A Piece of My Story

I have decided to follow in my little sister's footsteps and join in a writing exercise chronicling the intense and incredible journey I have been on my entire life. I do not regret a single step of it. Before I delve in, allow me to share where I am today.

Today:

Today I am happy. I have a job that supports me and allows me time and energy to do theater, which I love. I have a handful of incredibly wonderful and supportive friends who comfort me when I'm hurting, lift my spirits when I need it, and laugh with me daily. My relationship with my immediate family is constantly growing stronger and I have an incredible bond with my sister. The moment in my life that I am most proud of is the first day I looked in the mirror and was happy with what I saw.

My life was not always like this.

The incidents that occurred in my early childhood had a vast and dire effect on my friendships, relationships, spirituality, world views, and overall life experiences. I worked very hard to discover the truth of who I was beneath the fear, pain, and trauma which dictated my every move. These things happened. They made me into someone who feared everything and everyone. But they are no longer the dominating force in my mind. The most difficult part was choosing to face my fear of losing the persona I'd created only to discover that I really was disgusting, ugly, and worthless.

Today, I would make the exact same decision.

The missing piece:

At the age of 5 or 6, my sister and I were attacked by a neighbor. The threats he made to the two of us would be the root of every nightmare for years to come. I was raped in that house. And I feel certain it will always be the scariest day of my life. I forgot what had happened within minutes of it ending.

In the 5 years that followed, I was repeatedly molested by a family friend. Had it not been for the first incident, I may have been able to tell someone what he was doing. But forgetting was already a pattern. And you can forget something as it's happening to you. His words to me through this period had a profound effect on my personality and my self worth. It has been a long road to healing the hurt that he inflicted. This combined with the extreme guilt I felt for not protecting my sister created such a low view of myself that every day I would look in a mirror, I would become depressed and disappointed in the person staring back at me.

Life after the abuse:

Sixteen years after the initial trauma, memories began to surface. I fought with my parents nearly every day of those sixteen years. My sister and I were like two tornados whirling through the house. If we hit, it resulted in mass destruction. I didn't know why my family life was so tumultuous. I didn't realize exactly how angry I was. And the moment the first flash back came, I didn't see it coming.

Within a year of this discovery, my aunt passed away. I was devastated. Her death was the perfect excuse to get into therapy. I cherish the sessions I had both individually and with the small group of her other patients. They were draining and confusing. Painful and relieving. They helped me to understand an important aspect of human nature. We all react to pain, and we can find solace in sharing those reactions. We are more alike than we think, and we can find understanding and acceptance in unlikely places.

After a year of therapy, I'd grown to love myself for who I was instead of for what I could do. I found myself to be a strong, beautiful, determined woman and a loyal and trustworthy friend. I realized the root of the argument I repeated with my parents every day was buried in a memory from long ago. A time when I assumed that they knew about the abuse but simply chose to do nothing. I held on to the belief that they chose not to protect me. It wasn't true. They never knew we'd been hurt until my sister and I told them more than a decade later. I'd also discovered a need to be independent that I never had before. I worked hard and began to support myself. I had a few romantic relationships destined for failure because I still had so much trauma to work through. But I did, eventually, work through it. One of these relationships resulted in a miscarriage two years ago. And while the first trauma I experienced will remain the scariest day of my life, the day I lost my baby is most definitely the saddest.

Since my first flashback and through the last five years, I have come to discover a new relationship with God. The one I had while growing up was shaky at best. I was very disillusioned with him and believed that, similarly to my parents, he had chosen not to protect me. It is my belief now that God's priority is not my physical body, but my soul. And while I have been placed in situations that were painful and frightening, I have always found the strength I needed to get through them. I have always been provided with the people I needed to show me a path, listen to me cry, hold me up when I'm weak, and pick up the pieces when I fall apart. Without those people, I would truly have been lost. And without God to help me see, I never would have noticed they were there.

My blog:

My purpose in writing this blog is to share my growth and my journey to healing. I am not seeking validation. I know that these things happened, and that knowledge is enough for me. I am not seeking a support system. I already have that. I will not detail the experiences that I have endured out of respect for those who may read this. They are uncomfortable, unnecessary, and could trigger memories in those not yet ready to face them.

I only wish for my writings to be comforting to those who feel alone in their experience. I would like to bring hope to those whose children are currently dealing with the horrifying trauma of abuse. Hope that they too will see better days at the end of their journeys. I want to inspire other abuse survivors to break their own silence and share their story. And I wish to encourage anyone who reads this to follow your instincts. To listen to your gut. To know without a doubt that if you have the slightest inkling that a child you know is being hurt, you should speak up. To speak up is always difficult. But our silence is the only weapon our abusers have against us.

My promise:

These men commit their crimes in secret, in darkness, in quiet. These are not powerful men. It does not take great strength to hurt a child- it takes great weakness. Understanding this is an important step toward creating a world our children can feel safe in. Whatever lies children believe, they should never have to believe that the adults surrounding them will not defend them. They deserve to be able to trust us. And I am fully committed to live every day of my life in an effort to achieve that goal.