Last week I felt guided to write about molestation, inviting those who have been molested to share their pain with someone, especially those who have never told anyone. As a result of that blog, I received an email from one of the moms in our Enlightened Mom global community.
Mica shared her heart in that email and suggested that I go deeper into this conversation, as some women don’t realize that what happened to them was molestation. I agreed with Mica, and as our conversation ensued, I invited her to write her story for you.
Here is Mica’s story. I am going to let it speak for itself. If you see your life in her story, please know that you are being given a tremendous gift of healing by Mica. It is time to love yourself. It is time to heal.
There is nothing else for me to say before you read Mica’s letter, but this: “Thank You, Mica. Thank you for being such a courageous woman and mom. Thank you for sharing your heart.”
I appreciated the article on molestation very much. Thank you for bringing this out in the open. I wanted to share my angle on this and thought maybe it could help others.
I think it started around 8 or 9 when my stepfather would pull me onto his lap in his recliner and rub my bottom. It was inappropriate rubbing and I remember feeling really dirty and I hated it. I remember he would smack me on my bottom when I walked by, calling me “bucket butt” and “bubble butt” and I really hated that, too. The part that made it really difficult to understand was that my family would watch and just let it happen. So it must have been ok, right? This pulling me down onto his lap and name calling happened every day of my life, several times a day for well over a decade. Again, no one in my family, including my mother, ever said anything. It was just life as usual for our family.
When I was in my early 20s, I moved back in with my parents for a summer. The same pulling me down onto his lap, inappropriate rubbing and other such “non-violent invasions” into my space continued. I finally snapped one day and told him to keep his hands off of me and put them on his wife (referring to my mother). We didn’t speak for about three days and my mother finally asked what had happened. I told her exactly what I said to him and I watched my mother completely glaze over. She didn’t say a word. Not one. I continued to live there a few more months and eventually the touching came back into our lives… just like normal.
Then I got married. You’ll never guess…I married a man that did the same exact things to me with a spousal twist. I would be grabbed and held and went into a sort of mental prison if you will. One day I actually pulled a knife on my ex-husband and told him I didn’t know what I would do if he touched me again. And quite honestly, at that very moment, I really was completely out of control. I eventually snuck into therapy (he forbade me to speak to anyone outside our marriage about our “issues”) because I was in such a dark ravenous place and felt like I was going to die if I didn’t do something. I finally told my ex-husband I was seeing a counselor because I was making changes in our marriage that he didn’t like or understand.
After a while, my ex-husband told me to mention how my stepfather had touched me and was still touching me (yep, even after I was married). So, I told the therapist at the time about the touching and the name calling. She literally went silent for over two minutes. You can imagine my discomfort, because typically there is a flowing dialogue in a counseling session. Silence. She looked up and said “It all makes sense now.” It was then that I learned that I had been molested. I DIDN’T KNOW I was molested until I was 33 years old! I simply did not know.
I’m 40 now and have since divorced my ex-husband after many years of marital counseling and two children. I am able to write this story today without throwing up, which I have done several times when working on my past. I have talked to my mother and fully realize she couldn’t stand up for me because of the heinous things done to her. I truly forgive them both, and have had to do my healing without them. My children are fabulous and much better off in two separate homes, not learning that is how women are treated. I have learned how to draw boundaries (divorce is a pretty big boundary I’d say!) and really live a fabulous life full of celebration, challenge, paradox and love. OH, what a journey!