I’m writing this for all of you out there like me. I always
looked up to my father. I thought he was the greatest. But I knew
from the age of 7 that it was my silence that held our family
together.
I’m writing this for all of you out there like me. I always looked up to my father. I thought he was the greatest. But I knew from the age of 7 that it was my silence that held our family together.
It was so hard to understand how the dad I trusted could be the same person who began sexually abusing me at age 7, the one whose secrets I would feel obligated to keep for many years.
Back then, I felt completely under his control, powerless, with nothing I could do in my own defense. I thought that what was happening was somehow my fault. Why did he pick me? It must be because there was something bad about me as a person.
Feelings of shame and worthlessness determined how I interacted with others. I couldn’t tell anyone else what was happening to me. I didn’t know that 47 percent of all reported sexual assaults on children are by family members, and 49 percent are by those who know the child or the child’s family (teachers, coaches, physicians, ministers, neighbors, and youth leaders).
I thought I was the only one going through what I was going through.
Even after I was married, there were days when I was so depressed I couldn’t get out of bed. I experienced flashbacks of memories that played like a bad home movie in my head with no “stop” button for me to hit.
It was when I began sharing my story with others that I discovered I was not alone.
I discovered how helpful my own pain is in making others feel comfortable to open up and share theirs. What once seemed like the unredeemable nightmare of my past became a tool for helping others.
Now I realize that my dad taught me many things. He taught me that appearances can be very deceiving, that I should never take anyone at face value (whether a homeless person or a king). He taught me empathy for others; you never know what kind of pain another person is carrying around.
It was another Santa Clara County native who inspired me to write this. Perhaps you’ve heard of her: my old Sunnyvale neighbor, Teri Hatcher, star of ABC’s “Desperate Housewives.” She recently revealed her own experience of sexual abuse at the hands of her uncle 35 years ago.
Her courage in coming forward to work with Santa Clara County prosecutors helped put her abuser behind bars after she learned that a 14-year-old victim of his abuse had committed suicide.
It’s important for you to know that you don’t have to be a victim whose life is defined by the bad things that have happened to you. You are the only you there will ever be in the entire history of the world.
Sometimes we only see the backside of the tapestry of life with all its imperfections and poor stitching, but the day will come when we walk around to the other side and see the golden threads in all their glory.
Bringing secrets out into the light takes away their power. After this heartache, there is a resiliency that only survivors of a traumatic experience share. There is no future challenge that scares me anymore. I know that I can survive anything.
And you are a survivor too. Find one other person you can talk to. Do whatever you have to do to take that first step towards getting help. Don’t stay in the darkness. Come on out and join us here in the light.
For reporting numbers in your area, call the Childhelp USA® National Child Abuse Hotline at 1-800-4-A-CHILD® (1-800-422-4453). The hotline is staffed by professionals 24 hours a day. Calls are anonymous and toll-free. State-of-the-art technology provides translators in 140 languages. To learn more, visit http://www.childhelpusa.org/
