Since I'm remaining anonymous, I've decided that it is time to share a story that is very personal, that I don't go around telling a lot of people. Because it's hard to deal with, but I hope that through this, it will eventually help someone else in a similar situation.
This is the first 'real' memory I have from my childhood. Real in the way that it was the first time I remember feeling scared. This made me uncomfortable trusting and accepting people. It made me unsure of myself, the people around me, and all of my surroundings. It made me overly cautious, more so than what a 4 year old should be.
It was a cold night in April, and my family and I were on our way to a wedding reception in the mountains. I was riding in my carseat in my dress, and I felt cold. I vividly remember looking out the window, seeing snow, and not having a coat on even though, I probably did, because my mom always made sure we were well dressed. I think this is mostly due to the fact that I am a cold blooded creature, and not a human being. Once we got to the wedding reception, I remember seeing a man that I had seen in my house once before, when he came to pick up my grandma and take her back home. His name was Glen. I saw him 3 times that night, and felt uncomfortable, but couldn't really identify why. The time I saw him that I remember the most before the Unfortunate Event, he was playing pool, and drinking something I learned later was alcohol. I remember him talking to my dad, but the words they exchanged have since faded from my memory.
About half way through the night, I decided that I needed to go the bathroom. I told my mom, and she asked if I needed any help. I was an insistent 4 year old, assuring her that I was potty trained, and could handle my business by myself. I had to go poop, and I felt on top of the world, because I was an expert at wiping myself. I didn't need my mom's help. I was in the bathroom, when Glen came in. I also had a slight attitude problem, because I let him know that I was indeed, not finished in the bathroom. He left, but came back twice, and I told him that I would let him know when I was finished. His wife, my grandma's sister, came and told him the second time that there was another bathroom either upstairs or down, that he could use, since that bathroom was occupied.
The third time he came back, I was finished wiping, and getting ready to wash my hands. He walked in the bathroom, and sat on the counter. I stood there mostly annoyed because, my parents had taught me that I was to wash my hands every time I went to the bathroom, and he was sitting on the sink, blocking the thing I wanted to use. And then I got scared. He unzipped his pants. I don't remember all the words he said to me then, but three have stuck in my mind since this happened: suck my cock.
I was so confused. In my 4 year old mind, I saw the toilet to the left, and my first thought was: this man is going to pee in my mouth. My body froze, and I just stood there. I remember the words "I need to wash my hands" struggling to come out. I remember, from reading things my parents wrote about it, that he asked me if I ever sucked my dad's. I told him there wasn't really a need to, because we had a toilet at our house. I told him I wasn't going to, and he needed to move so that I could wash my hands. He finally consented, and then he stood there watching me. I left the bathroom, found my mom, and told her that I needed to talk to my dad.
I told my dad, and he and my mom talked to someone else, and Demanding Older Sister (DOS) and I sat there, and she, then 6, told me that something similar happened to her at preschool, and that I would be okay. That's the last thing I remember happening that night.
The next thing I remember, is sitting in the foyer of a counselor's office, getting ready to meet with her. I loved going there. I met with a lady named Nancy, who had frizzy red hair. I went almost every week to talk with her. When I was there, we mixed play dough together to play SPLAT!, drew on her whiteboard, beaded necklaces, and poked needles in Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls, and pretended they were Glen. It was a good thing.
My parents were really good about it. I didn't realize until recently how strong they've been for being able to deal with it so professionally. They won't know that I admitted this, but, for once, they did everything right. They got me into counseling right away, and took it to court. I remember bits and pieces from this as well, even though I didn't know the details about it until much later. I remember staying with my cousins, and going to a court case before. I was supposed to go to ours, but I decided after that I wouldn't go when I realized Glen would be there, and I didn't ever want to see him again. But I remember going, and the judge looking at us, and asking if we had anything to do with the case, or if we could testify. My dad told him that we couldn't, but we just wanted to check it out. My mom told me that she took a picture of me with her to court, and told them that I was her beautiful five year old daughter that had her innocence stolen the day he came in on me, and that was something I would never get back.
Glen wasn't put in jail, but my parents asked the judge for him to never come near our family again, and definitely not me. His punishment was something like a home-confinement where he couldn't leave or be around children for a certain amount of time, no longer than 3 months.
A few years back, I was cleaning out a storage closet in my room, and found a folder with the papers from the court case in it. It brought a lot back, and I read a lot I didn't know before. I found piles of notes that my cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents had written telling me that they loved me, and were sincerely sorry that I had to deal with that, and that they always had fun when I came to visit, and that I was always welcome at their house, and Glen wasn't. I found a journal entry my mom had written that night on big yellow note pad paper, that said I cried all night long. I found a fake apology note that Glen wrote to me 6 months later. I found the letters my parents had written to the police, after Glen sent my dad an apology note claiming that the reason why it happened, was because he was intoxicated with hard liquor. I found a paper that said I couldn't trust people, like when my mom hit a fire engine (my fault) that I refused to get into the police car to be taken home, because he looked like Glen. I learned my lesson: never go through another storage closet.
