I need a little break from just swimming through memories. So
today I'm just going to be going wherever my mind takes me. I'll probably
start writing more specific memories some more tomorrow. But I imagine I
will run out of memories soon and can then continue on to my present and
hopefully future. :)
Let me give you some background about my family.
I have three brothers and three sisters. My dad was a professor at Brigham Young University. My mom was a stay at home mom. I am the youngest and we're all about three years apart. In my family, straight A's was expected. My mom cooked breakfast every school-day. Some form of hot cereal two days, eggs another two days, and something good one day every week (good being pancakes, waffles, french toast, crepes, etc.). She would pack a lunch for all seven kids and my dad. Lunch always had a fruit, a sandwich, a cookie and a drink. She made dinner every night, seven days a week. I don't know how she did it. I know she did the laundry as well and cleaned up after us. She is amazing. She is loving and hard working and beautiful. I can only hope to be as amazing of a mom as she is.
We had company over often (I think, my memories aren't so good). We had family home evening every Monday night (which is where everyone gets together and we have a lesson, some music, maybe a game). Scripture study every morning before breakfast. Family prayer before going to bed. Cleaning day was Saturday, the house got cleaned every Saturday, and we rotated doing dishes every night. My dad would drop the high school kids off to school on his way to work. Come home around five or six every night, Monday through Friday. We went to church every Sunday. My dad was the first or second
counselor in my ward when he was arrested. I know that my dad had
served as a pastor at one time before that for a while.
Our family life, to all appearances, was the picture, perfect, family. Disciplined, but fun, looked like a safe environment. Religious. For me, everything was easily ignored during the day. You'd think I'd have a horrible relationship with my dad. But I didn't. I talked to him. Played games with him. Sometimes go to him for advice or help with my homework. He was two people: my dad and my "father" whom I did not know or like. While writing this blog I've noticed, I refer to him as my dad when my memories are more fond, or not bad. But when they are bad, he's my father. I'm not close to him. They were different people in my mind. The only way to function, to live my life and not go insane (mostly).
We lived in Provo, UT. When he got arrested, there is so little news there, it made the front page. The next Sunday when I went to church. Everyone ignored it. It's uncomfortable. I understand it's difficult. What do you say? I couldn't answer that. But I can tell you one thing that someone said that was exactly what I needed and I didn't even know it. The pastor's wife was my sunday school teacher at the time. When I went to her class after the first hour's meeting what she said to me, helped me so much. What she said was something along the lines of 'Elise, I want you to know that we love you.' That's all. She may have said something more, but I don't think so. I'm not sure, it wasn't much, but it was what I needed. Maybe two sentences total. But she told me that I was loved. I knew what she said was in reference to what had come out. Uncomfortable situations.
I had a conversation with my sister just the other night. She was talking about something similar. How people don't know what to say, so they just ignore it. I want people to know, that making an effort to say something, anything, means 100x more than just ignoring it. Anyone going through anything horrible, needs the validation, the love. We CAN'T ignore it.. As much as we may try, it's on our minds. Talking to her, she's told me how she now reaches out when people are going through something. Tells them she knows they're going through something rough. Tells them she loves them. She said sometimes she probably says the wrong thing. But I believe it's better than nothing. Don't be mean, be sensitive, but don't ignore it. After my father's arrest. There were the people that ignored it and the people that helped. Some only brought dinner over. But it meant the world to my mom and others in my family. At that point, talking with my mom, and again the other day, talking with my sister, I pointed out that the people who reached out, have most likely gone through something similar. My mom and sister agreed, then and now. It took me years after my father's arrest before I realized I was not alone. Everyone else isn't living in some perfect little world that I am not longer a part of. They had just learned to find the good in this world better than I had. I still need to do better to see the good. But I've come a long way since then.
Sorry, I think today's post is a little rambly.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Friday, October 19, 2012
Memories...
Where do I go from there? My life is not horrible. There have been horrible things that have happened. But I am happy with my life right now. I have a wonderful husband who is very understanding and supportive and two adorable dogs who I love, that love me. I have friends who have helped me through the years. I have siblings and a mother who love and support me.
