Stolen Innocence

I lived in silence for nearly two years while my teenage cousin sexually abused me. I felt my only escape was writing it in my pink diary that I hid under my mattress in my bedroom. A diary that was filled with cheerful memories of lemonade stands, playing with barbies, and sleepovers. That is until September 1996  when I was eleven years old and  I woke in the middle of the night to my teenage cousin sexually abusing me. Suddenly my world is turned upside down and I convince myself it was all a bad nightmare but deep down I knew it happened. I buried it until months later when it would happen again this time when I was awake and knew I was now in a living nightmare. The sexual abuse did not end as my cousin over the next year and a half found ways to lock me behind closed doors in basements, bedrooms, bathrooms, closets, anywhere that he could get me alone to silence my voice and show me that disgusting grin across his face that said it all about what he was about to do. It happened while I watched his younger brothers and no one else was home. If it was not happening while I babysat his brothers it happened at Thanksgiving, Christmas, or family birthday parties.

The turning point came at the end of March 1998 when  my younger sister came to be and said the words I will never forget "Brian's Gross" that is all she had to say to let me know what she meant. We broke our silence for the first time to our parents that eventually led us to a place called the "Children's Advocacy Center." It is a place that children who have been sexually of physically abused go to be interviewed. A place I feared no one would believe my story. I walked in confused and afraid I walked out feeling believed, heard, and safe. A place where I took those very first steps in healing beginning with breaking my silence.

My once close knit family was never the same after April 1998. Our secret was now out and denial set in immediately with most of our extended family. Fortunately my sister and I were blessed with two incredible parents who without them I would not be the person I am today. They believed their daughters 100% and never doubted us for a second. They made sure we were heard and got the help we needed. Unfortunately I just wanted it all to go away and felt dirty and ashamed talking about it. So I went through the counseling and groups but was not ready to talk about the details of it all.

It was not until I got to high school that every thing began to hit me. I was having flashbacks and nightmares regularly but did not want to let anyone in. Still too ashamed to talk about it with anyone. I felt like I was stuck in my past and would never be able to escape it so I found my escape by planning my death. Writing a goodbye letter to my parents and searching the internet to see how many pills it would take to kill myself. Eventually going into the bathroom and so stuck in that moment I could not see tomorrow I began swallowing pills then climbed back in bed only to lay their for a few minutes and my mind begin to race. Questions began popping up in my head am I going straight to Hell for this? Fear and panic set in and I suddenly thought I would be going to a place a lot worse then the living nightmare I was already in. I found myself throwing up the pills over a toilet, crying, and trying to count that I got up as many as I could up. I spent the night crying myself to sleep. It was not the last time in my life I thought of suicide as a way out but it was for sure the one and only attempt I ever made.

Eventually I turned to self-injury that became my outlet it snapped me back into reality when flashbacks occurred. I was able to focus rather then having racing thoughts of my past replaying. Eventually the school psychologist found out and had to tell my mom. I began seeing an outside therapist, another therapy group of girls, and seeing the school psychologist every week. I was placed on antidepressants, sleep medication, and a medication to help the racing flashbacks I was having. Still though I was too ashamed to talk about the graphic details. All the wonderful support was giving me the tools but I needed to put the tools to work if I was ever going to get the life I wanted.

Then came that moment in my life where I call it my "light bulb moment" or as Oprah may call your "ahah moment" when suddenly I realized I am the only one in control of my life. If I want to be miserable the rest of my life I can, if I want to be happy I can, but I was the only one that could make that choice for myself. This overwhelming empowerment came over me. God was really opening my eyes up to life changing experience that was about to happen. I realized if I was ever going to move forward I needed some kind of closure or answers. I was taking all my anger and pain out on myself through self-injury. I realized I needed to take my anger out on the cousin who put in this place. I sat down and wrote him a five page letter when I was 18 years old confronting him and pouring all my anger out. Little did I know that letter would turn into a 7 month correspondence back and forth with my cousin. That began with wanting my cousin to burn in Hell for what he put me through to forgiving him. In those seven months I found my voice it took getting it back from the man who silenced it. Suddenly the shame I felt lifted and I felt empowered to tell others my story in hopes of helping them by being so real by opening my life up through the words of my diary entries over the ages of 11-19. Little did I know at the time when my diary became my first book Stolen Innocence it would lead me to start flying the country speaking out. I was writing the book for my own healing process I never imagined the voice I was avoiding and the story I kept inside would soon play out in a published book and speaking career. I found so much inspiration in talking and the shame no longer was there. I realized in life everything happens for a reason and this would only become more true to me when the next chapters of my life began to happen.

Pick up a copy of Stolen Innocence today by clicking on the cover of the book.