, with the jars we had brought just for the occasion, and we poured pee all over his grave. I was weirdly satisfying. Thank you for this post.
I love this idea!
I was thinking along these lines. When my dad dies I want to put a urinal on the backside of his tombstone with a pipe that goes down inside his coffin. Free for anyone to use.
what a powerful story. I was abused by two men when I was 10 and 12. my great uncle and stepfather. I told my mom, she confronted both of them. told the great uncle to never set foot in our house again. the stepfather denied it. she believed him, he stayed. I never made a big deal out of it, life went on. I didn’t want to hurt my stepsisters. on my stepfather’s death bed, minutes before he died, I told him I forgave him. it was more for me then him. he was not even conscious, but they say the last thing to go is hearing. I’m 48 now, but it never leaves you. something is taken from you that you can never get back. thank you for sharing your story.
My daughter was married to a man who abused her. After several years, and two children, she got the courage to leave him and file for divorce. Several years later when she was going back to court to change her parenting plan she had to put on paper all the detailed information about the abuse she had suffered during their marriage. She had never told anyone everything and she had tried to totally block all of it out of her mind. As she wrote, it was both extremely devastating emotionally to have to re-live the trauma, but also therapeutic to then, finally, share it with others….people who would believe her and had the power to support her emotionally and legally. What a wonderfully compassionate police officer you sisters were blessed to have hear your story and HE WROTE IT DOWN! Thank you so much for sharing…I will remember this always and keep you in my prayers.
I love this !! Bless that police officer for being simply awesome 🙂
I can remember 3rd or 4th grade telling a classmate what my step father was doing to me . She told her mother, who in turn contacted child services. 2 ladies from child services came to my school and interviewed me in what was the music room . They had these little yellow notebooks and wrote down what I said . I go home that day and those same ladies show up to my house to then interview my mom and step-dad!!!! With me there I was so horrified and when questioned again with my parents there I lied . Said I made it all up . Fast forward to 21 years of age…. Finally in the midst of an emotional breakdown told my family. It’s been 26 years since that day. My mother allowed herself to be convinced that I was a seductress , and to blame. My abuse started when I was 3-4 years of age and ceased when I was 14. This is uncomfortable for me to even type but I believe it was because I started to menestrate. After years of my own denial and concessions to those people they are longer allowe to be apart of my life . I have never gotten justice for the horrors commited against me , so when I see or read stories like this I rejoice with you and another small piece of my soulheals .
Please excuse bad grammar and misspellings . Typing on a phone stinks 🙂
A seductress. In third grade. Nope. Not for one second, Summer. Not for ONE SECOND.
Your plan is my plan but maybe you have a point. My abuser is still alive, I think and I have sat back these past few years, after I realized it might be worth filing a rpt to prevent this from happening to others, afraid of the feelings it would dredge up to go over it all again….but its not like those feelings are gone, just buried.
I should take a stand…if not for me, for others who need to see that being abused isnt a life sentence…something can be done…something positive can come out of it all…mostly a strong person determined to make the world a better place. Thank you for your bravery. Thank you for showing that even in fear/hurt, bravery doesnt take a strong person. Thank you mr police officer for listening! Thank you for sharing your story.
He may not have been punished for his crime on earth, but he is being punished now.
Oh dear, dear child. Thank you so much for baring your soul here. I am not a victim of sexual abuse, but I have friends that are. You have shined a light for me to have a greater understanding of the burden and depth of wounding that they carry. I must extend much grace, as healing and even forgiveness are not on a schedule and do not move in a straight line. Thank you for your courage and your honesty! Pray for each of you here to received your complete healing, although memories never go away, may you be free of their power to hurt you anymore. <3
it was my father’s best friend. he raped my little sister – she was in 3rd grade….. and molested my other little sister who was in 1st….. by the time it happened to me – it was already too late since the damage had been done. when i got to college i decided i wanted to confront him – but by then the statute of limitations had run out. i called the police station near where he lived and tried to at least get it in a record in case anyone else ever came forward. it was all i could do.
Mine was almost 20 years ago and it was my own father… Most people still don’t know. My mother took my sister and I and left him 2 days after I told her which was my saving grace it showed me I mattered. She believed me and took action. He died a year later which made life easier but left with no closure. I have a hard time trusting any male relatives around my kids and it’s only by Gods mercy I can trust my husband (who has shown himself to be nothing but loving and worthy of that trust). I will never know who I could have been without the sexual abuse and betrayal of trust right as I became a teen. I feel like high school was a haze of survival… I have to stop or I will begin to weep. Thank you for your story I hope it spreads wide and more officers see how powerful they can be just by listening and believing.
My story is like many. My father. Starting age 4 or 5 with touching then escalating. Ending age 9 when I told my mom. There were separated and he tried to rape her in the living room. i heard it though my bedroom wall and went in to stop him. I threatened to kill him. Later I told her. Divorce. No visitation. Counseling. But it wasn’t until college that i realized what i could do. I shared and helped others with abusive backgrounds or attacks. I have some of my deepest friendships from that. When I was 24 I confronted him over the phone. He didn’t deny it, but said he didn’t remember and referred to drug use at that time. I know I don’t remember everything. I use to have re-occurring nightmares that may have been memories. But now 42, I have developed an amiable relationship with him. We chat on the phone about his grandsons and gardening. I still wonder about my cousins. If we share these bad memories. For the most part I am accepting of my life. Still a news story can bring up things and I am used to the occasional nightmares. I will never like to be tickled and restrained. But I can help others. That is what my advice is to anyone. Make a good from their evil. It is the closest many of us will get to a slap in the face (or kick in the groin). Hugs to all.
This is so incredibly powerful!! I adore these two brave women and their courage. I’ve walked a similar path and know the incredible courage it takes to do what they did. Reading this brought instant tears to my eyes, I sobbed like a baby. It took me nearly 30 years to do this very same thing. The difference was that my abuser was my best friends grandfather. I decided I would finally report the abuse when I found out from my friend that he was on his death bed. I didn’t want him to die thinking he got away with it. I knew nothing would happen to him, but it was for me and my recovery, not for him or any punishment. It took every bit of courage I had to walk in to that police station and report it. I shook like a leaf and was nauseous. The police officer almost refused me because of the SOL laws in NH, but thank fully had to do it because it happened in California where I grew up not NH where I live now. He wrote it out reluctantly and it was faxed to Los Angeles County SVU. Thankfully the officer in LA was very kind to me. He said ” I’m sorry there is nothing we can do, he is dying, but I want you to know that I’m sorry this happened and I want you to know, I believe you.” I sobbed on the phone and thanked him. His words meant more to me than words can ever say. I can’t explain exactly what happens to you when these things happen, sexual abuse but it changes you forever. Something dies inside of you that can never be fully returned. This is part of what I want people to understand when it comes to these things and reporting especially in cases like Bill Cosby where it takes the victim 30 years to report it. It takes as long as it takes for us to find the courage and face the incredible pain we feel and usually incredible shame as well. It’s not something we are raised to talk about, nor do we really want to talk about. It’s our dark secret that we hold dear to our heart and carry with us wherever we go. This is why even if nothing can be done and even if the person is already dead the victim should be able to have and officer take down the report, then tell them I’m sorry this happened to you and most importantly say to them “I believe you.” No victim should ever have that huge step in recovery taken from them.
He. Wrote. It. Down.
He listened.
He heard.
He cared.
He validated.
He believed.
Four powerful words that are such important steps toward healing.
Thank you Officer Paul, for writing it down.
Thank you Laura, for writing it down…
For listening.
For hearing.
For caring.
For validating.
For believing.
Thank you for sharing this. When you are a victim of sexual abuse/molestation and it is by a family member and “good man” it is hard for others to understand and to accept that he could be capable of such things. Growing up I was molested by our next door neighbor who was a creepy old guy and then by my own father. I would get cornered in our laundry room repeatedly from ages 12-14. I wrote down what happened and shared it with a teacher I trusted even though my classmates gave me a bad time about showing my diary to my teacher. She told the principle who contacted my parents. It was not discussed much after that and I always felt it was “swept under the rug”. No one ever mentioned it again – that is until I found out he was molesting two of my daughters and my mother knew about it. I never forgave him. Fortunately we had moved to another state, but I was not able to protect my own children from this monster. He died two years ago, and I did go to the funeral. It sickened me to listen to those around me saying how good of a man they thought he was. I refused to say anything or even or even participate in the mass. I can’t forgive him for what he did or my mother for not doing anything. Again she refuses to acknowledge that he did any wrong, and I feel sad for her. It bothers me that my sister and brother make such a big deal on his birthday and the anniversary of his death, but then again- it didn’t happen to them or their daughters. I have survived from being a victim and I will never allow myself to be a cvictim again.
I am so, so sorry that this happened to you. The principal should have reported it to the police and supported you. You were very brave to share it at that age.
This is me. I still live in the conspiracy of silence. No one talks about it. I have written a book and when my mother dies – it will be published – I hope but hey it’s written down. My scars ooze every single second of every day. I am 59 and it’s as if it happened just now. I haven’t danced on his grave —– but I HAVE spit on it. TRUTH.
Holly, this sounds so painful. Is there anything else you can do that doesn’t require waiting? Have you talked to a therapist or pastor you can trust?
this gal hasn’t written in a long time, but she has some really good stuff…thank you so much for your bravery and your words! Maybe you can find solace in this other site as well! http://Www.whispersofcourage.blogspot.com
And there is healing in telling the story…no matter how many years have past. I like that the police officer wrote it down and made a record of the abuse. Paper can hold horrible truths that a heart is not able to contain.
There is a tremendous amount of healing in telling your story and being heard.
Thank you for your bravery and thank you to Officer Smith for being brave enough and man enough to hear it and WRITE IT DOWN.
Beautiful. I agree, it’s a silent epidemic that we are convinced not to speak, think or talk about. That works but for me, Pandora’s box opened when my trusted father in law made an unexpected sexual move on me and worse; NO ONE believed me. I became suicidal and began to write a suicide letter that became a book that is now in Barnes&Noble and what’s changed for me as a person, my anger and depression is gone. WRITE IT DOWN! Jori Nunes
I too was a victim of extremely unwanted attention from my (step) grandfather. I was 12 years old and home sick one day from school. He came by to check on me, which was not unusual, and then it happened. I told my mother immediately after and she told my father.
My parents went to my grandparents home where they confronted him (he was the only one home at the time). My mother later told me how scared she was that my dad might actually kill him.
The next day my grandmother was told about the situation. She didn’t believe me, she even asked me to take a polygraph. When I said that I would, all communication between my immediate family and her ceased.
I had to be forced to go to school, but even then I would just come back home after everyone had left. For several months when I was home alone I’d get my father’s 22. pistol and hide in my closet. I wanted to kill him, but most of all I wanted to kill myself. I was only 12 and carrying around this heavy burden of feeling responsible for my mother no longer having her mother and my siblings not having their grandparents. He was the only grandfather we had ever known. He would take us out all the time for ice cream or sleepovers. He would take me out on the back country roads and teach me to drive. I loved him and so did my sister and brother.
