An Open Letter of Forgiveness (#1)
I wrote this letter in April 2009. I had it all ready in its envelope, and the only thing missing was your address. When I called, something changed.
I found myself letting it all out. Your response was unexpected. You managed to talk yourself out of the abuse by including people I did not recall being present... perhaps because they were not!
It was you who opened a doorway that should have never been opened for me. At least, not until I was ready to open it.
You should have never violated my trust in you by sexually violating me.
What I do remember was the fear; the fear of being caught.
Your sexual curiosity opened a floodgate that would send me down paths I would have never traveled. Your curiosity then became my own, and sadly, sex became something I did not enjoy. It became something I often felt obligated to do.
I should not have been the 3-year old child letting a little boy feel me up during nap-time at my daycare. I was even asked to “return the favor” to him.
Little did I know that the center’s name would ring so true when it came to how I would function as a sexual person in the years that followed.
It’s A Small World… indeed!
For three years, you remained “curious”. I am, however, grateful that I do not fully recall what all took place during most of those moments of violation.
I became a tease before I even knew what that term of disgrace meant.
I was the girl who twirled her skirt pleats, so little boys could see my panties.
You opened that gate.
I was the girl vying for little boys affections, and I was willing to do anything to get it because I thought sex, or being sexual, was the only way to do so.
I was the ill-prepared teenager who teased grown men; not fully understanding the consequences of my actions when they reciprocated my advances.
Sadly, one of them wanted more than just a peek from across the cul-de-sac.
One afternoon, I was invited to his townhome; scared out of my wits. He did not even offer me a bed… I got the living room floor.
Thankfully, I was smart enough to stop him from penetrating me... all the way.
I was smart enough to say no, get dressed, and go home.
I was also smart enough to stop teasing him, but not smart enough to stop using my body for attention.
It is sad to think that all of these sexual encounters happened before I had not even graduated from high school.
Moving on...
When I got out of the Navy in ‘91, I was scared. It had been 19 years since I had lived the life as a civilian, and I did not know what I was supposed to do with my life.
I did not know how to pay bills or take care of myself.
I was so naïve because I believed my military experience would automatically get me a good job “on the outside”.
Such was not the case, and I found myself desperate.
One day, I answered an ad in a newspaper. It spoke of good money, and there was a catch!
The “madam” called me “an escort”, but let’s be real. I was about to be paid to have sex.
I am thankful that my first client was a young man in a wheelchair, and my second client rejected me because I was black.
My escort/call girl/prostitute/whore career was over before it had really gotten started.
So, now what do I do?
Hello Vegas… land of stripper poles and “friends” who had no problem selling me out to the highest bidder for “private dances”.
YAY!
I fully understand why I hated you so much when I was younger… and why I kept my distance as I got older.
To be honest, I never allowed myself to pinpoint why I felt the way I did towards you because I did not want to remember.
I also rarely associated my feelings with the portal you opened; the sexual abuse.
I do not know what is in your past that caused you to betray me, to abuse me, to take from me what was not yours to have! But I do know that I must forgive you if I am to heal.
As you can see, I have blamed you for being the root cause of all of my sexual hang-ups.
However, in writing this letter, I release it and all of the pain associated with those events.
I forgive you for taking from me, at 3 years old, that which was not yours to take.
But more importantly… I forgive myself.
This wound is still raw.
The sound of your voice makes my skin crawl. Even if I only hear it for a few seconds.
It has been a little over four decades, and I still cannot shake what you took from me.
Hatred fills my gut like bile clogging a drain.
It makes me nauseous to think about where you did the same to someone else.
If you took from her what was never yours to have.
You make me sick... down to the very essence of my being.
And if I never hear or see you again in this life... what a wonderful world this would be.
I found myself letting it all out. Your response was unexpected. You managed to talk yourself out of the abuse by including people I did not recall being present... perhaps because they were not!
It was you who opened a doorway that should have never been opened for me. At least, not until I was ready to open it.
You should have never violated my trust in you by sexually violating me.
What I do remember was the fear; the fear of being caught.
Your sexual curiosity opened a floodgate that would send me down paths I would have never traveled. Your curiosity then became my own, and sadly, sex became something I did not enjoy. It became something I often felt obligated to do.
I should not have been the 3-year old child letting a little boy feel me up during nap-time at my daycare. I was even asked to “return the favor” to him.
Little did I know that the center’s name would ring so true when it came to how I would function as a sexual person in the years that followed.
It’s A Small World… indeed!
For three years, you remained “curious”. I am, however, grateful that I do not fully recall what all took place during most of those moments of violation.
I became a tease before I even knew what that term of disgrace meant.
I was the girl who twirled her skirt pleats, so little boys could see my panties.
You opened that gate.
I was the girl vying for little boys affections, and I was willing to do anything to get it because I thought sex, or being sexual, was the only way to do so.
I was the ill-prepared teenager who teased grown men; not fully understanding the consequences of my actions when they reciprocated my advances.
Sadly, one of them wanted more than just a peek from across the cul-de-sac.
One afternoon, I was invited to his townhome; scared out of my wits. He did not even offer me a bed… I got the living room floor.
Thankfully, I was smart enough to stop him from penetrating me... all the way.
I was smart enough to say no, get dressed, and go home.
I was also smart enough to stop teasing him, but not smart enough to stop using my body for attention.
It is sad to think that all of these sexual encounters happened before I had not even graduated from high school.
Moving on...
When I got out of the Navy in ‘91, I was scared. It had been 19 years since I had lived the life as a civilian, and I did not know what I was supposed to do with my life.
I did not know how to pay bills or take care of myself.
I was so naïve because I believed my military experience would automatically get me a good job “on the outside”.
Such was not the case, and I found myself desperate.
One day, I answered an ad in a newspaper. It spoke of good money, and there was a catch!
The “madam” called me “an escort”, but let’s be real. I was about to be paid to have sex.
I am thankful that my first client was a young man in a wheelchair, and my second client rejected me because I was black.
My escort/call girl/prostitute/whore career was over before it had really gotten started.
So, now what do I do?
Hello Vegas… land of stripper poles and “friends” who had no problem selling me out to the highest bidder for “private dances”.
YAY!
I fully understand why I hated you so much when I was younger… and why I kept my distance as I got older.
To be honest, I never allowed myself to pinpoint why I felt the way I did towards you because I did not want to remember.
I also rarely associated my feelings with the portal you opened; the sexual abuse.
I do not know what is in your past that caused you to betray me, to abuse me, to take from me what was not yours to have! But I do know that I must forgive you if I am to heal.
As you can see, I have blamed you for being the root cause of all of my sexual hang-ups.
However, in writing this letter, I release it and all of the pain associated with those events.
I forgive you for taking from me, at 3 years old, that which was not yours to take.
But more importantly… I forgive myself.
Updated July 1, 2017
This wound is still raw.
The sound of your voice makes my skin crawl. Even if I only hear it for a few seconds.
It has been a little over four decades, and I still cannot shake what you took from me.
Hatred fills my gut like bile clogging a drain.
It makes me nauseous to think about where you did the same to someone else.
If you took from her what was never yours to have.
You make me sick... down to the very essence of my being.
And if I never hear or see you again in this life... what a wonderful world this would be.