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I Forgive You – An Open Letter to The Molester

The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong. – Mahatma Gandhi

Forgiving you is the most selfish, self-serving, self-centered thing I will do in a long time. It’s long overdue and I should have done this for myself years ago.

I forgive you for snatching from me my childhood innocence with your perversion and forcing me to participate in things of which no child should ever have knowledge.

For years I kept the dark painful secret of your abuse out of fear, guilt, and shame. Afraid because I thought I did something wrong and would be punished and then the fear that no one would believe me. Ashamed because I felt dirty and tainted. Guilty because I thought that somehow it was my fault and I should have known better and stopped it.

forgivenessThese feelings were complicated and twisted all the more with your proclamation that I was your “favorite niece” whom you showered with gifts. Little did I know that these were nothing more than mere bribes to keep me silent.

And silent I remained unit that fateful day when I could no longer suppress it as it forced its way to the surface like a foul bile. It was at that moment when, in my early 20s, I knew…I felt that if I didn’t tell it, the toxicity would kill me.

When I finally told my mom, VMH, and my boyfriend I wept, no, sobbed uncontrollably. It was if a huge weight had been lifted and I felt a sense of freedom. However, with that freedom was short-lived because there was anger. An anger so intense that the mention of your name left me entertaining thoughts of killing you. And even though I felt a measure of freedom, or relief, I imprisoned those with whom I shared this dark secret by making them promise never to tell a soul, specifically, Mother (Mudda) and my daddy.

I could not bare the thought of Mudda not believing me because after all, you were her son, her blood. Equally, or even more so unfathomable would have been my daddy’s heartbreak. I truly believe, as does every family member, had I told him, you would be dead and he would have spent the rest of his life in prison. Both of my beloveds went to their graves never knowing the foul things you did to me. I would say ‘you could thank me later’, but I did not do it to protect you, but rather to protect them.

It wasn’t until about 10 years ago that I took the next step on this journey to freedom by releasing those who knew from that vow of silence. I was tired of keeping your nasty little secret…the molester, the abuser. I was tired of the unwarranted shame for I had nothing of which to be ashamed. It was a burden I was no longer willing to carry.

This allowed me to share my story with a cousin and to my horror she admitted that she too had been victimized by you. I was overwhelmed with first sadness and again guilt for not being strong enough to speak up sooner – maybe it would have spared her. Unrealistic expectations to have a 6 year old child to be someone else’s savior.

Here I stand in this final stretch of my journey having peeled away and shaken off the fear, guilt, and shame; having let go of the anger, ready and able to forgive you. By doing so, what you’ve done to me no longer controls me. Forgiving you frees me from the fear, guilt, shame, and anger.

This forgiveness is not an invitation to re-enter my life for there will never be a place for you there. I do, however, wish you well.

Sincerely,
Chocl8t

 

 

Another Year, Another Chance

It’s been one hell of a year full of change, loss and personal growth.

Over the course of the last 365 days, I have felt as if I were on top of the world, feeling lucky and fortunate knowing what the universe had made possible at that very moment. There were also a couple of times of feeling very low, wondering how could things have gotten to that point…it left me doubting myself and questioning my judgment.

This year taught me that change is good and despite my initial reactions of resistance, panic, and fear it is usually always for the best.

2013

As I look ahead to the new year, I will not make resolutions – I stopped doing that years ago. I will, however, continue to do the necessary self-inventory in order to achieve personal growth and work towards the goals I have set.

I will continue to love, honor and respect those I consider friends, who treat me the same, and I will no longer make people and relationships a priority when they are no longer doing the same.

Since personal growth is a never ending task, there are aspects of my personality which are always “under construction” and I do not see it being any different in the new year, although I am striving for significant progress.

There are other changes I am making to my daily life and routine, none of which I feel the need to announce but I find them necessary…very necessary.

So here’s to 2013!

Another year full of change, loss, and personal growth.

Another chance to get it right.

 

Two Phobias, One Fear

The Phobias

Katsaridaphobia. Also known as the fear of roaches. I suffer from a moderate form of this phobia. It does not keep me from normal activities or disrupt personal relationships but it is very real to me nonetheless.

As with many phobias, mine is rooted in a past traumatic experience which was later exacerbated by another experience years later.

I grew up four houses away from my paternal grandmother, in the same neighborhood in which my dad grew up. One balmy summer night when I was about 7 or 8 years old, my mother gave me the task of walking to Mudda’s house to fetch the daily newspaper. When I arrive, Mudda is standing in the front doorway with the paper in hand.

