NO MORE SILENCE
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This is for someone very close to me who only ever told their story to me. Hopefully, through me sharing her story others will find the strength to reach out to friends and family and not live with shame and guilt that they should never have had in the first place. For those of you on your journey, I wish you all the strength and best of luck. My thought and prayers are with you. If you need help, please visit websites, a safe house, or consult a doctor. YOU DID NOTHING WRONG.
Thinking back she can’t remember how old she was when it happened. Was she 11? Maybe she was 9. She still walked to school. So it had to be elementary school. When she tried to tell her mother what Tommy had done to her, her mother told her to stop making up stories. When she showed her mother she was bleeding her mother yelled at her. She told her it did not happen. To forget it. And never ever talk about it again. She learned to forget it. That’s why later she couldn’t remember when it happened. Stifle it back, the way one blocks out a nightmare with mornings coming light. Only this wasn’t a dream. This had been real. They had been playing in the barn. Up top where the hay was kept. They would run up the pile of bales they had made and slid down, her cousin Tommy and her. His friends were outside on their bikes but he had stayed and played with her. She collapsed giggling in a pile of scratchy dry hay exhausted and out of breath. Then Tommy was on her kissing her mouth. She could remember pushing him away. “It’s okay. I love you.” Black. Then pain. Lots of pain. And blood. The hay was sticking to the blood on her and it was so itchy. “You shouldn’t have made me do it,” Tommy said as he got up and left. She went to follow him. She could hear him laughing with his friends about what he had done. “Yeah, I told her I loved her.” She didn’t understand but she knew his words held no love. Shame rushed over her like water pouring over a waterfall. Later she learned to block that out with the memory too. Just forget that she made that bad thing happen. First learn to live in silence. Live with this confusing guilt. Then forget why.
-kln-
We will be silent no longer. We will be heard.
Thinking back she can’t remember how old she was when it happened. Was she 11? Maybe she was 9. She still walked to school. So it had to be elementary school. When she tried to tell her mother what Tommy had done to her, her mother told her to stop making up stories. When she showed her mother she was bleeding her mother yelled at her. She told her it did not happen. To forget it. And never ever talk about it again. She learned to forget it. That’s why later she couldn’t remember when it happened. Stifle it back, the way one blocks out a nightmare with mornings coming light. Only this wasn’t a dream. This had been real. They had been playing in the barn. Up top where the hay was kept. They would run up the pile of bales they had made and slid down, her cousin Tommy and her. His friends were outside on their bikes but he had stayed and played with her. She collapsed giggling in a pile of scratchy dry hay exhausted and out of breath. Then Tommy was on her kissing her mouth. She could remember pushing him away. “It’s okay. I love you.” Black. Then pain. Lots of pain. And blood. The hay was sticking to the blood on her and it was so itchy. “You shouldn’t have made me do it,” Tommy said as he got up and left. She went to follow him. She could hear him laughing with his friends about what he had done. “Yeah, I told her I loved her.” She didn’t understand but she knew his words held no love. Shame rushed over her like water pouring over a waterfall. Later she learned to block that out with the memory too. Just forget that she made that bad thing happen. First learn to live in silence. Live with this confusing guilt. Then forget why.
-kln-
We will be silent no longer. We will be heard.
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