My "Me Too" Story

I've been doing a lot of thinking this week about women and sexual abuse in light of the Brett Kavanaugh hearing as well as the "Me Too" movement.  My thoughts have taken me on a painful journey back into my own life to the times that I was victimized. 

The first time I remember being victimized was in the 8th grade.  During the summer before I started 8th grade, my body started changing.  I was the first girl in my class to develop breasts.  I was mortified and tried to think of ways to hide them but it was an impossible task.  I remember sitting in Science class one day.  We had assigned seats and my seat was in the back of the room.  I was pretty much surrounded by boys but didn't really think much about it.  On this particular day, the teacher put on a filmstrip for us to watch.  He cut the lights and left the room.  Immediately hands started groping me from in front, behind, and the sides.  I felt hands on my breasts, my legs... just grabbing, grabbing.  I was smacking hands away, telling them to stop it and the class was laughing at me.

The teacher must have heard the commotion because he came back in and asked what was going on.  I told him with tears streaming down.  He chastised the boys and moved me to the front of the class right in front of his desk.  Several times I caught him staring at my breasts or trying to look up my skirt.  I felt helpless and was filled with shame.

The next incident happened that same year.  We were practicing for a play/talent show up on the stage in the auditorium.  The teacher left us for a few moments to go and get something from the supply closet.  Suddenly the lights went out. Hands were on me and I was pushed to the floor.  I was kicking and crying out.  It was only a few minutes but it seemed like hours.I remember feeling so scared.  The lights came back on and the boys dispersed.  I told the teacher what happened.  He chuckled and said "Boys will be boys".  That was the end of it.  They received no consequences.

Not long after this, the sexual abuse started at home.  It is still too painful to really talk about.When someone you love and trust with all of your heart starts abusing you, it takes a toll that is really indescribable.  But it continued for 6 years until I left home at the age of 18.  I was always the quiet, shy child in our home...the perfect victim.  I was the peacemaker as well, so the last thing I wanted to do was cause a divorce or cause someone to get arrested in my family.  Besides, deep down I thought I must be bringing all of it on myself with my newly developing body.  I began reading my Bible for comfort and hope.  I found Psalms to be particularly comforting.  I never felt that God had left me.  I always felt his presence protecting me ... even during the abuse.  I always had a feeling I would be able to use the abuse for good one day and help others who were suffering the same. So for most of those years it remained a secret other than a few that I confided in.

I did learn, however, to escape during the actual abuse.  I learned how to leave my body and go to a peaceful place.  For me, it was always the ocean.  As unwanted touches were invading me, I was walking on the beach.  I could feel the breeze.  I could hear the seagulls and smell the saltwater.  I could hear children laughing as they were building their sandcastles.  This escape is what got me through those 6 years.

I remember times where I thought of running away, but the fear of being alone in a strange place was greater than the fear of what I had come to face each day. Neither did I want to leave my little sister for fear the same thing would happen to her.  Other times I became so angry I wanted to kill my abuser and even tried to think of ways to do it.

But I survived until I turned 18 and left home to go to college.  I felt free.  Little did I know that I was anything but free.  The scars ran deep and would affect me for the rest of my life in ways I would never have imagined. I have a hole in my heart that is still trying to mend.

Through all of the incidents I described, I don't remember a lot of details.  I mostly remember what I felt.  I felt fear, shame, anger, guilt.  In the attacks that happened at school, I don't remember the people who did it.  I just remember they sat close to me in the classroom and were helping set up the play/talent show in the auditorium.  I do remember the teacher.  In the case of the abuse at home, I remember well the abuser but very little details about the abuse itself other than the feelings.  I guess part of this is because I would escape in my mind when it happened.  I remember feeling helpless, scared, angry, and filled with so much shame.  I felt abnormal.  I felt like some kind of freak.  More than anything I wanted to feel normal.  Feeling normal, however, was impossible because it affected me in every area of my life from having friends over to being hypervigilant about never being left alone with the abuser.

As for the Kavanaugh hearings, was Christine Blasey Ford telling the truth?  Time will tell.  I felt there was truth in her story but felt there was a lot that made no sense.  I also felt there was truth in his story.  Perhaps there is a grain of truth in both of their stories. 

When I think of those boys pushing me to the ground and touching me all over, I don't think they wanted to rape me.  But I was still scared because I still felt helpless just like I would have if they wanted to rape me.  They were laughing just as Ford said her attacker was doing.  Perhaps, if Brett Kavanaugh did push her onto the bed laughing, there was no intent on rape.  Perhaps it was just a drunk acting like a power hungry idiot.  Perhaps the truth lies in there somewhere.  Hopefully the FBI will get to the truth.  I hate to see lives ruined for no reason.  I would also hate to think that either political party would use anyone to suit their own selfish agendas.

My final word on this is to anyone who is currently suffering sexual abuse.  It is NOT your fault.  You are a victim, plain and simple.  Nobody has the right to touch your body if you do not want it touched.  Nobody has the right to force you to do anything against your wishes.  There is no manner of dress or body type that serves as an excuse for anyone to sexually assault you.  Do not be afraid to report your abuse.  The longer you keep your secret, the more it will harm you.  By keeping it a secret you allow your abuser to continue to abuse you.  Own your power and report it.  It will be the greatest gift you ever give to yourself.

I know...

