You could say I was steeped in abuse my entire youth. I grew up in the 1960s within an alcoholic home. My father was a physical abuser. I experienced so many acts of violence in our home year after year, against my mother, my siblings and myself – all before I was 10 years old. My older brother set me up with a neighbor boy and had me put the little boy’s penis into my mouth at age 3, and then later fondled and molested me on several occasions when I was 5. My first grade teacher slapped this little shy girl across the cheek in class when I failed to produce a correct answer. And even my 2nd grade teacher used me as an example to the rest of the class and spanked me on her lap in front of everyone. My offense was that I chuckled at a classmate’s joke, along with everyone else, while a visitor was in the room. Two of my brother-in-laws had forced French kisses on me when I was a young teenager. My grandfather molested me when I was 13. At this point, I was almost numb to abuse. I felt shocked and profoundly wronged when an incident would occur, but I didn’t feel I had a voice to say so, nor anyone to tell who would really care. I would just go numb.

My mother severely beat me with a belt at age 15 because she found cigarettes in my purse - which made me so angry, I blurted out that her father had molested me. You could hear a pin drop. Thankfully, she believed me. But it was quickly tucked away out of sight, and not much was said after that time.

Abuse was a normal part of my life. My adult relationships have been tangled in abuse of some sort or another. I’ve found myself being verbally and emotionally abused in almost every romantic relationship I’ve ever been in. I realize now that even a few of my oldest friendships have been toxic, in that I did the largest share of giving and the other party did the largest share of taking. However, for the previous 2-3 years, I have been processing my past under the direction of my inner spirit, outstanding eye-opening books on abuse and healing, and counseling with experts in the field of survivors of childhood abuse. I am regaining my power and being restored and healed in so many ways. I am, in essence, thriving over victimhood and feeling more free and healthy – as every human being is entitled to be. It is within this context that the following incident occurred.

My extended family was planning our semi-regular reunion. I happily attended most of our previous family reunions throughout the years – in spite of it being named after my abusive grandfather. However, this time I was experiencing horrible dread and anxiety every time I began making travel plans. I ended up canceling at the last minute thinking I was just too plain exhausted to make the trip. It didn’t occur to me until a few days after the reunion that I had been having panic attacks about attending. I was experiencing very real, very physical post-traumatic stress at the very mention of the reunion – something I was completely unfamiliar with.

As I pondered all of this over the next week, and discussed with my mom the prospect of reporting my abuse to the family, she flatly discouraged me. Her response totally deflated any sense of confidence and strength I had mustered to talk with her about it. I was crying and freaking out on such a deep level. Out of total desperation, I called the local Rape Crisis Center because I felt like my world was ending and that I had absolutely no one to talk to about it. That phone call was an answer to prayer. Whoever was on the end of the other line was so comforting and encouraging, and so gentle and understanding. She led me to a counseling support group that has turned out to be greatly restorative and empowering. It sounds corny maybe, but I feel I can finally exhale.

In the course of attending this group over the last 6 months, I felt strengthened to send my story to the family, reporting my grandfather’s abuse. Here it is (distinguishing personal info changed to protect anonymity):

Dear Loved Ones,

I am so glad to be a part of this family – I love each and every one of you. That is why this is the toughest letter I’ve ever written. I’m about to tell you why I didn’t attend the Louisiana Family Convention last month.

Through years, and I mean YEARS, of counseling, therapy, prayer and healing, I am finally healed and confident enough to reveal to you a 35-year-old secret that Grandpa told me to keep. Grandpa molested me during that summer I turned 13 years old. I don’t expect all of you to understand why this is so right for me to bring out at this time, and I know some of you will think I should have remained silent forever. Others may not even believe me. I’m okay with that. I just feel that the taboo secrecy that society sometimes expects in regard to incest, even among Christians, is why Grandpa’s type of deviant behavior has continued in families through the generations. Maybe it’s a Victorian notion that children are not as valuable as adults. The children are "supposed" to keep silent, forgive and forget, stay isolated, and bear the weight alone, while the adult victimizer gets off free. After all, he’s got an upstanding Christian reputation, right?

He is not here to defend himself, but then again, he is not the main reason why I am doing this. It is for that precious, innocent, frightened and abused child those many years ago that I feel I am validating. I want to share it with those whom I’m proud to call family, although I regret it is not good news. How I wish it never happened! The truth is, he did it. If you are uncomfortable with this information, try to imagine how it has been for me these past 35 years. This is the legacy my Louisiana Grandpa left me.

When I wasn’t trying to erase it and sweep it under a rug, I looked for excuses for him – that he was not himself and had a lapse of judgment … that Grandma was dead and he was lonely … somehow it was my fault for growing breasts … blah blah blah. I know now that there are no excuses for his invasive, ridiculous behavior. How could I feel loved by Grandpa when he was touching me in that way and marginalizing me as someone off in the sidelines who was not worthy of being treated with respect? Plus, it is never the fault of the child when a full grown adult chooses to satisfy his own perverted urges by using and abusing another of God’s children (not to mention his own). If he was lonely, he could have gotten a dog! After all, his behavior made me feel just as disempowered as if I were a pet animal myself.

The other reason for my speaking out, besides being healthy for me, is the hope that if anything similar has happened to any of you, by anyone, it may fuel your courage to speak out, as well. You are not alone, and there is nothing for which you need to feel shamed into silence.

In a nutshell, that’s why I no longer want to be involved where his name is being celebrated and honored. That would be obscene to me. Now, what? I don’t know. I’m just thrilled it’s not a secret anymore, so feel free to contact me about it, if you want. I truly hope that this does not sever any ties we have with each other, but if it does, that is your choice.

In love and sincerity,

One of his granddaughters

I’d like to say that everyone was compassionate and thoroughly understanding, but that is not the case. Out of the 30 people that got the letter, only 5 responded favorably (2 sisters, 2 cousins - and my mom who has since been completely supportive). One of my aunts responded, but with a snobby religious scolding tone and a denial of sorts on his behalf. My other aunts and uncles have never responded to me - those are the ones I felt would reach out because they have known me all my life … but nothing. Most of my cousins, whom have also known me my entire life, have not responded, either. Since then, even an initially supportive sister has turned on me and has blamed me for everything.

Everyone processes things differently over time, and I am still hopeful that my family can come to terms with it in a healthy way – whether or not I ever know it. Overall, I know sending the letter was the right thing to do, even though it has pushed me in a forward direction that seems at once uncertain and exciting. I cannot say that everyone should do exactly as I did, but I do encourage you to find out what the right thing is for YOU, and take the appropriate action. It was personally important for me to tell the truth and be real to my family. It made me feel validated and equally important as a valued family member, whereas before I felt inferior and alone in my suffering. My healing journey is still in progress, but I am choosing to speak out against the parts of our society that want abuse to remain harbored, and victims to remain silent. Finally, my hope is that you will find the courage to speak out and find supportive people to help take you from victim to thriving survivor.

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