Feeling So Alone

When I think of all the people that I know, those that I count as close friends, I don't think that any of them has gone through being molested at a very young age like I have. I feel so alone.

The past couple of days have been so intense. I'm feeling overwhelmed by my past, I feel like there's so much more underneath the surface that I need to get out.

I almost feel panicked about it. I don't like the feeling of wanting to run away and hide. I felt this way my whole life up until about age 25 when I was diagnosed with Social Anxiety Disorder. I don't feel that anxiety defines me, I just feel that the label defines how I feel sometimes, and how my body responds.

OK, let me rewind a bit. I have realized with the anxiety attack I had a couple of weeks ago that felt like a heart attack, when growing up I didn't have anxiety attacks, I had panic attacks. Anytime I faced a situation that scared me or whatever, I would have a panic attack: racing heart, sweating palms, desire to run away, spinning mind, physical illness, sometimes culminating in throwing up.

That IS what I'm feeling right now. Going through all of these old feelings, emotions, memories, hurts, are getting to me. I want to escape them. I don't know how to deal with them. I feel very anxious to the point of panic.

When I experienced the anxiety attack, I had just been through a very emotionally charged situation, but had calmed down and was starting to deal with what was going on. The feeling of my heart exploding took me by such surprise that I literally thought I was having a heart attack. I knew it wasn't a panic attack, because I had lived through almost a quarter century of those; this was different.

I don't know what to do next.

I need to talk to somebody. I had a counselor, but now my insurance requires a deductible to be paid in order to see anyone--and there's no way I can afford it, it's more than my utilities. I have been looking online for support groups and what have you, but I don't want to get into that cycle of people relating their stories and me getting even more depressed. So, I figured I'd at least write and get some of it out.

One of the things that's bothering me is two exercises that I went through last night. One of them is to mentally visualize things and then alter them. I have THE hardest time imagining things in my head. I have some sort of block that prevents me from getting a mental image of things. I can hear stuff just fine, I can recreate entire songs in my mind with all the instrumental parts and voices, but I can hardly get a simple picture to form in my mind.

Maybe this is normal, but it's really frustrating me. I enjoy the visual, I love rich and deep colors, enjoy the beauty, intricacy or simplicity of things. Why can't I do that in my mind's eye?

The weird thing is that some things from my past I can get a vivid snapshot of. I can 'see' them, but the weird thing is I can't do it in my mind, with my eyes closed. It's almost like I am projecting it out into space with my eyes open, watching it, rather describing it, but not seeing it.

You know, maybe I'm just overreacting here. But it just seems so odd to me, it frustrates me that I can't get pictures to be in my head where I want them to be. I guess that explains why I have such a hard time coming up with things that are original, but given other things can rework them into something else, I don't know?

Anyway, the other exercise was regressing to childhood situations.

Oh wait, this was really weird. When I was trying to do the visual thing I started thinking about the church I grew up in and how one of the Sunday school rooms looked. In my head I started singing some of the songs that we did during Jr. Church when I was about 10.

All the sudden, I got the mental picture of what happened to me when I was about 3, in front of the church. I tried to remember what happened beyond the image that has always stuck with me. I remembered some of the scene, but I can't remember what led up to it, and I can't remember what happened after. I'm still at the point I am thinking about it with a complete lack of emotion, just as scenes in a movie or something.

After I got that mental image, I tried to remember what happened to me at our family campsite with the teenagers. I can only remember a tiny bit of it, and mainly all I can remember is staring out the window and seeing our camper next door, with a couple of snips of the teens. What on earth did they do to me, or make me do to them? I have no idea.

I wonder if hypnosis would help? I wonder if I could even afford it?

You know what really is bothering me is the idea that there are people in this world who know what happened to me, but yet I have no idea. It makes me angry. I can't believe that they did these things to me, robbed me of my innocence, and that I'm still dealing with things after 30-some odd years.

I want to get past all this.

I'm tired of trying to keep this all pushed down. I'm tired of being embarrassed by it all. I'm tired of having holes in my life. I'm tired of feeling like I have no control. I'm tired of having the past affect my future.

I seriously want to escape right now. I think that's a good sign. I think that I'm getting close to breaking through this. The part of me that's tried to protect me from anything bad is trying to protect me again.

I feel so, well, pissed. I'm not sure that's right, maybe more sad than pissed, but yeah maybe. No, I think more like broken and weak. I feel like everybody else is stronger than I am, able to deal with crap like this, and I can't. Like anybody else on the planet would have already dealt with it and moved on. Like I'm making a bigger deal out of it than I should be.

Well, I've been going through cycles of that thinking in my head and I'm trying to just shut them down and ignore them, because if that would even be true, that I am weaker than anyone else or anything, well, it really doesn't matter does it? Is there anything I can do about it? All I can really do is try to fix what's broken inside me, not worry about anybody else, and then the rest will fall into place.

So, where does that leave me then?

I think I'm on the right track indeed. I think I have a lot of work still ahead of me, but I'm close. I think I need to find help somehow, somewhere. I know I'm blessed and that my childhood could have been so much worse. I can't change the past, I can only change the future. I think I need to cry.

