An Oldie but a Goodie……………..
This has been a long time coming and I have started this story so many times, but never followed through to the end. I am going to do my best to see this one through. I hope it helps you and heals me! This is my story….
As of today, I am a 54 year old single mom with 3 amazing children! I grew up in the City of Boston with my Mom, Grandfather and brother. My Dad had passed away of a heart attack when my brother was 2 and my Mom was 6 months pregnant with me. I don’t think any children were loved more than my brother and I were. Well, maybe my children, but I learned from the best! We were a church going, Irish Catholic family that were strong willed, stubborn and tough! Well, we pretended to be anyway. When good and bad things happened, we had to trust that God had a greater purpose, everything happens for a reason and God isn’t going to give you anything you can’t handle. Along with that belief there was the inability to discuss traumatic events, especially of a sexual nature. It was never that they didn’t want to help you, it was more of seeing the devastation they felt because something happened to you and they didn’t /couldn’t stop it. Therefore, you did not want to bring it up and if you didn’t talk about it, it didn’t happen. Like I said, we were tough and were not going to let someone else’s actions get the better of us. I do not blame them that is just how things were back then. Society was not as emotionally evolved as we are today. Right or Wrong by today’s standards doesn’t matter. I feel everyone has their own history of events that shape how they view or handle things and being open to that idea has prevented me from building up negative emotions and resentment that only decays my inner peace. Parents are not perfect and just because my Mom didn’t know how to deal with it doesn’t mean she did not love me. She just didn’t have the skills.
As a result of my own personal upbringing and what happened to me, I found a comfortable place to put my story in my mind. You see, I decided that certain moments in time where not going to define me or my life. I came to the conclusion that the reason it happened to me was so that I WOULD HAVE the experience and knowledge so I could help someone else get through it! It was almost blessing because I did have the strength to get through it that others might not, so that was its purpose and that was the good that was going to come out of it! Doesn’t that sound like a perfect resolution. Don’t let me fool you, I do have what I like to call my “ fuckedupisms” as a result! But, I do hold on to that and it has happened. Unfortunately, I never thought it would be my own daughters! First my oldest, than her little sister. How heartbreaking it was for all of us! The only thing I could do was to pull from my own experiences and provide a safe open place to talk, filter through emotions and listen. I was not perfect, but this was a different place for me. I wanted to do it right and ensure that the least amount of scarring would result. This was now her events that will shape her life and I had to give her the things that my Mom couldn’t give me, openness! It is a lifelong journey that she will have with these experiences just like every other, but she has chosen to reach out and become an active member of “The Voice for the Innocent”. This is such an amazing resource for all victims to get the support and acceptance we need! There was no such organization when I was growing up. Perhaps if there was the awareness that exists today and if people did not feel the shame that some how attaches itself to the life changing violation that was cast onto us, we would not have had to heal alone. You are not alone, and I can almost guaranty that many of our parents have experienced it as well, but in order to survive, have tucked it away and refused to look at it. Although my kids know what happened to me, I am going to share it now in attempts to heal the parts of me that are still wounded.
As a child, I physically matured at a very young age. I had many issues with it both physically and mentally. I was 9 years old and had the body of a 15-16 year old. On top of that I was very heavy. So, I was a fat kid with
boobs and my period. My mother ( as that generation did ) relied on the doctors and trusted them unconditionally. I had ovarian cysts, intense menstrual cramps (Advil and ibuprofen were not available over the counter – ya I am old..lol) and heavy periods. She would have to bring me to get medicine and address these issues.
Well, one of the visits I was in the office and for some reason my mother was not in there with me. The doctor looked at me and with a mirror in his hand asked me, “Do you like boys?” I was confused by the questions because I was only 10 years old and hadn’t really thought much about it. I said yes?? He turned the mirror in front of my face and said “what boy do you think would ever like someone that looks like that?” I honestly didn’t realize I was fat at that time so I didn’t know what he meant but just did what he said. He told my mother I needed to get the weight off of me and gave her a script for me to take. About a week later, my mother called him because I wasn’t sleeping and was very hyper. He had given me Black Beauties, which were speed. He said ok, just give them to her the first week of each month. Until this day, I have no clue why. Anyway, over the next year I lost over 70 lbs.
