Today felt overwhelming. Perhaps it was the rain coupled with the cold. Reasonably it could be that Mike is still out of town, returning late tonight. It could have been that Rogan needed a bath but it seemed to take me all morning to get a shower. Maybe it was that McKade also needed a bath but that conflicted with my regular Tuesday night workout. Feasibly, it may have been that I woke up around midnight last night feeling intense stomach cramps followed by the involuntary oral exit of my dinner. No doubt there was something not quite right about the pizza I cooked.
But as it may be, the day definitely took a turn from pleasant to disagreeable when I was presented with a reminder of a very difficult time from my childhood.
I enter into this disclosure with great trepidation, knowing full well that there is a fine line between what should be put on the Internet and what should be kept in quieter, more discreet arenas.
But I feel no shame in admitting that at the age of 10, I was touched inappropriately by the father of a friend. The term “molest” is admissible here, but it also packs a more powerful punch. I still struggle with that word myself.
I never told the friend. Perhaps one day, if the circumstances are appropriate, I will share my experience with her. My true and only motive being the safety of other children, not revenge, certainly not revenge.
I’m not looking for support. I’m not looking for kind words. I sought therapy and found a peaceful place to put this burden down. However, as we all know, life and it’s experiences are never completely erased from our memories. I would be foolish to believe that this experience could be put behind me forever. Every once in a while, I remember. Every once in a while something else reminds me.
I’m watching my children grow and my awareness of their vulnerability increases infinitely. We watch the news. We hear the stories. We know it is happening everywhere. And it happened to me.