Eventually the fear subsided but the guilt took several years to overcome and the anger still haunts me to this day. The funny thing is I actually hate my grandmother more than him. I still cannot understand why anyone would walk away from their blood for a man and she did it twice.
It was mostly male grandkids on that side of the family there were only 4 girls out of 12, one of which wasn’t born till after these incidents had taken place. My 1 female cousin (at the time) was about the same age as I was when he did it to her. Again my grandmother shunned more of her blood just to keep a man.
When I was18 she showed up on our doorstep with a gallon of ice cream, like that was supposed to make everything better. While my brother (who was 10 at the time) and my mother welcomed her back, my sister and I had long since written her off, and my father (who felt like I did but realized my mother’s need to reconnect with her own mother) set some pretty strict rules with her as to what he would allow regarding interaction with his kids.
She started showing up with my grandfather at the restaurant where I worked. All that was to me was a slap in the face and a constant reminder of the trauma I had endured.
Eventually he left and divorced her, moving back to the southeast where he was from. Every now and then he would show back up and shack up with her for a while, I however haven’t seen or heard of him being around for 4 or 5 years.
It’s now been close to 25 years since this took place and I still avoid family gatherings where my grandmother will be present. The funny thing is that the 2 daughters whose families my grandmother chose to turn her back on are the ones who take care of her now that she is in her mid 80s.
This is the 1st time I’ve told my story to anyone other than my family, your deeply personal story has prompted me to tell mine. Thank you!
I’ll respond again later. I am thinking about this.
It’s really easy to carry around that sense of responsibility for the actions of our family… but I think it’s just too much to carry. (Not that any child is going to know that.)
When my sister finally stopped speaking to my mother, my mother starting come to the store where she worked with presents and guilt. It was a pretty blatant power play, because my sister couldn’t leave, and in most situations she couldn’t even be impolite. I tried to get her to get a restraining order, and I think had it gone on longer she would have.
There are so many ideas of family in our society, and so often is seems like we should be the ones to suffer in order to make things look nice. And I just don’t think it’s supportable. What do we owe to a lie? Do we want to be like the beaten wife who dresses and puts on makeup to cover the bruises? Who are we protecting, and why doesn’t protecting ourselves count for as much?
What a profound post!
I was molested by my step-brother from age 4-6. It stopped when another step-sibling caught him touching me and told us she would tell our parents. I was terrified of getting in trouble. In high school and college, I drank too much, dabbled in drugs and engaged in promiscuous behavior trying to feel good about myself and fill that dark place inside. I finally started seeing counsellors at age 19 until talking about it in therapy didn’t help any more. I told my parents then too and they were devastated. I really and truly wanted to kill him for many years. My heart was so full of rage and hate for ruining me, for stealing my innocence. I swore I would never allow anything like that to happen to my own children. I was only able to forgive him when I found out he had been molested by the teenage son of a family friend when he was around 8 years old. Such an ugly, cruel cycle and it is important to remember that it happens to boys too.
my sister sent this to me late at night I ready it early the next morning and sobbed I no longer give a shit and am tired of holding on to old feelings my sister stopped speaking to my other ages ago and I am following in her foot steps but slowly my daughter is the only thing that holds me and mother together and it is a thin string thank you for your healing story I have had to make up lies just to survive but I am done with all of it thank you and God bless both of you lots of prayers and love l and t
Thank you for sharing this. It’s beautiful and powerful and healing — not just for you, but for those who read your story.
I was six or seven when I was abused. I was 19 before I told anyone… it was the night of my abuser’s funeral. He’d committed suicide and I felt not hurt and anger, but sorrow, grief, and guilt. Fortunately those who heard my story believed, never doubted, and assured me of the truth I was grappling with — that his death was not my fault. I forgave him a long time ago, but it wasn’t until two years ago — some 40 years past the abuse — that I for the first time realized the damage that had been done to me. I always thought mine wasn’t “that bad” — that there were much worse cases out there. I shoved it aside and didn’t think about it. I wasn’t abused through force, but through ignorance and somehow I thought that made it not as horrific.. I really believed I was okay — unharmed by the abuse. But two years ago my marriage counselor identified it as a reason I withhold myself emotionally and my journey to healing began. The abuse has harmed me — affected the way I relate with people and how I view myself.
For those, like me, who think (or are inexcusably told) that their abuse wasn’t that bad; that there are worse cases out there… I heard Dan Allender say in a workshop last fall something that really struck home for me. In essence, we are not to compare our stories to others’…. but to Eden. His book, “The Wounded Heart,” as well as the accompanying workbook have been great resources for me. And the workshop, “The Story Workshop” (http://theallendercenter.org/workshops/story-workshop/) focuses on writing it down… telling our stories and learning, healing and growing through the telling.
Anyway… thanks for sharing your experience. I’m so glad your officer wrote it down… you’ve encouraged me and many others.
Jennifer- I keep having women say this to me. How bad does it have to be, to matter? I am so sorry that happened to you.
Thank you for the essay. The writing is as deep as the story, cutting away the darkness to the heart of the matter. Grandfathers (or uncles, or fathers) don’t just go after girls. It took 30 years to realize it wasn’t my fault and let go of the shame. 30 years that could have been better spent.
No, Lyle. They don’t. I am so, so sorry.
Wow – I know this story too well. Good for you. I only hope now you can have some peace.
Fantastic!! Proud of y’all!
This was touching and absolutely beautiful. Thank you for sharing your story.
Thank you for sharing. I’m so impressed with your bravery. I was abused by my grandfather too. When my family found out I was sent to foster care. After a lifetime, I “wrote it down,” in the form of a book. It was terrifying to publish it. I cried, threw up, and wanted to hide. I want to encourage other survivors that their pain did not disappear like a ghost in the night, even if no one acknowledges it or there’s no justice. For every survivor out there- I stand with you. I hope to be available for anyone else who wants to “write it down.”
Fear cuts deeper than swords….
I was 4 when my uncle began molesting me. I still remember exactly what I was wearing, a pale pink dress with glorious ruffles with the cutest tights. What day it was, Sunday and we had just left church to go to my Grandmother’s for Sunday lunch. You see, at my grandparents house you were seen but not heard. The children always were told to go play in the basement so the adults could talk. In their basement they had a pool table, a small tv, a bathroom and a separate area that was their garage. That’s where it happened the first time on the cold concrete floor where my grandparents usually parked their car. It happened every time we went over there after that until we moved when I was 10. To this day, I hate that dress, those tights, my uncle and that house.
I am now 44 years old. 5 years ago I finally felt courageous enough to tell my parents in part because my mom always wanted me to come over when my uncle would be on a run and driving thru their area. She would say “He asked about you and wants to see you. I don’t understand why you cannot come when he is here”. The response I received from my mom about her brother when I finally decided to say why I always turned down being there was devastating… “I always watched over your older sister and kept a close eye on her but I never once thought about you.”
I’ve bottled it up again. I’ve yet to be able to let go of the pain and reliving it makes it hard to forgive.
I do applaud your bravery and hope some day to be able to take that same step. Thank God for your officer. All I want is for someone to write it down. 🙁
I remember what I wore, too. I remember the smell of chlorine. I remember the smell of cat food. I remember his forearm on my throat. I remember it ALL. I am so sorry that no one watched over you.
(((((((((((big hug)))))))))))))))))))) I am so sorry this happened to you. I don’t have all the answers, but if it would be helpful to have a listening ear, I can do that.
Praise the Lord! Thank you for sharing!
Thank you for writing this. I really appreciate it.
Thanks for sharing. For me it was my great grandfather and thankfully it was only molestation not rape. I kept quiet for years and years knowing the hailstorm of destruction that would take place and so fearful that I would not be believed. The really sad fact of the matter was that all of my great aunts knew about his behavior and protected their daughters from him. But for some reason I, (who was the daughter of a daughter-in-law that no one liked), who had to spend every Sunday after church with this man, they never told my mom to protect me from him. I think that that was the most hurtful part of the whole experience.
My mom was so sad to find out and that I never told her. The Lord gave me an amazing husband who has cherished me and protected my heart and I can move on.
I hope and pray that you will be able to grow and move on from your experience. It will always leave a stain and stories like this one will remind you, but I pray that there is someone to hold you tight and love you to pieces.
Honey- “Only molestation?” We are Not in the Hardship Olympics. You are heard and loved. I will write it down.
What to do next? I suggest you keep writing it down, you will never know how many people will see this and come forward. The shame is on the abuser, not victim.. please continue to write it down for other victims to witness. Thank you for sharing your story.
Very moving – you 3 are so courageous!
Why do our mothers stay with our molesting stepfathers? I’ve read this over and over in the comments. It is so sick!! I intend to throw a grand party when my ex-stepfather (yes she did finally divorce him a decade plus later but not because of me) – it will be such a relief when he is finally gone. He is still very entwined in my family and I have never understood how those who know can even look at him. It has always made me feel so unloved – there’s my life long struggle. ;(
P.S. I”ve been married to a wonderful police officer for 16 years – most of them out there are the best of the best! They really want these guys to pay.
I think, mostly, we all do the best we can. And we all fall down.
I have been told that healing begins when somebody listens…I hope that really is so.
I too was a victim of my grandfather’s abuse. Like you he has been dead for many years. It never occurred to me to file a report like you did. But a little over a year ago I was called for jury duty on a child molestation case. I wasn’t seated on the jury but I did have to answer questions about being molested as a child. At first it was very hard… but then I realized that what he did to me was now part of the permanent court record. Like you, that was a healing and freeing experience. It had been 54 years. I realized then that there are other children who need a voice… now I’m a CASA volunteer so at least one more child doesn’t have to wait 54 years for justice. Thank you for sharing your story. Thank you for using your voice to make a difference.
Good for you woman!! Sounds like you needed this as part of the healing process!!! My sister and myself too were sexually molested several times over a couple years by my dad’s father. Over 30 years ago. Unlike you we did eventually tell. Bitter sweet at the time, he got 3 months in jail, is all. And after that my sister and I turned in to the outcasts….oh, ‘he’s’ gonna be there you girls can’t go, you wait to come until ‘he’ leaves ect…..Not until I was older (late teens), is when I refused to allow myself to be excluded and go to family functions….well by that time there was a huge rift between me and my dad’s side of the family so the few encounters were strained, uncomfortable and awkward. As I got older though it got easier to be present and ignore him and enjoy myself. And at my half sister’s wedding a couple years ago I felt totally redeemed when it seemed like he had to take a backseat to the festivities and my sis and I were in the for front for once!!! And most recently he was picked to go on an honor flight for his service in WWll and everyone was asked to write him letters that they would receive as a surprise on the return flight home!! Well I can only imagine his surprise when he got my letter telling him what a monster he was and will always be and being a child molester has made him honorless!!! Obviously I heard nothing about it after the flight but it really was my closing moment for that situation and my opportunity to finally say my peace and be done with it!!! And guess wha!? I’m done with it!!! Thank you for your story and I pray your day for closure comes to you, because it will!!! And like the mighty oak, may we stand strong and firm and not be knocked down!!!! God bless!!!
