April is Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention Month

This is not a fun topic. The statistics are chilling.

One in six women will be sexually assaulted. 44% are under the age of 18.

College age women are 4 times more likely to be sexually assaulted.

Every TWO MINUTES someone in the U.S. is sexually assaulted.

The even scarier part of these numbers is that it is estimated that 60% of sexual assaults are not reported to the police.

The awful, sad, horrible truth is that approximately 73% of victims know their assailants. 93% of juvenile victims know their attacker. 32% of perpetrators of sexual assault are family members.

As I have mentioned before in this blog, I was sexually molested when I was 12 years old by a family member. It is my family’s best-kept secret that is no secret. It is my understanding that most everybody in my family knows that I said that this happened. I phrase it like that because I think most of them don’t want to believe that it did happen. If they actually believed that it happened, they’d have to deal with it and do something about it.
In my family, I was sacrificed for the well-being of my assailant’s wife and child. It would have been too tragic for them, I suppose, to really bring this out into the light. It would have caused too much family disruption for them. Whether they understood it or not, they were all actively deciding that it was better for the tragedy to rest solely with me, to cause me disruption for the rest of my life, than to try to protect me or bring a deviant pedophile to justice.

Tragically, there is a long, documented history of families turning a blind eye to sexual assualt. Did you know that King David, yes, the one from the Bible, the one who wrote so many of the Psalms, did nothing when he discovered that his daughter, beautiful Tamar, had been brutally raped by his son, Amnon. It was recorded that he was furious, but that he did nothing. Nothing. A king, chosen by God to be king, who had slain the giant Goliath when he was only a teenager, who had fought many battles, did nothing for his daughter. David's other son, Absalom, eventually killed Amnon, then plotted to overthrow his father. Thus began the complete unraveling of David's family. It's an amazing story that takes place in 2 Samuel.

David never rose to Tamar's help and it cost him dearly. His son Absalom avenged Tamar's abuse by killing Amnon, David's other son. Again David said and did nothing. Absalom fled Jersusalem for three years. When he returned, David refused to see him for two years. Eventually David was overthrown and cast out of the city he founded. Even though David was ultimately returned to power, his son Absalom was killed and David was devastated, understanding how much he had lost by his inaction.

It is clear that, when regarding how David treated his family, God was not pleased at all.

Is it any wonder that 60% of sexual assaults are not reported to the police?? Sexual abuse can and does destroy families, indeed multiple generations of families. But it is NOT the fault of the victim.

Ignoring it, pretending it didn't happen, does NOT make it go away. It only takes a horrible situation and makes it worse. Twelve year olds are unlikely to go to the authorities by themselves, especially when they are counting on their parents and families to come to their aid and defense. Every day, beautiful daughters are sacrificed because families are afraid of what will happen it they come forward. Far better that they should be afraid of what will happen if they don't.

I have, after many years of trauma and self-destructive behavior, finally come to terms with not only what happened, but why people did what they did. I have learned to forgive my family, not for their sakes, but for my own. Hatred, bitterness, anger, and confusion eat away at you like a cancer.

Want proof?Victims of sexual assault are:

3 times more likely to suffer from depression
6 time more likely to suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder
13 times more likely to abuse alcohol
26 times more likely to abuse drugs
4 times more likely to contemplate suicide.

I have experienced and suffered from all of those things. Broken people want desperately to be fixed and most of us spend a large majority of our lives trying to do that with drugs, alcohol and sex. Anything to fill the hole left by the person that took away our innocence and dignity. When we realize that drugs, alcohol, and sex don’t fill the hole, we begin to believe the lie that we’ll never be whole. We’ll never be helped. Enter depression and suicidal thoughts. Enter more drugs and alcohol.

I finally decided that, for me to get free and finally have my life back, I could not spend one more minute being eaten alive by the blackness and the cancer and the lie that I would never be whole and healthy again.

Forgiveness is not about the perpetrator. It’s about taking your life back. Forgiving someone does not mean that you’re saying, “what you did to me is ok”. It means that you’re saying, “I’m letting this go because you are a tragically sick person and I have given you enough of my life already. I am not giving you any more.”