My father was arrested. My mom was told that this was not the first time. That behavior like this, to this degree, has been going on for years. They were right.
My father did a plea bargain. He listed everything he had done to me and my sister so it would be settled and we could not bring it to court at a later date. He got two years in jail with the option of getting out early for good behavior. I have not seen that list. My mom has it. She asked if I'd like to see it. But I never felt ready for it. I still don't feel a need to know everything that happened. I know a lot did, but I don't remember almost any of it. I remember three different instances and the feel of his lips on mine. That's all. I don't want to remember more. At least, not yet.
One. A time that I remember, I was two years old. I only remember him showing me his penis. I know I touched it. I think I played with it... I was two. I don't think I felt sick then. I feel sick now when I think of it.
Two. Another time I remember something happening. I was in sixth or seventh grade. This perhaps was not smart of me. But I had just read the book, Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. In this book, there's a military school, and a lot of the kids sleep naked. The idea had never occurred to me before. I'd always been scared of my own body and I hated the fact. I decided to try it. See if maybe I could become more comfortable in my own skin. My mom and sister were away at a competition and weren't coming home till late. My father came in, and tried to pull my covers off. I pretended I was asleep and kept a firm grasp on my covers. He kept trying. He finally left. Then came back with a flashlight. Used the light to see my face. Checking to see if I was asleep?
My mom and sister came home and he left. I was so relieved. I thought it was over.
After they went to bed, he came back. Tried more. I don't remember when he gave up. How long he tried. I was terrified and didn't know what to do. He did give up though. Went to bed. And I cried. Got up and put on clothes. I hated my body. What was wrong with me?
I ignored him for six months.
I talked to him only if he asked a direct question. We were in New Zealand, six months later, when he finally apologized. Kind of. He said he was sorry because a while ago he had tried to "play a trick" on me. He said he's supposed to protect me and he didn't. He thought I was sleeping naked and wanted me to wake up without covers... To make sure I'd wear clothes? Why should it matter? I accepted it. He was my dad. I loved him. I hated him. I wanted my dad to be good.
Three. The last time I remember something happening was around Christmas, a year or two later. We had a lot of family visiting. I'm the youngest in my family, so I usually give up my room and bed to whoever is visiting. So I was sleeping in the living room, on the couch. I was asleep. I woke up. I'd felt something on my right breast. I woke up and saw out of the corner of my eye, my father crawling behind the couch, out of my sight. I panicked and froze. He got up and walked into the kitchen and down the hall. I was terrified that what had happened the last time I remembered, would happen again. Terrified he'd come back, with a flashlight. It would start all over. Only worse.
The house was dark. Everyone was in bed. I was not going to wait there. He was gone, if only for a moment. I got up and basically ran downstairs to where one of my sisters was sleeping. I was sure he wouldn't bother me if someone else was in the room.
I got to her room. I was sobbing. I don't know when I started. She woke up, confused. Asked what was going on. I didn't know. All I knew how to say was I thought that sometimes, dad would hit on me. She didn't know what to think. She was confused, had no way to process it. She's only four years older than me. And it's her dad too. What to think?
A couple of minutes later, under the door, I see a light going up and down the hall. Definitely from a flashlight. I know he's looking for me. It's nighttime. The lights are out. Why's he using a flashlight? Looking back, it feels like something out of a movie. Happily for me. All this has woken up my brothers. Who start asking what's going on. My dad pretends he was worried for me. Then goes back to bed. My brothers always have had my back. I felt safe once they were up. Knew I was safe for the night.
I have few memories from then until he was arrested. I can remember bits and pieces. I know I was going to school. I had friends. I was taking piano and percussion. Finding excuses to stay late at school. My home life? No idea. I imagine if I think hard and concentrate, I might remember something from home. But I don't. Not easily, and not much.
I've started from the beginning. Continuing to the present. Getting all these parts down. All the bad. But the bad's mostly in my past. Once the past is down. I can show where I am now. How far I've come. But not yet.
Have hope.
My father was arrested. My mom was told that this was not the first time. That behavior like this, to this degree, has been going on for years. They were right.
