The Stories We Wear

It was a typical Friday night in my life, sitting home alone, doing homework, longing for a social life again, but understanding the bigger picture. I'm where I need to be right now, and I'm working towards something; something that sitting on a bar stool won't offer me.

The alarm tone sounded off on my phone reminding me that I had a "date" with a speaker about Sexual Abuse Survivors, and how to TAKE BACK OUR LIVES.  I had forgotten all about it, and for a moment I thought about skipping it because I only had 20 minutes to get ready and get out the door. I looked down at my UWGB sweats and thought, "hey, I'm clean, my clothes are clean and they aren't ratty and ripped up, my hair is okay..." to hell with it, I'm not going to a fashion show, I'm going to listen and learn, my clothes don't make or break the experience unless I let them, right?  So I made myself a quick bite to eat, grabbed a bottle of water, and out the door I went.  It's a beautiful thing the way GOD leads us to where we need to be at just the right moments in time, because I know in my heart that I got led there with a definite, undeniable purpose.
My work as a Sexual Assault Advocate has led me to some incredible people along the way, some life altering experiences and some deep heartache, and let me tell you that last night was a combination of all that.

You know sometimes we look at people on the street and we see this gruff, hard assed exterior of a person and almost immediately make a judgment about the type of person that they are, without truly knowing anything real about them. Sometimes, the people who seem the most unapproachable, are the ones who need to be approached the most, because they are hurting somewhere so deep inside and all they need is a gentle hand to reach out with some compassion and kindness. It's dangerous to judge to quickly, because often the stories we wear on the outside are masking the real story inside like a protective coat from the harsh winter winds. We all need to really start believing that we don't end up anywhere, or encounter certain people by accident. NOTHING IS AN ACCIDENT in this life! Each person and experience is intricately interwoven into the fabric of our lives, of our Beings, of our very souls; God doesn't have accidents, so even when we don't know what the hell is going on, or WHY, you can rest assured that He does.

I am a sexual abuse Survivor.  I realized last night that I have this platform to stand on, these words inside of me, and even though my internal healing is solid and strong, I have been afraid to really come out and write about it to the world, and it made me wonder how healed I really am if I am still afraid to speak it out loud to people other than those close to me. In October of 2009 when I began my journey as a rape advocate, I remember sitting in training one day listening to other women open up about their wounds of sexual abuse and assault, and all of these thoughts were screaming in my head that I wanted to say to them but I was so afraid to open my mouth, (public speaking has never been a desire of mine...) but something willed my mouth open and I heard myself encouraging these women, talking about empowerment and self healing and self love and respect, and then suddenly I was sharing something so private and hurtful about my own past with a room full of strangers!  Just as quickly as I realized what was happening and felt so completely exposed, I looked around that table and saw compassion and people nodding their heads in understanding, and knew that it was okay; even more than okay, it was purposeful and healing in and of itself!
As I have begun to open up more to people in my life, old friends have come to me and shared their own stories, and we talk about healing and growth. I've had people come to me after years of no contact, and apologize for the wrongs they committed against me as a young girl, and take ownership of the shame that I have carried, or the guilt for feeling like I somehow deserved it. There is no greater healing power in the world for a survivor, than to have a perpetrator honestly and genuinely own what they did, releasing us of that burden once and for all. Real healing happens in those moments, I am here to tell you.
None of my victimizers were ever brought before a judge or held accountable by any law, and I cannot tell you why because only my parents could truthfully answer that question; but I know that before God Almighty those people have and will pay for the sins they committed against a defenseless child, and I take great comfort in that.
Something else I have learned about sexual abuse over time is that no ones is worse or easier than anyone else's; there are no comparisons to be made, no trophy for enduring more than another, and it sure doesn't lesson the pains we feel just because maybe it only happened once. The only difference may be in whether or not it comes from someone we know and should be able to trust, or a stranger that we have no expectations of kindness from anyway. As a child when you look at your father, or your uncles etc...you see a place of safety and security, or so we should; when that is stripped away and replaced with fear and mistrust, the paths that follow become twisted and chaotic.
At a very young age, around 3 to the best of my recollection, I became the object of desire for men around me, and it's here I suppose that I will begin my story to you now. I'll admit that I'm feeling alittle scared and a whole lot nervous because there are people out there who can read these words that have never had a clue about this part of the story I wear, but I imagine great things have never been accomplished in dark closets hidden away from the light either. I was led through those experiences because my Higher Power knew that one day I would be given the strength to share it with the world, and would hopefully be able to reach someone else in pain and shed some light. So put on your seat belt, the ride gets a little bumpy.

