...I'm not sure why I am putting this here. Maybe, thinking fewer people will read it. And, yet, I feel the need to write it. Whether or not I post it remains to be seen. Perhaps, too, because healing from it taught me a great deal about forgiveness, and how beauty can be born from tragedy, and terror. Although, for me, it has taken many many years, and is till on going. I hope and pray that this will not affect too many badly.

The boogey man in the closet that I posted about in another thread on 'the elephant' .....is quite real, and I know it is for others as well. That's why I hesitate to write about it. It is fear about what power he may still have over others, and how this post could touch on it. So, this post will be in the hands of the mods., and I will fully understand if it gets deleted.

Childhood trauma ~sigh

When I was five years old I was gang-raped by a group of rogue teenage boys in the neighborhood where we lived (very poor, and a bad section of the city) I had a disassociative reaction to it. I remember very well walking down the sidewalk and looking over at them. Then all I remember is sheer terror, and everything goes black....no memory of the actual event. My memory picks up at the hospital where I was treated. I have a very vague memory of the ambulance. I still have some fear of doctors, and don't like to be touched by them. But, all things considered, I think I do well. And I am getting better.

I remember my mother taking me to a child pdoc...I remember waiting to see her, but I don't remember much about talking to her. We never went back. I am one of six children, and my mother had her hands more than full. I don't think it matters, at this point, to delve into my family dynamics. It was just very hard for all around. And, now, in the later years of my life, I know that my parents did the best that they could, or knew how to do.

Life goes on...and mine did. I never understood why I didn't 'fit' in, or why I was always so afraid. I didn't understand the constant nightmares. There was so very much that I just didn't, nor could have been expected to understand. You just keep living, day in and day out. I was such a sensitive person. It was very hard to be around people. School was a nightmare. Children can be cruel. Teachers can be even worse. Fitting in just wasn't going to happen. And it wasn't because I didn't want it to. It just wasn't happening. There was no one to talk to. I was shy, quiet, and withdrawn. As I look back, I feel I must have been depressed early on. It would make total sense.

My mother was a very brittle diabetic, my father an alcoholic. I almost hate to paint this kind of picture, because I love my family very much. And we have grown up a lot together. Maybe this will give somebody else hope that healing can, and does happen.

Trying to explain why I felt I had no one to talk to, or to turn to. Everyone around me was trying so hard to survive. Being the oldest girl, I had a lot of responsibility placed on me. Unfortunately, I could never quite live up. I was never good enough. I could never clean well enough, etc etc etc. Everytime my mother would be hurt by my dad, I would try my best to reach out and comfort her only to be rejected time and again.

Its no wonder that by the time I was 12, (and this is just a glimpse) I didn't feel that life was worth living, and felt that I had no one to turn to. This is not where I had intended this to go. Except that forgiveness has allowed me to grow, to become closer to my family, despite all of it. They grew and changed as well. And there are beautiful moments with the bad.

Back to the beginning...it was only within the past year that, with the help of a good and wise friend at Church, I experienced what real forgiveness is, and what it can do. I feel like I have been on a slow healing journey from this 'rape' for all of my life. Small snatches of experiences throughout the years have allowed me to pick it up, examine it, see how it has affected me and my life, and learn how to deal with it. It has been such a slow process. And, at first, I became very angry with this group of guys for ruining me, and my life. But, of course, they did not, nor could they, ruin all of it. My mother finally revealed to me, at some point, that she had tried to bring them to justice. But one of them was the son of the chief of police, and they got off scott free. She also told me that we had had to move because of it. I didn't remember that. But, then, she would not have told me.

I was reading some scriptures with this friend when I realized that those guys really didn't get away with anything at all. I realized that they could even be suffering from that memory right now, wherever they may be. And, I thought about what the scriptures say, and all of a sudden I was filled with compassion for them. I didn't want them to suffer, or to be suffering now, or down the road, or after this life is over, because I couldn't forgive. It just made sense to me. I didn't want them to suffer. It was really that simple. And then, healing from this really began. And I began to see more and more how to deal with how it has affected my life. There will always be a wound, or scar, but it won't infect me anymore. I hope that makes sense.

Ok...we will see if it will submit........I feel brave.....think I will lurk for awhile too......