Shortly after the most recent sexual assault, I would start to research places I could go, people I could talk to. I had absolutely no idea what to look for, or what to research. I felt stupid. I felt like I was making a big deal out of nothing. My dad would call me more often on my night shifts. I would try so hard not to make it known I was on my cell phone. My dad had to know my whereabouts at all times, no matter what. As I mentioned, he worked security with a different company, but in the same area I worked in. He started his shift earlier than I did, and he usually got done work around midnight, I think. I worked third shift. It was becoming even more stressful.
My depression was getting worse, and I would get some “ink therapy” and my dad wouldn’t approve, but what could he do? I was already graduated from college. I still worked my security job and spent time with my kid sister who was about to start kindergarten. She was my shadow; I did everything with her. I would take her on picnics, she would go shopping with me. I was practically a legal guardian for her. I took her to the doctors. She was always with me that people assumed she was my daughter, and not my sister.
My stepmom would be pregnant with my baby sister at this time. We are getting really close to when I left my dad’s house for good. It was a difficult summer. I had plans but didn’t see a future. I don’t like repetitive. I enjoy change, and nothing was changing. I was still under my dad’s rule. I wasn’t allowed to do anything without his permission, I am at least twenty-one, around this time, it was 2012. I remember one night; we had a crazy summer storm. It was pouring down rain, and the lightning was just beautiful. I sat out in that storm almost the entire night.
I watched the storm, and I don’t know what happened, but I felt peace come over me. I ended up sitting in the storm, with the rain pouring on me, and I just cried. Everything that I could possibly think of, just came out. It was a release. It was refreshing. It was going to be a cleansing and the start of something new.
Sometime soon after, I contacted my professor. The one I trusted. The one my dad accused me of having an ‘affair’ with. I asked if he had office hours available, and he told me I could come in as soon as I could. I remember being so nervous, and so afraid to meet him, but I knew I had to get this out. It started off as normal conversation. How was I doing after graduation, any plans, etc. He then asked me, “so, what did you need to talk about?”
I took a deep breath, gathered my courage, and told myself to just say it. I said “remember when I told you that I was abused by my brother’s mom? That was forever ago… You know that fight my dad and I had because you texted me? Well, it wasn’t the first time. I have been physically, mentally, and sexually abused by my father for as long as I can remember.”
I remember there was a long pause. I was so scared. I held my breath. Would he believe me? Would I be labeled crazy? Why am I trusting him? My head starts spinning, and I feel a panic attack coming on, and I am trying so hard to hold back my tears. My professor leaned back in his chair, took a deep breath, and said “Dammit, I knew there was something going on, I just didn’t think it involved sexual abuse”.
I remember he apologized to me, and I told him I didn’t know why I came to him; he asked me what I wanted to do, and I told him I needed help to get out. That I had absolutely no idea where to go, or who to call. I told him how scared I was to even confront my dad, and that If I was going to do this, I needed a solid plan because I didn’t want to go back. I needed out. I needed to get away from my father.
I knew there were women’s shelters but google wouldn’t have the address for obvious reasons. I wasn’t thinking about telling the authorities since they never helped me to begin with. I also didn’t realize just how bad the situation truly was. My professor told me he could help. He gave me some numbers to a women’s shelter he knew about. He told me that when I called, they need to do an “intake”. I would have to tell these people what I just told my professor to make sure that my situation was dealt with accordingly. That these people would truly help me, as long as I was willing and able to do my part.
I had to be brave. I had to be strong. I had to finally be honest with myself. This was my reality, and I had completely torn the covers from my eyes. I couldn’t back down from this, once I started this process, I couldn’t turn back. If I did, I would die.
Thank you