Little White Lies

I went and saw a counselor on a more or less emergency basis, my work has it set up that you can't just decide you might need to go to counseling without going in for an assessment and telling someone you don't know your secrets in 20 min or less and then they decide if you need someone to give you regular counseling. My psychiatrist has wanted me to go to regular counseling for the last year but I have avoided it since I hate the process of starting over and with our system it means doing it twice. Spilling your heart to someone and waiting to hear their judgement is horrible, but I knew I didn't like where my thoughts were going, for the first time in months I felt like I couldn't take it anymore and wanted to be gone, I try not to give such thoughts a home but they can be insidious.

So I went and I sat and I told my secrets, sure enough she told me she thinks I need regular counseling, so I will get to start over again. She was a very reassuring person and I would have liked to see her as a continuing counselor but no one there is like Marcia was and skirts the rules that I can only see them three times and then I must move on. She asked if I was actvely suicidal and I told her the truth my thoughts were trending that was but that I was still in control, she asked if I was safe with myself and I told her yes I was. Then she asked what I would do if I wasn't safe with myself and I told her the truth I would lie. She was a bit taken aback by my answer and looked at me and said, wrong answer. So I told her what she wanted to hear, I would tell my husband if I was suicidal, I would check myself into the hospital, I would not hurt myself.

Part of what I said is true, I will not hurt myself, I do not want to die, I just want relief from the never ending battle that life presents. I want all "my" ducks to stay in a row and I don't want to be told they aren't my damn ducks. I want my dog to not have cancer, I want to be able to pay all my bills and have enough left over to not feel guilty doing things for myself, I want my sons healthy, I'm tired of the weakness of mortal bodies, of the endless pain.

I am going to go to a counselor on a regular basis, what she asked did I want my counselor to be like, hmmm, no one has ever asked me that, so I was honest, not too Mormon, someone who has experience with sexual abuse, not younger than me, I don't want a counselor my kids age telling me how to do things she learned in a book, needs to be female. Our time was done, she looked at me and said you are amazing look at everything you do every day, Now I was surprised, but she meant it, I get up, I take care of my grandson, I work as a nurse, I work in our tax business, I do laundry I breathe, I take care of a child with a chronic illness, I do what I have to, trying desperately to keep the ducks in line as best I can, even if they aren't my damn ducks.

Enough for Now

Jesus Please Take Me To Heaven

Statistics state that one in four girls will be sexually abused, what that doesn't tell you is how much planning and careful selection a predator goes through to groom his victim prior to the ultimate act of betrayal.

First they will ingratiate themselves with the adults in the child's life. In my case he came over and spoke with my parents about our home, at that time my father was excavating a hole in our backyard to build an extension to our basement, literally shovel full by shovel full.

He flattered them, he was new to the neighborhood, he and his wife had just bought the home  around the corner from ours. He was intelligent and articulate, well dressed, he seemed like a kind, normal older man, husband, neighbor, a grandpa. Adults taken in, check.

The next step is to casually arrange for the intended victim to be invited over, I wasn't the only little girl going over to visit, he asked one of his other potential victims if they knew me and then suggested she bring me over the next time she came over. I was happy to have a "grandpa" I didn't have one and over at "grandpa Bills" I was treated to things I rarely got at home, soda, cookies and I was allowed to watch whatever I wanted on TV. Child visiting the predator, check, check.

The real abuse starts so slowly you don't even know that's what it is. I was eight years old and as naive as an eight year old should be. I knew about strangers, I had learned about them in school but this wasn't a stranger this was my grandpa. The movements were slow, not alarming and seemed accidental. I loved him with a child's trust. Child taken in check, check, check.

The last is to make the final move, I can tell you what I wore that day, I can tell you what the temperature was like, the time of year, where we were. I won't go into details, at least he didn't rape me, as he was molesting me, he asked me if it felt good, I told him it didn't. Liar he laughed, I know it feels good,he told me, he knew that bodies respond even when the mind screams in fear, knowing the wrongness. Shame or threaten your victim so they won't tell, check, check, check, check.

I cannot begin to describe the shame I felt, the fear, I went home, and cried, and hid, and never told a soul. I was sure they would blame me, I had been baptized, I was now dirty, soiled, I almost expected to have the mark of Satan on me visible to all.

To say this act has had an effect on my life from that point on is like saying the tsunami in Japan caused minor damage. I went through what I would describe as a bought of depression at the age of nine. I had read a story about a boy who hurt so badly after being hit by a car that he wanted to go to heaven, another child in the hospital told him Jesus walked the halls at night and that if he would prop up his hand Jesus would lead him to heaven. I wanted to stop hurting, so I slept with my hand propped up for weeks hoping Jesus would take me to heaven. Needless to say it didn't work, so I decided I had to get hit by a car, I started running in front of cars trying to get hit, but I knew it would really hurt so I never did succeed, and Jesus left me here.