I was okay with everything that had happened, because, for the longest time, I thought he wanted to pee in my mouth. Sometimes it would come back though, and I would be reminded. And it would sting. Like in 3rd grade, right before Christmas, a boy named Tyler, was sitting across from me at lunch, and he started saying suck my cock. I had a flashback of that night in April, and was shaken up, but kind of forgot about it, until I ran to greet my dad when he came to help my sister's class in the computer lab. I went up to hug him, and started bawling. He asked me what was wrong, and I told him what Tyler had said during lunch. My mom was at the school doing things for reflections, and so we went and told her. She went to tell the principal, and Tyler was suspended until the end of Christmas break. It was nice not seeing him, and knowing I had won a victory.
I adjusted pretty well, but I still hate public restrooms. It hit hardest when I was a freshman in high school, and then I realized what his intentions really were. There were presentations in my health class on rape and STD's. I really enjoyed the rape one, and I have wanted to work for the rape crisis center ever since. But the STD one, had pictures. I realized within the first 30 seconds that he actually wasn't going to pee in my mouth, but he wanted to molest me. Like that day, I sat there in shock. I tried to just put it out of my mind, and I met my friends for lunch. My friend had PE the same period, and they went swimming. She got a bloody nose, and I told her she should have said she had an STD when people made fun of her. I laughed and lunch was fine.
Then, I had seminary. We talked about forgiveness. We read that one scripture about how you're required to forgive everyone, and he who does not forgive, holds the greater sin. Our teacher asked a kid in our class if he had a sister. The boy said he had two. Our teacher then asked how he would feel if his sister got kidnapped, raped, and killed. He said he'd be pretty pissed. Our teacher said that he would still be required to forgive him, or he would hold the greater sin. To me, it sounded like: 'if you were to die tomorrow, and it had happened today and you hadn't forgiven him, you would go to a lesser kingdom.' I went home and was miserable. I told my mom everything that had happened that day, and she was understanding. I remember it was a Thursday that day, and I stayed home the next day.
That weekend was a hard one. The only thing I did all weekend was lay there and cry. I felt hurt for being molested, but really just stupid for taking me 12 years to realize that I had been molested. I was drained. It was kinda like that, 'can't eat, can't sleep, outta the ball park kinda feeling', except...not. Because it was bad. I didn't eat, because if I did, I was sure I would just throw it all up. It made me physically ill. I just laid in my parents bed, while my family ate lunch. My parents knew what had happened, DOS didn't care, and neither did DLS (demanding little sister). But my brother cared. He was 9, and has always had the ability to know when something is wrong with me. He knows how to read me, but I couldn't tell him. I had my innocence stolen, but I would do anything to protect his. And now, I'm going to start crying... He came in after lunch, and hugged me and told me he loved me, and that I was strong, and I'd be able to overcome whatever I was struggling with. It sounds cheesy, but it was like I was in total darkness, and that hug he gave me, was light. And this darkness, was the darkest darkness ever seen. I know for a fact, that if he hadn't come in and said that, I wouldn't have been able to come back and recover. He was the catalyst to recovery, to healing.
My parents, like I said before, did everything right. I didn't even realize it until a few months ago.
I think, that some things, just need to happen to heal us, and to teach us. I have no doubt that the things that were said that day in high school, were supposed to happen. I was supposed to see that darkness before I could see the light that I did. I know that it wasn't an accident that we talked about forgiveness that same day, because then..it was exactly what I needed. It was hard, when I realized that I had forgiven Glen for abusing me, and my parents hadn't. They still haven't. My dad told me that he would never be able to forgive him. I think, that you can forgive someone. Hell, you even should. But that doesn't mean that you've forgotten what they've done to you. There is no such thing as forgiving 'and' forgetting. You always have to remember. You can't forgive, or else you're setting yourself up for failure. And not only failure, but more hurt. More pain.
Something that helped me get through this trial, was this scripture, in 3rd Nephi: "Arise and come forth unto me, that ye may thrust your hands into my side, and also that ye may feel the prints of the nails in my hands and in my feet, that ye may know that I am the God of Israel, and the God of the whole earth, and have been slain for the sins of the world. And it came to pass that the multitude went forth, and thrust his hands into his side, and did feel the prints of the nails in his hands and in his feet; and this they did do, going forth one by one until they had all gone forth, and did see with their eyes and did feel with their hands, and did know of a surety and did bear record, that it was he, of whom it was written by the prophets that should come."
This experience made the atonement real for me. Because I was able to forgive Glen, I was able to go and touch Christ's hands for the first time, and truly know him.
I'm not really sure why I posted this, I just felt impressed. Hopefully, this will help you, and comfort you, and provide insight as to why I do some of the things that I do, and how I feel.
Thanks. Have a wonderful night.
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