- Feb 11, 2007
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Twenty-seven. That will be my age, next month. It will also mean that nearly fourteen years have passed since I was taken from a horrible situation.
I was about five or six when my father first molested me. It's not necessary for me to post the specifics, but suffice to say that things became increasingly worse throughout the next several years that followed, until around the age of 12 or so. It was then that molestation turned to rape.
I've mentioned that I was taken from this situation, and so I was: I did the only thing that a frightened, hurt little girl could think to do: I prayed. Or more accurately, I begged, and pleaded, and screamed, all inside my head. And thankfully, my words did not go unheard -- that frightened little girl found herself just a little less afraid, for once. I was given the courage, on that night, to run away.
This is my story, and I tell it to you now with the later realization that it was God who helped lead me out of that terrible life. I'm not healed from it, even yet. I still have a hard time trusting others. I don't like being touched, as even the friendliest of hugs, or the most casual expression of affections can easily bring about a flood of bad memories from my past. I'm receiving counseling, though, and I find that my faith gives me the most steadfast of relationships to depend upon.
I was about five or six when my father first molested me. It's not necessary for me to post the specifics, but suffice to say that things became increasingly worse throughout the next several years that followed, until around the age of 12 or so. It was then that molestation turned to rape.
I've mentioned that I was taken from this situation, and so I was: I did the only thing that a frightened, hurt little girl could think to do: I prayed. Or more accurately, I begged, and pleaded, and screamed, all inside my head. And thankfully, my words did not go unheard -- that frightened little girl found herself just a little less afraid, for once. I was given the courage, on that night, to run away.
This is my story, and I tell it to you now with the later realization that it was God who helped lead me out of that terrible life. I'm not healed from it, even yet. I still have a hard time trusting others. I don't like being touched, as even the friendliest of hugs, or the most casual expression of affections can easily bring about a flood of bad memories from my past. I'm receiving counseling, though, and I find that my faith gives me the most steadfast of relationships to depend upon.