I have memories of sitting in a highchair at my babysitters house, an older woman with a teenage son, minding my own business and being a 3 year old. I'm not sure what the hell ever provoked a 16 year old boy to find anything sexual about me,or to be so inclined to want to explore my tiny body in such perverse and twisted ways, but he did; and it was there in that house that I first learned that people were not always going to be nice to me, or be trustworthy. There was a sun-porch at this house where an upright freezer stood in a corner, leaving a space about 2 feet wide between the wall and the appliance and I was a very tiny girl so it was a perfect place to run to and hide, or so I believed; he was soon to make that a prison where he could trap me and I couldn't run away while he touched me and said disgusting things to me.  The words, "you better be a good girl and not tell anyone or you will get it worse the next time" were as powerful as a punch to the face, and fear became my constant companion. I think it is in those moments, in those words, "be a good girl," "don't you disappoint me," or any other myriad of sick manipulations that an abuser uses against us, that we become people pleasers, because every child wants to make people happy, we don't want to cause trouble, or be the source of despair for people in our lives, so we buy into the bullshit that our moldable minds are being fed, and we do as we are told, at the expense of our Self.
Over the years my perpetrators all came in the form of "friends" of the family, people my parents drank with, neighbors who seemed so genuinely thoughtful that they were able to convince my own parents that they were too good to really ever be able to hurt me, (at least that's what my father told me then), family members who were able to get away with it, because the ugliness of it all was too much for my mother to accept, so instead she called me a liar and abused me further in emotional ways. * I need to pause here for a moment, because there are family members who will come across this now and it may open up old wounds and cause pain; please understand that it is not my intent to hurt anyone, but instead to use my story to empower others. I hope you will understand that and know in your heart that you and I have already crossed these bridges and made peace with one another, but if I can spare just one person a moment of suffering by exposing my own, then I feel an obligation to do it.*
Sometimes when we, as victims, have been pushed as far as we feel we can go and are ready to just give up, feeling like there will never be an end to the physical, emotional and spiritual attacks, a miracle happens.  My miracle at 16 years old, after 13 years of sexual abuse on every level it could be encountered, was a man that I called my boyfriend, someone who had known me from 8 years old, and who felt that his job in my life was to protect me. It was him whom I finally opened up to and found safety in. He BELIEVED me. From that moment on, I was never sexually violated again. That man became my husband fresh out of high school, and at that place in my young life, gave me what I had needed for so long, a safe place to be. Looking back, I don't think I was ever "in love" with him, because for one, I don't think I even knew what real love looked like, but I knew that I had never felt safe until then either and that looked close enough to love for me. Out of that bond, came two of the most amazing human beings to ever bless my life; my son and then my daughter; and it was then that my life really changed.  Any woman who has ever been sexually abused and becomes a mother knows what I'm talking about, especially when one of those children is a baby girl. Something fierce and protective was born inside of me, with the birth of my children; and I vowed that no one would hurt them like I had been hurt. I became hyper-vigilant over these precious souls that God had entrusted to my care, and to this day, I would rather slice your throat and watch you bleed to death than allow you to harm my babies and get away with it.  I know now that their father was a seasonal character in my life, meant to offer me a safe haven for a time, and for a time, he did and I am thankful for that much.
But one day something happened that would begin to change the shape of all that I knew.

(Continue to part 2)