The next step in taking back my life is taking back the tragedy. If I use what happened to me to help other people either avoid being assaulted, or help them find their way back to health and wholeness after being hurt, then what happened to me ceases to be a tragedy. It becomes a victory. Yes, it was awful and horrible that it happened. But as I say all the time, THAT IS NOT THE END OF THE STORY. Or at least, it doesn’t have to be.

What happened to me when I was 12 years old becomes just that--something that happened to me. It isn't me. It doesn’t define who I am. God designed and defined who I am, even before I was born. That is where I take my definition, my direction, my validation. And God says I’m not done yet. God says I am so much more than a victim.

I refuse to lay down and die slowly for the next 50 years just because another sick, twisted, broken person hurt me 27 years ago. He took my innocence. He took my family. I had no father to speak of and after that happened, I lost my mother. She’s always been in my life, but at that moment, I learned that she didn’t have my best interest at heart and that I could not trust her to take care of me. I learned that if someone was going to take care of me, it was going to have to be me. I wasted years thinking I had to rely on myself. I was just as broken and twisted and sick as the man who did this to me and I mistakenly believed that I was all I had. Talk about despair. Talk about from the frying pan into the fire.

I have learned that I am not all I have. I have learned that I have a heavenly father who does have my best interest at heart, who I can trust, who will take care of me, and who will come to my aid and defense against those who would seek to harm me. He has healed my broken heart, my broken mind, and my broken spirit. Like it says in the banner of this blog, "the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings". Romans 8:31 says, "If God is for us, who can ever be against us?"

He can and will do that for you, too. It is my goal to use the experience of not just what happened to me, but more importantly, what happened after that, to help others.
If you have been assaulted, get help. If your family won’t listen to you or help you, tell a teacher, or a church member, or a friend, or get on the web and go to www.rainn.org. There is an online hotline or you can call 1-800-656-HOPE.

If someone in your family or one of your friends tells you that this has happened to them, HELP THEM. Don’t ignore them. If you read in the paper, or got onto msnbc.com and read about a 38 year old man sexually assaulting a child, you’d be outraged. Hell would not be hot enough for this person. Why would it be different if that man was in your family and married to your sister? It’s no less heinous a crime because you’ve known him all your life and never thought he’d do anything like this.

If you’re dealing with an assault that happened years ago and you’ve been trying to fill the hole and fix the brokenness with false solutions, please know that it can be better. I have been where you are and I know it can be better. It can even be amazing and glorious and fantastic. Not just for me, but for everybody. God is not just my heavenly father. He is desperately waiting and wanting to be there for you, too. We are his children and I believe he hurts when we hurt.

There is hope for the hopeless. There is healing for the broken. There is joy for the broken-hearted. There is help for the helpless.

The rest of your life can be different. Please, get help.

One Very Long, Very Wonderful Year

I’m so excited. I had my sobriety birthday on February 10, 2009. It was truly amazing and surreal. I am so grateful and humbled by the mercy and grace that God has shown me, throughout my whole life, but in particular this last year.

How much sweeter life is today. How much more vivid, clear and rewarding. I am happy to report that I have not thrown up one single time in the past year. I remember everything that happened at every party, gathering , or event that I went to in the past year. I have not had one hangover in a year. For me, these are pretty amazing achievements. I could have done none of it by myself. But I can do all things through God, who strengthens me (Philippians 4:13).

There have been many times throughout this year that I wanted to drink. The memories of how life was when I was drinking are painful, but I have prayed that I never forget them. I may want to drink, but I never want to live like that again. I never want to put myself through that again and I never want to put my family through that again.

My husband and my kids are far easier on me than I am on myself. I always seemed to “manage” my drinking fairly well, I guess, at least as far as they were concerned. I tried to keep my drinking limited to when my kids weren’t around (or else I just kept it hidden) so when I finally did claim my addiction they were actually kind of surprised. My husband was with me during a lot of my drinking but when I would get really drunk I would be at a party or a gathering, so I guess he didn’t think it was too out of the ordinary. Plus, we hung out with a pretty fast, hard partying crowd, so I was certainly no worse than anyone else. This of course, was no accident. I wound up surrounding myself with people who were like me to make myself feel “Ok”. What Todd didn’t know (or didn’t want to acknowledge) was how much I drank on my own. Not enough to get blind, runnin’ drunk, but if there was bourbon in the house, I couldn’t wait to have that first drink after I’d gotten everybody settled in at night. Eventually the first drink came earlier and earlier after I got home from work.

