LET'S TALK
I kept asking myself, "What will it take to say something, anything, to someone?" I was ashamed for feeling the way that I felt. I was ashamed for letting it continue, for not telling anyone even though I had so many chances.
I was at school one day with my brain on over drive. Not realizing that this would be the day that I finally speak up. It was D.A.R.E. day, and someone was in our classroom. When they were done talking about peer pressure, I burst into tears. That was it! I couldn't take it anymore. It took for something completely unrelated to my issue to make me talk. Finally, I brake free and brake my silence. Only, not completely, because I would have to relive every aching moment when this all goes to trail.
I didn't know I would have to talk about those moments over and over again. I didn't know that others would care so much about what had happened to me. I didn't know that I would be blamed for something I didn't do, something I didn't ask for, and more importantly, something I didn't want. Our lawyer came over a few times before we were due in court. For a child, court can be scary. This was no ordinary court. This was Air Force Base court. I was asked to explain everything that happened on all three days and like I did just with everyone reading, I explained everything?
When I was released from the stand, I was walked back to where my family was. As soon as we went through the doors, the Smith family was sitting there. I remember Mrs. Smith crying and when she noticed me walking by, she said to me, "Why are you doing this? Why are you hurting our family like this?" I felt so bad that I myself wanted to cry. In fact, I'm pretty sure I did, but not in front of them. I wanted to apologize and I wanted to be anywhere but there. That was the only time I had to appear in court, from what I can remember. I don't know what happened to Mr. Smith or if anything happened at all. All I know is that the rest of the smith family moved and when school was over, so did we. My childhood was ruined by this man and I was never the same after that. I'm not telling this story, my story, for people to feel sorry for me or to apologize for what I've been through. It wasn't your fault, you weren't there. I'm telling my story because I want people to know it's ok to talk to someone. It's ok to let it all out. I'm telling my story because I would want my children to tell me if something like this happened to them. If they felt that they couldn't talk to me, I pray they tell someone. Keeping all that stress inside and bottled up and allowing it to keep happening can make things so much worse than they have to be.
Unfortunately, there's a statue of Limitations on rape and other sexual assaults so, please don't wait too long. It's hard, believe me, I know. Make sure your kids know that it will be hard for them to talk about it, but you are there for them always. Make sure they know it's not their fault and that you love them and they are loved. Let them know it's ok to talk about it. Watch for the signs. Some signs will be jumping when touched, don't want to be around certain people, even if it is a family member or a close friend. There are signs, please pay attention.
Thank you for taking the time to read my story. It took a lot to do this. I thought I was over this, I thought I forgave this man, and I thought this was done. I was wrong. I still feel this self hatred for not speaking up sooner. I still feel this pain for letting it continue. I also feel pain from opening up. I know that I shouldn't, but how can I sit here and feel good about messing up a happy family. I hope they found some clarity and peace. I also hope that, if he did this to someone else, he has paid for his actions. I hope justice has been served.
I pray that if anyone is going through this or anything similar, they have the strength to speak up and tell someone.
Friday, April 6, 2018
Saturday, March 24, 2018
My Story Part 3
LET'S TALK
MY STORY PART 3
Continued from last week...........
After that day, I just carried on like nothing ever happened. I never told anyone. I pretended as if it never happened and it wouldn't happen again. I tried to avoid going next door at all cost. I played with other friends as long as I wasn't grounded. That is until I was left alone at home. Mr. Smith came by asking for some sugar. I went to fill his bowl up with sugar when he sat down on the couch. When I was finished, he grabbed me, pulled me closer to him, and sat me on his lap. I kept telling him no and he needed to leave, but he kept saying, "I will in a minute. No one will ever know I was here." He strated kissing me and touching me everywhere. When he finally left, all I could do was clean up and wash up. At this point, I no longer felt comfortable around his family. I wanted to say something to someone, but was too afraid to speak up. It always felt weird hanging around Ashley. Things were even more uncomfortable when I went to her girl scout meeting with her and her mother, Mrs. Smith. I don't remember why I was there, but I remember wishing I wasn't. I stopped hanging out with Ashley to avoid seeing Mr. Smith, but somehow, that still didn't work. I often wondered if she was hurt by me not wanting to hang out with her. What could I have said to her? That's what I was afraid of. I doesn't matter if I tried to tell her why I wasn't playing with her or if I told anyone else what was happening, the end result would have been me not playing with her anymore anyway. I was afraid of. I was afraid of breaking her heart. Afraid of breaking up their family. I was also afraid of my family not believing me. I've told some lies and stole stupid stuff. I mean, I was a kid, who hasn't done that?
