Repost: The Disclosure

In light of the 7th anniversary of my freedom, I though it would be appropriate to repost this story of how it all happened.

When I decided to do this blog, I promised myself that I would be very honest and open. Other victims/survivors may not be able to truly relate if I don't express how am I feeling or what I am dealing with. When I started, I thought this would be an anonymous blog, but had a change of heart and went public with it. 

Now I am struggling with some family issues. This is difficult for me to write about because I was raised to keep family issues amongst the family. Even though I understand that this was partly to keep the abuse hidden, it has been ingrained in me. Also, I worry that some members of my family may be hurt by what I saw and that is not what I want either. I know other families have been deeply affected by the disclosure or abuse, but I am still trying to understand it. Let me see if I can sort through some of this to bring you up to date (this could be a long one).

I went away to college, Concordia University in Ann Arbor, at the end of August 2004. I was so excited I had started packing before I even graduated from high school. There was a lot of drama involved because my step-father obviously did not want me to go. I was desperate though, and had the support of my teachers.

I was expected to come home every weekend, and my mother or step-father would come pick me up and drive me 45 minutes back to Monroe. The abuse continued on these weekends, and was quickly intensifying. My step-father insisted that either he or I would be performing oral sex on the other. During the week however, I was growing more accustomed to my new- found freedom. I could stay out as late as I wanted, visit who I wanted, when I wanted, etc. It was only a few weeks in when the control began to intensify as well. I remember one night I was out with Aaron. I came back to my dorm room very late, around 1 am if I remember correctly. As the two of us walked towards my dorm, I noticed that security was parked outside. I sensed that it had something to do with me. When we walked in they let me know that my step-father had called because he couldn't get a hold of me. My room mate said he had been calling the room, wondering where I was and interrogating her. 

Another time, he called me on my cell phone and screamed at me over and over. He was feeling deserted by me. He was losing his control over me and he knew it. He screamed at me with such intensity, I thought he could have had a small stroke. I'm sure he was completely drunk at the time.

On yet another occasion, he reassured me that his sexual interest was "not as bad as I thought it was". He said there was something he wanted to tell me but that Mom would kill him so he couldn't. By the time I hung up, I realized that he was not my biological father. I went to visit Aaron and broke down crying. I still don't understand why.

My birthday was October 7th. He came to school and brought me 19 pink carnations, one for every year. I can't remember exactly what it said, but the card said something about the best 19 years of his life. I had to be to work later so he walked me there. I said goodbye, left him in the doorway, and greeted my coworkers, one of which was a black man. When my supervisor found out it was my birthday, she said I could take the night off if I wanted. I waited until I was sure he was gone, and left. Later that night, Aaron took me out to dinner. As we were driving to dinner, my step-dad called. I asked Aaron to turn off the music because I did not want him to know that I was off campus. My step-dad screamed at me, accusing of having a relationship with the black employee he saw me talking to. To him this was one of the greatest offenses I could commit. I tried to assure him that this was not the case, but he was completely unreasonable. He couldn't be placated. He continued his tyrant until we were parked in the parking garage. He finally hung up and Aaron and I sat in silence. He had been able to hear every word coming from my phone. It was the first time he had gotten a first-hand view of any abuse. He hit the steering wheel out of frustration. I was startled by his response and asked him what was wrong. He said he couldn't believe anyone would talk to someone like that, let alone a father to his daughter. Eventually we both calmed down and had an enjoyable dinner.

Not long after that, he and another friend went with me to talk to the campus pastor. I admitted that I needed some support because the emotional and verbal abuse was becoming too overwhelming. He then referred me to the counselor on campus, and reassured me that if I ever need a place to go to feel safe, he and his wife would be happy to have me in their home. 

I started seeing the school counselor after that. In our first session, I explained my step-fathers controlling behavior and emotional/verbal abuse. I was still unwilling to tell anyone about the sexual abuse at this time. I still believed I would take that secret to the grave. I remember her asking if he had ever physically assaulted me. I told her he had not. She then asked if he had ever sexually abused me and I quickly stated that he had not.

Most of my friends were aware that something was wrong at this point. They were all incredibly supportive in a way I had never known. And even though all this was going on, I fell in love. I knew I had Aaron's support no matter what. I went home October 22-24, a weekend. It was then that I realized I was ready to speak out about the sexual abuse. That night, I told Aaron that there was something I needed to share with him, but I wanted to talk to the counselor about it first. This worried him, and he wanted to know what it was. We found a place to be alone, and he held me as I confessed that I was being sexually abused by my step-father. He cried. Later he told me he thought I had been raped by my step-father. 

