The Great Depression...

As the New Year approaches…I really want to cleanse my soul. It seems like my New Year’s Resolutions in the past have always been physical…like lose weight…or tone up…or whatever. But this year I want to change my core…my inside…in hopes to find a better person…a person that I like. I have been realizing more and more that there are some things in my life that I need to let go of in order to move on. There are several things I need to let go of. But one in particular that I just don’t allow myself to let go of. It’s almost like a crutch…or something I can hide behind…or something that I can blame my crazy on. And maybe I still won’t fully, but if I put it out there, maybe it’s a step in the right direction. I’ve sat through many sermons on “Forgiveness” that I honestly and truthfully sat intently listening hoping that maybe this will be IT…the thing that breaks thru and allows me to let go. And some have helped…but none have accomplished the task at hand.

My freshman year of college was supposed to be the best time of my life. I was so excited for this new adventure! I had always been Miss Independent and I was ready to go away to school. And in Malibu…a dream come true! Never did I anticipate what would happen at New Student Orientation. The second night of Orientation we all met with our RA’s and SA’s in our dorms. There was a woman from the Abuse & Rape Shelter in Santa Monica. I didn’t think anything of it. She was talking about how us girls needed to look out for ourselves while walking home at night…and stuff like that. I was probably rolling my eyes because my mom made sure I attended every self-defense class that was offered in a 30 mile radius from the house that I grew up in. I knew I could defend myself…and kick some butt. Then the woman said a statistic (I can’t remember what it is) about the percentage of girls/women that have been sexually abused by friends, family and people they know. I remember being astounded. Then…a floodgate burst open in my brain…and images flashed through my mind that I had hidden under lock and key 12 years earlier. I don’t remember anything else that she said. I must have sat staring at the carpet, which turned into a movie screen as my brain projected these images that I indeed suppressed and hoped never would have come back. I’m sure my eyes were twitching side to side as my mind scanned my brain for every memory from the ages of 3-6 that I could dig up. And then it hit…DEPRESSION. I became a completely different person. Dead…numb…a walking zombie.

When I was young…2 of my mom’s brothers lived with us for awhile. Since they were adults, my parents would leave my brother and I with them on occasion. Several of these “occasions” they would drink beer. The younger of the 2 brothers drank more. I remember him (I still can’t bring myself to say his name) taking me to his bedroom and asking me to take my clothes off and he kissed me. My earliest recollection of this was when I was 3 years old. I don’t really remember anything beyond him touching and kissing me…but part of me thinks God isn’t allowing me to remember anything else to protect me. He gave me so many mixed messages that royally screwed me up. There was the positive side…where he told me how beautiful I was. But there was the negative side…where he told me that NO ONE else would love me...and not to trust anyone else…only him…and definitely NEVER EVER tell anyone “our little secret”. So I didn’t. I remember he would tell me to tell my mom that I loved hanging out with him. He would make me say it in front of him…and I just felt like vomiting. I wanted to cry out to my mom to NEVER leave me alone with him…but I couldn’t. He was always around. To this day…I still am mad at myself for not saying anything. But then I have to remember…I was 3 years old…and being manipulated…surely I couldn’t have known better. This continued on and off the next 3 years of my life. Luckily he moved into an apartment part of that time so I didn’t see him as much.

Then came the day of freedom…one of the best days of my life. I was 6. I remember the phone call. My mom answered…she started crying. I ran to her and wondered what was going on. She said that her brother was killed. I remember running to my room and jumping up and down on my bed in ultimate glee! This was it…I was free from him FOREVER. He could not hurt me any longer. I do feel bad about the way he died. He was at a bar and was crossing the street to go to his car. Some car hit him going 60 miles per hour and drug him 100 yards. The car took off…and left him to die. My mom was so devastated. But I honestly think God was protecting me in this situation, and the reason for his death was so that I could have my life back. And I shut that door of my brain and locked it far away to never be opened again. What I didn’t anticipate was a random woman from a Rape and Abuse shelter finding the key which I thought I hid so well.