41 years ago……
Thank you. Wow. Thank you. I sent you a message on facebook after seeing your comment on Jen Hatmaker’s page. Just wanted to say thank you.
When my uncle (the perpetrator) died, we laughed. We laughed at my cousin’s response to the news, “He has gone to be with Jesus.” My cousin, his youngest son, one of his many victims, responded, “Poor Jesus.” It felt good to be “bad” enough to laugh at that.
you weren’t being bad. you were being honest.
Mine’s still a high school coach in Magnolia, TX.
do you feel there is anyone who can go with you to report him?
Call his principal. Have that person write it down.
Please turn them in!!! Others are in danger!!
Please tell someone.
I have 4 daughters in Magnolia, TX. Two of them still attend school here. I am so sorry for what you have been through, and hope someday he is stopped…that someone writes it down for you.
<3
My father started having sexual relations with me when I was 11. My mom was too busy having her own affairs to protect me. My father would have me – a 5th grader turn on phone taps when my mom got a call to catch her in her affairs or check the mileage on her car. This was while he was having sex with me. How could he not see that was wrong and even worse than my mom screwing around? I started having flashbacks when I was around 40 or so. I am now 57. I confronted my dad years ago. Yet he says he can’t remember all those years of abusing me. “Maybe once I laid on her”. He’s 83 now. I don’t care about the old man going to jail I just want him to acknowledge what he did to me.
Deb. All of that is wrong, in every way possible. But you SURVIVED. And he doesn’t get pass because he’s old. If he didn’t want to be punished, he shouldn’t have committed a crime.
Try to encourage him to confess and repent — for your sake as well as his soul’s.
Im struggling here. It’s been a year and a half since my daughters told me they were being molested by their grandfather. Our church, where he was an elder, took him to the police station. Within days of my daughters telling me, we moved from that town. It was too small. We lived in constant fear that he would show up and we would kill him in our anger. I still have murder in my heart and if I ever see him again Im afraid of what I would do. My mother in law chose him over her own son and his family. We have cut off all contact with them and any others in the family that questioned why we would press charges. But the thing is that NOTHING is happening with the case. I can’t help but feeling like the justice system doesn’t give a crap about my girls. So he sits watching TV while my mother in law brings him all his meals on tray and makes sure he takes a nap.
I have a dear friend who is a sexual abuse victim and she now ministers to others. She is an author and her books are amazing and freeing. I highly recommend her book Buried Lies. Her name is Marty Delmon. She has been ministering to victims for YEARS and she has told me that she has NEVER known of an abuser that has repented or apologized for their crimes. NEVER. That says a lot and it says a lot to the church. Stop trying to disciple sex offenders. They belong in JAIL!!!
I really do feel very sad for you & your daughters. But I do have to respectfully disagree with you about abusers never making amends. As the Mother of a person who is serving a prison term for a sex offense (& will be released shortly), I can tell you that there are many people who serve their time, do make amends, and want to be productive citizens. I do hope & pray that your feelings toward remorseful, former offenders will be softened at some point in time.
Sometimes I think one piece of the harm that is done is that we make rape and sexual abuse a crime apart from all other crimes. On the one hand, there is such a tendency not to believe and to blame the victims, and often to look at the victims as forever horribly damaged by these events. (And while if that is how people see themselves, I don’t want to contradict it. But that has not been my experience, it bothers me that it is so close to narratives around women being ruined by having sex. I carry scars. I’m a different person. But that is true for many events in my life, not just these ones. But how much of this is inevitable, and how much is enculturation?) And on the other, there is such hatred of the perpetrators, and often so much belief that they are forever unsafe and can not reform. While a lot has been made in political circles of research alleging to support this, the research is in fact pretty weak. An awful lot of people do not re-offend. It’s easy to see why people are very worried about crimes committed against children, but I don’t want to be manipulated for someone else’s political ends.
I don’t know if these conversations are happening yet. And I don’t pretend I really know how to have them – it’s isn’t hard to reach out to a family member. I don’t know if I’d be ready to talk to your child – maybe I would. (And obviously, it’s all pretty theoretical for me. My abuser is an 81 year old retired professor with early stage Parkinson’s. We’ve had one conversation, by email, since I was 15, about a talk I gave at Johns Hopkins.)
Please tell me that your daughters are in counseling!! So sorry for all of you 🙁
You may also want to check out netgrace.org. I have been well educated by and found compassion in them. If the local courts are not moving his case along I would be making a lot of fuss to get it going. You are not pressing charges anyway, if your state is like ours. The state should be taking over and doing that. Go to your attny general and find out what’s up.
Oh sometimes silence is more haunting and scary than the abuser going to jail! He as well as your mother in law are suffering a hurt more than you will ever know but don’t give up the fight!! Cry out, make him suffer as your daughters did!!
Um. Wow. I have a gazillion words bouncing hard against my skull. So many and so hard that I am struggling to find the ones that would make sense to others. I’ll stick with. Yes. This. Exactly this. My cousin has a different name. Same story. Same exact story. Oh my. What courage. What healing. Wow. Wondering if I, or my cousin, could ever get to that point. Where someone acknowledged the reality. Where we met victims. I know there are more. Shattered hearts strung all over Texas and Oklahoma and God only knows where else. Oh my. Thank you for this. And please, tell this police officer that I said thank you. Because from one survivor to another, he has made it real and that’s enough.
I will tell him, Kelli. I will. And when your cousin is ready to tell her story, I will listen.
Sending you hugs, Brave Girls!
I’m a man and you women are my heroes. I am in awe.
He was my step grandfather. They wrote it down when I was 10 years old. But instead of doing something they told my mother this man was an upstanding citizen. He had never had trouble with the law and had retired from a good job. I suffered for years alone thinking I did something to deserve this. Then 17 years later my cousin came to me and told me she knew and it had happened to her. She wasn’t ready to go to the police because she was convinced no one would believe her either. Three years later someone came up to her and told her of what he had done to her and she was concerned her little sister was going to be staying with him for the summer. She finally went to the police. Detective Andrew Schwab wrote it down. And called me after 21 years of waiting I finally got to see my day in court. As I sat there with my offender seated next to my father and stepmother I knew that would be the last day I saw my dad or step mother. They haven’t spoken to me in three years. As much as the trial cost me, emotionally and mentally I would do it again in a heartbeat. Hes now a registered sex offender. And I have a very special detective and district attorney to thank for finally making me feel free. I will wait for the day till I too can dance on his grave. Thank you for telling your story. Thank you to your officer for writing it down.
Heather- Thank GOD for the adults who believe- even if they’re not the ones who SHOULD have.
Heather,
Your story could be mine. Mine was my uncle and I was 8. I didn’t tell my mom until I was 22 because I had a 5 and 1 year old sister and I was afraid my mom would leave them with him to babysit. Because that’s when it happened to me.
My mom believed me. She told my grandmother and aunt, they didn’t.
5 years later I have an FBI agent in my living room questioning me because my uncle and his son had been raping my 10 year old cousin, my aunt’s daughter, for 5 years.
He wrote it down.
They were arrested and have been in prison for more than 10 years now.
for all these innocent ones who were violated
for my own siblings who were violated… by my brother, a babysitter, and unnamed ones
for being paranoid about *anyone* near my own children. I saw the ravages of sexual abuse that my siblings live with…
for the teen I once was when predators saw me vulnerable and an easy target to lure. I wanted attention and affection. They did not give that.
I, too, blamed myself… until having teen daughters made me realize how naïve they really are.
for never telling another living soul until now
Your courage is so evident in everything you’ve written. Thank you for talking. Thank you for telling. Thank God you’re realizing you were never to blame. Bless you as you watch over your children…I do the same thing. XOXO
Your story resonates so deeply with me…perhaps if I had someone who shared my pain like you had in your amazing cousin, I would have the courage to do what you did…but it’s harder when you feel alone…4 different men molested me between the ages of 3 and 12; one of them was my stepfather, and the abuse lasted for a span of years. None of my abusers have ever paid for their crimes against me. Only through the grave of God have I found peace and healing. It took a lot of hard work to forgive my mother for exposing me to dangerous men…God’s goodness to me has helped me…I pray others can find similar healing and peace. God offers it generously…Thank you for sharing your pain and your healing process. Blessings to you for being so vulnerable with your story. You’ve inspired me to take the first steps to start a blog to share mine.
*grace
Reblogged this on Embracing life: 4/29/10 and commented:
VERY important read for anyone abused as a child!
I cannot tell you how moving this was. I have mostly forgiven my brother but still long for the confirmation of the abuse from him. I’m not sure I would have the courage to make a report of my own. Would I be taken seriously as well? That is my fear. Bravo to y’all!
My uncle molested and raped my cousin from the time she was three until she left home at eighteen. Her mother knew what was going on and did nothing to stop it. She has written a book about her recovery from this and how it has impacted multiple generations. It is called Ripples by Sabrina Rainey. It was in the course of her revealing this to our family (her father has since died) that I realized I too had been a victim of his madness and my aunt knew about and did nothing to stop it either. When he died I laughed and felt this enormous sense of relief. Thinking about it still makes my skin crawl. I said nothing because I didn’t think anyone would believe me.
Peace and love, Kate. And thanks for sharing.
What a fantastic story of bravery and human compassion! Can i go dance with you guys when you do?
Reblogged this on Together We Heal.
Wow! It use to be hard to imagine that others were living the horrible life I was living. Reading all the comments to this post is sobering. My abuse, much the same as a lot of you, was dealt by the hand of a person that was responsible for protecting my innocents. My abuse came at the hand of my father, and it continued for many years. Because I was so young when it started, and he such a violent man, I did not tell until I was in high school. Back in those days it was still not common to report and thus would have been difficult. Lucky for him, that he was out of town when I told my mother finally, because my mother took a gun and went in search of him. As I began college, I started working as a Victim Advocate. It was a blessing to finally see a way that God could use even that horrible event for good. God took what I had seen as shame, and gave me a voice to help others during their trials. Remarkably, I found healing by offering an ear to others. Nowadays my only struggle is making sure he doesn’t know or get close to my children. I am 46 years of age, and my children teenagers , but I still post under an assumed name. For me, protecting their innocence is a high calling….something I have always given respect too.
Thank you so much for sharing your story. I was molested beginning when I was about 8 and then raped when I was 12 and for years I hid it. It was a “dirty little secret” that I had only shared with a few people whom I was really close to. I was ashamed and embarrassed but after many years I told my story publically. It was like a weight had been lifted! I was no longer ashamed. The more of us that tell our stories the more people who won’t feel ashamed of things that weren’t their fault and shouldn’t be ashamed of. Thank you once again for telling your story.
