Preface to My Memoir "Shards of Glass"

PREFACE This project all started when THE question was asked by a dear friend of mine … Were you ever Raped? My snap, knee jerk reply was “NO ‘Just’ molested.” Like THAT was OK? We later joked about the denial. My response seemed ‘funny’. While I have shared with my close friends snap shots of my past, and certain stories or memories that had come to mind, none had directly asked me that question before. I remember driving home from her house, which was a good hour and a half drive. My mind raced into the wee hours of the night. The person who asked me that was once a dear friend. On the night of that infamous question, I had paid her a surprise visit with a Christmas gift for her children. I had not been actively in her life, as a close friend, for over three years. My friend and I met through work, and formed a deep friendship that later crumbled; compliments of my childhood, my suppressed emotions, ingrained and insane coping skills. Three years later, almost to the day, and after dedicated prayers to the Lord for reconciliation, we reconnected and our friendship was restored! The Lord does answer prayers, so be careful what you pray for. “I was only praying for reconciliation in our friendship, not to write a damn book!” Based upon memories and dreams I have had over the years, I found myself answering the question, via text, that had been asked in our conversation a few weeks before. Her reaction was not what I had hoped for; it scared her away once again. It was not what I shared that pushed her back; it was because she felt so badly about it. When she pulled away again though, I was left with one of my most dreaded emotions, REJECTION. I felt she had abandoned me because of what I had shared and that she thought I was some weird, messed up person. I was angry because I finally thought I had shared the right memories and had been rejected for it. I had kept quiet about my memories for years — not wanting to remember, forcing the images back down deep within and only recalling “Snap Shots”. The next few weeks were some of my darkest. I was already months into being unemployed, feeling desperate and with no direction. I was on my knees praying to God for deliverance, direction, strength, peace, reconciliation with friends, basically for everything and anything. I spent those weeks doing some heavy soul searching and being as honest with myself as I have ever been. God was there in the midst, as my previous employer was fighting me on unemployment. I had no money, saw no future, and had no friends in arms reach. A desperate state of being I’ll tell you. God answered yet again… I received my unemployment and they paid me retroactively, which relieved a lot of stress. I did not know at the time that God was also about to answer a few other requests and send me on a journey of blind faith. During that time the Lord showed me more love and peace than I had ever known! Three days later, I went to a baby shower close to where Marivel lived, so I decided that I was going to try one last time with my friend. I wanted to tell her that I was not the same person she knew a few years earlier. I remember pulling up to her house and just sitting in the driveway and praying. When I walked up to her door, I prayed,“Lord please prepare her heart for what I have to say”. When she opened the door I was shaking, I was so nervous. Needless to say, we picked back up where we left off, three years prior. We laughed, cried and drank a glass of wine. She wanted to know more about my past so I told her story after story of the horrific pain and anguish I went through. I shared with her everything I could remember at the time. She was deeply moved and said to me, “you need to write a book”. I told her my story is like so many others, it’s not that different. She then said something that changed my whole perspective. She said, “I have never known anyone with a story like yours. I have never had anyone share what you have shared with me. You read about similar struggles or see movies about them but seldom to you personally know someone or are friends with someone with this kind of story.” She was not the first person who ever suggested to me that I should write a book but she will be the last! I have known for years that the story of my childhood needed to be used somehow to help others. I have felt something in my spirit that said I needed to write a book. When those thoughts would come to the forefront, I would just dismiss them and go back on about my life. When Marivel said it that night, after three years of no friendship and hardly any contact, it struck a nerve so deep. I know it was the Lord’s gentle nudge and a confirmation to what I already knew in my heart I had to do. After that conversation, I knew completely how the Lord had used her in my life. I was encouraged, on January 28, 2013 to officially post on my Facebook page. “I am going to write a book! Detailing things from my traumatic childhood! After years of knowing I should do this, and after the wise words of a dear friend and much prayer, I will start this journey and trust that God will use it for HIS purpose and the healing of others!” This book is a journey into my world. Through the terrified eyes of a child, I will share the pain and torment inflicted on my family and me; by my father... Nobody was left unscathed. My research for this book comes from the countless books I have read on the subject, endless counseling sessions and through my best recollections of childhood. The events that happened in my childhood coupled with the tragedy upon tragedies that my family experienced has made me an expert on my pain and the struggles that I have carried for forty four years of my life. After leaving my friend’s house that night, I wished I would have told her the truth right then, but I was scared to give life to my memories. Speaking them or writing them makes it real! Was what I shared with her really the truth or my vibrant imagination? I started to try to remember and recount if my father had ever raped me. I know I was molested; severely abused physically and mentally tormented. Some of these memories, I know without any doubt happened. Those memories are so vivid I feel like I am right there and it is happening all over again. I can see the images; I recognize the surroundings and hear the words, and feel the physical pain. There are some thoughts that only come in snapshots or flashbacks. I recall all of my dreams. They are graphic and have lots of detail. Those dreams wake me up from a deep sleep and in a cold sweat. When I awake, I am overwhelmed with relief when I realize it was only in my dreams and not actually happening again. When I dream those dreams, it helps me put the pieces of the puzzle together. Even as I write these words though, I am still unsure. I hope that through the course of this journey I will find that the account I gave her was what actually happened. Better still would be that my father will eventually admit to all that he did, and that in doing so fill in the empty gaps that self-preservation just will not allow me to remember completely. But that one question, “Were you raped” still resounds in my thoughts and has sent my memories into overdrive. I am so frustrated because I know what I know, but at the same time, I do not know. I think it happened, have the images that prove it did, but I do not have the 100% cognitive recollection to substantiate it. “Was I just dreaming it, or did it really happen?” I trust Marivel was right, and that this is something people will identify with; be moved by, touched and healed through reading. I do not write this to hurt my father, to disgrace his name, out of anger or to get back at him. I have sincerely made my peace and have forgiven him for the past because I have come to realize that he too, was a victim of generational abuse, and his actions were a direct reaction to things he experienced himself as a child. That does not dismiss what he did and how he emotionally, physically and permanently altered the childhoods of four little children. “I do not write this for fame or fortune. I write this to be obedient to the Lord and what I know to be His inner voice in my spirit. I write this because as I was figuring out who I was and why I acted, felt and thought the way I did, it was so comforting and reassuring to read my struggles in someone else’s book and know that I am not ALONE. That yes, others out there have experienced the same or very similar experiences and have overcome all the illness that comes with being an adult survivor of experiencing spousal, sexual, physical and emotional abuse. I write this to be a legacy as I have no kids of my own nor do I think I will ever. I write this to finally share that inner horror that I have been held a prisoner in for so very long. I write this to end the cycle in our family of abuse and destructiveness. I write this for my healing and to have no secrets anymore! I write this to be used by someone else to experience freedom and peace. This book is not a self-help book with intellectual facts and studies on the effects of child abuse. I am not a professional writer nor do I claim to be an expert on abuse, stolen innocence, fear or trauma. This is simply a memoir of my childhood and most importantly my PAST, what I endured, how I tried to cope, how I failed but most importantly that I survived and how the Lord is continuing to heal me day by day. The day this is published will be the day my life is once again, forever altered!”