archived testimony submissions

*rewrite

I love movies! I love a good story line that leaves me emotional with expectancy of a happy ending. I wish my life was a movie sometimes. If I could rewrite it, the first change I would make is telling my uncle, "No". 

I would let him know I am his sister's daughter. I would tell him how wrong he was for mole****g my mom and although she was not strong enough to say, "STOP"; I WILL! "My hands don’t belong around your p***s. Your b***s can NOT be compared to my marbles and I will not grab and squeeze to see if I can feel them inside. You lied! Your p***s is not a chocolate bomb pop nor does it taste like one".

I would write my character as this spunky, outspoken, yet respectable 8 year old girl who wasn’t afraid to use her voice. I would tell my uncle when he asked if I was hungry that, "I would rather starve" than have him touch my b**t and give me a quarter for some potato chips. When he told me I couldn’t say no because my mom and sister don’t, I would remind him that I look up to them but I can’t do what they do. 

If I could rewrite, I would get me some help. I would voice all the hurt and pain that would free me in my mind from the trauma. I want to know why, even as an adult, I still couldn’t say, "No". My past followed me to my future. I believed to be marrying the love of my life. I told him all my secrets, but he didn’t tell me his. 20 years and 8 children later I find out he had s*x with my mother and sister. 

All I can hear is my uncle saying is,  "Don’t you want to be like them". My mother and sister had begun prostituting for money but I was giving it up freely. I’m in love with a man who had s*x with my mom and sister. AHHHHHH. 

What do I do with this hurt? Who can I talk to that won’t make me feel even worse than I feel now. Sadly, I love him but he don’t love me, because he wouldn’t stop cheating. What is it about me that I’m good enough to sleep with but not to be faithful to. Who can help me answer all these questions? Better question is who will love me knowing my past. 

Im 42 and single with 11 children. 

*ryan 

It was on a Tuesday in October.  I walked in that room and it was so still and quiet. I waited patiently. Someone instructed me to look at the tv screen. I looked but didn’t understand it. Why is my son on this screen? 

I heard a scream come from my daughter that shook me to my core and in that moment reality hit. MY son, MY first born had committed s*****e. I am standing in this morgue with the task of identifying his b**y. My legs gave out and I hit the floor. It felt like I was falling in slow motion. I remember crying out, "GOD"!!! IF YOU DON’T KEEP ME…….. I WILL LOSE MY NATURAL MIND.  I cried and I prayed.  

Then I  went into survival mode. I was hurting. My children were hurting. My mom was hurting. My support system was hurting. Who can I turn to because EVERYONE is broken?!! I didn’t allow myself to grieve because I didn’t feel safe outside of my circle and my circle was damaged, broken, hurting.  

I sucked it up. 

When I wanted to cry, I sucked it up.

 When I missed him, I sucked it up. 

When someone needed my shoulder to cry on, I sucked it up and offered it graciously. 

Every time I left home, I put on my mask and placed that Super “S” on my chest and I sucked it up. 

Who has time to grieve?!!!! ………Excuse me…. ( raising my hand) I need the time, I need the safe space, but until I find it……

 I’ll suck it up.