Blame Game
What I am about to write about tonight is not easy for me. When thinking about the subject of my blog today this one kept getting shoved back in my head. That is exactly why I am going to do it, because I don't want to and forcing myself might help me with some of this emotion.
~So, when I was molested I was, as I stated in an earlier blog, about 7 years old, visiting my friends Grandparents house. To this day when I drive by the building where it happened I get sick to my stomach and have flashbacks.That day changed me in many ways. Suddenly I was embarrassed about my body and uncomfortable around men, even my own father. Oh yeah, and my father? He doesn't know about this even til today. Am I afraid he will find out buy reading this? No, my father will not read my blog, Period. He just won't...wouldn't cross his mind. I couldn't get him to read my poetry or even a card I would give him on his birthday. Besides, he is in his own world with his own stuff not talking to me. That subject is going to have to be a blog for me soon.
So, the day that I shared my "secret" with the school nurse and my Mother I remember my Mom warning me not to tell Dad. I am going to tell you now that I truly believe when Mom told me not to tell him that she was not aware of the damage that it would cause me down the road but was terrified that if we told Dad that my father would have lost his temper and gone to the man's house and killed him. My father has always dealt with all of his emotions with anger. Mom believed that she was saving my father from going to prison for murder.
In one way, I feel like that protection from my father is comforting. On the other hand I feel like when my Mother decided that it was best not to tell my father that she was saying to me, as a 10 year old having kept this secret already for 2 or 3 years, that what had happened was a shameful and dirty secret. Mom asked me about it a few months before she died; she asked me if I felt that keeping it from Dad made it harder for me to work through.
Then she asked me the question I was dreading...A question that feels like has been on the tip of my tongue and the center of my soul for many years. Mom asked me if not pressing charges against my molester was keeping me from going on and letting go...............I cannot put enough silence between the question and the answer but imagine suddenly having someone lifting a boulder off of your body that has been there for almost 30 years, relieving you of the pain and agony, the weight of a thousand "what ifs" and "How comes"...
Lifted it right off your body then slammed it on your damn foot! Now that someone, my Mother, my protector, my secret-keeper, has voiced the longing from within my body to release this question but then in the same breath a storm of guilt took the hope.
What if me not calling the police to have him arrested for molestation enabled him to molest other children? One word from me would have at least made the police department keep an eye on this monster. Yes, I would have lost my friendship with the girl who was my friend and his Granddaughter. I probably would have made some people in the town pretty angry at me but I lost my friend anyway. After this happened we never hung out again. I would have had to be brave and tough but damn it, I would have put a GODDAMN MONSTER in jail and not where he stayed possibly doing this over and over again.
Other questions arise. Was that the first time my friend, His Granddaughter, was molested by him? Did she bring other friends over there to have a slumber party before and or after me and this happened to others too? If I am blaming myself for not calling the authorities what how much could my friend be blaming herself for bringing me there...We were supposed to sleep at her house that night in Lanesboro not going to Pittsfield.
I blame myself for not calling the police and I pray everyday that this jerk didn't have another chance to do to another what he did to me and my friend.He was older already at the time so I hope he didn't live long enough to hurt anyone else. I am sorry, I have never wished death on anyone but....
I am angry that because of that dirty man I grew up thinking that something was wrong with me, that I was ugly. I hate that when I did meet boys and then men that I liked that my warped mind believed that if they didn't want me sexually that there was something I was doing wrong. I hate that my husband cannot touch me without first giving me warning or else I go into flashbacks or that when I am home my door has to be locked even when people are visiting and coming in and out. I detest that this loser had so much influence over me that when my children were born I eyed ever person that came within 4 feet of my children and continue to be so overly protective that I can't breathe when they leave me. I cannot have a relationship with a man without it being all or nothing, lover or nothing. It is sad that this man, from beyond the grave now, that this ugly man can take away my self-esteem, my feelings of security, my trust. This is what I meant when i said in an earlier blog that I have to stop blaming other people for my problems but instead start owning my own emotions. I am starting with this jerk and all the rest should be easier.
Please, let me leave this with you as a final thought, It is in our youngest days that we learn self-esteem. trust and how to make good judgements. DO NOT teach your kids to "be nice" to strangers or to automatically trust someone just because they are older. Older does NOT mean wiser, not always. Give your children the tools to judge safe situations, the listening skills to hear and to trust the voice inside of them, and the permission to question strangers, even if they are teachers, policeman or priests, regarding why they ask for, say or direct your children to do something that just doesn't feel right to them. Our kids will never know the power of NO if we don't teach it to them. If the situation is out of their hands and saying no is not a choice, teach them that there are no secrets among you and them...That they should trust you and no matter what the person threatens them with, you will help to keep them safe if they just give you the trust and tell you the secret. Teach them that they have rights and damn it, a voice. I am not to blame for what happened to me and someday I will truly and honestly believe it.