I agree. We need to shine a light. Want to shine a light with me?
I want to shine a light, I want an end to all of it!
There are way too many of us out there. 🙁
Thank you for writing this. I like it
I was molested by my adult babysitter’s elderly father from age 6 til age 12, when we moved. My mom asked me once if he had touched me “down there” and I said no. I was embarrassed and terrified. I have never told anyone, ever, until recently when I told my mother who has pretty severe dementia. When I told her she was surprised and said, “I did everything I could to protect you.” Within minutes she had forgotten it, lost in the maze that is her mind now, gone forever, like I had never said it at all. That was the only way it felt safe to tell, knowing she would forget. And what I got out of it was, Did you really do everything you could? You knew, or you wouldn’t have asked. So I have two people to forgive. She is the only one eligible so far. 65 years of keeping this secret has colored my life in ways I can’t even count.
One word of advice: It doesn’t matter how well the sitter interviews if your child is in her house. It matters who else is there with her.
You and Mary were so brave! I think we all wish we had had an Officer Paul. 🙂 You are an inspiration for survivors.
I read as many of these as I could manage to get through. I was molested at thirteen. I am 55 now and still have problems dealing with it at times. My love to all.
I’m broken down in tears right now. This story is so amazing there aren’t words to describe it. Too many times this isn’t what happens. To me this reopens some major things that I’ve been thinking about a lot recently anyways. There’s just so much power in someone legitimately listening to your story and paying attention.
You are precious.
You are courageous.
You are valued.
You are HEARD!
so much love and respect for you three.
keep on, dear hearts. keep on!!
Your courage is remarkable. ALL you ladies who’ve replied and shared your stories…remarkable. So glad you are talking and telling. Each one of us tell our stories in different ways. My older sister and I had a flower arrangement delivered to my relative’s funeral when he died. Pillar of the community. Biggie in the church. Child Molester. We were sodomized. We were not believed. I was 4. She was 5. The flower arrangement consisted of large black balloons. Inside each balloon we had written messages, all the things we wanted and needed to say to him. The inflated balloons were secured with a large hanging banner that read, “FROM ALL THE CHILDREN”. It sat on the church’s center stage amongst all the arrangements that honored him. We honored him with TRUTH. I danced in my livingroom and down the hall when I heard he’s suddenly died. I no longer hated him. I danced because no more children would be hurt by him. NOT EVER AGAIN.
I love every single thing about this.
Thelma and Louise on steroids….Lesia…this is the most poetic & beautiful….i’m eating a bacon gouda sandwich, sitting in Starbucks and just clutched my face when I read, “Inside each balloon we had written messages all the things we wanted and needed to say to him.” God bless you…your bravery…for showing others HOW to heal. God. I have no other words. I am proud of you.
Thanks for your supportive comments. Means more than I could say. Feel like a brick sits in my stomach for talking publicly, but I know it’s part of my healing. Thank you. Much.
Just covered my face too. You are strong and amazing, kathy. Thank u. God bless.
I was raped and beaten by my dad
For 14 years had things shubbed down my throat pointed went from that to my Dorothea dicks
Cuz the state wudnt allow her to put me in foster care so she figured she cud rid of me that way wen had my mms boyfriend to two of my boyfriends hitting me but the thing is I chose forgiveness yes I contacted the police n no they didn’t arrest him. Actually my dad has another daughter and I contacted the police about that did they any thing no but I feel that u make the choice of how things turn out if u let it control sure misery comes but I see those people not my ex though and I watch over my sis n I do not hate any of them I love them theyre my family god doesn’t judge one sin harsher than the other sins are sins to him n god says that we cant be forgiven until we forgive that especially goes for those who have hurt us in unimaginable ways. I chose god over my past struggles to come out stronger n everything that happen to me good and bad has made me who I am today I do believe others get over things in different ways n I congrat you on doing so ur way but saying I didn’t have the heart to sendmy father to jail I most likely wont b dancing on his grave although I pray that he has learned from his ways and will repent but for the rest of my life I and god will be watching over my lil sister n if anything was to happen (hopefully not ) we will there standing strong for her
Guns* to my grandmas* be there*
Oh, honey. I have forgiven my grandfather. I have put down that heavy thing. But I will still dance on his grave. Those two things are not mutually exclusive.
Tell me which comment it is, and if you need me to take it down, I will
I found it- I’m taking it down. But I read your story.
I never knew to this day what happened to my attacker. He is still there in the faces of every man of that ethnic origin… I was 12 and my family thought if they didn’t talk about it, I would heal faster. I’m 54 now, I guess that’s not true huh?
It never goes away completely… I have tears in my eyes for those sisters and the closure that they got… God Bless them..
My comment will be approximately #287… you surely triggered many emotions… in me as well.
THANK YOU!
We have a family secret. Everyone knows about it, which does not make it a secret, but everyone ignores is – so it’s a s.e.c.r.e.t.
My stepfather abused my sister and myself sexually. He mostly did it to me during the night, while I was asleep. He would come into the room I shared with my sister and pretend that he wanted to cover us when we pushed the blankets off in summer. But the sexual abuse towards my (younger) sister wasn’t subtle. He would force her to watch porn with him, give her pocket money and reminded her that she owes him… She became his object… he wasn’t that into me… he wanted younger girls.
My sister told my mom. My mom blamed her, because at eight children can apparently dress provocatively. We have been telling my mother for over 20 years… but she’s still married to him. Her choice is clear.
She once said that he admitted to touching my sister breasts ‘once’… I had to remind her that 6 year olds don’t have breasts… I wish someone would hear us.
Last night, after reading ‘he wrote it down’, I had a dream about him and my mother. Usually I run away or hide in my dream. It is hard to face him, let alone to confront him/them. Last night I confronted him in my dream. It was a huge victory for my subconscious.
THANK YOU for sharing.
We dance together.
Love
Anonymous
YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am grateful to not share your story, but my 73 year old mother does. Her stepfather molested, raped, and beat her for years until my grandmother put her in foster care, so she could stay married to him. Even as an adult my dad would never let my step grandfather anywhere near my mom or any of us girls. I know he hurt some of my cousins whose parents didn’t believe my mom. He died just a few years ago in his 90’s and I always believed that was the moment my mom would find peace. Perhaps it was actually the moment when people acknowledged it as truth as this police officer did for you. God bless both of you and all of the victims of abuse. And God bless my dad for stopping that ugly cycle in our family.
Thank you so much for sharing this
<3 <3 <3
My perfect family fell apart this year. I have been married to a man for 20 years with an amazing amount of good stuff but always this underlying “something is off” feeling. I have always believed he loves me but have had to be okay with it being at arms length so to speak.without really understanding why at the time, I acted out against that this past year and it pulled the string that unraveled the whole thing. The “something off” has been that he has been living with the buried memories of being raped and psychologically tortured by his grandmother for several years as a small boy. He has lived in a constant state of always being a little terrified, without really understanding why. That is very hard on a relationship. I have spent a lot of time thinking there was something wrong with me. She is dead and gone, no justice can be served. His relationship with his parents is such that he can’t even tell them about it, so this woman really gets off totally free. Even the very people who were meant to protect this boy remember her as a fine woman. his secret has become our secret.
Amazing people are helping him heal. He is doing the hard work. Im going to show him this. I would happily go with him if he wanted to have it “written down”.
This made me cry. It is amazing how therapeutic it can be to get something like this off your chest and especially to have someone believe you.
My mother drilled it into my head from a very young age to tell her if anyone touched me. The night my grandfather tried to rape me, I was at his house against my will. He had touched me once before and even though I knew I didn’t want to be around him, I never told my mom and brushed it off as an accident. The night he tried to rape me, I managed to get away. When my mom showed up she was mad initially because she had to look for me in the middle of the night, but as soon as I told her what happened she cried with me and took me straight to the police station. I believe that’s when my recovery started, my mom never questioned anything I said and neither did the officers or attorneys. The only person that questioned me was my uncle and I still believe it was because he
was as bad as my grandfather.
Throughout the trial we discovered that he molested his step daughter for 13yrs and raped his sister repeatedly, stalked her when they were older and threatened her on a regular basis for almost 40yrs. She lived her life looking over her shoulder because her mother told her to keep her mouth shut.
We went through months of trials and in the end he accepted an Alfords Plea. He spent that entire time in jail and a month before he was to be sentenced, he died of a heart attack. Part of me wishes he had spent more time in jail for all of the heinous crimes he committed, but I’m satisfied that he was never free after the night he tried to make me a victim.
I wish more people had the wonderful team I did. They gave me the strength to get through one of the worst times in my life.
Thank you for sharing this. It’s just as important to hear about the people who DID believe, and who DID act. You are lucky to have your mom.
Your mom was a hero. IS a hero.
So sad that so many of us can be unified in the pain from nearly identical histories. So thankful for the strength of those who speak up as representatives & the voices for all of us.
Abundant blessings as you walk the road of healing & redemption.
I was molested as a very young teenager, and I told nobody. Not one other person ever knew, until a few months ago when I was finally blessed with a moment of strength and told my husband. We have been married for 20 years and it took that long to tell him, to just.tell.someone. He never questioned my story and in that single moment I realized how much he loves me and how far he would go to protect me, and our daughters. I don’t even remember the name of my abuser and I wouldn’t know how to find him. I don’t need to, because now it happened, it is real and someone believes me. Redemption.
Wow. So powerful and poignant. Heartwarming and heartbreaking. The many comments magnify the importance of telling this story and are a mirror reflecting multitudes of stories left untold. God bless you.
My mom was an incest victim too somehow she felt and to appoint always will that what happened to her was somehow her fault. Her mom was also aware of what was going on. And never stopped it. My mom married a man at 14 years old.14..just to get away from her home..she stayed with that man till she was 21. He beat her up and abused her too. She finally left him after her daughter was a year old. He then came after her with a knife …She met my dad soon after and married him ..My father was abandoned by his mother and father and raised by his grandmother they both fed a desire in each other one to be protected and the other to be loved. They are still together. But we the kids still were impacted by her abuse. I never knew growing up not until after I left at 18 did she confide in me and she really thought that I would not love her anymore because of her past..Crazy, that it still hurt her and was still in her so much. For me it was not till after I had children I found myself over protective and I realized it was what I had viewed growing up that I thought was normal to be like…I think my daughter will be good..I don’t think it will affect her. But it did me, from learning that jealous was not love..and learn to truly trust another.I never met my mothers parents for that I am grateful and I do hope and pray that my mother can find peace some day….Ladies I grew up with the effects of abuse in my mother how it ate at her confidence but it drove her to be the parent she never had..That is my greatest gift my mother has given me…I hope all the victims of that kind of abuse find some peace. With all my heart I feel for you and your pain.