Todd used to joke that “an open bottle is an empty bottle” , but it wasn’t a joke, it was true. After he’d said that a couple of times, I began to hear it in my head when I would drink. I loved wine, but I would “pace myself” so that I could prove him wrong. I would space it out so that a bottle would last sometimes three days. A Victory! Three whole days. While I congratulated myself on proving him wrong, that I could leave wine in the bottle, I THOUGHT about it CONSTANTLY. It literally called to me.

Drinking, whether I was doing it, thinking about it, wishing I could do it, feeling guilty about doing it, or recovering from doing it, was all-consuming.

And, as much as I loved wine, bourbon was absolutely my drink of choice. It was soooooo good right up until the moment it all went soooooo bad. We kept it under the sink and I would just think about it all the time. I could see it in my mind’s eye, just sitting there.
I also tried to manage my drinking by not buying any bourbon. That would work ok for awhile, until Todd bought some. Then I would “treat myself” since it had been awhile since I’d had any. Then we were off to the races again.

Life, “Part Deux” (Hot Shots reference for geeks like me!), has proven to be at times painful, stressful, and way too real. But most of the time, it is beautiful. Even if my kids never realized how it affected me, I knew it. I knew how much I had robbed them, and especially myself, of time spent with them. They’re young, they think they’re immortal. I realize all too well that life is short and it is precious. Every second counts and I have wasted far too many of them.

My dad was an alcoholic and he died when he was 51. I’ll be 39 in less than a month. He died never knowing freedom from his bondage, from his pain. I couldn’t help him when he was alive and I certainly can’t help him now. But I can learn from him. His life and death were such a wasteful tragedy. But if I can learn from him, and if I can help others like us, then perhaps it will not have been for nothing.

I think about him all the time. We never had a good relationship. I know he loved me as much as he could, but his addiction was stronger than any love that he had for anyone. I wish I could tell him, though, that I get it. That I understand. I did forgive him and I did tell him that I forgave him before he died. I hope he heard me.

I have had so much joy in the past year. So many blessings. For every time I’ve felt stressed, I’ve had multiple times when I’ve felt like the luckiest woman in the world. Life is good. Really, really good.

My AA group has been such an incredible lifeline for me. I have felt so at home and so comfortable with these women, in a way I have never felt anywhere before. Nobody looks at me like I have two heads in those rooms. There is such acceptance and love and support. We celebrated our “AA” birthdays at our meeting last night and, as happy as I was for myself, all of those women were just as happy for me. There are women in our group that have less than a month sobriety and women that have 13 years, and every level in between. But every one of us knows what it feels like to stop drinking and to work every day to stay stopped. We are all there to lift each other up, to celebrate each other’s joys and to help each other through our hard times. I am so grateful to have found them.

If anyone reading this struggles like I have, I pray that you will find peace. I pray that you would call your local AA chapter or go to www.aa.org and get more information. There can be peace. There can be joy. Life can be beautiful again. These are not just my promises. God’s grace and mercy and love is not just for me. It’s for everyone that says, even in the tiniest, smallest voice, like I did a year ago, “I cannot do this alone, God. I need your help.”
God, thank you for my sobriety. Thank you for life. Thank you for second, and third, and fourth chances. Thank you for never giving up on me, even when I had given up on myself. Thank you for being my soft place to fall. Thank you for the women in my AA group. I pray that I use the gifts you have given me to help others know your love and know the peace you want for them. It is through you that I got sober and it is through you that I stay sober. I pray that I never take my sobriety for granted or become smug, but that I remember every day to take it one day at a time, one step at a time. Stay with me, Lord, and help me continue to grow in my sobriety. It is in your holy name that I pray, Amen.

Amaryllis

I’m a writer, and yet all too often I get caught up in waiting for the perfect thing to write about before I write anything. Waiting for perfection before I begin. Waiting for all of the conditions to be right. This quote I read last week said “how you do anything is usually how you do everything”. Is this true? Is this true about me? In my mind, I’m the last person that would get caught up waiting for perfection, but is it possible that I do?