What happened next was the hardest time of my life. I couldn’t tell anyone what was going on with me. So I just told my mom I was homesick…which wasn’t true. She made me an appointment at the campus counseling center. This is where I met Carolyn! Praise God for Carolyn! Even though I had to take a test where they indeed found out that I was depressed…and the psychiatrist wanted to put me on anti-depressants…I decided not to…to see if I could just handle it on my own with Carolyn’s help. The first month I saw her 5 days a week…then 3…then 1. My sophomore year on I just went every other week or once a month just because she became a special person to me. It probably took 2 weeks for me to finally tell her what was wrong. She loved me every step of the way and helped me through it. I have never cried so much in my life. It was a dark 5 months…I contemplated suicide. I just wanted it all to go away. I thought it would be so easy to drive off the cliff in Malibu Canyon. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do that to my family. But I didn’t want to be sad and unaffected by things. Some days I thought I was so far in the tunnel that I just couldn’t see the light at the end. I didn't want to get out of bed. I wanted to be alone in the dark...but then I remembered I was alone...and I was so hopeless! It took a good year…but with Carolyn’s help…I finally felt like I was finding me again. She encouraged me to tell my parents. I really didn’t want to. Then it donned on me…what if he did the same to my brother???!?? So when I got home for summer break…I worked up the nerve to tell him and ask him if anything ever happened to him. He said no…THANKFULLY…and said I better tell mom and dad or he would. I was not happy about this. As of that moment…my mom had happy memories of her brother. He is DEAD. Why should I tell her and make her memories bad. I put myself in her shoes…if it was my brother…I would want to keep the happy memories. But Henry insisted I tell them…and he held my hand as I did so. It was the hardest thing I had to do. I was crying…my mom was bawling…she blamed herself. That’s exactly what I DIDN’T want to happen. But what happened next still hurts me. I told them at night. They were already in bed. The next morning not a word was mentioned about it. To this day 8 and a half years later…no one has mentioned it to me. No one has asked me if I am okay…no one has said that they wanted to help me through this. I was left alone…and hurt. Part of me thinks I need to release this hurt toward my family as well. I just don’t have it in me to bring it up…when I so desperately want to let it go. I know that my family loves me…and I know they just never knew what to say. My sophomore year of college I randomly came across the song “Taboo” by Mancy A’lan Kane. These are the lyrics:


Footsteps louder down the hall
I see his shadow on my wall
Hide beneath the sheets with my Raggedy Ann
Smell of Gin, The touch of his hand

Too Young to Remember
Too Old to Forget

Smile for the camera in my Easter Dress
Church on Sunday but I never confess
Keep it all locked up in a secret place
I run to whenever he comes my way

Too Young to Remember
Too Old to Forget

The lights are on in my dollhouse tonight
Maybe in the morning it will be alright

Too Young to Remember
Too Old to Forget


This song hit home. Do you ever have that feeling that a particular song you hear…should have been written by you. I felt that way with this song. Surely she wrote it about me! Of course not. It helped me realize I was not alone. This happens OFTEN which is just appalling. I listened to this song today…and it just made me sad. It made me sad for the little girl that I was. Not knowing any better. Who was so alone and scared. And SO YOUNG. Too young to have to deal with this.



I think I was 2 in this picture…but close enough. (And no that's not a wig...that's ALL MY HAIR!!!) I can’t imagine how anyone could do that to a child so young. Then the anger rises…not for me…but for all the other children that are going through this as I am writing.

I really don’t know why I can’t forgive him. I’m sure he didn’t do it to hurt me…he was just messed up…and intoxicated. And maybe I can’t forgive him because I can’t talk to him. There was never really any closure other than his death…but that doesn’t make all of my questions go away. I know it is because of him that I have trust issues. I know it is because of him that I never had a boyfriend. Poor Steve…he was so patient…and I tried over and over to push him away. I’m so thankful he pushed me back and challenged me. And I have healed…I just haven’t forgiven. I want to…but I don’t really know how. I’m across the country from his grave. I never visited it. Whenever my mom would go visit it, I would go to my friend’s grave which is only 50 feet away or so. I’ve prayed during those sermon’s about forgiveness. I’ve read every verse there is about forgiveness. Maybe I need to have a ritual of some kind. Like maybe I need to write a letter to him then burn it. Or maybe I need to drop a white lily into the lake. Or maybe I just need to not be stubborn and try (it would be a stretch) to remember any good memories. The hurt part of me thinks that doesn’t exist…and won’t allow myself to scan my brain for that in fear of finding something bad. Or maybe I need to volunteer at an organization that helps children that have been sexually abused. That would be really hard...but I'm sure very rewarding...I just haven't been able to take the first step. But hopefully through prayer…and the desire to move on…it will just happen. If time is what needs to happen…it will happen. All I can do is try.