Reblogged this on Spectrum Perspectives and commented:
This has nothing to do with autism, but it was so very powerful; Trigger warning-sexual abuse of children
You two are great, as is Officer Paul. I’m glad that he took you seriously, especially as that isn’t always the case. The police in my case were far less accommodating. Your story gives me hope that people are taking CSA seriously now.
Thanks for sharing your story and shining light on this dark issue.
I was molested by my uncle, who is about 5 or 6 years older than I am, when i was about 10 – 13. I will be 49 this year and still struggle with all of it. I didn’t know there was anything wrong for a lot of years. Then I started to make the connection between the abuse and the way that I thought and felt about myself. I was filled with shame and guilt and embarrassment and never told anyone. I finally got up the courage (liquid courage actually) to tell a friend and her response was that it happens to so many people that it wasn’t really a big deal. So, why was it a big deal to me? I hid my dirty little secret again. A few years later, I was in counselling for my marriage and I decided to broach the subject again to see if there was any connection. The counsellor asked if “maybe I was playing on the wrong team?” I was disgusted and went in to hiding again, secretly letting my secret destroy my self esteem. I finally found people that I trust and started sharing my story. I have a long way to go, but I have made progress and actually have a happy, healthy, second marriage. My mom died when I was 32. We were standing lobby of the funeral home, greeting people who were coming to the prayers and viewing and he walked in. I really wanted to kick him in the nuts. I really wanted to yell and scream at him about how he had f’ed up my life. Instead, he came in for a sympathy hug and I accepted! What a fraud I felt like. What a liar. I have carried that with me for the last 16 years. In one fell swoop of that hug, I began to convince myself that because I didn’t stand up for myself I was saying that what happened was somehow my fault. I don’t know what I would do today, if I ever saw him. I have my dream scenarios, but in the end, I am confident that I would do nothing. Is there value in doing something? Is there anything he could say that would undo the damage that was done? Thankfully, he lives across the country from me and thankfully I don’t have to think about or deal with what I would or wouldn’t say to him. Thank you for writing this post and thank you for allow me to share a bit of my story. <3
I so understand. SO GLAD you’re finding a healthy healing community to talk, tell, recover. Kudos to you, Dawn. KEEP TELLING!
My great uncle came to my dad’s rosary service the night before dad’s memorial service. Came in with his new wife, a heiress with loads of money. Took his seat to pay “respect” to my dad. My older sister was there. (I was not attending, wasn’t able to do the rosary thing but did the memorial service the next day. I had told my dad before his death and he believed me.) My sister saw my uncle there, went over to my dad’s best friend and to dad’s brother, told them something. They stood up, turned around, went over to my uncle and whispered in his ear. I am told he stood up promptly, wiggled out of the seat as they escorted him out. (both were retired police so he wouldn’t mess with them). His wife could never understand what had happened, why they were not allowed to attend, but they were not there the next day – for this I am thankful. He died soon after. KEEP talking, keep telling, girl. Proud of you!
My mother kicked me in the side told me to move my body more while my dad was raping me. She leered over us. I was frozen from fear and pain. Then after he was done they went and fucked each other. He didnt cum in me. I was left on the cold tile floor….mrs. beasly my doll had been kicked out of the way. I could only look into her eyes while it was happening. Then when she told me to move more she got frustrated. ….she kicked me….and moved my doll…my security. And now the words in my head scresm LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR i overheard she is too young she wont remember.
Then there were others. The neighbor. The babysitter. My cousins. My grandfather. i did not know i was abused until i was 14. Did not remember my parents. Did remember everyone else. Told mom about them at 14. She said you weren’t raped. She walked away…never said anything else about it.
Later in life i started acting out. I have pictures on the Internet. ..movies. i was on Craigslist. I didn’t understand. Had an affair went to swing clubs…i hate 50 shades of gray
Almost got divorced. Told my mom about my porn. And as i was sobbing out the story she got this sick twisted i am turned on by what you are telling me look. I hate eyes…that is my story. It has fucked me up. She is still alive so is my dad. While out exercising today i thought i saw my father it wasnt. I hate that….
Praying that you find counseling to help with all of this pain!
There are no words. I cannot tell you the pain in my heart for you right now. You were a tiny precious being and were never to blame. You were NOT a LIAR. YOU ARE A TRUTH-TELLER and I am proud of you for telling your story. I believe you. I BELIEVE you. You are in my heart always. XOXOXX
I am deeply praying for you. Praying you will be free of all of this crap that you have been put through in your life. You are soooo precious. I pray you will be FULLY healed, that you will not be shackled to any guilt, to any addiction to porn or anything else. That you will experience a miracle of freedom.
There is evil in this world and I am so sorry that you were set down in it like that. I hurt for you. I hope that you find the beauty that is in this world, to heal that ugly wound.
My heart goes out to you and I am so very sorry for what you went through. I have been thinking about your story ever since I read it here months ago and I just want so badly to go back and save that little girl. The thought of your lousy excuses for parents just makes me want to vomit. And I just keep searching my head and soul, How, HOw do we stop this from happening? How do we protect these poor vulnerable children trapped in homes with these types of loathsome parents?
Thank you. To be clear, my mother did believe me, my father still does not. And the way I think we stop it is by shining a light on it and talking about it. Sexual abuse can only remain the epidemic is if WE remain a culture that attaches shame to it. Thank you for doing your part by talking about it. xo
I have read every comment, but how do I stop the email. I have to. I can’t read more. just can’t. can someone tell me how to get to stop emailing me?
I believe there is a spot when you receive new comments to press “unsubscribe to new comments”. I definitely understand it is overwhelming. Take Care <3
Monica, I get that. It’s a LOT.
This is fabulous! I did dance (really just stomp) on some graves several years ago. I’m happy that you got such a wonderful response. I wonder if I had thought to do that what might have happened. Blessings to you for sharing this story. I’ll be passing it on.
http://musingsandmeanderings-mlp.blogspot.com/
One of mine died a few years ago…didnt start talking about it until after he died.
The other one I finallly made a report threw my Therapist …but heard nothing back….probably because its to long ago.
That sucks …that there is limitations on those things…just because the law says so ….there isnt any limitations on what it has done to my life.
Very powerful. Thank you for writing it out for the rest of us to read. I wasn’t sexually abused but was abused repeatedly in other ways. If ANYONE had believed me, I would be a different woman today. If anyone had actually written it down, well, I can’t even imagine what it would have felt like to have that kind of affirmation. It is very powerful to learn that another person values us and our experiences enough to take them seriously. In fact, I suspect that is the key to healing. I’m glad you girls are healing. Thank God for that and for Officer Smith…and thank God for YOU and your transparency.
Reblogged this on Matt Bays and commented:
Occasionally a story pierces the heart…calling out to the dark memories within and asking them to step out of the shadows. And if that story has enough redemptive power in it, our memories obey almost without question. This is one of those stories.
Wow…. Thank you for sharing your story. This is truly amazing. I can’t tell you how many times I have fantasized that a policeman would have come to arrest my Grandfather or that someone in a position of authority would hear me and believe my story with compassion. Thank you Officer Paul for your compassion. I’m just stunned and in awe by this. In some strange way, because we’re all connected, my heart is lighter because of reading this story….my story…so many of our stories. Thank you for your bravery and honesty.
I know the reason we feel lighter..
because as we read that he listened and took it seriously, he didn’t berate or mock or humiliate…
he honored all of us and somehow we all got a little bit of dignity back and somehow a great deal of honor was restored to the society that we each live in and somehow, I may even have a little more respect for those in authority all because one person took it seriously.
I think that’s right- and I also think that this is how things change. By shining a light on things, both good and bad.
Reblogged this on Matt Bays and commented:
Occasionally a story pierces the heart and then calls into the darkness of the hidden memories there, asking them to step out of the shadows. If the story has enough redemptive power in it, our memories will obey almost without question. This is one of those stories.
wow. i am stunned by all i have read on this page. It helps me understand what many people go through. i am so sorry for all that each of you has suffered. I am a pastor of a church. I am reflecting on ways we can be a safe place for victims. any ideas?
There is a program called Stewards of Children that is offered all over. Please goggle it or e-mail at owensr3@NKU.edu and I can try to help you get the information needed to get the members of your church trained on how to keep the children safe.
So thoughtful and a welcome response!
Matt, when you come across that person who has been abused, when they are ready, GIVE THEM A PLATFORM…a video story, a testimony. There are so many in your congregation that need someone to show them HOW to tell their story – someone to call them out of their hiding places. Take the risk, knowing that some of your congregants will be uncomfortable.
I think the best way for you to be a safe place for victims is for you, as church leadership, to TALK ABOUT IT. Victims will never know or believe that they can turn to you, if you’ve never told them that they can. And sadly, too many churches have historically been part of the problem. In order to show them you are different, in order to be part of the solution, you’re going to have to have the uncomfortable conversation. The reason there is so much shame is because this exists, like all shameful things, in the dark. Be a beacon of light- shame cannot survive in the light. Thank you for asking that question.
There is also a program called adult survivors of child abuse. I found it while searching for something to help me. I plan to start a group. I have two friends to help me facilitate. Timing….thats what is holding us back right now.
There are groups across the nation and Canada I believe too.
It doesn’t have to be located anywhere in particular but I feel a church could offer free room use and be a discrete place for asca to meet. I’d encourage you to check out the information below.
http://www.ascasupport.org
It is a
Adult Survivors of Child Abuse (ASCA SM) is an international self-help support group program designed specifically for adult survivors of neglect, physical, sexual, and/or emotional abuse. The ASCA SM program offers:
Community based self-help support groups
Provider based self-help support groups
Web based self-help support groups
Survivor to Thriver workbooks
I could have written this…. My grandfather also molested me and my sister. We were scared we kept his secret. I told my mother (was her father) I did not get much support, but I finally told….
Good for you, truth teller. I am so sorry that happened to you.
I remember sitting at my grandpa’s funeral and listening to my cousin’s and dad and aunt talk about what a great dad and grandpa he was and all I could think of was, no he wasn’t! I wanted to stand up and shout about all that he had done to me, not that anyone would believe me after all these years, but I just sat their quietly and cried.
I am so sorry. And you are absolutely right. NO HE WASNT!
Thank you so much for posting this–and special appreciation to those who’ve shared their stories.
Laura. Oh Laura. How can he write it down if I can’t even write it down. It happened from age 5 to about 10, and by sheer numbers, that makes at least 364 times. When I was 19, I went to therapy….for two whole years…and NEVER talked about it. At 27, I’m trying again. Most of the time, I can’t use words. I’m well-educated, kinda smart, and relatively successful, and I. Can’t. Use. Any. Words. Then I was told by a pastor at church that I just don’t have the “capacity” to deal with this…. Now what? How do you do it? How do you speak?
Rachel, when the idea of staying silent for one more second becomes untenable, you will tell your story. And I will listen.
Wow. This means so much. Some days it feels as if the silence will kill me. But the fear and shame seem to be stronger. I so want to let it out, but the words can’t come. But thank you. You read this. You listened. You responded.
