Let me preface this by saying that this entry will discuss my experience with sexual abuse. I will not relent of it's details because as I've said before, I plan to be honest and real. While it wasn't the best part of my life, it happened and it brought real challenges to my life. Some that I will discuss...some that I will not. But if you, too, are a survivor, then you'll understand there are inner secrets you just can't share. If abuse bothers you, then I urge you not to read this entry. Thank you.
I was four the first time I was molested. It's still hard for me to admit that it happened. It's like I forget sometimes...and then the memory assaults me out of the blue and I think, "Holy crap. It really did happen. I am a statistic." Most of the time, it's a passing darkness that I acknowledge momentarily before it recedes back to the pit of my unfavorable memories leaving me with nothing more than a shiver.
Other times, it overtakes me and leaves me feeling empty, sad, and scared. I feel the same helpless, lonely feeling that I felt at four when I watched my uncle sit at the edge of my bed. I have to remind myself, "You're not four. You aren't being molested anymore. Everything is okay."
My mom was a single mother raising me and my younger brother. We had lived in a two bedroom apartment in Utah and when things got too hard, she decided to let my brother and I go to my aunt and uncle's house in Washington. I was only four at the time, so I don't recall how long it had been before my mother came up to join us. I know she hadn't been there long before a man my aunt and uncle referred to as "Shorty" began hanging around quite a bit. I didn't really like him. I didn't get a good feeling from him and though I don't believe I was "psychic" I do know that I was right about him.
I always had a sensitivity to things. My mom told me when I was two, I had told her that my great-grandfather had come to visit me at night. She didn't believe me until I was able to point him out in a photo. I'd never seen a photo of him or been told who he was, so she trusted that I had some sort of gift at that time. I can't say that I have it now. I truly believe that most children are sensitive to these things...but life and its tragedy can take it away. I didn't know that at four...my innocence would be lost forever.
I remember the night it happened. It was close to Thanksgiving so my step-dad's brother had come to meet his brother's new girlfriend and her two kids. My mom called my brother and I into the house and we ran in, like kids do, jumping around and showing off for the new guy. Even at four, I remember thinking that the look this man was giving me was really odd. I wasn't sure how to take it, but something inside of me felt uneasy about him.
The day went along with nothing occurring. My brother and I were eventually put to bed and the adults stayed up to party. I was asleep when the door to the bedroom creaked open. Now, step-dad lived in a one bedroom apartment at the time my mother began a relationship with him. It was a true bachelor's pad and the only way to get to the restroom was to pass through the bedroom; the one bedroom where my brother and I slept until my mom and step-dad carried us out to the couch.
Anyway, I remember being vaguely aware that my new uncle had come into the room. Of course, I figured he was just going to use the bathroom, so nothing triggered me. However, a moment later, I felt the depression in the bed and then hands pulling my nightgown up and my panties down...
I remember being confused. I remember being scared. I remember thinking, "When Mommy comes in, this will stop." Only, Mom never came. And the assault continued. I remember him telling me to kiss him. And I did. I don't remember every detail of the assault, but the part I remember the most is the most incredible.
I remember this grown man, yanking on my arms, frustrated and angry that he couldn't get a four year old child off of this bed. I could feel two strong arms coming around me, holding me tightly. His face was wide with fear and even in the dark, I could see his eyes were as big as saucers. I don't know what he saw, but I know I felt another presence in that room. Something had held me to that bed. Heaven only knows what would have happened had he succeeded in taking me away as he'd tried. I believe in my heart it was my great-grandfather protecting me from further abuse.
Unfortunately, morning came and uncle was still at the house. I was too scared to tell Mom what had happened, so I kept the information to myself. I remember fear striking through me when Mom and step-dad left the house, asking uncle to watch us. I asked Mom if I could go to her brother's house, as they still lived just down the hall, but she said they were at church.
I recall the smile he had when the door shut and he and I were alone in the living room. He told me to come over to him. Every ounce of me said no, but I obeyed. He lifted me up onto his lap and he laid down, with me on top of him. This time, he penetrated me with his finger and I remember being completely frozen with fear. I don't remember how long it lasted or what he did from there, but the doctor's exam had cleared any evidence of rape.
I vaguely remember speaking to the police officer once I'd finally told my mom about the abuse. I remember getting into trouble a few times because my brother and I were suddenly touching inappropriately. I remember people saying that it was a normal response for an abused child, but the label stung. I wondered if I could ever escape the stigma that seemed to be hanging over my head now...
Sadly, I don't think you do escape the stigma. There are things about me now that I simply can't help... for example, I can't look at a grown man and a little girl without the thought creeping into my mind..."What is he doing when the doors are closed..." It shames me that I have those thoughts, but I can't help it. I cannot stand to hear people whispering. It took me a long time to accept affection in any form; I couldn't snuggle, I couldn't cuddle or hug or have anyone touching me when I was laying down. There were a few instances when I beat my brother up for trying to lay with me. I just couldn't do it.
The incident affected me greatly. I lost a part of me that I shouldn't have lost until years later and unfortunately, I carry a great deal of guilt. I think, "I should have said no. I should have screamed. I should have ran." I sometimes think there was something that I had done...maybe the way I had smiled at him or the fact that I was trying to get attention that made me deserve what happened. I sometimes think that if I were a different girl that it never would have happened; as if there is something cosmically wrong with me that made me a target for abuse. Then I feel even more guilt because I feel as if I should just get over it. I could have been raped that night. I could have been taken from my bed and murdered... But by some grace of God, he couldn't get me off the bed. He tried...he tried really hard, but he couldn't... and something about that gives me hope and peace. It tells me that someone was watching over me.
In closing, I didn't say no...but I shouldn't have had to. And that is an important piece to remember. I was a child. I wasn't in the wrong, no matter my behavior. I was abused and the person who hurt me was a monster. If anyone has suffered from abuse, I hope my story brings some sort of comfort. We were children. We were innocent. We shouldn't have had to say no.
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