My father did a plea bargain. He listed everything he had done to me and my sister so it would be settled and we could not bring it to court at a later date. He got two years in jail with the option of getting out early for good behavior. I have not seen that list. My mom has it. She asked if I'd like to see it. But I never felt ready for it. I still don't feel a need to know everything that happened. I know a lot did, but I don't remember almost any of it. I remember three different instances and the feel of his lips on mine. That's all. I don't want to remember more. At least, not yet.
One. A time that I remember, I was two years old. I only remember him showing me his penis. I know I touched it. I think I played with it... I was two. I don't think I felt sick then. I feel sick now when I think of it.
Two. Another time I remember something happening. I was in sixth or seventh grade. This perhaps was not smart of me. But I had just read the book, Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. In this book, there's a military school, and a lot of the kids sleep naked. The idea had never occurred to me before. I'd always been scared of my own body and I hated the fact. I decided to try it. See if maybe I could become more comfortable in my own skin. My mom and sister were away at a competition and weren't coming home till late. My father came in, and tried to pull my covers off. I pretended I was asleep and kept a firm grasp on my covers. He kept trying. He finally left. Then came back with a flashlight. Used the light to see my face. Checking to see if I was asleep?
My mom and sister came home and he left. I was so relieved. I thought it was over.
After they went to bed, he came back. Tried more. I don't remember when he gave up. How long he tried. I was terrified and didn't know what to do. He did give up though. Went to bed. And I cried. Got up and put on clothes. I hated my body. What was wrong with me?
I ignored him for six months.
I talked to him only if he asked a direct question. We were in New Zealand, six months later, when he finally apologized. Kind of. He said he was sorry because a while ago he had tried to "play a trick" on me. He said he's supposed to protect me and he didn't. He thought I was sleeping naked and wanted me to wake up without covers... To make sure I'd wear clothes? Why should it matter? I accepted it. He was my dad. I loved him. I hated him. I wanted my dad to be good.
Three. The last time I remember something happening was around Christmas, a year or two later. We had a lot of family visiting. I'm the youngest in my family, so I usually give up my room and bed to whoever is visiting. So I was sleeping in the living room, on the couch. I was asleep. I woke up. I'd felt something on my right breast. I woke up and saw out of the corner of my eye, my father crawling behind the couch, out of my sight. I panicked and froze. He got up and walked into the kitchen and down the hall. I was terrified that what had happened the last time I remembered, would happen again. Terrified he'd come back, with a flashlight. It would start all over. Only worse.
The house was dark. Everyone was in bed. I was not going to wait there. He was gone, if only for a moment. I got up and basically ran downstairs to where one of my sisters was sleeping. I was sure he wouldn't bother me if someone else was in the room.
I got to her room. I was sobbing. I don't know when I started. She woke up, confused. Asked what was going on. I didn't know. All I knew how to say was I thought that sometimes, dad would hit on me. She didn't know what to think. She was confused, had no way to process it. She's only four years older than me. And it's her dad too. What to think?
A couple of minutes later, under the door, I see a light going up and down the hall. Definitely from a flashlight. I know he's looking for me. It's nighttime. The lights are out. Why's he using a flashlight? Looking back, it feels like something out of a movie. Happily for me. All this has woken up my brothers. Who start asking what's going on. My dad pretends he was worried for me. Then goes back to bed. My brothers always have had my back. I felt safe once they were up. Knew I was safe for the night.
I have few memories from then until he was arrested. I can remember bits and pieces. I know I was going to school. I had friends. I was taking piano and percussion. Finding excuses to stay late at school. My home life? No idea. I imagine if I think hard and concentrate, I might remember something from home. But I don't. Not easily, and not much.
I've started from the beginning. Continuing to the present. Getting all these parts down. All the bad. But the bad's mostly in my past. Once the past is down. I can show where I am now. How far I've come. But not yet.
Have hope.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
The Beginning
I've never been much of a sharer. I have a facebook, but I rarely post. But I decided to start a blog. Let people know what's going on with me. Share my thoughts. Share my experiences. Share my life.
