My story made me feel bad for so long. I felt like I was alone in the world, like it was all my fault. Like I had no one to turn to. No one believed me.
I remember thinking I was less of a Mormon woman, that it was somehow my fault that this had happened. That I had hurt my mother, but it wasn't me who hurt her, it was her husband. I remember she went to a appointment one day and she came home and he was naked on the floor with his pants down when my mom walked in. I was on the bed in a purple robe and I remember feeling in so much guilt, so much pain, so much anger, so much emotion because she had finally found out the truth about the behaviors that were taking place from this guy she was married to.
She went on to burn the bed and throw out the robe I had been wearing. And then a few days later I was sent to stay with her friend. I stayed for a few days, then I had no choice but to leave my job and go live with my dad because they no longer wanted me to live there. She stayed with him for several years after that happened, and our relationship was a very cold and awkward one for a very long time.
But it all started when I was eleven years old. He would come into my room at night and try to finger me but never succeeded because I was loud, and then when no one would listen I became less loud over time. Feeling helpless and manipulated, feeling negative about my body all the time. Feeling unloved and confused. It definitely ruined my views on men and dating and even who I am as a person. I blocked the pain I felt at that time—it's subdued now but I think I will forever be impacted and hurt inside. It's hard to admit or discuss, but I am glad I'm not alone.