Why Can’t I Stop Living in the Past?

By Sarah Snyder

Do you know how much happier I would be if only I could stop living in the past, and forget about the years of sexual abuse? Or that it was a relief when that ended, even if physical and emotional abuse continued? I would enjoy living one single day without soul crushing social anxiety, without feeling like a five-year-old whenever I speak to anyone in a position of authority.

Do you know how life-changing it would be not to have to “grab my guts” every time I need to speak to someone about conflict of ANY kind? Or, these days, seeing Larry and listening to the parade of SURVIVOR impact statements?

“You convinced my parents I was a liar!!”

Or, “I told and I wasn’t believed!”

These statements reduce me to bitter tears!! Why? Because I hear myself in them.

No-one believed me

I told, and I was called a liar.

I told my mom. My guidance counselor. At that time, there seemed to be a huge scandal going on: prosecutors allegedly coercing confessions of molestation out of children who had not been abused.

I told!!

I was called a liar by everyone. And I believe if I go do the research, I will find that my story was covered up. So were a lot of others.

Worse?

Memories became buried over time. I had nightmares and I slept in the fetal position. Also, I was pulled aside later by my Lead NCO.

He had noticed, too.

He suggested, “If you feel unsafe, you can have your own tent.” I think was the first time I saw a chink in SSG Clarke’s armor. I told him I didn’t belong on the team if I didn’t feel safe with them. Also, I told him I could NOT sleep by myself, and I told him why. For the first time in my life, I felt safe when I slept. With my team of fellow gun-bearing soldiers. I had dealt with it, I thought.

The abuse continued

My mother felt she did the best she could. She refused to ever speak of it again. The physical and emotional abuse continued until I was a teenager. Because SHE decided. I never even got a conversation.

Even the guilty man privately admitted his guilt:”I was a bastard of a person back then.” That’s what I got. No apology. No conversation. Not even a good excuse.
Fine. It happened. It’s over. Nothing can change it. I thought I could just decide then and there, just like my mother, to never speak of it again.

My last husband

We survived the stock market crash, barely.

I was a single mom, insistent upon a good relationship between my girls and their Dad. It was important to me. Why? Because I couldn’t stop living in the past. I wanted them to have the Daddy that I did NOT. Also, I wanted them to have a Mom that protected them at all costs.

But I had given up on love. My love went off to war. Pain came back. Enough pain to contribute to the first of two suicide attempts. That’s a story for another time.

I finally made it back to my hometown, and I never looked for love. I was happy with the girls and I kept to myself for the most part. Working 3 jobs. Struggling but okay. We decided that year to celebrate the Thanksgiving by serving at the local homeless shelter. I met my last husband there. He was the kitchen manager, so the supervisor to all kitchen staff. Volunteers, too. Including residents from the female shelter. Both young and old. All in desperate need of help and open to his influence.

He was very charming. You know how the rest of this goes.

He saw a single mother with teen-aged girls and saw easy prey!!

Not MY girls!!

Not MY girls, Sir!! I know monsters like you. I went to the monsters under my bed for protection from YOU.

My daughter had met a boy. They had been together almost all school year at that point. She did what I had asked HER to do. When she felt she was ready, she came to me and openly talked to me about her feelings. I had always tried to maintain a very open, honest relationship with them. I felt it was most important to encourage them to be honest, so that I could take the proper steps to keep them safe.

But my youngest daughter, at 15, was sexually assaulted by her stepfather. She followed the plan exactly. They both did. They got to safety and then came to me immediately.
I was SO proud of them!

Justice?

Next came counseling and prosecution. We were big fans of SVU. Can you guess why?

Her counselor literally looked at her and said “It could have been much worse.” ??

Did you just say that to my daughter??? Any sexual assault is bad enough!!!

We went and filed a police report and Order of Protection. The Order of Protection was granted. Good. We got to the point where she had to decide whether to move forward or not. I encouraged her to do what she felt most comfortable doing, but reminded her that he WOULD attempt to do this again. With someone less prepared to handle it than us. That girl!! She grabbed her guts and was ready to face down her attacker and get justice.

The state attorney involved wouldn’t bring charges because it was her word against his. So….after all of that. After facing down that THING and being brave enough to go after him anyway, the system failed her.

I failed her!! The very same Justice system that I swore by and went to college for a part OF…

FAILED HER.

Just like it did me.
Why do I continue to live in the past??

As long as mental illness is treated like a disease for the damned, as long as we continue to deny mental health the same levity we give physical health, people like me will never have closure. We will continue to suffer in silence, as we have been conditioned to do, until we cannot suffer any more.

These are the people who won’t ever tell you when they’ve given up. If you don’t see the clue, it’s too late.

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