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?