~Stacy J. Roosa
~So, when I was molested I was, as I stated in an earlier blog, about 7 years old, visiting my friends Grandparents house. To this day when I drive by the building where it happened I get sick to my stomach and have flashbacks.That day changed me in many ways. Suddenly I was embarrassed about my body and uncomfortable around men, even my own father. Oh yeah, and my father? He doesn't know about this even til today. Am I afraid he will find out buy reading this? No, my father will not read my blog, Period. He just won't...wouldn't cross his mind. I couldn't get him to read my poetry or even a card I would give him on his birthday. Besides, he is in his own world with his own stuff not talking to me. That subject is going to have to be a blog for me soon.
So, the day that I shared my "secret" with the school nurse and my Mother I remember my Mom warning me not to tell Dad. I am going to tell you now that I truly believe when Mom told me not to tell him that she was not aware of the damage that it would cause me down the road but was terrified that if we told Dad that my father would have lost his temper and gone to the man's house and killed him. My father has always dealt with all of his emotions with anger. Mom believed that she was saving my father from going to prison for murder.
In one way, I feel like that protection from my father is comforting. On the other hand I feel like when my Mother decided that it was best not to tell my father that she was saying to me, as a 10 year old having kept this secret already for 2 or 3 years, that what had happened was a shameful and dirty secret. Mom asked me about it a few months before she died; she asked me if I felt that keeping it from Dad made it harder for me to work through.
Then she asked me the question I was dreading...A question that feels like has been on the tip of my tongue and the center of my soul for many years. Mom asked me if not pressing charges against my molester was keeping me from going on and letting go...............I cannot put enough silence between the question and the answer but imagine suddenly having someone lifting a boulder off of your body that has been there for almost 30 years, relieving you of the pain and agony, the weight of a thousand "what ifs" and "How comes"...
Lifted it right off your body then slammed it on your damn foot! Now that someone, my Mother, my protector, my secret-keeper, has voiced the longing from within my body to release this question but then in the same breath a storm of guilt took the hope.
What if me not calling the police to have him arrested for molestation enabled him to molest other children? One word from me would have at least made the police department keep an eye on this monster. Yes, I would have lost my friendship with the girl who was my friend and his Granddaughter. I probably would have made some people in the town pretty angry at me but I lost my friend anyway. After this happened we never hung out again. I would have had to be brave and tough but damn it, I would have put a GODDAMN MONSTER in jail and not where he stayed possibly doing this over and over again.
Other questions arise. Was that the first time my friend, His Granddaughter, was molested by him? Did she bring other friends over there to have a slumber party before and or after me and this happened to others too? If I am blaming myself for not calling the authorities what how much could my friend be blaming herself for bringing me there...We were supposed to sleep at her house that night in Lanesboro not going to Pittsfield.
I blame myself for not calling the police and I pray everyday that this jerk didn't have another chance to do to another what he did to me and my friend.He was older already at the time so I hope he didn't live long enough to hurt anyone else. I am sorry, I have never wished death on anyone but....
I am angry that because of that dirty man I grew up thinking that something was wrong with me, that I was ugly. I hate that when I did meet boys and then men that I liked that my warped mind believed that if they didn't want me sexually that there was something I was doing wrong. I hate that my husband cannot touch me without first giving me warning or else I go into flashbacks or that when I am home my door has to be locked even when people are visiting and coming in and out. I detest that this loser had so much influence over me that when my children were born I eyed ever person that came within 4 feet of my children and continue to be so overly protective that I can't breathe when they leave me. I cannot have a relationship with a man without it being all or nothing, lover or nothing. It is sad that this man, from beyond the grave now, that this ugly man can take away my self-esteem, my feelings of security, my trust. This is what I meant when i said in an earlier blog that I have to stop blaming other people for my problems but instead start owning my own emotions. I am starting with this jerk and all the rest should be easier.
Please, let me leave this with you as a final thought, It is in our youngest days that we learn self-esteem. trust and how to make good judgements. DO NOT teach your kids to "be nice" to strangers or to automatically trust someone just because they are older. Older does NOT mean wiser, not always. Give your children the tools to judge safe situations, the listening skills to hear and to trust the voice inside of them, and the permission to question strangers, even if they are teachers, policeman or priests, regarding why they ask for, say or direct your children to do something that just doesn't feel right to them. Our kids will never know the power of NO if we don't teach it to them. If the situation is out of their hands and saying no is not a choice, teach them that there are no secrets among you and them...That they should trust you and no matter what the person threatens them with, you will help to keep them safe if they just give you the trust and tell you the secret. Teach them that they have rights and damn it, a voice. I am not to blame for what happened to me and someday I will truly and honestly believe it.
~Stacy J. Roosa
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