Thanks for listening.

Be blessed!

- Jan

How can a woman really be a molester?

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

Let's Talk About Sex

All right, I've been pondering this post for awhile, but wasn't sure quite how to go about it.

So, no guts, no glory...no embarrassment??? Well, here goes.

I have had issues with sex all of my life. As I mentioned, I was molested as a child. Add to that I was brought up in an ultra-strict church that made sex sound dirty. Add to that I had an emotionally distant and verbally abusive father who did not give me the kind of love and attention for which I craved. Add to that I developed rapidly, and especially with large breasts. I have almost always been overweight--except that I was quite skinny before the molestation incidents and up to starting kindergarten and all of the stress of the anxiety disorder--and have had a very low self-esteem as a result. I have played the "tease" role. I was raped by my fiance. I have given myself away to men who didn't deserve it, but I hoped if I gave them what they wanted, they would give me what I needed. The cards were stacked against me very early for any sort of healthy sexuality, and my own behavior has compounded it throughout the years. Sex has been a very scary thing for me, and a place I've never felt I could be completely vulnerable as I have never been able to trust, for obvious reasons. I'm trying to let all of that go.

The molestations: I was molested 4 times by a variety of people that I should have been able to trust. I'm not sure about the ages, but I believe the first time was at age 3 and probably the last time at age 5 or 6. Every location was different, every situation different, every requirement different, and not all of those involved were men. I often wonder if any of them remember doing it. I do, I sure do. I vividly remember every detail. And I've been working very hard to forgive them so that I can move on and not let it ruin my life anymore.

(When I looked at this post on the page I had to come back here and add that the picture on the left shows me before any of these events happened, but one happened in that chair, right where it sat, beside the kitchen door leading into the living room. I live in the same house today, and though it doesn't look quite the same, I see that spot, and think about it every day. I plan to come back to this topic soon.)

I'm thankful that they were not chronic abuses, but separate incidents. I can't imagine what it would have been like if the person(s) continued to violate me. I thank God that I didn't have to suffer that abuse. All things work for good....

Anyway, I did tell my father about the first incident and he nearly killed the guy. So, it wasn't like I didn't know I couldn't tell anyone. I just learned that the retaliation from that person was unpleasant to say the least. I also felt guilty. Even at that young age I felt like I had done something wrong in that it had happened at all. But, I only later told my mom that any of the others happened, and told her about one of them just within the last couple of years. I guess it's common for survivors of molestation to internalize everything. That has caused me a lot of heartache indeed.

I don't think it's any coincidence that I started to gain weight when I went to school. Not only was I battling nervous vomiting everyday that put me in a love-hate relationship with food and caused me to sneak food in the middle of the night, but it was also around the time I was starting to develop. I remember my father sitting down with my mother and me to say I needed to wear a training bra. That was pretty early on, and I am fairly sure around age 7. I was laughing the other day with a friend with whom I was in the second grade. That year we played BJ and the Bear, from the TV show, at recess out on the playground. Jeff played "BJ" and Brian played "Bear" (my best friend, Mandy, was Bear's sister, even though he didn't have one and that would have made her a monkey, but she had a crush on Brian--how cute is that?). I started out as just one of the many women BJ had around. But, at one point Jeff/BJ said I was to be "Stacks". The girl who had been playing Stacks complained as she had blond hair. Jeff said, "Well, she has the stacks." It was settled.

I think I was learning from all of these events that the only real attention I got from a man was of a sexual nature. All but one molestation occurred exclusively with men. Even at school, boys would pay attention to my developing body. I had such a low self-esteem from the interaction with my father, as well as from being overweight. I, too, think that the weight was a way to make myself undesirable. If I could insulate myself from men by being the fat girl, then maybe they wouldn't hurt me.

That turned when puberty started. I slimmed down some and liked that men would pay attention to me. I can look back on it and think it's because I felt love-starved from my father. But, when I added in the guilt feelings from the church teachings, I was somewhat scared at how I was feeling. I knew that according to the Bible it is wrong to have sex outside of marriage, there was never any doubt in my mind about that. But, some of the people who would do our summer camps were college students, and overcome with zeal to make sure we didn't do anything we shouldn't. I remember this one conversation between 2 college counselors that were speaking. They were talking about saving yourself for marriage and you know how people banter back and forth? Well, this girl finally said, "You shouldn't even kiss before you're married. If you do, you're not a virgin anymore." I was devastated listening to that conversation, I was ruined for sure and felt like I was to blame.

Even though I had a fear of sex, and a fear of making God angry, I wanted to feel wanted. I started playing a teasing game with men. I wanted to get their attention, but only to a point. I remember another summer at that same camp when I met Brian G. I was 12, and he was 18, and of course I didn't tell him how old I was. He had come to camp for the Thursday night camp fire, and somehow we hooked up. We sat together at the fire, and I leaned into him, and we held hands and he started caressing me, etc. Thankfully a counselor finally found us and broke it up, I don't know how far it would have gone. I didn't see him after that night, and frankly don't remember ever talking to him again, but think I might have...?