And is it really that I want it to be perfect or am I just using that as an excuse because what I’m really dealing with is fear? That’s more probable. Knowing me, I feel certain the fear has more to do with success than with failure. Failure I have down-pat. I can do failure all day long. Success, however, is a whole ‘nother Oprah.

My mom gave me an Amaryllis before Christmas. It bloomed right around Christmas and it was beautiful. It came in this really gorgeous thick glass square vase. On Thursday, I noticed that the bloom had died and I thought to myself that it was probably time to cut that stalk down. The dead bloom was looking pretty ragged. I have Gerbera daisies in my flower bed and when these bloom and then die, I cut them down and others grow up in their place. That’s what Gerbera daisies do. I assumed all flowers operate this way. I got sidetracked, though, and busy, and went on about my business without touching it.

We went out of town this weekend for Livia’s volleyball tournament and got home very late Saturday night. I got up late the next morning and it was early afternoon before I sat down in the living room. The vase with the Amaryllis is on the coffee table in the middle of the living room. To my amazement, the stalk I thought was dead had this huge, gorgeous bloom and the other two stalks that had been little short stubby things had shot up 6-8 inches each, both looking like they’ll bloom within days.

It occurred to me there was a life lesson in there, somewhere.

I think it’s all about giving up. Dead is dead, to be sure, but I know less than nothing about flowers in general and even less about Amaryllis, specifically. And yet, without knowing for sure and without being willing to even try to find out, I was willing to assume that this flower was like other flowers, write it off for dead, cut it down and move on with my day. If I had done that, I would have missed the beautiful bloom that I have now, and at least two more that appear to be on their way. I had experienced one bloom and it was beautiful and I was ready to stop there, before I even knew whether or not it was possible that more could be on their way.

If it’s true that how I do anything is how I do everything, what else am I shorting myself on? How many other “blooms” am I cutting off before they have a chance to happen? Scary thought. I pray for God’s blessings in my life, I believe with all my heart that He wants to bless me, but am I letting it happen? Am I cutting down my own stalk before I have a chance to bloom? I suspect this may be true, at least to some extent.

I suspect it may be true that I have lived in survival mode for so long that my tendency is to stop believing and hoping and praying once I’ve received just enough to live on. Even though I desire to live in abundance mode, and I strive to live in abundance mode, survival mode may be stronger than I had thought. I didn’t know enough about the Amaryllis to accurately judge whether it was dead or not and I was willing to cut it down before it reached it’s full potential. Am I really sure that I’ve done enough work and research and gotten all of the information and tried everything there was to try before I give up on an opportunity in my life? Eek.

God speaks about perseverance all throughout the Bible. He is very clear on the fact that He does not want us to give up, most especially when we are doing His work and working within His purpose for our lives. Galatians 6:9 says, “So let us not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up.” A harvest of blessing. Not just one blessing. A harvest of them. Think about a field of corn. A harvest of corn is the entire field, everything. Not just one ear or even one stalk. At just the right time. Not our time, but God’s perfect timing. So what we know is that, at the perfect moment, everything will be given to us. How do we know when the perfect moment is? We don’t. But if we don’t give up, we’ll get there. If we quit before the perfect moment happens, how will we ever receive the harvest?

In addiction recovery, there is a saying. “Don’t give up before the miracle happens.” Life can change in a nano-second. What if the miracle, harvest of blessing, everything good in the whole world, etc., is right around the corner? Can you see that in your mind? It’s happened to everybody. You are walking down the street and around the corner comes somebody that bumps smack into you. You didn’t know they were there, but there they were anyway. Your knowledge of them was irrelevant to their existence.

Isn’t it possible that a harvest of blessing could be right around the corner as well? Who will run smack into your harvest of blessing if we turn off too soon?

I commit today to make sure that I have done all the work, all the research, left no stone unturned, exhausted every avenue, before I cut down anymore stalks. I pray, Lord, that you will make it clear to me when to keep walking on the path and when to turn off. I promise to listen for your voice on my heart in everything so that I will always be living the life that you will bless with a harvest of blessing. Thank you, Lord, for revealing yourself and your truth to me in such simple, delightful ways, so that I may clearly understand. Thank you for the Amaryllis, Lord, and all of the beauty that you have created. I promise to treat your works and wonders, including myself among them, with more care. Amen.