I is for Innocence

This will be done in installments over the course of the week.  I hope to write one every day, but we'll see.  This is the story of how I came to devote my time and resources to my passion.  It's the story of me.  And since it is my story to tell and mine alone, and to protect those who may not be at the point of readiness, some of this will be vague and for that I apologize.  But everyone has their own path to healing and disclosure and it's not my place to make that decision for them. Some material may be triggering. Please read at your own discretion.

A line from the movie Patch Adams:

"Men have been attracted to me my entire life...my entire life.  When I was a little girl, I would look out my bedroom window at the caterpillars.  I envied them so much.  No matter what they were before, no matter what happened to them, they could just hide away and turn into these beautiful creatures that could fly away completely untouched."

I used to find it completely saddening that the first memory that I have in my entire life is that of abuse.  It doesn't sadden me anymore.  It's just the way it is.  Every story has to have a beginning and that just happens to be mine.  I no longer weep for that little girl, running events over in my brain, wondering how things could have been different.  I've come to accept that there was nothing that I could have done.  There is nothing that can be expected of a 3 year old in any arena, much less in that kind of circus.  I still feel sad sometimes, but not for reasons that one might expect. That may be hard to understand now, but I hope I can change your mind about that; about a lot of things.  My goal is to show you what's under the proverbial rug.  

You're not supposed to talk about it.  Sure, you may have gotten the spiel about strangers "touching" you.  You might have even gotten an entire course in "Stranger Danger."  When you're a child, you know from parental instruction that you should always tell.  You're supposed to tell if someone does that to you.  But when you speak to your own children about sexual abuse, do you always tell them that it will be a stranger?  Do you always tell them that it will be a grown up?  Do you say that adults are not supposed to touch you or make you do things that cause you to feel shameful or uncomfortable?  So many do.  I'm sad because that's not the whole story.  That warning isn't good enough.

I'm sad about the parts that get omitted.  It's not my parents' fault.  Especially almost 30 years ago, no one really knew the statistics of how things really happen.  They were all terrified of the milk cartons.  Precious faces on white half-gallon cartons that smiled out at you, begging to be found.  They warned of those things.  But in warning specifically about strangers, they were failing to inform that monsters come in all shapes, sizes, genders, and ages.  You know that monsters don't live under your bed, but that doesn't mean they can't be in your home.

If you tell your children to always tell you if someone asks them do something that feels wrong or if someone forces them to do something, then I am disheartened.  Children have no real understanding of that kind of right and wrong. Introducing the concept of "force" further complicates things.  There is a reason why we have an age of consent.  Because a child can be manipulated into thinking that this is something that they actually want to do.  Whether to please someone, to get a reward, or because they just don't know any better.  Thankfully, legally a child can't make that choice for themselves.  Thankfully, it still makes it wrong.

I didn't know any of that.  I didn't know any of that at all.  The saddest part to me of the whole ordeal, is that it took me until I was 21 years old to recognize that it was a big deal.  To recognize that it was wrong.

My innocence was gone at the age of 3. I still have a hard time using the word "abuser" in this instance, for he was a child, too.  And for this instance, I do not blame him.  He was only acting out the things that he was allowed to witness in his own home.  It wasn't until an adult family member asked what was going on and a lie was quickly spewed from his lips that I recognized it was shameful.  Why else would there be a need for a lie?  And I said nothing.  I didn't speak up.  I didn't tell the next day.  I swept it under the rug like most of America does.  No one says the words "sex" or "incest" or "molestation."  Those are dirty words.  You turn the channel in front of your kids when stories are covered on the nightly news.  You perpetuate the myth that atrocities are committed by "the stranger in the parking garage."  If you do, stop. 

I have several wonderful and joyous memories after that of my childhood. Riding bikes around the neighborhood, playing with dolls, singing in my bedroom to my favorite songs... But even those are tainted by the experience beforehand.  I would never be normal.  I would never again be innocent.  And it would happen again. 

To be continued....