Tag Archives: recovering from sexual abuse

The First Step- The Letter


The Monday after Mother’s Day I decided to sit down and write a letter to my mother. I had so many emotions flowing through me. I had really pussy-footed around her when it came to telling her how I felt but the time was now to stop doing that. She didn’t understand how much hurt I was suffering from nor did she care. Here is the letter that I sent her:

You wanted to know why I un-friended you from Facebook but failed to listen. That’s fine. You proved to still be the same mother that I’ve always known. It wasn’t entirely for the reasons that I stated and definitely not what you think. I actually have a very deep reason for un-friending you and this is very important so please read this. I have been holding this back for a long time but I got to the point that I just couldn’t take it anymore and the last text you sent me about “hurting” you was just all I could take. You keep posting about how “awesome” and “wonderful” Dave is. You even have the balls to tell me this over the phone as well as comment about your sex life with him (and lack thereof). You also sent me a link to send you on a cruise because you thought that I would think you deserve it. So I need to ask…do you remember that the guy you have chosen to stay married to the man who stole my innocence? It seems like you have forgotten once again since you keep rubbing his existence in my face no matter how much I ask you to stop. Allow me to rehash it. He molested me from age 4 until I was 13 when I finally told him to stop. He had me watch porn, forced me to give him blow jobs, told me that dad’s and daughters do it all the time, it’s normal, it’s “our little secret” and wanted to make me his personal prostitute to go “all the way” with him. He also offered to pimp me out to his slime-bag employees for money. Now that I have refreshed your memory, let me just tell you how much YOU have hurt ME. Don’t EVER say that you didn’t know because you did and you did NOTHING to protect me. NOTHING. I’m sick and tired of sympathizing with you. You were an adult and you knew the difference between right and wrong. You could have made the right choice and you had several opportunities to do so but you didn’t. You forced me to lie to DFS…twice. On top on being sexually abused, you also abused me. You beat me, degraded me, and treated me like complete shit as a child up until I got married. To this day, I have absolutely no good memories involving you in my childhood. I remember feeling like you hated me. I always wondered what would have happened if I wouldn’t have lied to DFS. Maybe I would have been with a family that treated me with dignity. Maybe not. And I hurt YOU?

There were also many times as a teenager that I thought about killing myself just to get away from you. You terrorized me. Remember that stomach pain that I had? It wasn’t diverticulitis. It was stress! No child should have to go through that. When the opportunity for Master’s Commission came up I ran for it not because it was ministry but because it was a way for me to get far away from my family. I was dismayed when I wasn’t accepted back because that meant that I had to move back home. So when Springfield called, of course I was going to jump on that. The rest is history.

Having children of my own, especially a daughter, has really changed my perspective. If my husband were to ever do those things to her, there would probably be a knife in his heart or he would be behind bars.

Today, I am living with nightmares and flashbacks. I need therapy. I need respect. What I don’t need is negativity and guilt. I don’t need the drama and it is not welcome in my home or my heart. I have a lot of healing to accomplish. I have a lot of animosity toward you and it is very difficult for me to reach those goals when you are constantly reminding me of how wonderful you think Dave is and how you have sex with him. It’s disgusting and reminds me that you only care about yourself. You have been extremely insensitive. My needs and hurts are of no concern to you. You think I should just get over it.  SO, when you sent me the email to send you on a cruise, it was like a punch to the gut. It was you telling me to forget my past and the nightmares that I live with daily and glorify my mother that allowed and caused most of them. Every time you tell me (or Facebook) how wonderful Dave is, it kills me inside. You are killing me inside. You were not a good mother. I tried to give you the opportunity to redeem yourself as a grandparent but after the last few weeks I realize that you haven’t changed. You are still the same woman. I have no room in my heart for you right now nor do I want your negativity around my children. I need to heal. This is the first step and I can’t do it when I’m living in guilt to keep a relationship with you. I can’t control what you do with your life or your Facebook for that matter. You can do whatever you want. You can say whatever you want but don’t expect people to want to be a part of your life when you act the way you do.

