How I became a speaker of compassion

My Story

Going back as few as three years ago, if anyone asked me if I had been abused or molested, I would have told them that I had not.

If the “Me, too” movement had been active when I was a teen, I would have said, “No, certainly not me!”

Was I in denial? Had I blocked out anything? I don’t think I had. I have a good memory for many things, including my second birthday party in Kansas City, Kansas, where I was born and lived until the age of three when my family relocated to California.

I realized the problem was that so many “actions” were not seen as abuse or molestation. Looking back with enlightened eyes, I see more and more how many of the things that I had accepted was molestation. I didn’t acknowledge it. Although I didn’t realize it, I was subconsciously affected by those things that happened to me to the extent that when I found myself in one of those situations, I would give people the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes it would be subtle, I would doubt myself, blame myself, be disappointed in myself, or even make excuses for the abuser. Can you relate to these reactions?

I have a vague, dark memory from my childhood in Kansas City. I remember squatting down behind a partially closed door with my panties down. There was an older girl, maybe four or five years older there with me. She was the daughter of a close family friend. I don’t know what she was doing, I just had a strong sense that it wasn’t right, and that I shouldn’t tell anybody about it or I would be in trouble.

I could write a book describing the instances that would be considered criminal by today’s standards.

Over the years I had not realized how my life had been shaped by the things that happened to me that made me susceptible as an adult for many years. Although I tried to maintain a low profile for many years, that was not a deterrent.

A turning point for me was when my teenaged daughter was kidnapped at gunpoint and raped. That’s another story.  But you must know when a family member or close friend is raped, you become a secondary victim of rape. In taking my daughter for counseling, I had my own counselor, and that took me down a long road of overcoming some of my own issues. One thing she said to me that really resonated was, “One day you’re going to get tired of people pissing on you and telling you it’s raining.” You know what? I did.

You might say, I became passive-aggressive. I wanted to be free to come out of the shadows, to stop wondering if what I was wearing, or if how I behaved were invitations, or if I gave out signals that said, “I am a victim—come and get me.”

I came out of my shell, began to tear down the wall I had built around myself, and became vocal, speaking up for myself and the underdog.

I have learned to stop unconsciously identifying myself as a victim.

How did I do that?  First, I had to seriously and consciously identify myself as a Child of God from an adult mindset, not as a Sunday school primary class student. Through sacrificial praise and prayer, seeking his guidance, learning His Word in depth through study, I began to bring my issues to him. In doing so, I know I have received the knowledge of what I can to do to help others.