I am a survivor of incest.
It began when I was 14 years old and did not
end until I left home at the age of 16. The man who
abused me was at least 30 years older than me
and he was a called a “man of God” because he
was a pastor. To this day, he still pastors a church.
I lived with feelings of shame for several
years. I never enjoyed the sexual experience with
the pastor. Every sexual encounter that occurred
was physically painful.
I was groomed by the pastor, however. I
used to feel like I was at fault. He drew me by
quickly defending me whenever I was in trouble at
home, making me feel as if he was on “my side”.
He lured me with gifts, which I gladly accepted
from him: shoes, clothes, jewelry and food. The
actual molestation began shortly after I began
accepting the gifts.
I felt guilty for pretending to be asleep while
the 250+ pound, 40+ year old man hovered over
me and molested my body. Laying there, knowing
that what was happening was wrong, I felt that
there was nothing I could do. Who was I supposed
to cry out to? I felt alone.
During the abuse, he would tell me that
when I turned 18 he woul d marry me. He used the
technique of “divide and conquer” by turning
those that I was close to and I against each other.
It almost became a competition of who could get
the most attention out of the pedophile.
Coming Clean
My father had a bad temper - of course, I
was not going to tell him (or anyone else for that
matter) the true reason I wanted to leave home.
While the reasons I gave were honest, it obviously
was not the biggest reason. I did not confess to my
dad until two years later, while watching a Lifetime
movie. At some point in the movie, there was a
rape scene. I began to cry uncontrollably. When I
calmed down, my dad, while staring at me
intently, asked what was wrong. I tried to
downplay my feelings and simply respond with
how sad the movie was and how I could not
believe a man could do that to a woman. When I
realized it was too late to hide behind my tears, I
finally told the truth.
After my dad contacted the
authorities and after interviews were
conducted about my allegations, the
authorities returned to my dad’s home and
told us that all allegations were denied. I
was shocked! Possibly because of my youth
and being naïve, I believed in my heart that
the “man of God” would tell the truth, just
because he was a pastor. Not so.
After I finally released such a heavy
burden of hiding behind this life-changing
secret, my dad and grandmother, the late
Louise Tisdal, believed and supported me. I
am now receiving support from my mother
and my sisters. Victims and survivors of this
inexcusable crime can understand the
deep gratitude that is felt towards those
who believe. For this, I feel forever grateful
to my family and strongly feel this is one of
the reasons why I have successfully survived
the abuse.
Falling to Pieces
My self-esteem was awfully low as a teen
and transitioning into my adult years. I felt
that I was ugly and worthless, the very
reason why an older man would find me
attractive and not the young men who
were my age. I would sit in my bedroom as
a teen and listen to music and write poetry
and letters to friends because I liked being
secluded. However, while doing so, I never
sat on the bed, but rather on the floor or at
my desk. The bed just was not a location
that I viewed as safe.
I tried to pick up the pieces of my life
and leave the past behind me. I thought it
was that simple. I started college right after
graduating from high school and felt this
would be a new found freedom and
beginning for me. However, anxiety,
depression and suicidal thoughts ruled my
life. I was always nervous about not
completing my course work and I was
constantly suspicious of the male students
and teachers on campus. I continued to
struggle with the fact that I was only
believed by my dad and grandmother.
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