I Will Not Be Broken

This song has become my mantra. I've always been a huge Bonnie Raitt fan...but this one spoke to me. Maybe it's because I've been examining my life a little more closely lately. Maybe it's because I've been probing deeper and found that although I can bend, I will not break. I'm not nearly as fragile as I appear.

I have a friend who's going through certain similarities in her life right now. So I sent the song along to her. Living with a sexual assault is always tough...and it doesn't matter how old you are or what the circumstances were...it's just never something easily gotten over.

I was ten when I was abused. Some might say it wasn't as "serious" as others because I didn't lose my virginity. They'd be wrong. To be violated, to be penetrated, to have kisses forced upon you...none of that is easy to deal with...or to block out. And the fact that I was an innocent 10 years old...it makes it tougher.

The guy who did this was my mom's best friend's husband. I didn't want to tell my mom about it. I was ashamed. But I had a very good friend who I'd confided in. She convinced me we needed to tell our moms. Together. And she held my hand as I told. The thing about it was that I had some warped logic that if I could keep his attention on me, he'd never touch my little sister or his own daughter...so in some way, I was protecting them. My 10 year old mind didn't understand that if he wanted to take something, he'd find a way. And that the bags of chocolates he gave me were deliberate attempts to silence me and make me feel guilty...as much as my arm jackhammered behind my back had been when he'd insisted I touch him.

Recently my friend asked me if I was angry with my mom or her best friend for what happened to me. It was a good question...one I'd never considered. I know I hate the man who did this to me. I know I was hurt and felt betrayed by my dad's lack of response and anger...but my mom? Never crossed my mind. So I thought about it. I wasn't angry with my mom. I was relieved. Grateful to have her there. She was always a constant support to me. Her righteous anger and indignation was somehow a salve on my fearful and wounded soul...helping me to realize that none of this was my fault. I heard her prayers at night...and her tears of regret. I know she prayed the most evil of plagues down on his head...and she probably still does...twenty plus years later.

As for his wife, my mom's best friend? I feel sorry for her. I still love her like an aunt. My mom and I talked, trying to decide if it was the right thing to do...telling her...if we should press charges. The whole thought made me a bit sick to my stomach at first. Then I started thinking. They have two children who's lives would be destroyed. My mom's best friend has a serious heart condition and a weak heart...and this could kill her. I'd have to be dragged through it again. And this may sound cheesy, but...we prayed about it...and slept on it. And then made the decision not to do anything about it except to remove me from the situation. We figured that any punishment that our legal system could think up...God was going to come up with something far worse for hurting one of his little ones. And if anything happened to my mom's best friend, I'd never forgive myself.

So I prayed for the strength to forgive...and to find a useful outlet for all the hurt I'd been through. I also prayed that I'd be normal. That the things this monster did to me wouldn't turn me into a person I couldn't face every day in the mirror. And I worked very hard...because I know that people who've been abused can become abusers themselves...and that was my biggest nightmare. And then there was the fear that I'd never be able to have a normal relationship...because women who've been abused as children usually go one of two ways...they become entirely too promiscuous or they become so puritanical that they may as well be nuns. I didn't want to be either. I just wanted to be normal and happy.

Because of my abuse, I've always taken a firm stance with guys in my life. I'm very upfront about my "no's". I didn't want any misunderstandings as to my meanings. I didn't want someone to misconstrue my no to really be a tease. And it worked. Guys respected what I said. And I took things slowly. I waited till I was 20 to lose my virginity. And somewhere along the way, I learned to not be afraid of myself and my sexuality. And I also learned that for all the hardships, I'm a survivor. And that I could help people with what they'd been through.

My experiences helped me give my best friend the support she needed when her suppressed memories of childhood trauma came up. It was having gone through what I did that helped me listen to what people weren't saying...and not jump to conclussions when a close friend in highschool said she lost her virginity to a stranger...(something she'd always joked about doing so that she wouldn't have to face awkwardness of the morning after)...and had me asking what happened. I still remember her breaking down in my arms and telling me that she'd been at a party, gotten drunk...and hadn't been strong enough to fight him off. I became the person people came to when they needed someone to listen and not judge....someone to be on their side and help see them through.

And the strangest thing is...that I think God started taking care of this guy who dared hurt one of his children. Apparently, his son saw what he'd done to me...although he'd tried to pretend he hadn't...and tried to block it out. And he told his mom...while they were on vacation. She cried. To this day, I still think she feels she owes me. She doesn't.

And then, that son, so like a brother to me, began to date a friend of mine who I'd talked to about the abuse...because she'd been there too. She decided to tell him about it....something I never wanted. He called and asked, and God, I wished I could lie. But I never could. Not about that. So I told him the truth. And he confronted his dad. I can still hear his voice ringing in my head..."How could you, dad? She was my age....MY AGE! She's like a SISTER to me!" And that evil man fell from grace in the eyes of his son...with no way to defend himself. That year, my friend wound up trying to OD on some meds....because he couldn't face what his dad had done. I think that's when the horror of what he'd done began to catch up to him. He almost lost his only son.

The best part, though, is seeing the fear in his eyes...as he tries to look at the adult I've become. He can't...there's too much guilt for him to be able to face me head on. But he knows. I see him for who he is, the coward, the fool, the perpetuator of evil.... I know what he did. I'm not angry anymore, nor am I stupid. But he knows. I'm a survivor. He didn't break me. He never will. And for now, that's all I need.