The next day, I talked to the counselor and told her the whole story as well. She said she wasn't surprised because when I answered her original question about abuse, she saw something flash in my eyes.

That week, I knew what I had to do. I had to encourage my mom to leaver her husband. She wasn't going to do it all on her own. Aaron didn't want me to go back there, but I knew it had to be done. Another special friend of mine knew what I was planning, and as I walked out of my last class on Friday, he simply placed a hand on my shoulder and said "God will guide your words".  And I believe he did. I don't even remember what I said to my mom, but I remember sitting in the car in a grocery store parking lot discussing it, although I still did not tell her about the sexual abuse. The next day was Halloween. It was late afternoon, and I was ready to go back to school. He wanted me to stay the night and go back Monday, but I insisted I had homework to do. After much back and forth, Mom finally said we were going. I loaded my things into the car and we got in. He was still very angry that we were leaving, so he came out, and lunged towards the driver's side of the car. Mom yelled for someone to call the police. He opened the door and opened the hood of the car and disabled it. We sat there, feeling lost. 

Not much later, we found out someone did call the police, because they showed up in our driveway. After talking to Mom, they told him to fix the car. He did and we left, as did the police. As we were driving out of town, Mom suddenly realized that her children still at home may not be safe. She called the police and asked them to return to our home until she got back. The woman on the phone clarified what the situation was, making Mom realize that it might be smart to go home and get them. We drove back and she picked up the rest of my sisters, and drove me back to Concordia.

I have been abuse free since that night. It will be 6 years this Halloween.

That week, I sought a personal protective order against him. When filling out the form to apply for the order, I was still reluctant to share the sexual abuse, even though Aaron encouraged me to come forward with everything. The judge issued the order anyway.

During this time, my step-father still had visitation rights with my sisters. He was trying to fill their heads with lies. One of my sisters believed him. She took his side, and was bitter and angry that our family was breaking up. He told them that Mom and I were planning something, that we were going to spread lies about him. One time I was home, and Mom was at her wits end. That same sister was so filled with anger towards her that she was becoming very difficult to handle. Mom said she was thinking of letting her go to live with her father. I knew then that I must intervene and tell the truth. I could not risk having my sisters living alone with him, for fear that they might suffer the same fate I did. After that I was just waiting for the right time, or the right opportunity. 

Not long afterward (the next day?), Mom and I dropped of my four sisters at a restaurant to visit their dad. As we drove away, she started the conversation.

"There's something I need to tell you, and I don't want you to be mad, but, he's not your real father."

I had my opening.

"That's ok Mom. There's something I need to tell you too. He's been sexually abusing me for years."

"That bastard!" she exclaimed. "That son of a bitch!" 

I remember watching her reaction. She expressed anger, but it didn't seem real to me. I couldn't tell you why. The thing that struck me is that she didn't seemed shocked, or even surprised. Nor did she cry. It is for this reason that I find it hard to believe that she did not recognize what was going on on some level.

My step-dad

She called the police that day and reported what I had shared. They told her that since I was an adult, I would have to file a report. I did, and a trial ensued.  Eventually, he convicted on 12 counts of criminal sexual conduct, and is now serving time in a prison in Michigan. You can see his prisoner profile here.

Since then, my family has been very shaken up. The sister I mentioned previously that did not believe still does not as far as I know. We all have deep issues from being abused. My sisters were not sexually abused in the way I was (because they are his biological daughters?), but the level of verbal and emotional abuse was severe. My step-father was also fond of harsh spankings as punishment, and I believe some were victims of this more than others. He did often ask strange questions of my sisters that implied they were involved in something sexual. Because of his own sexual deprivations, he seemed to believe that everyone was as depraved as he. 

Initially, I was quick to defend my mother for not protecting me or my sisters from abuse. I understand how abused women behave and why. However, over time this has become harder and harder for me to deal with. I can't help but feel that she has not allowed herself to understand what I went through. During the court case, I let her know that I didn't want her to know all the details of what happened for her own protection. After she testified, she heard some of it. She came to me and said "It's not as bad as I thought." She said this in an effort to let me know that I didn't need to worry about her, but I was horrified. Even if she imagined the absolutely worst case scenario, her comment was wrong and anything but comforting. 

I love my mother, however, I requested that she seek counseling for a variety of reasons before I will speak with her again. I don't think she understands right now, but it's in her hands. She only has to take that first step.

This whole thing has taken me hours to write, but I feel like it is important.There is more I could share, but I think this post is long enough. This one will help explain future posts, and gives a lot of background. That's all for tonight. Thanks for reading if you made it this far!

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