As I have said before, I was grounded a lot for many reasons. I got myself suspended from school and was in big trouble. Besides being grounded, my punishment was cleaning the whole house. Each day I had certain things I had to do. Mr. Smith found out and said that my dad could send me over to his house too and do some cleaning. I tried to tell my dad no and I wanted to say why, but I couldn't. Instead, I did what I was told. When I went over to Mr. and Mrs. Smith's house, I saw Ashley sitting at the table doing her homework. After a little while, Mr. Smith asked me to clean his room. This time, it was different. This time it was worse. I finished his bathroom and he closed the door to his bedroom. He pulled down my pants and underwear and laid me down on his bed. He put his mouth down there first. Then, for the first time, he tried to put his penis inside me. It hurt so bad, but he couldn't go all the way. So, he went back to just touching and fingering. My older Step sister, Kylie, was told to come get me. All I could think was, "Thank God this is over and I can go home." Again, I said nothing.
Continue to read and find out how I finally spoke up and told someone.
Wednesday, March 14, 2018
My Story Part 2
Part 2 LET'S TALK
This is my Story
So, last week I gave you all an intro of my story that I'm going to tell. Let's begin........
My childhood, like many others, was average. Nothing fancy. Our house was full of life and laughter. Our neighbors were all kind. My father was a member of the Air Force so, we lived on base in Arkansas. Our neighbor on the left of us is where my story gets dark. Before I continue, No real names will be listed and dates will not be given........meanly because I don't remember.
As parents, we worry about our children all the time. As children, on the other hand, we don't have a care in the world. Living on base, surrounded by other Air Force men and women, you should feel safe, right? You should be able to trust your neighbors or, at least we thought we could.
I was about 11 or 12 years old when my childhood was ruined. There were several days that seemed as if they would never end. The first day when I knew my childhood would never be the same from this day forward was when my friend's father asked to a room by myself.
It was warm outside in Arkansas. I wasn't considered a well behaved young lady so, I was always in trouble and grounded. My little sister and I were friends with our neighbor's youngest daughter, Ashley. On Saturday afternoon, my sister, Kara and I went next door to play with Ashley. We were inside for a little while and we started to head outside to the backyard. As we walked down the hallway, I was stopped by Mr. Smith. He asked me to come to the spare bed room for a moment. I'm not sure why I did, but being a child and all, you do what you're told when an adult is talking to you as long as they are not strangers. I had no idea why he asked me to come in there with him, but when he closed the door ad locked it, I no longer felt safe. I kept looking outside, wishing I was out there and not in this room. I told Mr. Smith that I wanted to go outside and he said, "You will shortly." He then asked me to lay down on the bed. After I laid down, he put his hand down my shorts and began to touch me where no one should ever touch a child.
He undid my shorts, pulled down my shorts and my under wear. He continued to touch me down there while he rubbed my chest. He then began to put his mouth down there. I'm not sure how long this went on, but it seemed as if this took forever. Eventually, he let me go and play. As I got older, I kept asking myself why I didn't tell my father when Mr. Smith let me go? My life wasn't threatened by him or anything like that. As a child, I believe I was just scared.
That's all I'm sharing for now. I will post again next week. Thank you for reading.
This is my Story
So, last week I gave you all an intro of my story that I'm going to tell. Let's begin........
My childhood, like many others, was average. Nothing fancy. Our house was full of life and laughter. Our neighbors were all kind. My father was a member of the Air Force so, we lived on base in Arkansas. Our neighbor on the left of us is where my story gets dark. Before I continue, No real names will be listed and dates will not be given........meanly because I don't remember.
As parents, we worry about our children all the time. As children, on the other hand, we don't have a care in the world. Living on base, surrounded by other Air Force men and women, you should feel safe, right? You should be able to trust your neighbors or, at least we thought we could.
I was about 11 or 12 years old when my childhood was ruined. There were several days that seemed as if they would never end. The first day when I knew my childhood would never be the same from this day forward was when my friend's father asked to a room by myself.