Rachel, you have taken a brave step in writing what I just read. There will be many more brave steps.
Just like you are doing now, Rachel. Step. By. Step. Sometimes baby steps. Sometimes leaps. But it’s a journey. Kudos for your courage to write here. You know, the abuse I suffered was much bigger than what I wrote about in my comment. I KNOW you have the capacity to deal with it. I have found God is so much bigger, better, loyal, loving, dedicated and determined to see me free. He’s so much more, I found out. SO MUCH MORE. And He’s so for you, telling or not telling. Keep going for it, girl. YOU DO HAVE WHAT IT TAKES.
Thank you Kathy. Your words are meaningful. I have to be honest….I feel completely abandoned by God. But I will keep on this journey for now. Step by step. Your words will keep me going for today. Keep me believing that this is not impossible.
What about writing it down for yourself? Could you write it down – phrases, words, whatever you can manage – and give that to a counselor, maybe?
Something about your comment reminded me of my journey. I call 28 “the age of reckoning” and for some it’s maybe a bit earlier. I also sat in therapy and never mentioned these things. When I finally did mention the abuse, I acted as if I was completely over it (because I felt I should be). But I could only speak in broad terms…it was very difficult to talk about the fears I was carrying around.
No one will be able to tell you when it’s time to speak…only you will know. And yes, as Kathy said…step by step.
When I had begun to speak more of my abuse and was gaining some ground and courage, there were still a couple events that had never crossed my lips. I knew those in particularl needed to be said. So one day when I still couldn’t say them, I said to my counselor, “There’s something I’m not telling you about this story. I’m not ready to talk about it right now, but there is more.” To which he replied very simply, “Okay Matt…thanks for letting me know” Two sessions later, I told him.
You will get there. As we say in AA, “Thanks for sharing…and KEEP COMING!” Stay in some form of therapy…that is what will get you the most traction. And if you don’t like your counselor, switch up…find someone else. I’m so sorry for all you’ve gone through but you can totally do this…as far as surviving, you already have!
I hear and understand. Find someone else who will walk with you through this. I was 42 when it came to light. You dont have to use words. You can paint…draw…kick…scream. i get it. i really do…
I am so sorry for this deep hurt. I know it is something you can’t put into words yet, but as someone who loves Jesus, I know you can be set free from the hurt. I have lived with similar secrets and I am finally set free! It took over 20 years to tell, but I did. When we bring things to light, darkness loses it’s power. Know you have people championing FOR you!! You are so deeply loved!
You know how it is when you’re cleaning a closet that hasn’t been cleaned in years, and for a while it just feels like all the junk from the closet is filling the room beyond it, and everything is a mess, and why did I even open this closet?* And then, eventually, you work through it, and throw out the trash, and clean out the grotty corners, and sort the rest and put it away more or less neatly. And then it’s your closet, and hey, maybe you don’t like everything that’s in it, but you aren’t afraid to open it, and eventually don’t even wince when you open it because you’ve taken ownership of it.
It’s hard. If you can, you wait until you have some time and space to deal with it, because yeah, it’s probably going to take up a lot of your life for a bit. But it gets better. And the shame is maybe the thing that for me, anyway, got the most better, and the soonest. Because when I really took things out and looked at them straight on, I had to accept that they were not, in fact, my fault.
For me, and this is twenty-six years after I began dealing with my own abuse, that’s more or less how it’s been. Most of the time, it’s just another aspect of my somewhat colorful past. And at this point, while I absolutely wouldn’t wish my childhood on anyone, I also can’t really unwish it on me, because I really like the person I am, and like the life I have, and, well, if everything were completely different, than everything would be completely different.
A line from a favorite book – “That my uncle was cruel to me and my household taught me compassion.” We are shaped by our pasts. That’s inevitable. But we can also choose how we are shaped by our pasts. Not all at once, maybe, but over time. And if the lessons we learn are hard ones, we can also, sometimes, make them good ones, so that something comes out of all that pain. I’m not saying it can be worth it – but we are worth it. You are worth it.
I don’t talk about the abuse in my family a whole lot, not because it makes me uncomfortable, but because it makes other people uncomfortable. A lot of people know a little. (Especially people who think they’re doing the world a service by lecturing me on why I should spend the holidays with my parents. And even then, I’ll usually smile and calmly say “My parents were abusive and criminal in their treatment of me and my siblings. If you’d really like I’ll explain further, but I suspect you would rather not.” It’s kind of amazing how many people respond with “Oh, I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” “Oh, no, this is all stuff I’ve put to rest years ago, and I’m happy to discuss it. It’s your comfort that’s on the table.” But, as I said, I have to be pretty provoked to push it even that far.)
But… it’s just a thing now, mostly. A few quirks and foibles that I might explain to a lover. (Or a housemate. Never, ever enter a room where I am sleeping uninvited short of the gravest emergency. Please.) At times a somewhat dark sense of humor.
I feel like I’m writing from such a different place that I don’t really know if anything I say can really reach where you are now. So maybe I should just stop with this:
It gets better.
* Okay, I don’t have closets like that, though the house where I grew up did. Though the shelves and drawers in the lab where I work are like that, which is pretty terrifying, really. I think most of us have dealt with something like that, though.
first of all, I think the closet analogy is brilliant and apt. It’s that ‘worse before it gets better’ moment, when you think, “why on EARTH did I even START this project, at least when the closet was messy I could shut the door!” I SO get that.
I’ve said this a bunch of times now, and while it may seem repetitive… Sorry not sorry. Other people’s comfort isn’t more important than your pain and your need to speak your truth. You have a right to walk in the light with your story. You just DO.
The closet is the perfect description. I KNOW it will get worse before better because the boxes will be opened. And I worry I won’t be able to do it; physically, mentally….like what if I can’t actually breath? Dramatic, I know, but that’s the fear. This, though: “It gets better.” This helps.
It was 40 years before I could verbalize the traumas.
Before I could process what happened.
Before I could watch the whole scene play out in my mind.
your brain protects you, I think. It puts up barriers to remembering until you can handle it.
I started out by weaving together a story of abuse that spanned 3 generations of women until the pattern was broken by breaking the silence.
“The Storming Rage of Silence”
On the the cover is a little girl with her finger over her lips…. “Shhh”
To keep anyone person from being identified I took several people including those in my family ant told their story starting back in the 40’s.
It was very therapeutic.
As I began to deal with these thoughts and memories as though they were someone elses… I was able to touch them.
Eventually I was able to accept that these things really happened, it should not have, these people were wrong on so many levels and I really wanted to be healed… I sought a therapist to tell my story to. I thought all hell would break loose when I told. I was told to breathe and go pet my dog.
the writing did more good than anything.
The writing helps- no matter who does it. I’m sorry all hell DIDN’T break loose- that’s actually the appropriate response. But dogs DO help, don’t they? Be well, brave truth teller.
Reblogged this on Vegan -Health and Hope.
It happened once. Lucky for me, it happened after I began to discover feminism. Else he would still teach, would still have sex with his recently graduated students. Because “they’re legal, they’re not [his] students anymore, there’s nothing wrong with it.” I am blessed to have the family who helped me do what I know was right.
He will never teach again in Oregon. His source of naive and trusting girls is gone.
Strength be to you, to us, to we who have suffered at their hands. May we always have love and support and law enforcement that believes us.
So good, LittleBird, so good. Thanks, so encouraging what you’ve done. Thank you for counting the cost and for telling so others will not have to suffer in such a way. Thank, You.
GOOD. FOR. YOU.
This is a beautiful story of healing, and the power of telling and being heard. You are an artist, and your poetry will bring relief to other’s pain. Like Richard Hoffman, and his poets. Thank you for writing your truth.
I’m a man. 54 years old. I was never sexually abused, but I was beaten 3 times a week from the age of 5 till 12, when my brand new step father grabbed my mothers arm and said “never again.” In my youth she kept a brown extension cord in the closet next to my room, that was fashioned into a sort of Cat of Nine Tails, and hung on the wall where she could easily grab it and “teach me a lesson that I won’t soon forget.” Apparently I had a bad memory as I soon forgot my lessons and new ones came every couple of days. I pretty much had constant scabbing welts on my legs, shaped like the looped end of the brown cord, and still bear the scars. My two older sisters also hit me whenever they felt like it, and it continued this way for years. My mom is 81 now and denies it ever happened, and my sisters downplay it as if I had it coming.To this day I can’t remember ever hugging my mother, and I generally don’t like women and it has effected my own marriage. Sexual and Physical abuse are problems on both sides of the fence, and I’m writing this down for myself because nobody gives a shit except me.
I give a shit. You didn’t “have it coming” no matter if you were a handful of a little boy or not. That is not parenting.
thank YOU for sharing your story. I am so sorry. What you endured as a little one is beyond words. You should NEVER have gone through that, not ever. Not once.
My husband was also “spanked”, as his mom and dad would say. He has few memories but his older sister tells of the welts the belt buckle would leave on her back and legs, having to miss school, change her clothing to cover the welts, the shame, the anger. My husband cannot remember, and I am thankful for that. His sister says he was not spared. He flees from anger around him, is a peacemaker at any cost, yet his own internal anger leeks out at times on the dog or sometimes on me. He’s working hard to overcome this. THANK YOU for sharing your story. Again, I am so sorry. You never deserved it. Not Ever.
I don’t know you but I give a shit….for that little boy long ago and for the hurting man you are now. May you heal.
I also give a shit. I don’t know you but I send you LOVE. You are a gift to this earth and did not deserve any of that abuse.
@Ul approved I’m 36, I can relate to what you’re saying. I grew up in a house where I was a complete stranger at least that’s how I felt I still do:-( my dad, mom and siblings beat me up every chance they get, my mom will wake up @3am and blend pepper while I’m still sleeping mix it with water then my dad and siblings would all come to my room then my mom will undress me and kinda prep me with this mixture while my dad and sibling will beat me with sticks, cords, and punches. It lasted for more than 10 years until I was through from high school. My dad passed 6yrs ago didn’t own up to it, my mom never talks about it and my siblings act as though I deserved what I got. I was raped @ 17 in my neighborhood I was afraid tell my family because they will say it was my fault. I got a great job and worked for more than a decade all I did was take care of them thinking they will ask for apology but they never did. I’m married to a wonderful husband and I live here in America but I’ve nightmares, and I struggle to be a woman and wife. I don’t have any kids and I’ve resentments. Like most you I’m taking each day @a time.
Many would say that what happened to you was unspeakable, but you just SPOKE IT. You brave woman.
Here’s the thing about being THAT kid, the one who was beaten, verbally abused, sexually abused, emotionally scared and scarred, THAT kid, who was bent and twisted until at times you really didn’t know which way was up, who rode the emotional roller-coaster until things which simply shouldn’t happen just… seem… normal. Yeah, here’s the thing about that.
