I was molested when I was very young.

[Are_grits_groceries]

It happened at the hands of the proverbial trusted and beloved figure.

The storm of emotions this evokes until this day are numerous. In an instant you have fear, guilt, love, anger, sadness, confusion, isolation, and many other feelings hitting you at warp speed. It is impossible to slow them down and to try and sort them out especially when you are young. Even now when I am a brazillion years old, the memory remains an impenetrable and entangled mess that rivals the Gordian Knot.

I had no idea what to do or even where to begin to deal with it. I don't remember even thinking about telling someone who would believe me compared to the person I would be accusing? It would be chalked up to an overactive imagination. I did tell a cousin about ten years ago. She intimated I was confused about what happened and asked whether I was bringing up false memories. The was an undercurrent of anger in her words. I never mentioned it again. The only person I have ever spent any time trying to find a glimmer of understnding are the psychiatrists I have seen.

I have been affected by depression since I was a teenager. I can't prove that the molestation brought it on, but I do feel that it exacerbated the problem. The depression itself also invokes some of the same feelings. It is a disease that is so misunderstood that I feel guilt, anger, isolation, and realize there is nobody to talk to that might understand.

This ball of emotions hardens into a memory that doesn't belong anywhere. It is not unlike a tumor that creates a shadow if glimpsed, and the darkness is in the soul. The lump also has some volcanic qualities such as a sudden eruption of all those balled up feelings when some action or scene flips a switch unexpectedly.

In my case I have always had an undercurrent of anger and sadness that varies in strength. I have felt isolated for as long as I can remember. Trust in people is another casualty of the abuse. I will reach a point of comfort with someone, and I find I cannot force myself to move any closer. The ball of horror pops up and becomes a barrier that grows quickly into a huge and powerful wall that is impossible to breach. It doesn't obviate the need to be closer. My inability to take any more steps forward transforms into frustration and an even stronger sense of being separated from others.

When I become aware of situations of abuse such as the one at Penn State, it instantly brings out a rage and a yearning to slap those who could have stopped it. I have no forgiveness for those people because I know what they are doing to those kids beyond any physical scars or problems. They have started the hurricane of shame in those kids. They will be buffeted by it all their lives, and their ability to deal with it will vary. The act of dealing with it or keeping it boxed away takes a lot energy that is badly needed to deal with other problems.

I don't consciously dwell on this memory, but I believe it causes a constant undercurrent of anger and other emotions that drain some energy from me all of the time. It is always present in some form and some strength in some part of my mind.

When I saw those students rioting at PSU because they were mad about JoePa, I wanted to reach through the tv and shake them for an eternity. They have no clue about JoePa's role, but what bothers me the most is that they are not attempting to find out. His is a sin of omission that erased the worth of those kids. Those boys can see and feel how little they are worth to a lot of people. That leaves another scar.

I hope those kids can find some help and some peace. I wish I could shield them from that storm that I know is with them. How can you shield someone from an integral part of themselves? They have to try to learn to do this.

I didn't post this to be pitied. I wanted to express how abuse made me feel, and how it may possibly affect Sandusky's victims. I ask that you do something or say something if you find yourself in a situation where you have some knowledge that abuse is occurring. You won't change my life, but you might change somebody else's. You might give them a feeling that they do have worth, and that they mean something to someone.

You might be surprised at how much this will mean to someone, and how large a life jacket you have thrown them. It might be big enough to begin to carry them to a brighter future.