~ My Story Of Abuse ~ Part 1

What I am about to open up about is not an easy thing to write about and I understand too that its not easy to read. Yet if my own story of being molested as a child can help even one other person to feel like they are not alone then I have done what I have set out to do. My molestation as a child was not something that I can leave back there- It is just as real and as painful now if I don't deal with it. This is my way of dealing as well as trying to gain back and fix what it has done to my self-esteem and feelings of self-worth. It is a difficult, jumbled and frightened memory in my mind so please,bear with me because I might be all over the place and it will surely take me a few blog entries to explain.

When I was 7 or 8 years old I went to my best friends house for a normal sleep over. For one reason or another she wanted to go to her Grandparents house in the next town over. So we packed up and went there. I remember being scared to go to a new place because I really didn't like the idea of sleeping in a home I didn't know well. Still, I was always trying to make other people happy,always,even if it was at my own cost.  I remember every detail about the place and even now when I drive by the building I feel my stomach and the ground drop out from beneath me. Of course that day I didn't know that I would carry the memory with me or that I was about to meet a man who would change me forever.

"He" was my friends step Grandfather. I remember what he looked like-that he was tall and thin, unattractive and at least 65 years old. I remember thinking he was too "touchy feely" with my friend and he would look at as too deeply and for too long.  Of course as a kid who was much younger, shorter and very shy I know that my perception was different then but I knew for sure I didn't like him.Still, I was taught to respect my elders so I was very polite,thankful though uncomfortable and sweet.

I won't go into specifics about what happened because it wouldn't be either therapeutic or informative in any healthy way.I don't have a very good memory when it comes to my childhood but I remember every single minute of the day and night in that place right into the actual abuse. "Solid Gold" was on T.V. I remember the food and items on the counter and I remember my friends Grandmother looking sad as she was going into bed very early. As for the actual moments of abuse, I will just say that he was like many child abusers- he lured us with the idea that he was her Grandfather and we should trust him along with our lack of knowledge about what would happen next. He kept our mouths shut by threatening  to hurt me and my family. I remember thinking what was going on was not right nor good feeling. I wondered even then if the abuse was not new to my friend because when it was over she giggled through tears and spoke as if she was accustomed to it.

What he did to both me and his Granddaughter was something that was not just about the actual touching but also about every moment after. From the way my friend tried to act like it was okay to not knowing how to tell anyone or whether I could, it was one step of the abuse after another. I never told a soul about it until I was almost 11. Even then I only told because while at school we had been taught about "good touch and bad touch". The woman who taught us about this was a survivor of abuse herself and told a packed gym along with myself that abuse is not the fault of the child, that I needed to open up and tell an adult and that I would feel better once I did. I knew one thing, I really wanted to feel better so that day I went to the school nurse and I explained what had happened. She called Mom in. What happened next really made me feel worse. Mom said that I should not tell Dad. She reasoned that if Dad knew he might kill this awful man. I knew just by her tears and the tone of her quivering voice that she had to be right. How could I be selfish again  to tell my Father something that may cause him to murder another human being? I already felt guilt for telling my Mother because look what I was doing to her! I had always tried so hard to be a good kid who caused no problems and now I had caused a huge one!  I don't remember talking about it with my Mom again until many years later when she once again cried and plead with me to forgive her. Mom worried that I should have had the chance to turn the man in to the police...She worried that I would never get over the abuse because I wasn't able to bring this jerk to justice. Why did she feel bad, I would think. If I had just kept my stupid,ugly mouth shut none of this pain or problems would have existed in her life! I always told Mom that what we did by not turning him in was fine.I remember seeing the hurt in her eyes and I wanted so badly to just take it away. How could I have been so damn selfish???  I remember thinking something like  "Great, now this old man has affected and abused another person in my family because even Mom is feeling the affects of his evil touch. And if Dad were to know it would just keep going, this man's influence." I decided that day that I would stop telling the truth of that day because I didn't want to spread along anymore of his wickedness or to continue being selfish. This was all my fault really, I should have known better than to have this happen! Yet I found later that by not talking about it I was suffering worse in silence. But even worse than suffering was the idea that this abuse was happening all over and I could have warned people so it didn't happen to them too. I felt bad that I didn't turn this "man" into the police because maybe he went on to do this to other girls. There were so many different feelings going through my mind over the next 10 years and even now almost 20 years later.

Even now it affects my very way of dealing with life and the relationships I have with most men. It's very hard not to feel vulnerable. As a teenager I would feel terrified to be alone in a room or car with a friends father. Even my relationship with my own father was affected. I remember getting flashes of  images from that day  that would make me crazy. Even today I see beloved cartoon characters in my head go from pale white to a dirty, scribbled image. I don't know how that has anything to do with my abuse but there is a reason behind every sand dollar I see that makes me sick and all the times I feel uneasy looking out onto snow that is dirty and has "shelf" like formations.

The worst part isn't the flashes or the feeling that I am dirty and bad but the way I get close to men then how I abruptly push them out of my life. I deal with such deep feelings of not feeling worthy of true love that I have destroyed very close relationships. As a teenager I felt like I owed it to men to be intimate but (thank God) I also would be too frightened to allow anything to happen. Every time someone would touch me I would (and often still do) cringe. Its difficult to believe that any man will love me and when someone does express concern and care for me I never feel like I deserve it or that it will be enough either.I find myself either putting men  up on a pedastill  and falling in love with them (or rather the idea of them) or I am completely put off my a man and push him so far away that there is no return, Strangely enough, its the ones that treat me the best that I push away.... It has something and everything to do with being abused by a man but also knowing he was a grandparent, a father and a husband...The feeling of being touched and losing control of my own body and mind was the most difficult thing I've had to endure.I find sometimes that I put the people in my life through such horrible "tests" in my mind. I rarely feel fulfilled by even the most giving person. And I never feel worthy. What I am finding now is that I am letting into my life all the wrong people and pushing away people who care for me very much. I want to figure out how and why this awful man and what he has done has such a hold on me so I can work through it finally. If I don't I will push all the wrong people out and be alone totally.

For now,this is all I can share. There is so much to say, so many feelings inside that it cannot be shared in one blog.


To be continued....

Stacy J Roosa