Chapter 2, God Was Close
Part 1, Innocence Lost Cont'd . . .
"Grooming" is what authorities call a child predator in the act of gaining the confidence of a victim. Making friends with a child by sharing secrets, little gifts and touching that begins with innocent hugs or sitting on their lap.
My "grooming" had been ongoing for a few months as this new "Daddy" of a stepfather wormed his way into my emotional needs as a fatherless nine year old. Then, I remember the exact moment he made his move. We were alone in the kitchen with verbal teasing.
It started with a tickle. Up to this point, I was the first of my siblings to eagerly accepted the new "Daddy" in our lives and the fatherly role he created for himself. Part of my cue I took from Mother who had accepted him completely as he slipped into his part of predator like a well trained thespian. Interesting thought: his verbal teasing of my brother had a different tone than that with me - almost challenging. Jerry seemed happy to have him around but there was no "click" with their relationship.
He had pinned me up against the refrigerator and his tickling turned to groping with his hands under my blouse. When he released me, the situation was very awkward as I tried to understand what had just happened. I was now forcing my laughter - in case I was wrong. What else was I to do; confront a grown up? I was only nine years old. Was I mistaken? Surely! But no. I was too dumbstruck to know what to do. Our home had changed, Mother was happier, bills were paid on time and he was friends with Pop and my uncle. These were not conscious thoughts in my young head but, rather, instinctive. What had just happened? Confusion, caution, fear and guilt ran through me. This wasn't right.
It accelerated from there. If I had known to protest and told on him, my entire life (my ENTIRE life and those around me) could have played out differently. One defining moment in the life of a ten-year-old dictated how I would relate to men the rest of my life. This was to affect, not only me, but how I related to men in my life and how they would relate to me in years to come.
His behavior was not confined to the bedroom. Frequently, he would make an excuse to take a drive in the car to the store, or to work to perform a forgotten chore. I was frequently coerced to ride along. For an adult to coerce a child is an easy thing. There was never mention of a side trip; we would just go and come right back. He could fool me with the promise of my brother going along but would change his mind when we were on our way out the door. Mother never learned to drive and could not afford a car, so the only time there was family transportation was the couple years my stepfather lived with us. This made a ride anywhere appealing - until I realized every excursion had the same agenda.
His abuse created a rage in me. I began defying him at every turn, arguing continually. He knew what I was doing at all times, badgering about how I did everything was his mantra; nothing was ever right. He questioned everything I did and I did everything I could to defy him. Physically standing over my shoulder and watching everything I did made me anxious. He never let anything go, always harping on everything I did and everything I did was wrong. I never had this sort of relationship with my mother, father or Pop.
Mother would frequently ask, "What's wrong with you?" "Why can't you get along?"
"He does so much for us." I even began arguing with her to defend myself. I really hated that. Prior to this marriage, we had an amazing relationship. I adored my mother and lived to please her. Now, she thought I was deliberately being hostile. I was but she did not know there was a reason. He was alienating me from my mother.
It was a common practice of his to wait for days, after I had defied him over something, until we had company. In the middle of the visit, he would bring up my insolence and harp on it. Public humiliation is something I detest to this day. It is an entire suitcase of rage in my emotional baggage.
For sexually abused children, there is always a feeling of secrecy or fear of someone finding out. Guilt is an overwhelming factor for a child. In defense of abused children everywhere, guilt is the main issue. A child's world is small and it centers on them. Even as an unwilling participant, we take the guilt on ourselves. We know it is wrong because of all the "shushing" and secret activities in the dark. Secrecy creates guilt. The bribery (he used to leave money on my nightstand after he was finished with me) was another clue that something was very wrong. You don't get paid for nothing.
The thought of that money opens that baggage of rage in me to this day. I hesitate to think I could have been encouraged to become a prostitute. You think? Instead, the opposite occurred. It has always been difficult for me to take money, or support, from a man. For most of my life, I have needed to be financially independent. Taking anything from a man left me feeling insecure and cheap. A responsible man will want to provide for his wife and will have trouble accepting my sort of independence. I insist on personal space, privacy and my own individual opinions.
* To be continued . . .
* This continuing story begins with the post on Dec. 30, 2024
See "Entertaining Angels Unaware"