Now I still had to see him about my medical issues. At age 12, I had a medical procedure called a D and C. It was to clean out my “woman parts” to help with the cysts and terrible pain I would be in. After one of the surgeries, he suggested to my mother that we go with him to the sauna/steam room place he goes. He said it would be good to relax muscles that were healing, so we went. I know, sounds so sketchy nowadays, but this was back when anyone is a place of authority was never questioned and trusted 100%. He even picked up us to go there.
I vaguely remember that there were stalls that locked where you would change your clothes, and each had it’s own individual door to a private room. The doctor went into his own and Ma and I went into ours. We peeked inside and there was just a table to sit on a shower on the other side. Ma was quite a bit overweight and a very modest person. The towel didn’t really fit around her well. She asked if I was ok going in by myself. I thought sure what the heck. I went inside and jumped up on the table. There was a timer that would go off when my time was up.
Within a couple of minutes, I heard a door open. Apparently there was one that connected the rooms. It was the doctor asking how we were doing. He peeked in and said where’s your mother. I told him she wasn’t coming in. At that point, he opened the door and said “oh, come on in here” I was very nervous and didn’t want to go. He jumped up on the table and undid his towel exposing himself to me. I just stood there holding on to my towel as tight as I could with my head down. I was frozen. He said relax honey, it’s ok. You can take your towel off. I continued to just stand there. He went on to tell me it was all natural just part of the human body and there was no way I was ever going to learn about it because I didn’t have a father. I just remember him telling me to come closer and to touch him so I would know what it felt like. He also convinced me to take my towel off because he has seen me since I was a little girl. The next thing I remember is the shower. Him standing behind me grabbing and holding onto my hair. I was crying and let out a scream. It must have been sound proof rooms because Ma didn’t come get me. I finally got loose and ran out to Ma just sitting there with no idea what was going on in there. She grabbed me, held me for a quick second and got me to get my clothes on as quick as possible. We ran to a lady at a desk and my mother screamed – “get us a cab – now”
The next thing I remember, we were in the cab (taxi for non-Bostonians). I was still wet because I didn’t even dry off. We just ran out and Ma held me all the way home. We really didn’t talk about it at all, but I remember Ma talking to a couple of people and hearing her say, “Well, I guess I would have to be ready to put her through it and be aware that the newspapers would probably get a hold of the story as well because he was
very well known”. I know she was distraught and I just had no clue what to do with it. So, I just locked it away for many years and found my own way to deal with it.
When I tell this story, I have detatched myself from it so much, it often feels like it happened to someone else or it was just a really bad dream. Now that I am an adult and have children of my own, I realize what a predator he was, how he actually set me up and violated a trust while damaging a soul. What happened to my daughters immediately made me want to go out and hunt them down! However, it took so much longer for me to feel anger towards the doctor. A few years ago, while sitting at my desk a customer called with his same last name. I suddenly felt so sick to my stomach and felt this rage build up so quickly, I had to go for a walk. When I got back to my desk, I started googling him. Although it has been way too long to press charges, I wanted to just show up at his house and say “LOOK YOU MOTHER F**KER – YOU MIGHT THINK YOU GOT AWAY WITH SOMETHING, BUT YOU DIDN’T! I REMEMBER WHAT YOU DID AND I TRULY HOPE LIFE HAS GIVEN YOU ALL THE PAIN YOU DESERVE. I AM SURE YOUR MOTHER WOULD BE PROUD OF YOU AS WELL AS YOUR WIFE AND CHILDREN!” I was ready. I was strong enough and I was going to do it! Ugh…. He was dead! What a bummer! Well, not for the world, but for me. I contemplated writing a letter to his family to tell them what a scumbag he was, but I just don’t have that in me. I can only hope that they are GOOD people and remember that life has both great and shitty things that happen. This one moment/event in my life does need healing but it does not have to own my entire existence. However, don’t be surprised if you hear about a middle age woman getting arrested for pissing on a grave.
Thank you for letting me share. xoxo