As I am walking back in the middle of the quiet deserted street, I feel something on the back of my neck. Thinking it was the tag from my t-shirt, I reached back to tuck it back in only to end up with a huge cockroach in my hand. I let out a blood curdling scream as I take off running down the street, dropping the newspaper in the process.

My mother is standing in the door yelling, “What’s wrong?! What’s wrong?!” When I finally make it to where she’s standing, the tears are streaming down my face and in between breathless gasps for air I tell her that a roach was on my neck.

My mother’s reaction to my panic was that of a mother’s reaction to a bothersome child. My tears and fear seemingly annoyed her and she demanded I go retrieve the newspaper I’d tossed in the street.

And so it began. And so it remains to this day. You can run me a country mile with a cockroach.

Mellesophobia/Apiphobia. The fear of bees.

About 5 or 6 years ago I was attacked by an angry group of yellow jackets. I was cutting the grass one summer evening when little Anthony from across the street asked if I had seen his pet rottweiller, Paco. I stopped and the mower came to rest next to the mailbox.

As I stand there chatting with my 7 yr old neighbor, there’s this buzzing near my ear and without giving it much thought, I fan it away thinking it was a fly or something equally harmless.

Well, to my horror, moments later I am surrounded by these nefarious little creatures stinging my arms repeatedly and buzzing around my head. In a panic, I take off running down the middle of the street, screaming like a banshee, in an attempt to escape the brutal onslaught. Then…I fall, as if being attached by the yellow jackets wasn’t enough torture, scraping both knees and bumping my forehead on the asphalt.

Had someone been lucky enough to record it, surely they would have won the grand prize on America’s Funniest Home Videos.

Unbeknownst to me, the mower noise disturbed the yellow jackets’ nest which was in a hole in the ground next to my mailbox post.

Since that day, I have no love for the pollinating evil creatures. NONE! Only fear.

The Fear

Hands around my neck make me extremely uncomfortable to the point of panic.

One night a girlfriend and I went out to a nightclub in Stone Mountain, GA and I wore the ‘hot as fiyah’ cat suit in the picture to the left. Being in my mid-20s, I had grown accustomed to the visual ogling from men in response to my derrière so much so that I stopped noticing when it occurred.

On this particular night, a young man decided that only looking just wasn’t enough for him and he grabbed my ass, cupping it as if it was a basketball and he was Lebron James trying to make a lay-up. I, not so politely, move his hand away asking him who the fuck he thought he was and telling him to keep his hands off me.

The next think I know, one of his hands (presumably the same one that cupped my ass) is around my neck and he has lifted me off the ground leaving my feet dangling like a rag doll. I do not recall what he said to me, if anything, but I do remember the fear.

This guy lifted me off my feet with on hand wrapped around my neck!!!!! The thought of it still makes me queasy.

I have shared my experience with the last two men I’ve dated, both of whom were initially shocked then proceeded to tease me about it. One would even fake coming at my neck with his hands in a choking fashion. Yeah, dude…not funny. Even in an intimate encounter, if he moves his hands on my neck, I tense up and squirm while moving his hand.

Will I ever get past the phobias? I don’t know. How will I get past the fear? I don’t know. What I do know is they are all very real to me.

Do you have any phobias? If so, what are they?

A Lesson Not Learned?

If history repeats itself, and the unexpected always happens, how incapable must Man be of learning from experience. – George Bernard Shaw

What is it that I didn’t learn 12+ years ago that the almost identical scenario is replaying in my life? Why have I found myself face to face with the familiar sting of heartache?

Nicki (not her real name) and I met through a mutual friend when we were both in our early 20s. I had just moved to Atlanta living with my boyfriend and she was a native Atlantan. There were seven ladies in our “click” and, for the most part, we all got along really well. We were there to support each other through the ups and downs and the bumps and bruises that young women face.

Over several years, Nicki and I grew very close. As our friendship grew closer and stronger, her friendship with the mutual friend who introduced us, grew farther apart. Initially, I never understood exactly why but through the years I began to notice a pattern. Eventually, Nicki’s and I friendship experienced the same drift when she befriended another young lady but not before she had ditched our friendship for the guy she dated off and on for longer than she should have. No judgment there because I am guilty of the same offense – dating a man longer than I should have.

When things were “hot and heavy” between her and her beau, Nicki would be M.I.A. She wouldn’t return calls, she was always too busy, and never available to hang out with the girls or me. It wasn’t until a big fight with the beau or during the many break-ups would she re-appear wanting, and needing, a shoulder on which to cry. Eventually she walked away from that relationship but the behavior continued when she began dating her then, soon to be, husband.

I never begrudged her happiness but that feeling of being tossed aside or placed on the back burner because your best friend has a man sucks. And just to be clear, during those times it was a total shut out, zero communication.