I give a shit. Done is done and we can’t go back and change what happened, and you’re mostly right about nobody giving a shit. Mostly, but not entirely.
Because some of us went there too, and we know the pain. And I’m not trying to blow sunshine your way when I tell you I give a shit, I really do.
My mother was the beater and the physical sexual abuser, an emotional manipulator. My father was the emotional tyrant who got some sick jolly from tormenting my waking moments proving to me that I was worthless, abusing me through “verbal sexuality” and sheer, brutal denigration, using me on the farm like a slave, speaking to others like they were human, speaking to me like I was dog shit he’d stepped in barefoot. Brothers and sisters went along, either kept in the dark and refuting my pleas for help and validation, or joining in.
And it makes you feel like you’re crazy, because no one will corroborate what you’ve seen and been through, and you’re called “paranoid” and “a pathetic liar” when you tell. Eventually you just quit telling, because no one gives a shit.
So I’ll be honest, most people DON’T give a shit, because they haven’t been there; but some of us have. We get it, and we give a shit, because we want you to understand — finally — that you’re not alone.
Part of you hates yourself, knowing on some weird level that you must be somehow in the wrong. After all, being singled out that way just doesn’t make any kind of sense, none at all. And yet it really happened, again and again.
And so another part of you hates and distrusts other people for so many reasons, from so desperately needing some form of affection and never quite getting it, to self-fulfilling prophecy when you’re so damned certain anything you dare to love will be taken away or leave or just be lost to you. Defense mechanism builds on defense mechanism and pretty soon you need love like you need air yet you don’t know anymore how to breathe.
It affects relationships; it affects your work, your hobbies, your beliefs and goals, it affects your sleeping hours. You know precisely what is meant by that line in “In the Line of Fire” when the villain asks “What do you think about, late at night when the demons come?”.
I’m telling you, I give a shit, and I give a shit enough to try to help you out some, because as long as you’re still breathing, the rest of your life can still belong to you, and not the people who brought you to this place.
I once lamented to myself that it’s a crying shame the person who most influenced my life hated my guts. So what’s the answer?
The answer is… forget ’em. Easier said than done, I admit; but like you said, your mother denies it, your sisters downplay it, others don’t believe you — so it’s up to YOU to offer yourself resolution, validation and resurrection.
Focus on the NOW, and forget what’s done. There’s no changing it. Stop wearing your life backwards and looking at the past, start with small steps here, now, today, and start looking toward now and tomorrow and the future.
When the past calls, cut the line. If your family is poisonous, stop drinking the Kool-Aid they’re going to keep offering you. Stop wasting what’s left of YOUR life on THEM, and start living for you and yours.
You’re never gonna fully trust people, but THAT’s OKAY — find the select few you CAN trust, and rejoice in them, learn to accept them for who and what they are. Do yourself that favor, I mean it. And when you feel broken and lost, take a look at what you ARE, the good and the bad. Rejoice in the good, improve it if you can, and rather than wallowing in the bad, critically examine it, choose how you want to change it, and take those steps.
Meaning to and wanting to… they’re not the same as doing.
If that step-father is alive, seek him out and just ASK him — what am I changing in memory, and what really happened? It’s a way of learning about yourself. Learning that you’re not crazy is a powerful feeling that can change things.
Walk away from your mother and sisters. Are they actually doing you any good? For some family is blood; but for others… we make our family as we go.
I hereby give you something valuable: I give you permission to be who you are, and to live. Wake up tomorrow and DO something. If it’s go to work, then go in and HIT it. If it’s the weekend, pick out something you always wanted to do and never did — a hobby, a place, an event. End your day feeling like you LIVED.
It’s too late to win all the toys, but it’s NEVER too late to start being alive and realizing just how wonderful breathing can be.
I don’t think you can forget what’s done. I think it’s actually a little dangerous to do that, in the long run. What I think you CAN do is walk that awfulness into the light. Get some help. Do the work. And then lay it down, honey. It’s not yours to carry- it never was.
Thank you for sharing. With cheeks soaked in tears I care. I have sons of my own. I am sorry you never received the love from a mother’s touch. You needed that for so many reasons. She missed out on one of life’s greatest treasures.
You were not to blame for ANY of it. You were a treasure missed. But not today.
I give a shit. I am so sorry for what you have suffered. Thank you for sharing.
I am so very sorry. No one should endure what you did; none of us should endure the violence we endured. . . .May you be blessed with the capacity to heal and to find light.
From my experiences, you NEVER forget, but you can find ways to thrive and tools to move forward.
Namaste (the spirit in me honors the spirit in you)
I care. I’d like to give that little boy the hugs he deserved. Thank you for telling. That matters too. Your life matters.
count me in as giving a shit. child abuse pays little attention to gender: all children are vulnerable and anyone bigger than us had power over us.
I’ll let you in on a secret: I give so much of a shit about this that I want to start a revolution around it. what happened to you, to me, to everyone writing here and elsewhere, as well as all those who have not yet found their voices or who have no access to keyboards, microphones, pens, canvas, tape…
I have a hunch we are in greater company than many folks would even want to know.
oh my. my cousin found your blog. she knew it would resonate with me.
my torment surface a little over a year ago through repressed memories. oh my gosh how strange it was…………..it IS!!! no one is alive that can validate what happened….
you know i know it happened…………. i have journaled, had flash-back THE WORST! anyway I KNOW It happened but how i wish someone would say, ‘yes katrina, it did happen, and yes it was wrong, and yes, you were too little to do anything about it. you didn’t know what was happening. you didn’t want to upset anyone, you were trying to be good. 2 1/2 how in the world would someone do that to a little girl(or boy) that was WRONG! so so so wrong, it is not your fault, you matter and are worthy and are loved and are STRONG! you can speak up now. YOU, Katrina, have found your VOICE! no one will ever hurt you or anyone you can help ever again.. you are strong, strong to speak up and say STOP! THIS IS WRONG! I MATTER AND YOU WILL NOT HURT ME ANY MORE……..
now if i could just go on………………….
i thought i had……………
but this week is the anniversary of when I was at my lowest……………….. so all that i gained from all that i have done to get past, glean tools…………it seems like i am starting over again…………..like i have laryngitis. it is almost like it hurts to think………….
will it ever go away?
i know it won’t.
i know it is like pealing back layers……….it is in the a process that one begins to heal the scares but gosh it is like my scare has been ripped open a-n-d the skin had just covered/grown over it or so i thought. and now it is exposed yet one more time………
thank you for sharing… i am so sorry what you and your sister and others here have experienced………….it’s not right… doesn’t make sense. I am sorry but am thankful for those like you who share their story.
you know, I use to say Good comes from everything……….
but somehow it makes it seem like ever situation must be good for good to come out of it…………….
now i say from every situation God comes out of………………….or not all situations are good, but God comes out of every situation.
I understand. Much the same for me. For me, it was a journey, my counselor told me there IS light at the end of the tunnel, and walking through the pain rather than avoiding it is what brings healing. I remind myself that visiting a place of pain again in not the same as living there in it, even though it may feel like it. It’s temporary. YOU ARE SO STRONG! YOU DO MATTER, so very MUCH.
Wow, you are real 😉
Your response ‘visiting a place of pain again is not living there’. Powerful words. Strong words.
well, I know my visit will be the length o f time my mind is prepared to handle…but luckily this type pain is not my home.
It’s a rainy gloomy day here at my home in Texas….but I don’t feel consumed.
May sound silly but your quick response has put a smile on my face.
thank you!
Katrina
Good and healing thoughts to yous.
Kate
It has been so much to take in over this past week. Laura- I want you to know that I feel with you in what must be at times very overwhelming feelings when 90 comments pop up! I am so amazed at the generosity of kindness in which you continue to hold space for these stories….. and they just keep coming. I want everyone to know that I am reading what you write, I am drinking it in and I hear you. I am a therapist of 15 years now because I am well aware that I would be dead had I not found the right one to hold my horror in their hands as I leaned into this one messed up little life I have. This shame is like a cancer in us; it will grow until it kills us if we don’t get it out. I feel so grateful to be present with all of you in this funky global social media movement. And those few that have reached back and read my story have made me feel heard in those ways that we need over and over again. I think we will need them for the rest of our lives? Thank you for allowing me to share in your courageous moment.
#couragerevolution
Agreed. I have 125 comments from this blog (and growing) saved in a separate file I created in my inbox, to remind me of just how powerful telling our story is…and how devastating this kind of loss is…and how there are so many out there who actually get this kind of pain, move through it, aren’t defined by it, yet always acknowledge it. Thanks amgregory2013 for dedicating your career/calling to something so compassionate and useful.
my father was my abuser. it began when I was 5. but he disappeared for a while, and at 10 i felt safe to tell my mom. She called me a liar. Told me to keep quiet about such things, that we needed the child suppoort check he sent, even if i never saw him. then at 14 he decided he wanted visitation again. Mom made me go, every other weekend. Im 31 now, and a mom to two beautiful girls. I dont allow him to see them, and my whole family (his side) thinks it because Im just snooty. But its because when his younger sister, my aunt, came forward, they all labelled her a drug addict, a drunk, just trying to ruin someone else’s life. They say the same of my cousin, who is my age. No one stopped to ask them why they hurt so much they seek to numb the pain by any means possible. So i remain the bad guy, the one who is “hiding” her children from thier grandfather, but if it protects them, so be it.
I wish you strength, Christina, as you continue to protect your children. It is so sad to me when families don’t honour what their daughters/nieces/sons/etc tell them. YOU know the truth. Find others to be your family. LOVE to you.
Your family and kids may never understand why you’re doing what you’re doing, but it’s absolutely the right thing to do. Hang in there.
Hide those kids. You are doing the right thing. So brave. Often people cave to the manipulation of the family and continue to take their kids around those they know are abusers. Keep up the good work…and NEVER feel like you have to keep his secret. I’m sure there are others in the family with kids that need protected. The more that know who he really is, the more children saved from this kind of hell.
Power to you Christina. You are doing the right thing.
Thank you.
thanks for sharing your story. My adopted daughter has a similar story and she was amazed when I told her that if she had been here in America, I would have believed her and called the police and the man would have been arrested. Her birth mother and father knew what was happening by the town pedophile and did NOTHING!!! I shared the FB post on my FB for my daughters. Bless you for sharing and for the police response- such healing!
I can’t tell you how refreshing this is to hear, as odd as that may sound. The way you speak about it shows that you have not let it ruin your life, that you do not let it define you. But, you also know it is serious and you have been done wrong. I was raped two years ago and never got involved with the police. This almost makes me want to. Just because I can.
I think there is immeasurable power in telling your story- I hope you do.
