I was watching a show the other day where they were talking about the abduction, rape and murder of the 8 year-old girl, Sandra Cantu. What an incredible sorrow. Many are asking, could the woman accused, Melissa Huckaby, really have done it? Women molesters are so rare, it's just improbable.
Well, it does happen. It happened to me. I haven't thought a lot about it over the years, and when I have, I haven't tried to recall details. The other molestations that I experienced were by peripheral family members, and they affected me much more profoundly because of that breech of trust. But I will never forget it.
The most vivid image in my mind of this molestation experience is looking out the window of the camping trailer and seeing my family's campsite. We had a campsite near a lake that we would visit quite frequently every summer when I was a kid. Our trailer sat between two other campsites. Our neighbors to one side had two teen girls who were often accompanied by their male cousin. I don't know exactly how old I was, maybe around 4-6 years, when it happened, and thankfully it only happened once. But I can still call up the emptiness that I felt as I stared out that window.
I have no idea what might make somebody think about hurting a child, especially sexually. I have gone over many times in my head if there is any possible way that I acted inappropriately, if there was any way I could have done anything to stop these acts--of course, my rational mind knows that a child as young as I was could not have done anything to invite these things to happen. I know that, but it still comes into my mind when I start thinking about it.
I am so thankful that God protected me from some very terrible possibilities. I know that He has a plan and purpose for everything. Why did I go through so many things at such a young age? I don't know. All I can do is try to help other people by sharing my experiences, my feelings, my ways of coping, how I've dealt with things, or not dealt with them.
All things work together for good.
I hope that they find whoever did this horrible thing to little Sandra, if it was Melissa Huckaby or not. I hope they prosecute to the fullest extent of the law. I also hope that this society would take more care and pay more attention to what is going on with other people--and more importantly, pay more attention to what is going on with their children!
I think that this is one of the greatest issues that America faces, the loss of our youth. It's been getting worse as time passes. I'm part of Generation X, I know how our generation took a bigger step away from authority, away from God. I also think our families were quite occupied with work and having "better lives" than their parents did. Now, as I watch it seems that people are becoming incredibly egocentric and are not concerned about the real welfare of others, not concerned for the hearts, minds, and souls of people around them.
I am as guilty as everyone else. I sit in my house, whether in pain, depressed, or just plain lazy, and watch the world go by through my glass bubble. I need to get out there, I need to get dirty, I need to hold people while they cry, smack their backs while they laugh, help them become better people, help them know the love of God. I want that, but apparently not bad enough to try harder. I want to be better, I want to help people be better, but I need to make it happen. It won't happen by itself.
I've had a tough week this week, both physically and mentally. I've been in a lot of pain, and have been depressed. When these days are so overwhelming like they've been, I feel like I'm deflated, like there's nothing left of me, like I can't move one more inch. My brain knows I need to make the effort, but my brain also won't take that step. I want to, I want to overcome it, I want to beat this pain and sorrow down, I want to kick butt, not get butt kicked, but here I am. I want to rage, and yet, when I need to the most, I fall over weeping.
Ironically Monday I had an awesome counseling session and felt really good, felt like I was making incredible changes and that I had made it over a hurdle. Tuesday I woke up rather melancholy thinking about how many ways I'm failing, how I need to do better, be better, and ended up spiralling into a huge bout of pain and depression. My mom had pointed out to me that she thinks there's a pattern, that when I'm getting ready to have a huge fibromyalgia flare up that this happens. I think she may be right, and yet, I am blaming myself for not doing enough.
As I've said before, I need to pray more. I need to pray without ceasing, I need to focus on God. I know these things...
If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do them.
I don't know what to think. I think I'm tired of thinking. I know I over-think things. I know that I need to do and not think, but on the days I can't do, then I think. I feel like I'm a rat on the wheel, I keep going in circles and never really get ahead.
I don't know how I ended up here considering where this post began.
So, anyway, yes, women can molest. Not just some freaky woman down the street either, but can literally be the girls right next door. Take my word for it.
Jan
My Prayer Journal
16 years ago
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