Silenced No More: Opening Up About Abuse

Where do I even begin? This is probably the hardest thing I have ever sat down to write. I wrote these words down years ago and am just now mustering up the courage to type them up and send them out into the world with the hopes of healing, being my true authentic self, bringing hope and courage to those who’ve suffered the same as I have, and finally allowing myself to believe that my story and my voice deserve to be heard! With that being said, if you have any part in this story and do not want to hear the whole truth, than I kindly ask you to stop reading, but I will no longer allow anyone or anything to hold me back from sharing out of fear of what others will think, because for too long I have been forcefully silenced. That ends today.

I was a victim (now warrior) of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. Wow… putting that down in words and reading it to myself seems so surreal. I have been to therapy three times over and each one of my therapists have told me that after 16 years of abuse, they were shocked that I was not a drug addict, a drunk, or promiscuous. I never really knew how I felt about that, to be honest I still don’t, but I do know the answer as to why I am none of those things.. Jesus! In all honesty, I truly believe if I chose a different way of life, He still never would have left my side, but that is just not part of my story. I definitely made some poor decisions along the way but as I look back on several instances, I can now see how He never left my side through it all. I of course didn’t see it that way at the time but now at the age of almost 32, I have 2 sweet boys, 1 beautiful baby girl, and a healthy marriage to an incredibly loving and stable man. None of that would be possible without God at the very center of it all!

It’s crazy to even think about those dreadful 16 years of my life, but I can recall the very day that it started as if it were yesterday. At the very young age of 3, I remember all the details. I remember the sun shining in through the window of the room, I remember how it was arranged, the bed on the left with the head to wall next to the window, the black posts, the design and colors of the bedspread, the black and gold dresser with a matching mirror hung above it set up across from the bed where he lay, telling me to come snuggle with him. I remember him pulling me on top of him and putting his hands places a grown man shouldn’t be putting them on a 3 year old little girl. I remember asking him where my Mommy was, but most of all I remember the emotions running through my body. Feeling terrified, confused, and paralyzed. I also remember the last day it ever happened at the age of 19. Feeling sick and enraged, I had finally had enough, I was no longer going to allow this man to violate me the way he had for the last 16 years. I’m sure by now you’ve put two and two together and figured out that the man who abused me was a family member. In fact, he was my stepdad.

Ugh.. blah!! Guys!! Just writing that down, saying it out loud, seeing these words, and sharing them with the world.. it terrifies me. Every part of my inner being, all of my thoughts, they are all battling each other, “Be open! Heal girl, this is your time!” “No don’t say anything, who would believe you anyway besides you must protect them, those who didn’t protect you!” “But THAT’S.. JUST.. IT!! who protected you?!” For so long I was silenced, told not to say anything “or else!”. “Or else, you’ll see the end of my belt buckle”, “Or else, you’ll see the backside of my hand”, “Or else, your brother won’t have a dad and do you really want to take that away from him when you know how it feels to not have your father around”, “or else, you and your brothers will be taken away and never see each other again”, “or else, our family will be broken apart and it’ll be all your fault”. “Or else!”

As a child there were several times where I just needed someone to talk to, so occasionally I would open up to a friend. Once I found the courage to open up, DCFS would be called, and the weight of our family’s future rested on my 12 year old self yet again since the abuse started. That’s a lot of pressure for a young child who only wanted her family to love her. Unfortunately, the weight and pressure was put there by my own mother and her husband, the man who stripped me of my innocence and robbed me of my childhood. And the one person I trusted more than anyone in the world, the one person who I thought would love me unconditionally and protect me from harm, turned a blind eye and chose a man over her own daughter time and time again. She sat back and did nothing, told me to lie and then turned around and told others who heard about the abuse that I was lying. She made sure family members never believed me to the point that my own brothers wanted nothing to do with me. In high school, she forced me into counseling because she thought I needed to “get over it” even though the abuse was still going on. When I was in therapy, she was the one who drove me there and briefed me on how I was not allowed to say that the abuse was still happening. Time and again DCFS was called and I was told to lie, “or else”.

I can recall one time in particular when DCFS was called and she had to take me in for questioning. I had actually called the police this time, I was in the 6th grade. I remember sitting in the waiting room thinking, “Finally! I can tell someone, they will make it stop, and I can finally be safe!” And while I was sitting there internally celebrating, my mom turned to me and said, “Just so you know, I will be sitting behind the glass window (you know the ones I’m talking about, the ones that you see on cop shows where they interrogate the bad guys, but this interrogation room was way more kid friendly) and I will be able to hear everything you say, so you better not say anything.. (yep, you guessed it) or else”. I remember sitting at a small round table with a friendly brunette woman who genuinely wanted to help me. I felt like I was dying inside and I was so desperate to tell her the truth, but then I remembered my mom’s words before I walked back there, I turned and looked at the mirror then back to the brunette and once again, I lied. After we were finished she let me pick out a stuffed animal as a thank you for talking with her. I picked out a cute purple teddy bear with silver sparkles imbedded in its soft fuzzy fur. On the drive home I turned to my mom and asked her if she heard what I said, she then responded with, “Oh, they didn’t let me back there so I didn’t hear anything.” I was devastated! I wanted to run back in there and tell them everything, but it was too late. We headed back home to my own personal prison and instead of finally being set free like I’d hoped, I was trapped. I was so close to my nightmare being over but instead all I had to show for it was a stuffed bear. Believe it or not, I still have that bear. I keep it as a reminder, a reminder that I wasn’t making it all up, a reminder that I will never lie for anyone else, and now, a reminder that no one will ever silence me again!

It’s hard for me, as a mom of now 3, to look back at my life growing up, to know that I was robbed of so much, and to know that I will never have the kind of relationship I yearned for with my family. Everything in me is wired to love and protect my babies and when I think about the childhood I had, I can choose to look back with bitterness or I can look back and use it as the fuel to break the cycle of dysfunction and abuse so that my own kids have the childhood I never did. And that is exactly what I choose to do. To speak up and speak out so that my children know that they have a voice. So that they know they are safe and worthy of unconditional love.

As I continue to find the courage to open up and share more about my story and how the abuse effected my relationships, raising children in a healthy marriage, breaking the cycle of dysfunction, and the boundaries that needed to be set; I hope I can bring you some courage to find your voice and share yours. Until then, thank you for taking the time to read and hear mine.