I have been way too nice and I’ve let this carry on for way too long. I should have cut you off over 10 years ago.

Mom, you need help. You are sick. Dave is sick. You have chosen the life that you have and the man you are married to. You have made your choice. You need to start learning to live with the consequences of your choices. Please don’t contact me. I need time to heal. You have no idea what I’m going through.


Age 23


I had a pretty good job selling appliances but I was getting frustrated with my future. Although I had built a relationship again with my family, I was still pissed at my mother for not helping me get into college. Now I had too much debt and bills to consider taking on anything else and just needed to work and make money. Most of my friends were getting married, having babies and buying houses. I lived in a little house with a roommate who was going to be graduating college in two years so I needed to think about being a full-grown adult. Even thought I had debt, it was good. It was getting my credit score up and I was making more money in sales so I knew being completely self-sufficient wouldn’t be a big deal.

23 wasn’t really exciting until right before I turned 24. My life pretty much consisted of work, church and friends. I went to visit my family at Christmas, Thanksgiving and once in the summer. My mother came to visit me once for a weekend. She was proud of me despite the fact that I didn’t do what she wanted. She seemed to warm up to the fact that I was trying to be a responsible adult. That year she was relatively pleasant and I didn’t have any major drama with her.

There was a guy at my work, Joel, that I had a crush on. He was hot, hot, hot. Ok, he was very handsome! He was such a gentleman, too. He was also a Baptist. As much of a crush I had on him, I knew that it wouldn’t work out with my pentecostal background. Crazy right? A mutual friend of our was getting married at the beginning of June. I had just accepted a job at a higher-end appliance company so we weren’t working together anymore. He got a hold of my phone number and called me out of the blue one day and asked if I wanted to go to the wedding with him. Of course I did! The wedding was outdoors and just beautiful. I was so nervous too! Truthfully, though, I was bored. He didn’t drink (which was fine because I wasn’t a big drinker either) and he didn’t want to dance. So, we left after the cake. I wore a girdle under my dress so I could look my best and I got super uncomfortable.  On the way home I had to have him pull over so I could go to the bathroom. I was in so much pain from that damn thing! I also didn’t bring a big enough purse to put it in so I came walking out of the bathroom with my girdle and had to explain that I was really uncomfortable. He chuckled. He didn’t call back again either. I’m pretty sure it was the girdle incident. As much as I had a crush on him, this ended up being ok. A week after my date with Joel, there was a knock on my door. I quickly looked out and noticed it was a hot guy. I didn’t recognize who it was at first. It was Todd! I couldn’t believe that I thought he was hot! I was a little embarrassed but it had been a while since I saw him last and he “blossomed!” The “reason” for his visit was because my roommate and I were moving into another house and he was there to take a look and ask how I liked it. I had seen him about a month before at church. I did notice that he was paying more attention to me but I was so caught up in other people who I didn’t really pay attention back. A few days after his visit, I went to Starbucks with a friend. I thought it would be funny to hit on him. I had a very co-ed group of friends and we all hit on each even though it didn’t always mean something. I told my friend, “hang on a sec. Watch this…” He didn’t notice that I was there. I sneaked behind him and grabbed a sugar packet that said “sugar” in big letters. I dropped it on the table in front of him and said, “hey, I think you lost your name tag!” He looked up at me a blushed a little. We chatted for a few minutes and then I went along with my friend. A few days after that, my friend Ginger told me that he asked if we could go on a double date. She was engaged to Todd’s roommate but her and I had also been friends for a while. We went on the double date and had a blast. I felt so comfortable around him. I had always been nervous when it came to dating. I really never dated until this point either. The sexual abuse always came up in my mind and made me feel awkward. Even though I had been asked out, I always turned guys down or I’d go on one date and then no more. I was nervous about sex, no doubt. My brain was so messed up that I felt I couldn’t function around guys unless we were just friends. I felt comfortable around Todd. That surprised me.

