If someone asks him, ‘What are these wounds on your body?’ he will answer, ‘The wounds I was given at the house of my friends.’ Zech 13 v 6

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Her Story

A friend of mine came forward recently with her own story of abuse and dysfunction. With her permission I am including her story on my blog. I believe many readers still have a hard time accepting that childhood sexual abuse is in fact an epidemic. Often the pattern of sexual abuse repeats itself through the victim if the victim is not helped. The predator moves on to other victims if not confronted, reported to the police, then serve time for their crime, and then have intense therapy and accountability.

My friends story breaks my heart. So many victims, because of secrecy and manipulation. Keeping this issue in the dark gives the predators power and access to more victims. The issue of childhood sexual abuse needs to be brought to the light and not tolerated on any level! The following is from a personal friend.

This is her story in her own words:
I feel very strongly about doing what I can to support your efforts to find Eddie and his family. I think I told you before that I would share my story with you. So here it is.

My grandfather was sexually abusive towards my mom and her sister. My grandmother didn't believe her. I don't know the extent of what happened to her. I only know bits and pieces.
When my mom was newly married and my sister was very little, my mom tried to commit suicide and had to spend some time in a mental hospital. My mom and dad almost divorced. This was a result of the abuse my mother had endured.

I don't understand all that went into my parents' thinking. My sister and I were babysat by my grandparents quite a bit when we were younger. My grandfather molested my sister, but nobody knew until she was an adult. it is weird because I don't remember anything happening to me. He spent a lot of time with me. I adored him as a little girl. He was always ready to play a game or read a story or let me hang with him in his workshop. I don't think there was anyone I loved more.

Maybe during this time he was more fixated on boys. We lived in the small town in Washington (about 530 people at that time) He was accused of molesting boys in the Boy Scouts. He was brought to trial and none of the family that I know of said anything against him. It was like a sick code of silence or denial or something. He got kicked out of the Masonic Lodge. My grandparents left the small town because of the scandal. Other than that, I know of nothing that happened from all that. He got off basically scott free.

I am assuming my aunt and uncle didn't know this, but somewhere in this time my cousin (a boy) was molested by my grandfather. He acted out a lot of sick things on me. As sad as that was, I believe it was of much less consequence than if it had been my grandfather. I was about five years old at the time and my cousin was probably eight or nine.

I remember at that time my parents asking me if my grandfather had touched me. I said no and didn't really understand what or why they were asking. I still remember the first time I saw my grandfather after I learned of what he had done. I was about eight years old. I was sick to my stomach and felt so betrayed! Even though it wasn't me he molested, I felt he had taken away my innocent love and adoration of him and betrayed all that I knew of him. I hadn't at that time connected the fact of what he had done to my cousin to what my cousin had done to me. That was a totally different issue I had to deal with.

At the age of eight, I remember walking home from school in torment, praying that I would not get pregnant, even though it had been at least a year or more since my last contact with my cousin and even though he never did anything that could get me pregnant. I would say over and over "please God don't let me get pregnant!" I obviously didn't have a clue of the birds and the bees, until finally my sister set me straight. She knew and had never said anything to my parents. That was just one way it affected me.

As an adult with young children, I spent all the family gatherings when my grandfather was around on high alert. My kids were NEVER alone with him.

My aunt lived with my grandparents for a while after a failed marriage. She left her kids with him and he struck yet again.
I still don't understand her mindset. Maybe she thought my grandfather had changed or that he was too old. It is that mindset that allowed the Rojas family to encourage their son to spend time with your family and wreak his destruction. It is maddening.

My grandfather died never having paid any consequences that I know of beyond whatever shame or torment he dealt with inside. Part of me still has a hard time coming to grips with his two sides. He was in the army and was honored in that arena and was a teacher. He was also a pedophile--at a time where it was so shameful no one would say anything. Your child is so blessed to have parents who are willing to go the hard route and demand justice. That will mean so much to your child as they grows.

Well, this was a little scattered, but now you know why I will keep posting as long as they are in hiding.

After reading that blog of Brian's my heart hurts for what your daughter went through.

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