I was sexually abused from my earliest memories until the age of 11 or 12 . He is dead now and unfortunately , was cremated. I always said I would dance on his grave . Now I cant . Ive had some therapy but now , at the age of 44 , I have been agoraphobic for 19 years . There are no psychiatrists or psychologists in the area and I cant travel very far to go and see someone who can help me . It was determined that the sexual abuse is the root of my panic disorder and agoraphobia . Im missing out on life . That bastard is still ruining my life . Or rather , Im still allowing him to . He never had to answer for what he did and yet Im still suffering . I know how hard it is to talk about . But once you do , it gets easier and easier . I have no problem saying ” I was sexually abused as a child ” to anyone . But , it hasn’t freed me ., I want so much more out of life than the way I am living now . Im so glad you ladies got to tell your story and be heard . God bless you and stay strong .
Melissa, I hope you are able to find a way to get some help and support so that you are free to live a life as big and as free as you want it to be. I will be praying for you.
Thank you . Ive been trying to get help for years . There just doesn’t seem to be any .
Melissa, have you looked into therapy via Skype? I actually just heard of someone doing that. That way, it doesn’t so much matter if they’re local.
Melissa, have you looked into counseling via the internet or by phone?
I was looking into internet therapy this morning but they all cost more than I can afford . Ive been on disability since 2000 for the panic attacks so I only have medicare and Medicaid and so far , they don’t cover online therapy . Or I haven’t seen 1 doctor yet who accepts it . I haven’t looked into phone therapy but Im sure that too isn’t covered .
Melissa, I’m going to give this some thought.
What about a university that trains counselors? Sometimes you can find a place like that that has a sliding fee scale, and will let you pay only what you can afford. You might try contacting some colleges near you and see if there are any possibiliites there.
Thank you for sharing! I too am a survivor of abuse and my abuser is still alive and living a lie deceiving so many. I get sick to my stomach if I even think about having to be in the same town. Family always wanting to know why I won’t come to family functions,
Keeping my distance is all I can do. I know I’m not his only victim and now that he is sick and soon to die I can only pray for my soul for feeling glad he is going to hell. I have written everything down to help deal with the emotional pain this man caused. And I share my story in confidence with others to help.
This is one of the most powerful pieces of writing I’ve ever read and I’m a reader, writer, survivor and activist. Thank you for sharing this experience. It was healing for me. I’ve shared it on my personal and activist page. And I’m a follower of your writing now. Thank you. Christine Cissy White
Thank you, Christine. Heading to check out your page now. xo
On thursday my son (adopted for from foster care) told his story to a case worker. This isn’t the story we all know, of his bio mom and all the families and the neglect and the bio dad who didn’t want him. This was the story of the foster family, the nice ones, the ones who had him for 3 years, the ones who were stable…. he told of spankings (on the shins and arm with a paint stick) handcuffs and spoons of vinegar. This was four years ago and now the family is being investigated for various things. My heart is broken again, partly because in all we have gone through, I didn’t even know to ask the questions, I didn’t know most of it. It seemed normal to him and better than the alternative. I saw how powerful it was for him to be heard by an authority and believed by us. For us to say we are so sorry this happened to you and we’re glad you told us and this shouldn’t have happened.
I was four and it happened once, the sexual molestation. My dad’s best friend. We moved away. he died when I was nine. We went to his funeral– so much love for him and I was secretly glad he was dead, and guilty because maybe he did it to someone else. I minimized it. I didn’t want to hurt my dad, who carried his best friend’s Bible still. When I was 30 and the panic attacks were so bad and the depression form having to be perfect and holding it all in and I had my own babies to care for. I told my parents — they heard me, they threw out the man’s Bible, they didn’t minimize it like I had, they grieved with me.
Being head is powerful. Being believed is healing and when someone will cry with you, it makes you matter.
I am so very glad you were heard and believed.
I read things like this and it does little by little possibly give me the strength to do something…. My abuse is a blur and like so many has come back in spurts or flashbacks… I don’t remember a lot of my childhood and I finally realized why around the beginning of my marriage 15 years ago. I think for most of my life I blocked it all out until I was around 18 or 19 when my cousin reminded me what “he did to us”… She seemed shocked I did not remember much and pretty much clammed up from that day forward. She has almost been afraid to be alone with me ever since. I have wanted to get her alone a million times since that day but she avoids me. Mostly because the guy who sexually abused us was her first cousin on her mom’s side of the family (I am her cousin on her dad’s side). And in the middle of all this the guy kills himself. I went to his funeral with my parents (they do not know about this to this day) and thought I was going to throw up the whole time as I watched the sister he abused moan and whail like I have never heard anyone do before… It’s all so crazy… Sometimes I think I am going crazy! Why are we still protecting him?!?! He killed himself!!!! Probably because of some of the awful things he did to children!!!! I know a big reason why I stay silent is because of my family… Only my husband and a few friends know what happened to me… I think my family would fall apart and I am not sure if I could handle it… My mother thinks I had an amazing, perfect childhood and she loves to tell me how wonderful my childhood was and how awful hers was… Ha! If only she knew! And I am not sure my cousin would support me… It is all such a mess!!!! I could ramble for hours in this story but I am tired… Tired of this ick that consumes my life and tired of letting it but I just feel so helpless so much of the time… Where do I begin?! It would shatter my parents and my mom’s family and I am not sure I could pick up pieces… Or talk about it that much or so on and so on… Thank you for reminding me it NEVER should have happened to me… That statement alone makes me feel better and thank you for letting me share and ramble…
So, I get the not wanting your family to fall apart, and the being not ready, and the being terrified. The one thing I will say is, families with this sort of cancer growing inside them are already fractured. You speaking your truth, when and if you are ready, will not break it more than it is already broken. Thank you for sharing your story here- I am so sorry you went through that.
Thank you for sharing. . …bleeding on the page…. I don’t think is rambling. It’s processing. Which sometimes I hate that word, process, I just want to be DONE!
I don’t remember alot of my childhood either. I never thought it was a big deal. I really thought everyone remembered the same as me. My repressed memories hit just a little over a year ago.
It is the strangest thing to have these events that happened and me have NO idea they happened. ..and to ME! I have never talked to anyone with repressed memories. It’s crazy isn’t it!! And icky!! For me it became this deafening silence. I have had a lot hapoen in this pass15 months. I would like to encourage you to find a couselor. One has really helped me.
Listen to me….you matter, you are a precious person that did not deserve what happened to you. You did nothing to cause it…it was not your fault! Someone should have kept you safe!
It sounds like you are in a happy safe place now dealing with the ‘new’ slime. I’m sorry we and so many many others were not kept safe. But WE are survivors!
Much of time I have learned to make my own white noise to drowned out the deafening silence.
I must stop bleeding /processing now. Take care of yourself
The above was for anonymous.
I am still unable to say anything to my family because my step father is still alive, but I’ve got a pair of tap shoes I’m saving to use on his grave! But for now I’ve moved across the country and can only feel comfortable telling people who don’t know him! I wish I had someone strong enough to help me confront him like your cousin helped you! God Bless!
You need to do it when you are ready, but it shouldn’t have anything to with anyone else’s comfort. I wish we had done it when he was alive.
My little sister was abused when she was quite young (she’s 11 now) by one of my brothers. Twice. She told me about a year ago and I confronted him and told my parents. He was extremely remorseful and guilty (tears and all), but only apologized months later when my mum made him. He didn’t have the courage to talk to her about it. He still lives at home and it seems like all is forgiven and good between them… although I’m torn between knowing whether him being home is a safe thing or not, since it happened probably 4-6 years ago. Also, it makes it difficult because she loves him and would feel guilty if he had been thrown out of the house. Not my decision. I don’t know what I’d have done.
My question is: is there anything else I can do to help my little sister besides believing her and making sure she knows it was not her fault? Should my brother have been reported, even though it had been a few years since it happened and he was a minor at the time? She seems to have healed, but I have no clue how much it really affected her or not. I don’t like bringing it up because I don’t want to bring up bad memories for her (but maybe I should more often?) I don’t want her to grow up and still have to work through things if me and my parents are not doing enough to help her.
I think letting her know that if and when she needs to talk about it you are there and willing to listen is the biggest thing. I’ll be honest, I am concerned about them living under the same roof. I don’t know if either of them ever received any professional help, but I would strongly recommend it. I’ll be praying for her. For your whole family.
That’s really hard.
I don’t know where you are, and I don’t know what mandatory reporting laws are like in your area, but your parents might be between a bit of a rock and a hard place. In the US, at least, in some cases the treatment of minor perpetrators is sometimes pretty extreme and the science backing some of it is shaky at best. (I hope this has gotten better, but the most recent information I’ve seen indicates otherwise.) What your comment indicates to me about the age difference leaves me feeling pretty uncomfortable… but at the same time, there have been cases where pretty young kids have been branded as sexual offenders for not much more than playing doctor, so I really don’t think there are necessarily easy answers. (And my own experiences with CPS, as a teenager trying to deal with both early and ongoing abuse – though we never discussed the ongoing abuse, partly because it didn’t occur to me that there was anything actionable about it – were pretty awful.)
I don’t know what your sister needs. Maybe she’s gotten what she needs – she was heard, she was believed, there were consequences. Maybe not.
I would let her know that if she ever wants to talk you’re there for her. I was going to write a bit about not pushing her – and I still feel that, because darn it, you can’t help people deal with this shit if you don’t respect people’s autonomy and their ability to make their own decisions – but… darn she’s young.
One word of caution – if you have your own painful and complicated feelings about this (and how could you not) you might want to try to find other places to talk about it, so you don’t bring that confusion to your interactions with your sister. Often for kids part of the trauma is in how other people react. If she’s found her peace – let her find it. If she needs help, then do what you can to be that help or get her that help. But it would be so easy to feed her your own doubts, and that kind of thing is so very contagious.
Thanks, both of you. It helps. We’re in BC, Canada. I don’t know about laws pertaining to sexual abuse here… but I know that most of the time, minors get their records clean as soon as they turn 18 (or it might be 19). Except that it was never reported so it might be different if it was reported now.
Counseling is good advice. I’ll suggest it to my parents. Again, thank you. Even just for listening, although the advice is awesome.
I can’t tell you how thankful I am to have read this post. I am a healing victim of sexual abuse and recovering daily. I would love to dance on the creeps grave… If I knew it existed. It happened during my childhood and caused me to block so much (even all the best parts out.) To me- I “ignored” it for so long and at the same time punished myself my entire life for it …I struggled with anorexia, bulimia, and self mutulation and tried my absolute best to hide it from everyone. I just wanted to feel “normal.” Finally I’ve figured out that even though they were terrible, awful things that happened they made me who I am today.. a much kinder, compassionate person who tries every day to see and care for the heart of people. I’m thankful for everything that made me.. All the things that made me feel out of the group, lonely, isolated and unworthy because it made me feel even more connected with everyone else who felt out of the group, the ones who felt different from all the seemingly happy people, and the ones I think God really would have LoVeD hanging out with… Finally I figured out that God adores me and now I like me… Heck I LOVE ME and that feels really freakin’ good to say.) thanks for loving yourself so you could love others and help them learn to love themselves too … or as in my case thanks for loving others, so you could learn to love yours