I was born and raised in Utah. I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, otherwise known as Mormon. I am married to a Marine whom I love. I love my family. I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up yet. I know I want to help people.
and I am a victim of sexual abuse.
I hate that word. Victim. I almost never use it and I always try to avoid it. What does it say about me? I think victim, I think someone incapable of taking control of their life. I think of someone curled up in a corner unable to function. But that's not true. I am a victim and I need to accept that. But that does not mean I have no life, no future. Being a victim refers to something that happened in my past. I cannot change it, but I can control how it affects my future, and I will.
My past.
To be honest. I hardly remember my past. So let's just start with what I remember of Thursday, February 16th, 2006. I don't remember school at all, though I must have gone. My mom was in Texas visiting one of my sisters so my dad came home early from work so he could take me to my piano lesson. I remember pulling into the cul-de-sac where my house is after my lesson and seeing two undercover police cars outside the house. My dad rolled down the window and they asked where his laptop was and he answered it was in the trunk. Then they asked if we could come with them. My dad asked if I could go inside and grab some homework or something and they said yes. I went inside and grabbed a book. When I got back outside, my dad was in the back of one of the police cars and the other officer had me get in the front of the other car. My mind was whirling and the only thing I could think of them taking his laptop for was maybe pirated music or something that maybe my brothers had done.
On the way to the police station, the officer I was riding next to said into his radio "I have the victim." It didn't penetrate. I didn't understand what he was talking about. Now I do.
At the police station, I sat next to a lady's desk and half-heartedly read my book. I could look down a hall and through a window and see my dad pacing. I sat there for a while until another lady came and asked if I would come with her. I followed her to a blue room where there was a couch and two cubicles. She sat on the couch next to me. She asked if I knew why I was there. No. She asked if I would like some water and and a blanket. No. But she had me come with her anyway... We got a water bottle and she grabbed a red, fleece blanket for me.
Back in the blue room.
We sat there for three hours. If she tried to make conversation, I don't remember it. Finally a detective came in. He pulled out a recorder and asked if I minded him turning it on? I don't mind. He turned it on. Began to ask questions about my dad. If I'd ever felt uncomfortable with him. If he'd ever touched me.. I shut up. I said no. or didn't answer. I was upset with him for leaving me alone with a woman I didn't know for three hours, then coming in and not offering any explanation, but expecting me to answer all these questions. He turned off the recorder and tried again. But I was uncooperative. So he left. and we sat there for a while longer. At some point someone asked if they should call my mom. I said, no, she was in Texas, I did not want to bother her.
Then he came back with a different detective. I think he also brought my brother. I remember my brother being there for the next part, but have no recollection of when he walked in. The new detective proceeded to tell me that my father had placed a webcam outside my bedroom window and recorded me getting undressed. My first thought: "I knew it." But I hadn't known. Why was that my first thought?
--two weeks earlier I had gone to the bathroom, and when I came out, my blinds were up two inches. I was paranoid. I'd been paranoid for years and was trying to stop. So I told myself I was crazy, and left them there--
"I knew it."
numb. no tears. just numbness.
They asked if there was somewhere safe I could sleep that night. Not at home. My first thought was Beth. My best friend for years. I said yes, and they let me use a phone to call. The moment she answered the numbness disappeared and I sobbed into the phone. It's amazing she understood me. But I was welcome to stay at her house.
They finally let me go home. We left the blue room and my brother called my mom. I think my other brother was outside the room but.... numb. fog. I can't remember. I do remember walking outside and down lots of stairs. It was nighttime.
Drive home? no idea. I get home. I went to my room. I know I packed some stuff, but I don't remember doing so. My mom calls. She wants me to go to my Grandma's. She's scared Beth's family will ask questions. I assure her they won't if I ask. I don't want to go to Grandma's. I want to go somewhere I can forget.
Beth's.
don't ask. I don't want to remember. She says ok and we play games till midnight, even though it's a school night.
Morning. Get up. normal day. school.
My memories are scattered. lost to me. I don't remember anything from that weekend after. I don't even remember when my mom got home, and I know she flied home early.
My mom was blindsided. my brothers too. my sisters? depends.
my family, what now?
