The Early Years

Good afternoon and welcome to my little slice of the world. I’ve been writing since I was a child mostly poetry and short stories. This is a healing journey for me so a lot of my writing will be focused on trauma’s I’m working to overcome. I’m not a victim, I’m a survivor that over the past couple of years has finally learned to use her voice.

I had a friend once tell me after surviving a traumatic car accident involving an active shooter that “god must’ve given it to you knowing that you were strong enough to handle it and carry on.” They had also said over the years “Your guardian angels never get to rest.” “Why is it that everything bad always finds you?” “Do you have a victim aura or bullseye painted on you that says pick me?”

Every life story has a beginning and I figure before we get too deep into everything we’ll start there. I was born to two amazing parents and was the only girl and fourth child. Looking back as an adult my parents tried the best that they could, and they provided what they could for us. We always had a roof over our heads and food in our bellies. In Kindergarten my parents got divorced, I began seeing a school psychologist as did other children of divorced parents. At the time I didn’t see what the big deal was. I didn’t quite grasp what was going on.

I had a happy childhood for the most part. I’m not here to air my family’s dirty laundry or place blame on anyone in my family for what happened to me as a child because honestly if I were them, I don’t think I could have seen it coming or known. They knew something was wrong but not what. In this time my dad had re-married a woman that I had become extremely close to. (By my 8th grade year, they were divorced, and he introduced another woman into our lives.)

In third grade I had the opportunity to come forward but didn’t. It was Easter morning I was eating my goodies from my Easter basket when my mom came to talk with me about Bruce, he’d been arrested because one of my friends had come forward about him molesting her for years when she’d be over hanging out with his daughter. He always did it when his daughter was asleep, they were playing hide and seek or when his daughter wasn’t around. I denied anything happening to me and I lived with that buried secret-buried shame until I was in high school and by the time, I came forward I’d already experienced more trauma.

After denying that I too had been a victim of his, my grandparents rallied behind him and supported him believing that he was falsely accused because this man had been a friend to the community. A school bus driver. He had built a persona that made it so easy to believe that he was incapable of committing such a heinous act. He fortunately did not have everyone fooled and was sentenced to prison.

I felt it necessary to apologize to my grandparents for so long for letting them believe in him. I don’t enjoy the fact that it made my beautiful sweet loving grandparent’s question everything and feel like they had failed me. I hate that the truth of everything hurt them. I hope that my grandfather is now resting in peace with the knowledge that there was nothing for me to forgive and I hope that my grandmother knows that as well. Bruce put on a great act, a kind mask and sometimes even the best of us get fooled by those.

In my freshman year of high school, we were required to watch a video with some very triggering topics – I didn’t make it through it before abruptly leaving my classroom to go vomit in the bathroom and have a panic attack. A friend from class came and found me and I went to the counselor’s office where things just started to pour from me. I was a sinking ship with two many holes and every fiber of my being was clinging to the hope that if I just kept dumping buckets of water out that I could stay afloat. Acknowledging what happened in that moment brought years of repressed memories to the surface.

A lot of what happened afterwards is a complete blur. I remember my father and stepmother coming to get me and having to tell them what happened. Going to Michigan, telling the police what happened but after that there are gaps in memory.

In 2009, I was up in Michigan, both of my grandfather’s passed away on Valentine’s Day. I went to both of their funerals one was in the LP and the other was in the UP. While up there I received a call letting me know that Bruce was out of prison. My grandmother had seen him at the store.

Since my grandfather’s funeral I haven’t been back up to the UP. I haven’t been back up there since he got out.

I didn’t realize it until recently but my trauma and experiences with one single vile man kept me away from an entire side of my family because I couldn’t face it. I couldn’t bear the thought of running into him.

To all my family…I am sorry that I let my experiences damage our relationships and kept me from seeing you all.

Thank you to everyone who made it this far. I hope that your shoes are comfortable because we have quite a few more miles to go but for now we’ll take a rest.