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This page is dedicated to Denise. She is someone very special to me, someone I lost 36 years ago on a dark summer night. A night that should have been like any other night. A night that forever altered her pathway. Such a frightened and hurt child...it's taken her these last 36 years to regain her bravery and tell me that she want's out. She doesn't want me to hide her away or protect her anymore, she's telling me with all her child's strength and vitality that she's ready to come and join me again. I, as a wise adult ... well struggling to learn to be wise ... I have a lot to learn from her and she's not leaving me alone till I do.
Where to start ... I am a 47 year old survivor of childhood sexual abuse. I was once a normal 11 year old tomboy, raised with my brother and two boy cousins. There never seemed any doubt that I would be a tomboy ... at least not to me. My mom says my first word was horse, and that I believe ... I don't remember ever not wanting a horse. I was never very concerned with my feminine side, even that young it was not important to me... I don't think I saw myself as a girl even then.
So it was a shock that someone else did. Unlike many other women and children, my abuse was only once that I know of. My mom tells me there was another time that I told my aunt about, but of that incident I have no memories or feelings.
The fact that for me or for you the abuse only happened once, or was on going for years doesn't change the fact that once a child's trust is broken .... once a child is hurt, violated, betrayed ... that child's innocence is forever gone. The child will then start on a path of pain, misunderstanding, fear, anger, hatred, loneliness, lack of self esteem, bitterness, emptiness ... and worst of all ... that child may lose her voice.
This page is dedicated to mine and Denise's reunion. To the journey we have been on for the past few months.
This page is dedicated to all those little voices that were lost, in the hope that more will be saved.
This page is dedicated to all those who would help ... please come here and read how my family has struggled through this with me. The times most recently when all they could do was stand and watch, what to them (am me at times), must have seemed like I was on a self-destruct mission.
There are times, days even, when I think the tears will never end. When a mere thought, a song on the radio, or even a kind word can send me weeping to the bedroom. There are times when the rage is so great that sleeping becomes impossible. There are times when the fear that this is never going to end seems so overwhelming that I wonder how or why I go on. Then there are the times that I see that flicker at the end of the tunnel, shining about as bright as a single candle off of a birthday cake, tiny ... fragile ... easily extinguished ... but there none the less. Those are the days I now know to hold onto. Hold on as tight as can be. And in that holding I remind myself of the vast joy I will come to know as a whole person.
The journey is long. The road filled with twists and turns the likes of which most people will never experience. It a road that's like going up the highest mountain ... steep ... ever changing ... one that many times will feel like "if I fall, I'll slide all the way to the bottom again!" the difference is that with love, help, support and a will to live free again, even you can make it to the top. And what a wonderful top that can be! |
