Sunday, August 22, 2010

I remember...

*Warning*-This post may be upsetting for some.

I still remember what he looked like. I met him when I was in 6th grade. We moved to North Georgia, and started going to a new church. My parents met a couple that they believed were like them. Both couples worked, had three children, went to church everytime the doors were open. Surely they could be friends. And they were for a while.

The summer of 7th grade, they invited us to their lake house. I don't know if my little sister went with us, I do remember my brother being there. I remember feeling like I was only there to babysit everyone's children. I remember desperately wanting people to like me, after all we weren't from the south, I certainly didn't sound like I was from the south.

One day we were all out on the boat, my Dad, their Dad, and the kids. My Dad was driving the boat, their Dad was in the water trying to teach us how to water ski. For the record, I still don't know how to water ski and I have no interest in learning. I remember getting in the water, I remember him putting his arms around me. Then I remember him putting his hands in between my legs. I remember wondering with all the intelligence of any 13 year old girl, if he was supposed to be doing that. He said he liked me, that I was really pretty and I was very smart.

I remember telling my parents after that weekend that I didn't want to go to their house anymore to babysit their kids. I remember him telling me to stay behind in my sunday school class after everyone else had left. I remember the dress Mama had bought me. It was the late 80's and those drop waisted dresses with the bubble skirts were really popular. My Mom had found one in pink with white dots. It felt like silk, and I never wore it again after he ran his hands down the front of it. Do you know that even if you don't like what someone is doing, and you are scared to death, your body will still react? I hated my body for years for that reaction.

I remember this man was the first to make me feel like my body betrayed me, like I was dirty and bad. He was not the last. FYI...I don't go to counseling, I've never told my parents what he did. It doesn't matter now, it was 21 years ago. If I knew any of you IRL, I probably wouldn't be writing this now. But, this is my safe place, and it's time I let some of this out of my brain.


  1. It is the foolishness of our culture's rampant attack on sexuality that these assholes get away with it, because girls are raised without an understanding and without an outlet for discussion.

    We never seem to learn, do we?

  2. I remember too.

    I'm sorry that we've had these memories that haunt us. But they are there.

    Your experience, while similar to mine, is still uniquely yours... And I accept you unconditionally... that experience and all.

    I will never be able to forget.

    I don't want to.

    These memories I have, made me the woman, mother, sister, friend I am today.

  3. I am so sorry that you live with that. And even if you don't, I wish a painful death on that man.

  4. Thank you ladies for such nice comments!

    @The Mother- I totally agree, this is why we try to educate our daughters and our son on appropriate behavior daily.

    @Elle-I used to hate this part of me, simply because I can't lay it down and walk away when I want to so badly. I'm learning..

    @Nel-I used to wish a painful death on him, now I can't remember his name. I knew it, and now all of a sudden it's gone.

  5. Wow, powerful stuff. I don't know if it helps to know that your experience is not unique. I'm glad you're blogging about it, and I'm glad you're educating your kids.