Later that summer, my mother woke me up really early one morning. "Who's Brian G.?"

"I have no idea, what time is it?"

"Who is Brian G.?"

"I don't know."

"You better figure it out because your father nearly beat him up last night at work."

"Oh, s^&*!"

Well...come to find out this guy had ended up working for my father at the power plant as a college student. Apparently they were all sitting around at dinner and he was telling them about this cute chick he met earlier that summer and even rattled off the telephone number--my telephone number--my dad's telephone number. I don't know exactly what happened, but suffice it to say Brian G. knew I was 12 and he was lucky to be alive. Thank God indeed I was born before the Internet or who knows, he might have Google Earth-ed me and showed up at my house! Oh, I was definitely put in the right place and time!

I never felt beautiful, never thought I was pretty, and my father or brother never helped me in that area, not that I think many male family members really fawn over their female family members and let them know they're beautiful. But, their comments tended to be about how I was ugly and overweight. Anytime that a boy or man would make me feel the least bit pretty or desirable I was automatically obsessed with him and wanted to have him pay attention to me. It's a very dangerous thing when a girl looks for validation from a guy, because if the guy is of questionable character he will get what he can from her, and then discard her. That has happened to me more times than I can count. I'm working on being completely in love with myself so that I don't have to have someone else do it for me.

My parents should have kept closer reins on me, though, and I wish they had seen signs of my trouble with sexuality. Perhaps if you see your child do any of the following, you might check into the possibility of molestation:

- Changing clothes: When I was little I would change my clothes every couple of hours. My mother would catch me doing it, but I never had a good reason, I just wanted to have new clothes on.

- Obsession with clean underwear: To this day I don't go on a trip without 3 times the amount I need, and -- TMI -- find myself changing underwear several times a day. It's almost compulsive at this point.

- Caught with other children doing inappropriate things: I remember doing some things with several different children, and I wonder now if they were molested, too. We would do things like close doors and look at each other naked, play 'doctor', role play as different characters on TV. Our knowledge was way beyond a normal amount, and beyond normal curiosity. I know I acted out some of the things that were done to me.

- Provocative dressing: Especially when I was in grade school, I wanted to wear off-the-shoulder shirts, short skirts, sexy underwear and high heels. I also started wearing eyeshadow, which my mother bought me for Christmas, at age 9! My mom and I have talked about that since then, and she said she thought I was going through a phase. Especially when you consider how even more sexual our culture has become, you must be very careful in how your children, especially girls, are 'sexed up'. It's not just the latest fashion, it's dangerous!!!

- Preoccupation with how sex works: I remember I would ask my mother an inordinate amount of questions about sex and the human body, and would even draw different pictures. In grade school I would steal condoms from my parents and take them as a 'show and tell' of sorts at slumber parties.

- Books and TV (and Internet): I read the V.C. Andrews books like Petals on the Wind and romance books. Watch what your kids check out from the library, and watch what you have on the TV. My dad loved "Solid Gold" and those dancers were nearly naked. He also had sex 'letter' magazines hidden in his underwear drawer which I read periodically. AND, please watch what your kids are doing on the Internet, what they're watching on YouTube. Never let your child have his/her computer in his/her bedroom, make sure it's in a public location in the house and that (s)he is always monitored. I have seen too many boys and girls in the library doing things and talking about things they've done that I've never even thought of as an adult.

If you have any questions, please let me know. You can email me outside of this blog at vpljan@hotmail.com .

I want to help other people identify signs so that if something has happened they can make sure it stops, and make sure the child gets the proper counseling. Now that it's been 32 years living like this, it's hard to change the way I am as a result of the molestations and all that happened after. I wish that it would never happen to another child again, but if it does, I pray that I can help them and you get through it. Don't ignore or deny anything. Which is worse, checking out something to make sure it hasn't happened, or living with the knowledge that you could have done something and didn't?

I think I will stop here instead of going on with the other things that have happened to me sexually and have gotten me where I am. It is important to really understand what molestation can do to a child, and how it builds and shapes who they become in so many ways. Don't smother your kids, but always keep an open dialogue with them so that they feel comfortable telling you everything. Run through their days with them, ask them who they were with, what they did, start as early as possible getting them to chatter on. Also, in talking to my counselor, she said that young kids have a hard time telling you what happened, but they can act out the entire thing, down to what was said, with puppets. Try it. Anything it takes to make sure your kids tell you what's going on is worth it.

I'm SO thankful that God protected me in so many situations. I'm sure some could say, "How can you believe in a 'loving' God if He would let something like this happen?" Well, God doesn't make things happen, He allows things to happen, and He has a plan. I want to help people, and maybe the way I can really help is by helping children and families who are victims of molestation, I don't know. I do know, however, that if I hadn't gone through it, I wouldn't have the perspective that I do.

"And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose." Romans 8:28

Maybe advocacy is my purpose, His purpose. I don't know the plan, but I'm willing and He's able.

God bless. :) Jan