Only the weak are cruel. Gentleness can only be expected from the strong.
Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved.
Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.
“Everyone suffers at least one bad betrayal in their lifetime. It’s what unites us. The trick is not to let it destroy your trust in others when that happens. Don’t let them take that from you.”
― Sherrilyn Kenyon, Invincible
“For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first.”
― Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games
It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.”
― William Blake
I went to therapy on Thursday and it was wonderful. I love my therapist. We are working on TRT or Trauma Resolution Therapy. Basically, my subconscious keeps replaying all the abuse and horrible things in the back of my mind and I can’t stop it. So, I have to write a lot and then read it. Then I talk about how I feel. Reading it out loud takes me back to the moment and I can work through the feelings and it lets my brain know that it is over.
After therapy I felt like a burden was gone. I was so angry that my uncle thought he had the right to do this to me. I was angry at the adults that didn’t do anything. I was angry that my dad wasn’t man enough to step up to him and say he couldn’t treat his daughter like that. Instead, he cowered behind his wife. I was angry at the younger me.
I was shocked that I was angry at myself. I was angry that I stayed to go to bed rather than going shopping. Maybe if I went on that midnight shopping run then I wouldn’t have gotten raped. I don’t know. All I know is that being mad at a terrified, confused teenage me isn’t going to fix it, but I am angry.
I am angry that I trusted him and he used me. I am angry that my parents were more concerned about how things would look. I am angry that my mom acted like it didn’t matter when I was falling a part on the inside. I am angry that she thought I was ‘over’ it. I was in shock. Shock that a family that chose to adopt me allowed me to become a victim of this sick game of his. I am angry that almost everyone knows who he is, but refuse to believe he is a predator.
As I find more of his victims, I am getting more angry. He is being allowed to victimize children who trust him. I think that is the worst crime. To hurt a child that loves and looks up to someone who looks at them with horrible intentions. I get so angry when I look back at all the ways he used me and tricked me.
I am angry that I allowed myself to die a little every time he touched me. I wrote in one of my journals that I just wanted him to stop. I am so angry that instead of screaming I kept silent out of utter terror. I am so angry that I froze like a deer in headlights rather than fought like a tiger.
Don’t get me wrong, I know what happened isn’t my fault. I know that. I am just angry that I didn’t know what to do. I wrote about it in my journal and I know my parents read my journal. They knew it and I am so angry that they let him hurt me.
I am angry at his wife. I loved her like she was my blood sister and I thought that anyone in the world would be on my side she would. He lied to her and used her too. If anyone understood how I felt, I thought she did. She would cry to me about him sometimes and the way he treated her. He would have rather have went out with the guys rather than stayed home and helped her raise HIS kids from a previous marriage. Basically he used her as his babysitter and everyone around her knew that. She would sob to me and confide in me. Well, when I came to her crying that he hurt me and I needed help, she told me that we had to keep it quiet.
Well, I wonder if she still feels that way. Knowing that she lost me. I talked to her on the phone not too long ago, and I felt the sadness in her voice. I miss her so much. I miss all my siblings so much and the fact that I had to leave them behind to save myself kills me everyday. The fact that my parents are counting on their grandchildren having the ‘sense’ to tell on him if he hurts them makes me wonder. Wonder what they would do if he did. Probably cover it up. I wonder if my friend had to do it all over if she would pick me or him? I wonder if she would allow herself to be pushed over by my parents in an effort to keep it quiet. All she has to do is speak out to save kids. Someone who claims to love children so much and yet when her husband rapes someone she considered a sister, she does nothing.
The fact that this jerk hurt people before me makes me more angry than possible. They told their parents, but it was covered. The fact that when I lay my head down at night, I fear that he is hurting others. I have stepped forward in an effort to make it easier for any other victims of his to step forward with me. I know the only way to stop him is for us to bind together and lift our voices together and stop him.
Yes, I believe that God will stop him, but what if God is desiring us to come forward and call him out? What if he is able to keep doing this because the other people that he hurt won’t say anything? What if I am the only person standing between him and hurting another child? What if my voice is the one that brings him down? Then, I will pave the way for the others to speak out. I am on your side. It is time that someone was. I know how you feel and we can not allow him to keep doing this. We can’t allow another innocent child to feel as heartbroken and angry as we do. We can stop him, and what if that is what God is asking us to do?
If there is a survivor of abuse that would like to talk, I created an email for my blog. Iamasurvivor23@gmail.com I will reply.