It was warm outside in Arkansas. I wasn't considered a well behaved young lady so, I was always in trouble and grounded. My little sister and I were friends with our neighbor's youngest daughter, Ashley. On Saturday afternoon, my sister, Kara and I went next door to play with Ashley. We were inside for a little while and we started to head outside to the backyard. As we walked down the hallway, I was stopped by Mr. Smith. He asked me to come to the spare bed room for a moment. I'm not sure why I did, but being a child and all, you do what you're told when an adult is talking to you as long as they are not strangers. I had no idea why he asked me to come in there with him, but when he closed the door ad locked it, I no longer felt safe. I kept looking outside, wishing I was out there and not in this room. I told Mr. Smith that I wanted to go outside and he said, "You will shortly." He then asked me to lay down on the bed. After I laid down, he put his hand down my shorts and began to touch me where no one should ever touch a child.
He undid my shorts, pulled down my shorts and my under wear. He continued to touch me down there while he rubbed my chest. He then began to put his mouth down there. I'm not sure how long this went on, but it seemed as if this took forever. Eventually, he let me go and play. As I got older, I kept asking myself why I didn't tell my father when Mr. Smith let me go? My life wasn't threatened by him or anything like that. As a child, I believe I was just scared.
That's all I'm sharing for now. I will post again next week. Thank you for reading.
Thursday, March 8, 2018
My Story Part 1
LET'S TALK!
There's a lot of us out there with stories to tell. Some of us don't want those stories being told. Meanwhile, others don't know how or where to start. Many of us have happy, joyful stories. Others have painful, unthinkable stories. I have a story. My story is painful and for years I've held it all in. When I was younger, I began to tell my story, but as far as I can remember, that story was never finished. A few days ago, I thought about writing a book about it. Now, I'm not to sure about that process.
I have some fears in my life. When I was younger, I only had two; my dad and heights. Now that I'm older, my fears are heights, failure, and my children going through what I went through. Failure is a fear that came to play when I was thinking about writing a book about what happened to me when I was about 11 or 12 years old. If you haven't figured it out by now, my story is what every parent fears for their children. It's an ugly and nasty word. It's an act of sexual violence and no child or adult should ever have to worry or think about. It's something no parent should have to fear, but it happens and it doesn't have an age preference.
I've been to court but I only remember one day or two. I don't recall anything happening to this guy. I don't believe he stopped either. I understand that I may be a little too late with trying to tell my story, but the way I see it, better late than never. It may even sound brave of me to want to talk about it. It may even help younger girls and some older women to want to speak up on what has happened to them. I will tell my story, but not today. My story will be broken up only because it's a long one. It could take three days or may less. If you are interested in reading about it, then stay tuned.
My story is ugly. It's not meant for sympathy, or tears. I'm not looking for anyone to apologize about what happened to me, it wasn't your fault. I don't want money, or anything else. I just want tell my story and finally let it all go. I don't have a problem with talking about it, I have a problem with letting it go. I thought I had let it go when I went to bible study one time, but unfortunately, it's still there.
Thanks for reading........Let's Talk
There's a lot of us out there with stories to tell. Some of us don't want those stories being told. Meanwhile, others don't know how or where to start. Many of us have happy, joyful stories. Others have painful, unthinkable stories. I have a story. My story is painful and for years I've held it all in. When I was younger, I began to tell my story, but as far as I can remember, that story was never finished. A few days ago, I thought about writing a book about it. Now, I'm not to sure about that process.
I have some fears in my life. When I was younger, I only had two; my dad and heights. Now that I'm older, my fears are heights, failure, and my children going through what I went through. Failure is a fear that came to play when I was thinking about writing a book about what happened to me when I was about 11 or 12 years old. If you haven't figured it out by now, my story is what every parent fears for their children. It's an ugly and nasty word. It's an act of sexual violence and no child or adult should ever have to worry or think about. It's something no parent should have to fear, but it happens and it doesn't have an age preference.
I've been to court but I only remember one day or two. I don't recall anything happening to this guy. I don't believe he stopped either. I understand that I may be a little too late with trying to tell my story, but the way I see it, better late than never. It may even sound brave of me to want to talk about it. It may even help younger girls and some older women to want to speak up on what has happened to them. I will tell my story, but not today. My story will be broken up only because it's a long one. It could take three days or may less. If you are interested in reading about it, then stay tuned.
My story is ugly. It's not meant for sympathy, or tears. I'm not looking for anyone to apologize about what happened to me, it wasn't your fault. I don't want money, or anything else. I just want tell my story and finally let it all go. I don't have a problem with talking about it, I have a problem with letting it go. I thought I had let it go when I went to bible study one time, but unfortunately, it's still there.
Thanks for reading........Let's Talk
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