A week later, we went on our own official “date.” He asked to kiss me goodnight. That never happened before. All of the kisses I ever got were always forced and unexpected. He was a gentleman and polite. He was also very caring and deep. Within a few weeks, I opened up to him about Dave. I explained that it’s weird because I still talk to my parents and I really didn’t know what to do. I never got therapy or counseling. I was still confused. I told him mainly because when and if sex were to come into the picture, I wanted him to know that if I was weird about it, it wasn’t him. He was gracious and understanding of me. He was the one. The more I got to know him, the more I knew he was exactly what I needed and the man I wanted.

Ages 21 & 22


I turned 21 soon after moving in and getting settled. I didn’t speak to my parents much after that big blow out. I was also pissed at Dave. He had told me in a phone call a few months before that he thought I would be making a good decision not to move back in with them. He was very familiar about my mother’s poor money management and knew that I wanted to get away from that and her of course. When it down to it, I put him in the hot seat about it because I needed a buffer between my mother and myself. He denied ever saying that and sided with my mother. He later told me that he had to shut her up because she would just rant about it all night. Any contact I had with her was pretty limited. I grew up a lot in those two years. I learned a lot also. My job was going well but the store was going out of business. It closed its doors right as my one year anniversary approached. I ended up taking a sales position at Lowe’s full-time. It was paying me a little more and working around my church schedule. I stayed pretty devoted to being a youth leader and deepening the friendships that I was making. When Christmas approached, I decided to open the doors of communication with my parents. I didn’t want to be alone for Christmas either.
I went to visit for a couple of days at Christmas. Nothing eventful happened. I think she was learning to keep her mouth shut around me. It was weird being back home though. I had to rent a car anytime that I went down so it was financially burdening on me as well. I only went to visit a couple of times a year.

I did try to enroll in college for the fall that I was 21. I found out that in order for me to fill out the FAFSA form without my parents information, I had to be at least 24, or married, or have a kid, or be a veteran, or be an orphan. I was neither. I asked my mother if they would do it but she refused because she wanted me to come home and go to school with her. It was very vindictive. That spring I paid out of pocket to take an English class at the community college just to see if I even wanted to pursue college. There was no way that I would be able to pay out of pocket for my education so I opted to keep working and do the best that I could.

It took everything within me warm back up to them but as a Christian, I felt that it was my duty to forgive any wrongdoing and try to be as pleasant as I could. I felt that we could get close again as long as she controlled her outbursts. As far as Dave was concerned, I was going to just have to let it go. There just wasn’t anything I could do at that point.

When I was 22, my mother was fed up with me only being able to come down a couple of times a year because of my car. She came to visit for a few days and decided to help me apply for a car loan. I pretty much had zero credit. The highest credit limit that I had was only $300 so getting a car loan was next to impossible on my own. This was sort of retribution for her not helping me get into college. She didn’t have very good credit either so we sat at the car dealership for 4 hours by the time they found a creditor that would finance me. She was only a co-signer so the note was still in my name. She also didn’t foot any of the financial burden. I ended up having to pay over $700 in taxes later for it that I had to borrow from a friend. Owning a newer car was completely foreign to me so this was a learning experience. It was a mini-suv, a Chevrolet Tracker with a convertible top. It was super cute and a lot of fun.

I was making a lot of friends and was busy being social quite a bit. I really wanted to date but everyone that I was interested wasn’t interested in me back so I got friend-listed several times. I did get asked out a few times but those guys weren’t Christians or not Christian enough for me. I was 21 when I met Todd, my husband. He was 18 and was roommates with a mutual friend. I was at their house frequently for get-togethers. He was 18 and seemed really immature to me but that’s because I was almost three years older than him. He also had just been kicked out of bible college for getting caught having sex with his then girlfriend. At that point, I had no interest in him but we were friendly and acquainted with on another. I had so many friends that were getting married and having babies in my early 20’s. I was bothered a lot about not having a boyfriend. I was also told by the youth pastor that I was desperate. He was a jerk. He also implied that I was fat. I wasn’t. I also wasn’t desperate. If I was I could have had a boyfriend but I had standards and wasn’t giving in for someone that wasn’t for me.