Living in Fear as a Child, the effects of that fear that stays with you in many ways.
My thought is that fear can grip your life and take root and change you possibly forever. But God had other plans for me, and He has better plans for you too, but you have to learn to listen to Him because He communicates in different ways with each of us. For me, God was thoughts in my mind, strong feelings in my heart, nudges, if you will; and many times I just ignored them, or I would wonder to myself, at a younger age, “why in the world did I have that thought? I can’t do that!”
Yet, God says we can do all things through Christ Jesus – all things. Remember that, ok. You can. He can, through you, if you only ask and trust. Speaking of trust, during the summer months, and sometimes on weekends, I often went to a place where the folks were kind. The man was not like my Dad – mean man and then nice man. This man didn’t drink at all. It was a place where I felt happy as a child as there was a lot to do there. It was wonderful for a 5-year-old to get away from a house divided, if only for a while.
But, just as I began to not have that fear of men, into my life came the unthinkable for me. At the age of five, I would be violated in the worse kind of way a little one could be. It never started out as a game. It started out as a demand, and I was told repeatedly that if I ever told ANYONE, that my parents would not want me back. I knew somehow, at five, this was wrong, so wrong, yet I had no voice – none whatsoever!
A few years went by and I would cry and tell my Mother I did not want to go. She asked me “why” many times over but I never told her the truth. I made things up, and she said a time or two, “well you do not have to go if you do not want to go this time.” But, then I knew my sibling was going with or without me and there was no way he could go without me, What if I thought, you know that fear that takes over in your mind. If my brother had to go then I had to go and make sure that what had happened to me would never happen to him.
Many times, the man’s wife did not leave the home so I was safe. Without going into detail, because there is no need for that, the facts were that a child from the age of five was being sexually assaulted, period! I do not personally think it matters where or how the assaults took place, as it is all the same mentally. It leaves you feeling fearful, sick, and not really understanding why this is happening.
I remember at about age ten going out to play with my friends at times and they seemed happy in their life. So many times I wondered if it was true what this awful person had told me; that “it’s ok, this happens a lot”. If that was true, then why would my parent not ever want me back? I think we get to an age where we start wondering, “ok, why me? This is not normal. This is not right. It is wrong, but how do I stop it without someone really hurting me or worse.”
Coming from a home where one parent drank and they were not a nice drunk; living in that fear, and going to yet another place that I thought would be a safe place but instead turned out to be a nightmare for me, changed my life for years to come in so many ways.
I learned at a very early age to act like everything was ok, and I carried that with me all the way into my adulthood. By pretending to be ok, by faking it, no one will ever have to know. But, I knew, and I lived it daily. Not one day went by that I didn’t wonder if would the mean man come home drunk, hurt us and my Mother, or would we run away and sleep in the car to stay safe and then go to school in the morning as if nothing ever happened. What a way to live! Dear Lord, it was awful, simply awful! I had nowhere to turn, no one to talk to. Consequently, I had very few friends in school; I just did not interact for fear of being hurt yet again in some way; and so, I grew up around many children but never got close to them. II had been a child of violence and abuse in more than one way and I did not trust people my Mother was about it at that time as far as my trust would go. Trust would come for me, but it would take years.
At around the ages of 11 to 12, there were times I dreamed of running away and never coming back to the place where there was so much pain. I missed most of my childhood being molested by one man, and keeping my guard up from the mean Dad that might or might not come home drunk and hurt Mom for no reason whatsoever and it was for no reason other that he was the one with the issues. As a child, I honestly thought my Dad was evil when he was drinking and I was very afraid of him. How sad that sounds today when I know that I am talking about my Dad. I just never understood then how someone could be so mean the so nice when they were sober, it was very upsetting and confusing for a child to take, and just switch back and forth. It would be many decades before the truth came out and it all made sense why Dad was the way he was, why all the anger and bitterness that seemed to spew from him when drinking. But, the damage had been done by then and that damage was deeper than deep for me. It had taken away most of my childhood, my trust of others, and I had forgotten how to have fun in the many years to come because I had to be so serious as a child and take care of things. It seemed as if I had been born to carry the weight of the family issues at the time. Many of you reading this, that have walked in my shoes, know just what I am saying – that it felt/feels as if we were born to be that person. But, that is not the case we know that. We were abused because evil walks the face of this earth, he came here to steal, kill, and destroy, but I was not going to let him have all of me. Through the years, I have stared down the face of evil more than once. Devil, you can not have me or my family, I will fight you all the way, and I pretty much did just that.
One day, at the age of twelve, I was talking to my Grandmother. My Grandmother, who was a very strong woman, raised eight children alone after my Grandfather passed at a very early age. She was as fine a Christian woman as they came and had her children in church each time the doors were open, after all, Her husband, my Grandfather, whom I never met, was a Baptist preacher and a farmer. She was certain to carry on as he would have had not have passed so young by keeping all of their children in Church and keeping them grounded in love, family, and faith. She never remarried and was the rock of her children’s foundation – her and God together. On this particular afternoon, in the Summer of 1967, I told my Grandmother everything about my abuser why? I have no idea. All I can say was that I had reached the point of enough! After I told her about the abuse which again came out of know where my Grandmother had me repeat it all again and asked me questions that were not intimidating to a child in any way as if she and I were just chatting together. ( Later, as I got much older before her passing we talked about that day a few more times, she said she was falling apart inside, but did not want to alarm me in any way so she held it together as best she could that day) That was why she had acted like everything was ok, she played it off well so that I was not more afraid letting me know I did a great job by telling her. She said, “well, we will sit down when your Mother and Dad get home, and we’ll talk this all out, and I promise you this, it will never happen again as long as I live.”
Those were the sweetest words I think I had ever heard in my life.
If anyone knows of a book editor that would help me with the grammar etc so that I can get a self-publication of this book of what I think is HOPE for so many that need this. Private message me if you know of anyone.