Ever since I decided I needed to, was called to, was designed to write this book this has always been the line that stuck out to me. That would be the first line.
I am not looking for pity...
No one who has been abused is looking for pity. They may need something from you, but pity is not it. They need your love. Your understanding. Your compassion. And probably your shoulder. Your encouragement. Your belief. And your support. But pity? Pity is not what they want. Not at all what they need.
When I talk about my story, what happened to me, I get several responses. Responses range from anger to nonchalance. Yeah. Nonchalance. As in, "So what. We all have a story." So here I am, about to come out on a limb and share the moment that for some inexplicable reason I came forward. I am trusting this story in your hands. The reader's hands. Take from it what you will, but this is my story and I refuse to feel shame.
I have grown to fear the sharing of my story. When I first came forward and my parents were thrown in jail people were angry. Angry with me. My family hated me... Some of them still do. And I felt a backlash from the people closest to me when I tried to share what happened. I learned to hide the pain, all the while I had the knowledge that it was my future to share all of this with you... I was not given the childhood I had to simply hide it away.
There is a lot of back story here that I'm going to leave out in this post. At this point in my life, my mother "knew" what was going on. As in she had been told by me several times and had thought she had stopped it. Troy (my step father) was sick. It never stopped for more than a month before he figured out new ways to get to me. This is simply the story of the day I came forward, I will write later posts to share what had happened when I was younger, as well as, what happened in the months afterwards.
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It was my senior year. September. So much of that time is a blur to me. I learned at a young age to simply block away unpleasant memories. I did that here as well.
I had decided my junior year that I was going to the Air Force Academy. I was on track to get the heck out of Bryson City. Away from Troy. I wanted to go to the stars. As far away as I could climb. I wanted to become somebody. Anybody, but this weak, abused little girl. To get into the Academy I had to have paperwork filled out by my JROTC teachers, a favorite teacher, and my principle, Ms. Mathis.
I loved Ms. Mathis. I had known her since I moved to North Carolina. She had worked at the middle school I attended. She was one fantastic lady, and for some reason I always had a special connection with her.
It was Friday. Football day! I remember that. My mom had let me drive her car to school because I had Honor Guard practice afterwards, then I was supposed to pick her up from work. Early into the school day I went to see Ms. Mathis to get her to fill out my Academy paperwork. This was the moment that forever changed the path of my life.
Ms. Mathis asked me to wait in her office with her while she answered the questions. She would periodically ask me what I thought on the matter. Then, she got to the question, "Is there anything that could potentially hold this future cadet back from performing well at the Academy?"
She looked up and asked the simplest, hardest question. "What about our step-father, Sydney? Can you leave your siblings behind?"
She had thought there might be something going on. Troy wasn't only sexually abusive towards me, but physically abusive towards the rest of my family. We followed his word as if it was the direct word of God. You didn't dare question what he said. In public he was never very friendly; in fact, he scared most people. He had already held me back from some of my dreams. And he was rarely present for our school functions, recitals, sports games, or band performances. My interactions, and the way I talked about him had alerted Ms. Mathis to the fact that there might be more going on.
I looked at her and said, "Well, there's nothing going on now." Yeah. WRONG answer. That prompted the, "what was going on?" question. I broke down. I remember crying. I don't remember what I said. I know it was a lot. I know it was more than I ever wanted to say. Then I remember relief. Such sweet relief. It felt so good! Too bad it lasted a very short time. Then the fear came barreling in. I was so scared. I didn't want to go to the police. I didn't want to tell anyone else. In fact, I wanted to take everything back. I wanted Ms. Mathis to ignore every word I said. I begged her to not tell anyone. I told her I wouldn't go to the police. My family would hate me. I had no where to go. I cannot put into words the all encompassing dread that filled me.
Then she called in Officer Carolyn Posey, our school resource officer. I remember shaking. Wringing my hands. Twirling my hair. Trying to calm myself down. Ms. Mathis had me tell Carolyn everything. I recounted the story to her as I had Ms. Mathis. Carolyn urged me to go to the police with her. To come forward. I wanted to so badly. I remember thinking that I should. But still, this fear. I couldn't shake it. I clung to my past. I feared the unknown of the future. I knew what going home at the end of the day would be like. It would be the same as every other day. I knew what every day was like. This. This coming forward... No. That was different. It wasn't safe. I didn't know what would happen. I was so afraid. At that point they sent me back to class. They told me to tell my teachers I wasn't feeling well. Which was true. No one would question me as my face was all shades of red, my eyes ugly and blotchy. I dreaded what would happen next.
