Overcoming Abuse and Betrayal

When I think back to when I was 12 and 13 years old, I know the exact moment my perception of the world changed forever. It wasn't what happen to me when I was twelve, as one might think. It was what happen when I was 13. But first, let me tell you about the year I turned 12.

When I turned 12 years old I was excited for many reasons. I was finally able to move up at church, from Sunday School with the little kids to attend the classes for the older girls! I was officially allowed to wear pantyhose and although I still wasn't allowed to shave my legs, I did get to finally choose my own hairstyle! I felt so grown up walking into church that Sunday morning in my wrap around skirt, my sisters cool coat with the detachable fur collar and my "suntan" colored pantyhose! There was a much older boy of 13, who I knew had a crush on me and he smiled as we passed each other in the hall. It was a glorious start to my year of being 12.

Then, as church was getting out I saw my parents talking with a couple who our family had become friends with over the past while. They were young and had been stationed at the Army base in our town. They had three kids and as I walked over and smiled at their young daughter I realized that my mother had just agreed to having me babysit for them. The plan was for me to ride home with them and then they could leave right away instead of the half hour drive time to pick me up at my house.

I will just say this.... There was no babysitting to be done. That was never the plan. When I got to the house, we had a quick lunch and then the kids all took a nap. The wife went to lay down and gave me a look that for the first time in my life, made me feel terrified but I had no idea why. Then it was just him and me. I found myself three hours later off the side of a dirt road, with torn clothes listening to this man go over the pro's and cons of ending my life. The interesting thing about this was that I felt myself get completely calm. I felt like someone was sitting next to me with a big strong arm around me and I felt every bit of my 12 year old strength bubbling up to the surface. That strength is what talked him into just taking me home and I convinced him I had no intention of saying anything because i didn't think it was a big deal.

This man was so sure of himself that he walked me to my door, came in and even talked with my father about having me babysit again. I on the other hand walked straight back to my mother who was sitting in her bed and told her we needed to call the police.

At the tender age of twelve, I went through more than I care to explain. I was nervous and scared. I had to do and say lots of things I didn't want to do but my parents kept being supportive and reminding me I should be proud of doing the right thing. After it was all said and done, he was discharged from the military, was sentenced to prison and the week after his sentencing when I was back at church, his wife walked up to me in the hall and in front of everyone, slapped my across the face and said "You ruined my life".

This one incident definitely changed me but I am referring to being changed in a different way. It was the following year when I was 13 that I believe was the moment in my life where I realized everything had just changed.

When I was 13 we moved to a new state to live closer to my mothers parents. I know grandparents say they don't have favorites but sometimes I think they do. I adored my grandfather. He was funny and kind. He would take us fun places and buy us little candies even when grandma said he shouldn't. He taught us to play Canasta and he would sometimes slip us a card under the table and help us out because he thought it was funny to frustrate grandma. He was a big, wonderful jolly kind of soul that everyone loved especially his family. We felt safe and happy with him.

Then, on the day before Easter my sister and I were invited to sleepover. I left the house in the middle of the night and walked home. I had just experienced sexual abuse by my own grandfather. What actually happen was not as bad as what happen to me at 12, but it was enough. To this day I still have a problem with Easter.

Just like before, I went straight up the stairs and told my mother. I couldn't sleep at all and as the sun was coming up I was trying to picture how I was going to handle testifying against my grandfather. We drove the short few blocks to his house and I began to feel that invisible arm around me again. My mother and I walked in and sat down on the sofa in the living room. I listened as my mother explained what I had told her. My mother had almost finished her speech when my grandfather walked in.

He looked terrible and sad. My grandmother told me that she knew what young girls were like "these days" so I probably ask for it. I am NOT kidding. Before I had a chance to defend myself my grandfather started yelling at my grandma. He really let her have it and then he apologized to me. He walked off and two seconds later he was back in the living room with his shotgun. He told my grandmother that if she blamed anyone but him, he would kill her and then himself. She shut up, and we left.

I hadn't even made it to the car sitting there in the driveway when my mother grabbed me by the neck and said "You are NEVER to tell anyone about this. Never, ever or I will say you are lying." And true to her word, that is just what she did. She lied, and lied, and then lied again.

It was my own mother's words that hurt me more than anything that day. The phrase "blood is thicker than water" made complete sense that day and I quickly realized it was his blood, not mine. She was on his side this time and I was an army of one. It was years later at his funeral that I looked down into a casket and whispered "I forgive you". I walked back to my seat, with a sister on each side of me and noticed a white haired woman I used to call grandma glaring at me.

When I think about how typical this scenario is I get really mad. How many girls out there are silenced because of guilt, loyalty and repercussions? What would you do if you were that mother? These men assaulted my body, but my mothers attitude assaulted my heart and my respect for her. Thankfully, what none of these people could damage was my spirit.

Mahatma Gandhi said, and I quote: Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will. I think you have got to have faith to truly have an indomitable will.  I held tight to the belief that God has a plan for me and he will help me through anything if I let Him.  I had indomitable will to over come and suvive the trials that could easily break me.  There I was a girl of only thirteen, vowing to judge others by their actions instead of their words. I became super protective of my siblings. I felt broken but rebuilt myself with much stronger materials.  I believe each of us can do the same no matter what it is that tries to break us. 

The moment I heard the word NEVER, I became my own parent and resolved to do a few things.  I would never rely on anyone but myself. I would only trust in what my own spirit whispered to me. I vowed to never let anyone betray me. They would never how much they hurt me.  And, most of all, I resolved to take every single bad experience in my life and turn the pain into a strength. The strength to tell my story and to hopefully help someone else.  It is possible so what ever you are going through right now at this very moment, hang on and keep up your faith and your will power.  Age turns all girls into women but it is our spirit and determination that will define the kind of woman we become.  Each time we survive, we take a step towards becoming the person we were meant to be. On that Easter morning, many years ago, I took my first step in my life long journey of becoming the  woman I want to be.

For more information on this topic here are a few suggestions: