Survive: to remain alive or in existence after

Survivor: One that survives; someone capable of surviving changing conditions, misfortune, etc.

Friday, March 11, 2011


  • 1 in 16 boys and 1 in 3 girls will be sexually abused before age 18
  • 80% are molested before age 12
  • 1 out of every 7 victims of sexual assault were under age 6
  • 89% of abuse is by family members or acquantances
  • Sexual abuse within a family lasts on average 5 or more years
  • It is estimated that there are 60 million survivors of childhood sexual abuse in America today
  • Fewer than 5% will tell anyone
  • Reported sexual abuse cases against children increased 322% from 1980 to 1990
  • A typical serial pedophile will molest up to 72 children in his lifetime

All for me...

He called my Mother.

Raul called her and told her that if she did not attend therapy with me he would call my abuser's employer and out him.   He essentially blackmailed her, for me.  He also drove through the parking lot of my abusers employer hoping for a physical altercation but if nothing else, hoping to be seen.  Raul wanted them to know he was serious.

I guess now is as good a time as any to mention that my abuser worked in a school with children.  He worked in the school district that we all attended. It was in the junior high school, grades six through eight.  For some reason, when I started sixth grade it was decided that I would get up early and go into work with him.  Part of his job was to open up the school for the teachers, administrators and students.  Each morning when we got to the school we were the only people there, for what seemed like eternity, but was probably less than an hour.  Alone in this big huge brick building with a child molester.  There are many rooms within a school that most are probably not even aware of, but I am.  Rooms that seem to be supply closets.  Shelving units stacked with cleaning supplies, toilet paper, paper towels and more.  Rooms in the basement, filled with boilers and pumps.  If the walls in these rooms could speak, the words would be beyond disturbing.  

Not long after my husband had taken matters into his own hands, I received a call from my Mother.  She said that she had changed her mind.  She wanted to visit my counselor with me, but on one condition...  I must first visit her counselor before she would visit mine.  I wasn't too thrilled about this.  Her counselor was the same man that had apparently told my Mother and her spouse that he was no longer a threat to children after their first meeting.  But, I was desperate to do whatever was needed to keep my Mother in my life.  I needed her!

When I told Raul that she had called me and changed her mind, he told me of his handy work.  Anger, fear, sadness, a rush of emotions.   My Mother hadn't changed her mind for me.  My Mother was acting out of fear and trying to protect her beloved spouse.  How could Raul do this?  After all I had already been through?  I didn't need his help, I needed him to stay out of it, this was my battle to fight!  I had to leave, I had to get away.  I jumped into my vehicle and took off.  I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do, until I pulled into Marie's driveway.  Marie had been my closest friend for years, easily ten or more.  My best friend.  But I was about to dump something on her that even she had never imagined.

We sat on her front steps watching the traffic go by and crying as I told her the horrors of my life.  My abuser was very well known and admired by most in the community.  She knew where he worked, he worked with Marie's Mother.  She had never even suspected these truths, she was shocked.  This was the first time ever that I had shared with someone outside of our family and felt that exhilarating healing power, yet I didn't know what it was.

My husband believed he was doing it all for me, out of love.  Now, looking back, I know that he was.  However, what Raul decided to do simply did have the outcome he had hoped for.