I think it was after lunchtime that I was called back to the office. Carolyn had a woman with her. An angel of a woman. This memory is shadowed. I don't remember the woman's face. Or even her name. But I do remember the stories she told me. Stories of other girls who came forward. People who had been hurt by their family as well. How they got help for those girls and even their mother's. I was so afraid my mom would get in trouble. They told me it depended on how she reacted, but that she could be proven innocent if she cooperated. It was when they said that my coming forward could save my brother and sister from pain that I began softening towards the idea. Who would protect them when I left for college? This was my biggest fear. I love my siblings. I was so afraid what would happen, I finally made the decision to go to the police.
I'm not sure how I got there. I think Carolyn drove me. Then she went to pick up my mom while I gave my statement to the Cherokee PD. I still remember the numbing affect of my conflicting emotions of joy and fear. I wanted so badly to share everything. To get Troy put away where he couldn't harm me or anyone else anymore... I told about the years of sexual abuse. Of being made to drink alcohol. Of being forced to walk around naked. Of the fear of what would happen if I ever told. It was all out. There was no taking it back anymore. I felt as if the whole world now knew my horrible secret.
What happened next will be forever seared into my brain. I struggle now to even write this. I feel it is necessary though. For you to know. Not only was coming forward freeing, and completely worth it, it was also the worst day of my life. I had never felt as bad about myself as I did that day.
My mom arrived at the police station. When she got there she was hysterical. Just as I feared change and the unknown, so did she. I heard her screaming in the hallway. Screaming that I was lying. That I was a little spoiled bitch. That I was making everything up. Ms. Mathis jumped up from the table we were sitting at and went running out the door to confront my mother. I was so thankful to have such a wonderful woman around to protect me, but it didn't stop the pain. Or the tears. Even now, my gut hurts with the pain of those memories. The hurt at having my mother not support me. I knew at that point that the next stage would not be easy. But I made the commitment to see it through. To continue on the path that I had started.
Over the next months, even year, there was a lot of pain. I experienced so many heartaches. Family that I loved, even my own Grandmother, turned their backs on me. Told everyone that I was a lying, scheming whore. My brother and sister went through hell during the transition as well. I felt like a wretched human being for putting my family through this all. I knew that in the end it would be worth it. The truth was worth the pain.
I say all of that because if you too are going through abuse right now I want you to know what it is like when you come forward. Your family may not support you. The people you love most you may say that you are lying. But you MUST stay your ground! You MUST come forward!! Troy was not only abusing me, he was abusing my whole family. He is a sick man who deserved to go away for much longer than he actually got. What if the person who is terrorizing you hurts another? You are strong enough, you are bold enough to step forward. To tell your story so that others may not suffer. For a long time I thought that I had made the worst decision of my life, but then the healing came. I was able to figure out what I really wanted to do with me life. Not just what I wanted to do to get as far away from evil as I could. I began creating stronger, better relationships with people who would truly support me. I began learning that the things I thought were "normal" were in fact very wrong. I learned what the true love of a Father was...
I didn't realize it until several months afterwards, but I was very close to killing myself. I had sat with the pill bottles next to me. Looked at them. Contemplated taking all of them. I had thought of stepping into the middle of traffic. I had even fantasized about simply running away, which carries many more problems than what I was already in... No matter what you think taking those pills will solve, or running out that door will do, it is never enough. The person who is committing or did commit those crimes (no matter how long ago) deserves to stand trial for their transgressions against humanity, against you.
Troy didn't get sent to prison for life. It wasn't the outcome I wanted. I had endured years of silence, abuse, and pain, for him to get a short sentence. But for the rest of his life he will have to wear a tracking anklet. He will be on the Sex Offender Registry. People will now know who he truly is.
To be honest, I don't know how to end this post. So I will say this, if you or someone you know is in trouble, please please help them come forward. Help yourself. Be selfish! Tell the world what is happening in secret. I want this to be secret no more. I don't want a single sex offender to ever feel they can abuse another person. They should fear the truth of their crimes. The only one who can make them fear is you. And me... The victims who will remain a victim no more.
Stand Up. Speak Out.
**Please take a look at the blog I have now set up to feature not only my story, but your stories as well. http://standingupforus.blogspot.com.tr/2014/01/victim-no-more.html Give my posts a comment, and follow for updates when I post! Contact me if you would like to share your story. You are welcome to share anonymously or with your information attached. **
