I felt angry and powerless. And always alone.

It Happened …

when I was seven. My parents had been separated two years and had finally started the process of going through with the divorce and custody battle. Before it happened, I was a precocious ball of energy in second grade. I lived with my mother and our cat. I liked to do all the things kids of that age like to do: play chase, have sleepovers, watch movies – my favorites was Pretty in Pink. In third grade I became more reserved. We had just moved to a new town and I was the new kid in school. Partway through the school year my father kidnapped me and put me into another school near his home. This was to be my trial period to see how I liked living with my father. And this was when the abuse started. It continued intermittently until I was twelve.

It Was …

my biological father who molested me. The first time was the night he kidnapped me. He had taken me shopping to buy new clothes for school, but had conveniently forgotten to buy me underwear. That night as we put the new clothes – and my only pair of underwear – through the wash, he began to tickle me. The tickles turned into something else, something dirty and gross. When it was over, he told me to go wash up. He told me I must never tell anyone or they would take him away from me and I would never see him again. After that first time, he molested me frequently during our periodic weekend visits, on long car rides, or after a bedtime back-rub.

It Made Me Feel…

dirty and ashamed. Always, when he would molest me I dissociated, tried to sleep. I didn’t want to face the reality of what was happening. In between episodes, I felt angry and powerless. And always alone. My private parts itched. I wondered if this was how my mother must have felt all those years ago when she was raped by her step-father. I didn’t understand why this had to happen to me. Were my future children domed to suffer the same fate? What could I do to prevent it? I felt incapable of even preventing it from happening to me. It deeply damaged my sense of self- worth that I am still working to recover. To this day, the smell of certain soaps and lotions make me nauseous. I have to consciously counter my tendency to withdraw when triggered so that I can remain present, assess any threats – actual or perceived – and, if necessary, act to protect myself and others.

I Told…

a friend in after-school care who had been vocal about her uncle abusing her. This was soon after the abuse had started for me. She didn’t believe me. I think she thought I was just trying to get attention, to steal her thunder. Her response made me feel even more alone and unimportant. I protected him with my silence for more than 10 years. When I was 22, I learned that he was becoming romantically involved with a woman who had two young daughters. After much deliberation, I decided I would call Child Protective Services to inform them of the situation. I also informed my father that I had reported him. I hoped these actions would be enough to protect the girls who would become my de-facto step-sisters. I don’t know whether it was or not. They are grown now. Just last year I told their mother. I should have told her sooner, but I feared her disbelief. The fall-out from that disclosure has been difficult to handle. Soon I will tell my step-sisters. Although I worry about the hurt that this may cause them, I want to empower them with the knowledge of what happened so that they can take whatever actions are necessary to protect their future children. Over the years, I have gradually told others close to me. Just a year and a half ago I told my mother who is also a survivor. By coming out about what happened to me I have built up a support network. In the process of disclosure, I have also learned that many of my friends had similar experiences. I feel deep sorrow that so many people have been disrespected and objectified as innocent children and I will keep telling my story until survivors no longer feel they have to silently carry the burden of shame – it belongs to the perpetrators alone.

I Survived… 

as a teenager, with sex and drugs. They made me feel a sense of power over my body that I had never felt before. These were not the most healthful coping strategies. I never dated, but I was almost always in an intimate relationship with men. In college, I went to group therapy, but said very little and, as a result, got very little out of it. I continued to use drugs as a crutch. My first husband had to bear the brunt of a lot of the emotional garbage I was processing through my early twenties. I journaled, I cried, I sang, I wrote bad poetry, I shouted and cried some more. Then I was over it, or so I thought. I even believed I had forgiven my father for good. After leaving my first husband, I gave up drugs and became an exercise addict: yoga, running, biking – all of it filled me with endorphins and let me feel in charge of my body. I remarried, but kept a lot of the details of my abuse secret from my second husband for years, feeling that I had made a huge mistake in disclosing too much too soon to my first husband. After the birth of my daughter, all of the hurt returned. I felt like I was solely responsible for protecting her from the same fate. It was a huge burden. I began talk therapy, coupled with EMDR and TRE.  I started group therapy. I joined Survivors of Incest Anonymous (SIA). I journaled. I cried. I began to pray and found that God had been there waiting for me all along, ready to wrap me in a warm embrace. Today I am still working to heal. I have a good support network and a variety of coping strategies. And I am reassured to know that through my courage and perseverance I have helped build a circle of protection for the children in our community – that I don’t have to do it alone.

I Dream… 

that the generational cycle of abuse truly stops with me and that my daughter – and all children – can experience their birthright of an innocent childhood with two loving parents. I pray that anyone who experiences this kind of violation will have the courage to speak up and that their stories will be heard and believed. I pray that perpetrators will have to face their actions and take responsibility for the hurt they caused. I hope that laws will be changed to extend the statute of limitations. I would like every child to be educated about his or her body and feel empowered to demand their right to body autonomy. I work to make my dream come true. For my part, I teach my daughter the proper names of all her body parts and that her private parts are special and that no one should touch them unless they are helping to keep her clean, healthy and safe. I listen to her so that she knows she can tell me anything, without judgement. I encourage her to respect others’ bodies and teach her who she can tell if anyone tries to hurt her. We read books about these things and sing songs. I treat it just like any other safety rule I want her to know, like always looking both ways before crossing the road. I initiate conversations with other mothers and teachers to help build a community that is off limits to sexual abuse.

I Want…

all survivors to know that they are not alone. That their voices have power. And that their bodies are whole. Breathe. And know that emotions are just a small part of the whole – although they may feel unmanageably huge at times – in fact they come and go like the seasons. I want you to know that it’s possible to quiet the little voice in your head that keeps telling you you’re not good enough, or you don’t deserve love and affection. You are and you do. You have the power to comfort your inner child, to engage in the process of re-parenting yourself. You have the strength to protect yourself and those who are vulnerable. When you succeed in comforting your inner child and quieting that negative little voice, you will hear a deeper, steady voice, resounding with love: “I cherish you. You are precious. You are safe and I am going to protect you.”