Living with Loneliness

For the first time in years, I have been experiencing a lot of loneliness.  My best friend and fiance recently passed away after a long bout with cancer.  Before that I was married for 33 years and raised three wonderful children.  So this is really the first time I have EVER lived alone.  That sounds so crazy in today's world where so many people wait until they are older to get married.  They have time to experience what living alone feels like.

Some days I really like being alone.  I enjoy the solitude and the quiet.  I work around my house and yard.  I catch up on my writing.  I read.  I study my Bible.  But some days being alone turns to loneliness and I feel lost.  I yearn for human contact...a hug, a hand on mine, a conversation, or just sitting in silent company with someone enjoying a cup of coffee.  

In being alone I have discovered a lot of things about myself. 

 -The television can be my worst enemy.  It can be much to easy to turn into a couch potato, binge-watching version of someone I really don't want to be.  So I try and limit that.

-I try and keep junk food out of the house,.  I am an emotional eater, so loneliness and junk food are not a good combination.,

-I really don't like to cook...at least for one person.  Its much easier to open a can of soup or make a salad.

-I do not like self-pity.  If I find myself feeling sorry for myself, I get up and do something or go help someone else.  Taking my daughter to her radiation and chemotherapy each day helps put things in perspective for me.

-I am not a quitter.  I absolutely refuse to give in to loneliness.  I have learned to recognize it and accept it.  But I will not be defeated by it.  I recently joined a woman's Bible study group.  I meet some friends for lunch from time to time.  I go to church, and am being more pro-active about meeting people.  I have also become friends with some people in my neighborhood.

This is a new season of life that I am experiencing and God is showing me new things about myself.  I keep having a sense that God is calling me to something but I am not quite sure what that is yet.  I am excited to find out what it might be.  

The Three Church Experiment

For the past few weeks I have been visiting different churches because I am looking for one closer to my home.  During this process, I have made some discoveries that not only helped me see where the church needs some improvement but also where I need to make some improvements on my own.

All of the churches I went to had a few things in common.  Great  music and great inspiring sermons.  There seemed to be a common theme recently about laying shame by the wayside and realizing  your value as a child of God.  Great stuff.

The problem came in the actual welcoming process within the congregation.  I, as an avid, yet shy churchgoer, felt very intimidated at walking into a new church alone.  I did not know one person there.  In the first church I stood in the lobby for about 10 minutes looking completely lost and alone.  I didn't even know where to go for the service.  Most people were standing around in the little cliques drinking coffee.  Some would glance my way, but quickly turn back to what they were doing.  I finally found the sanctuary and went in and sat down.  The little cliques were also congregated in the sanctuary and continued talking without so much as acknowledging me.  Being the shy person I am, I decided it was my fault and I should just go up and try and strike up a conversation with someone after church, but by that time people seemed in a rush to leave and go home.  So I just left too.

The second church I went to was great in every way.  I went in a bit skeptical because it is a megachurch with a very well known and controversial pastor.  But from the second my car pulled onto the property, I felt acknowledged, recognized, and loved.  They gave me VIP parking.  A volunteer came right up to me and welcomed me, asking if I needed prayer for anything as I stood in the long line just to get in. We prayed together about my daughter who has cancer of the brain stem.  I was also given a card to return to the welcome booth after the service and get a free t-shirt.  So many people welcomed me, full of smiles, and I felt genuine love from them.  I could tell it was not an act reserved for Sundays.  A volunteer also led me to a seat near the front of the church since it was my first time.  The church was filled with so much spirit and I could feel the love of Christ.  After the service, I took my card to the guest booth and a group of volunteers prayed with me again, and I got a free T-shirt as well.  I felt at home the entire time.

The third church I went to was much the same as the first.  I went in, not knowing where to go.  I had read online that if you are a first-timer to go by the Welcome Booth and someone would help me by showing me around, introducing me to people, and finding a seat.  I went to the Welcome Booth and people were in little cliques talking about the Panther game.  I stood there, feeling so alone while the people at the booth just kept talking.  Theyfinally saw me but did not acknowledge me until I said, "Hi.  This is my first time.  I'm not sure where to go."  At that point one of them said "Welcome", and pointed to the santuary, telling me they tend to start the service late.  I looked in the sanctuary and nobody was in there yet, so I went to the restroom to kill time.  When I came out I went into the santuary.  It was a great uplifting service about how in a church we should be able to be open, honest, real, and safe with one another.  During the service, new people were to fill out a card, take it to the welcome booth and get a little gift bag.  I turned in my card to the booth,, but no gift bag was offered.  Still, no conversation with anyone.

My point is this.  How are we, as a church, supposed to draw in new people if we refuse to welcome them?  It is so intimidating to go to a new church, even for a regular churchgoer.  I can't even begin to think what a person new to church would have thought had he been in my shoes.  When a person walks into a church, he is looking for something.  He is looking not only for God, but for fellowship, love, community, acceptance, direction. We cannot just assume that the person will make the first move.


I include myself in this.  The church I regularly attend is large and I have been going for years.  It is easy to get lost in the crowd.  I only know a handful of people myself.  Still, I am guilty of looking the other way when I see someone standing in the lobby looking lost.  This has to stop, and I am making up my mind to be more welcoming.  As a church, we could make a difference in so many lives if we would all do this.  We are the face of Jesus to anyone who walks into  our church.