I Was A Normal Girl With A Terrible Secret

It happened…

when I was in first grade. It didn’t stop after that. Looking back, despite what I was going through, I was still able to function like a normal child. I loved to play outside, climb trees, and build forts. I would lose myself in pretend play or in books that I would read. I loved to write and keep journals. I was a normal girl with a terrible secret.

It was…

my adoptive dad. Someone I thought I could trust. Someone who took advantage of that trust. He was the only father I ever knew, and I was ecstatic when my mom met him. He was a people person, a guy that could strike up a conversation with anyone. He was likable and funny. I was a daddy’s girl and at first, he was my world. When the sexual abuse first happened, he told me it was normal and it was how he showed me that he loved me. He said that if I told my mom, she would be upset. He manipulated and controlled me by using my guilt against me. If I didn’t do what he wanted, he wouldn’t talk to me and accuse me of not loving him. There were times where he would take me shopping and get me whatever I wanted, or take me fishing which is something I used to love to do. It made me think that what he was doing wasn’t that bad… he doesn’t do it all the time.

It made me feel…

confused, guilty, afraid, ashamed, and alone. I was confused because I didn’t understand how something he said was normal, could feel so wrong. I was confused because he was my dad and was supposed to protect me so why would he do something to hurt me? I felt guilty when I wouldn’t do something he wanted. It was like I wasn’t living up to his standards. I didn’t want to be a disappointment to him. I was afraid to tell anyone because I didn’t want to tear apart our family. As I got older, I slowly realized that what he did wasn’t right, but I was terrified to tell. I kept making excuses to myself saying things like “well it wasn’t that bad”, “he’s still a good person”, or “it could have been worse”. I felt ashamed. Sometimes I felt ashamed of who I was. I was in constant fear of letting people down and felt like I was at fault for what happened to me. Most times, I just felt alone. No one knew my pain, no one saw my fear, and no one stopped him from hurting me. I learned to just depend on myself and block out whatever I possibly could to live another day. Inside I was crying for help with deafening screams, but no one heard me.

I told…

my best friend, my youth pastor, and my aunt and uncle. I told my best friend in middle school, but I couldn’t tell her who it was. I didn’t speak about it again until the summer before my junior year of high-school. That is when I told my youth pastor, and a week later I told my aunt and uncle. I told because I found out from a close friend, that my dad had also abused him. As soon as I found out that it wasn’t just me, I knew I had to tell someone. I went straight to my aunt and uncle who I trusted immensely and disclosed to them the abuse I had lived through during my childhood. The next day I went with my mom and nana to talk to my pastor about it. He then reported it to the police. A couple days later I had to go in to the state police barracks and disclose to a detective every detail of abuse. I had to relive everything I had been trying so hard to block out. The following week I had to call my dad on the phone to get a confession from him. That was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life. Although the process of telling was emotionally and mentally exhausting, the amount of support I had from my family and friends was massive.

I cannot thank God enough for putting such caring, encouraging, and supportive people in my life. My best friend was with me every day through the whole process. She would stay up with me all night because I was too afraid of the nightmares I would have if I fell asleep. My family never doubted me or questioned me on what happened. They showed their full support by offering words of prayer and encouragement. At first, telling was hard. When I told and it was reported, I not only lost a father, but his whole family as well. I also felt as if I was robbed of my childhood. I felt like I now had a label.

When the report came out in the paper I was horrified. Everyone knew and I was embarrassed and humiliated. I moved schools, wanting to leave everything about my old life behind me and start fresh. I was depressed for a while. I slept a lot and had little motivation to do anything. I struggled with guilt for a long time, blaming myself for everything that happened. Looking back five years later, it was worth it. Everything that happened shaped me into who I am and what I am doing with my life. I feel free. Free from the guilt and shame, free from the pain and hurt, and no longer held back by manipulation and control.

I survived…

by realizing that my past doesn’t define me. It may have shaped me, but my past doesn’t dictate what I do with my future. I survived with the love and encouragement of my family and friends. I survived knowing that God is using my pain to bring healing to others. My faith in God has given me strength and courage I never thought I had in me. I survived with the hope that there are better things to come.

I dream…

of a world where children are loved and protected. Children deserve to feel precious, not used. I dream of a world that listens to survivors when they speak out, instead of immediately doubting or blaming them. I dream of a system that is fair and just. One that puts the offenders on trial, not the survivors. I dream of a world where people are educated on child sexual abuse and actively prevent it. I dream of a day when no child has to experience it, and all children can feel safe, protected, and truly loved.

I want…

survivors to know that they are not alone. Don’t keep it buried inside yourself because it will just eat away at you. Not telling only strengthens the control your abuser has on you. You matter and how you feel matters. You are brave and strong. What happened isn’t your fault. I believe in you. You deserve to be heard and your story deserves to be told. Step out of fear and into freedom by telling your story.

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