I didn't know this week would have this effect on me. Can anyone relate?

[Silver1]

139. My guy is dead too.

Last edited Wed Oct 3, 2018, 10:10 AM - Edit history (1)

I grew up in a neighborhood where everyone knew each other and which was considered a safe place for children to play freely outside.

When I was five, my mom took me to visit a relative nearby. While they were talking and distracted, I wandered off to the yard next door.

The only person home at the time was the 18 year old son. He took me into the house and sexually assaulted me. It all happened very quickly, and had it not been for my mother's calling my name, things would have been much worse. The only reason he let me go is because he would have been found out. I ran out and told my mom what happened, but I never found out how she and my dad handled it. Actually, I'm not sure she ever told my dad -- God knows what he would have done.

While growing up I would see this grotesque creature now and then, and he terrified me. I would look away, or cross the street to avoid him. When I turned 18, I found out he was in some kind of fight, and died from internal injuries. I immediately felt a huge burden lifted from me, an immense relief, even happiness. I was also stunned I could be glad for someone dying, but I understood it was the only way I would be free of the fear he could somehow hurt me again.

I am a grown woman with adult children now, older and wiser. I wish the bastard was still alive, because if he was, I would like to confront him for what he did to me and for the ugliness he brought into a my life. I am filled with anger about it, and I carry that anger as a shield for myself and for any other person victimized by people like him. They say not to hang on to anger, but I think it's healthy to move from feeling like a victim and facing the accuser. I am so proud of Dr. Ford.