To say it hurt was an understatement.

I wish I could say that I didn’t experience feeling jealous, angry, or resentful, but I did. I was able to get over those feelings and was a bridesmaid in her wedding where I was genuinely and sincerely happy for her.

However, our friendship has never ever been the same. We are distant casual friends today exchanging pleasantries on Facebook but not an intricate part of each other’s lives as once before. I am okay with that but I did grieve the loss/change of the friendship.

I learned a lot about myself from that experience. It highlighted just how important my friendships are to me and how not to treat my best girlfriend when I’m in a serious relationship.

So today, I am left asking myself the questions posed earlier because I have found myself in an eerily familiar situation with my BGF, Michelle (not her real name). The timing couldn’t have been worse for me because it comes at a time during some major life changes. Emotionally, I was fragile.

Up until the recent couple of weeks, it had been months since she and I had spoken. Normally we wouldn’t allow no more than a couple of weeks to pass without calling one another to catch up and, usually, a shorter period of time than that if either of us were particularly stressed. Phone calls were not returned, and text messages nor voicemails acknowledged.

This lapse in communication coincided with her being in a serious relationship and finding herself dealing with some curve balls life had thrown her way. After exchanging a few emails, we finally spoke on the phone. By this time I was so on the edge, emotionally, that I could barely speak without crying – and not sniffling but a downright balling – that ugly cry.

I cannot adequately describe how I was feeling other than to say I felt exposed, vulnerable, and uncertain about how it would end. During that hour long conversation, I expressed how hurt I was because I believe we make time for the things and people we feel are important and I needed to know if that had changed.

Michelle admitted to not balancing her life/friendships well now that she is in a serious relationship. She also shared just how emotionally drained she had been due to certain things going on in her life.

As she shared with me what had been going on, I felt even more isolated and completely shut out of her life, like she no longer needed our friendship…me. These were the things you share with your BGF because even if neither of you have a solution, you’re there for one another. Demons I thought I had exorcised over 12 years ago, jealousy, anger, and resentment were yet again haunting me.

I felt a measure, or so, better afterwards and we have spoken since then but I can’t seem to shake the feeling that our friendship has changed…never to be what it was prior to this…this shift. Everything and everyone changes. Friendships evolve or they dissolve and I can’t help but wonder if I have only prolonged the inevitable.

All I have at the moment are questions and raw exposed emotions which have left me feeling unsure and fragile.

When do you fight for something you value and when do you let it go? What is my lesson in all of this? What is it I need to learn that I didn’t the first time? And why does it hurt so much more now than it did then?

I am walking through this day by day. Growing also, I am sure.

Hopefully the lesson will be learned so history will not again repeat itself.

Thank You!!!

As a single woman handling her business and holding it down for my family of one, I often feel like I have no one to lean on and if I don’t make it happen, well, it won’t.

This mentality has pushed me to be extremely independent, many times to my detriment because it keeps me from asking for help when I really need it. As a result, I often suffer from debilitating bouts of S.S. – Superwoman Syndrome.

Just recently I moved to a different area of town and had I not had the good sense to accept the help that was offered by family and friends, I would have attempted to do it all on my own succumbing, yet again, to the S.S.

This is a heartfelt THANK YOU to those family members and friends who stepped to the plate, extending to me their love, kindness, and generosity.

First to my mom who was determined not to let Hurricane Isaac keep her from me. although her plans were deferred for only a day, she drove from Louisiana to help her baby girl move. What can you say? A mother’s love is infinite and knows no bounds.

To my sister, VH, for helping me pack and for just being there.

To my cousin, E-Mac, for being willing to be there with his truck at a moment’s notice when I was in full panic mode. For doing what you had to do to get that refrigerator to DRob because he just had to have it. *wink*

To my brother from another mother, LT, for storing some of my things in his basement and for installing the lock on the back door after the locksmith mistakenly drilled it out. You’re a life saver for real!!!

To my cousin, DMC, for helping me move the last of things from the old place and for unpacking my kitchen. You will forever be my “Punkin-Wunklin”!!

To Elicia, aka “Sweaty Betty” (inside joke), for also helping me get the last things out of that hot house and again, for the book! Gracias mi amiga!

To L-Boogie for feeding the tired souls at my house on moving day and for putting the linens on my bed that first night! AWESOME!

To Kimmy-Kim for organizing the insane amount of toiletries and hair care products in my bathroom. Yes, I admit it – I have an obsession with Bath & Body Works and I need a support group!

I appreciate each of you and I am humbled that you took the time to help when I needed it.

Love and hugs to you all!!!