Sometimes, out of the blue, it hits me. I was sexually assaulted and raped at a tender age, 13. That boy didn’t just rape my body, he ravaged my mind. He filled it to the brim with hate, self-loathing, and insecurities. Late night phone calls with one sided conversations. His words seeping into the delicate folds of my still growing mind, spewing hate. I was told I was worthless, no one would ever love me; I was damaged goods. Right after hurtful words like those were said to me I’d hear, “But always remember that I love you. No one else in this world could ever love you, but I do.” Love? Love doesn’t knock you to the ground, knocked unconscious, to wake finding him yelling at you because he doesn’t want to have to get help. Love doesn’t threaten suicide in front of you, with a butcher’s knife at his throat, tiny specks of blood starting to form. Love doesn’t take your house key and throw it out of your reach so you can’t return home. Love doesn’t chase you around your house trying to punch you while you’re grappling after the phone, trying with all your might, to make one single phone call to your best friend. Hoping, hoping, hoping he doesn’t catch you. That is not love. Oh, but he’s so popular! He seems so sweet! All the girls want to be with him. Yes, those kinds of boys are cool and collected on the outside but once they’re alone with you the unthinkable emerges. How do I know this so well? Well, 8 years after this I married someone just like that boy. In between the time of the first and last abuser I struggled. Struggled with who I was, who loved me, who didn’t, where I was going, where I wanted to go.
I know now that God had better plans for me. I had hit rock bottom. I felt soulless. Yes, I had 2 beautiful daughters but that wasn’t enough to save me. I know now that God saved me with a simple invitation to go out for a friend’s birthday. I’d met him before. We would see each other once a year, always for a friend’s birthday. However, this time was different. After that night out I felt hope, hope I hadn’t felt in I don’t know how long. W and I were attached to one another from that night on. Now here we are almost 5 years into the greatest marriage I could have ever envisioned. Seven wonderful years together and we’re still going strong. We have God on our side. I don’t ask God why those things might have happened to me. I know why. I didn’t have God in my life then. He wasn’t even a blip on my radar.
I read somewhere (see bottom of post) that 1 in 4 women will be sexually abused in some sort fashion during their lives. I can see how this would be true. I’ve confided in a few female friends and they have then confessed that they too had been raped or assaulted. These are not attacks my random strangers. These are boyfriends, friends, family members and even husbands. Yes, husbands. Don’t think its rape just because you’re married? You’re wrong, it can be. I pray that with the 4 females we have under our roof that I am the one, the statistic. No one wants any of this for their daughter and I am going to be proactive for my daughters. I want to make sure they know the Lord. That they don’t have to attend school and be bullied, assaulted outside their lockers. I will be open with them and answer any questions they have. I will interrogate every male that comes into our home. W and I both are here to raise these beautiful girls, to protect them, and guide them. What happened in my past has equipped me for the future.
I’ve told my story to a few people, some cared, some didn’t. But writing this for anyone to see was extremely cathartic and I hope inspiring to any woman, young or old, who might have gone through something similar. If something like this has happened to you and you’ve never spoken up about it, please find someone you can talk to. Here is a link to Rape Crisis Centers and one for Rape, Abuse and Incest.
I am also always a phone call or email away and if you feel compelled to contact me please do not hesitate.
Also, as an end note: I later found out that the boy who at 15 had assualted me was also sexually assualting his sister, had raped other girls, and even had a son with one of them. The girl he had a child with called me one day, we did not know each other, and she cried and cried saying how sorry she was that she had never believed what she'd heard about him. I don't know whatever happened to that girl or to the boy, now man, that did those horrible things. I pray that he has repented and maybe, just maybe, he's helping people he once hurt.
Here is one source of the 1 in 4 statistic http://www.oneinfourusa.org/statistics.php