I was born and raised in Utah. I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, otherwise known as Mormon. I am married to a Marine whom I love. I love my family. I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up yet. I know I want to help people.
and I am a victim of sexual abuse.
I hate that word. Victim. I almost never use it and I always try to avoid it. What does it say about me? I think victim, I think someone incapable of taking control of their life. I think of someone curled up in a corner unable to function. But that's not true. I am a victim and I need to accept that. But that does not mean I have no life, no future. Being a victim refers to something that happened in my past. I cannot change it, but I can control how it affects my future, and I will.
My past.
To be honest. I hardly remember my past. So let's just start with what I remember of Thursday, February 16th, 2006. I don't remember school at all, though I must have gone. My mom was in Texas visiting one of my sisters so my dad came home early from work so he could take me to my piano lesson. I remember pulling into the cul-de-sac where my house is after my lesson and seeing two undercover police cars outside the house. My dad rolled down the window and they asked where his laptop was and he answered it was in the trunk. Then they asked if we could come with them. My dad asked if I could go inside and grab some homework or something and they said yes. I went inside and grabbed a book. When I got back outside, my dad was in the back of one of the police cars and the other officer had me get in the front of the other car. My mind was whirling and the only thing I could think of them taking his laptop for was maybe pirated music or something that maybe my brothers had done.
On the way to the police station, the officer I was riding next to said into his radio "I have the victim." It didn't penetrate. I didn't understand what he was talking about. Now I do.
At the police station, I sat next to a lady's desk and half-heartedly read my book. I could look down a hall and through a window and see my dad pacing. I sat there for a while until another lady came and asked if I would come with her. I followed her to a blue room where there was a couch and two cubicles. She sat on the couch next to me. She asked if I knew why I was there. No. She asked if I would like some water and and a blanket. No. But she had me come with her anyway... We got a water bottle and she grabbed a red, fleece blanket for me.
Back in the blue room.
We sat there for three hours. If she tried to make conversation, I don't remember it. Finally a detective came in. He pulled out a recorder and asked if I minded him turning it on? I don't mind. He turned it on. Began to ask questions about my dad. If I'd ever felt uncomfortable with him. If he'd ever touched me.. I shut up. I said no. or didn't answer. I was upset with him for leaving me alone with a woman I didn't know for three hours, then coming in and not offering any explanation, but expecting me to answer all these questions. He turned off the recorder and tried again. But I was uncooperative. So he left. and we sat there for a while longer. At some point someone asked if they should call my mom. I said, no, she was in Texas, I did not want to bother her.
Then he came back with a different detective. I think he also brought my brother. I remember my brother being there for the next part, but have no recollection of when he walked in. The new detective proceeded to tell me that my father had placed a webcam outside my bedroom window and recorded me getting undressed. My first thought: "I knew it." But I hadn't known. Why was that my first thought?
--two weeks earlier I had gone to the bathroom, and when I came out, my blinds were up two inches. I was paranoid. I'd been paranoid for years and was trying to stop. So I told myself I was crazy, and left them there--
"I knew it."
numb. no tears. just numbness.
They asked if there was somewhere safe I could sleep that night. Not at home. My first thought was Beth. My best friend for years. I said yes, and they let me use a phone to call. The moment she answered the numbness disappeared and I sobbed into the phone. It's amazing she understood me. But I was welcome to stay at her house.
They finally let me go home. We left the blue room and my brother called my mom. I think my other brother was outside the room but.... numb. fog. I can't remember. I do remember walking outside and down lots of stairs. It was nighttime.
Drive home? no idea. I get home. I went to my room. I know I packed some stuff, but I don't remember doing so. My mom calls. She wants me to go to my Grandma's. She's scared Beth's family will ask questions. I assure her they won't if I ask. I don't want to go to Grandma's. I want to go somewhere I can forget.
Beth's.
don't ask. I don't want to remember. She says ok and we play games till midnight, even though it's a school night.
Morning. Get up. normal day. school.
My memories are scattered. lost to me. I don't remember anything from that weekend after. I don't even remember when my mom got home, and I know she flied home early.
My mom was blindsided. my brothers too. my sisters? depends.
my family, what now?
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