***TRIGGER WARNING: Some of the content in this post may be difficult for some readers because it is a story of sexual abuse. Please be mindful of your well-being.***
“I was 10 when my neighbor friend, Thomas took me into his backyard. We’d played there a million times before. They had a playhouse. He took me inside the playhouse and blocked the way out. Then he told me to take down my pants. I’ve blocked out most of what happened, but I vaguely remember him touching me and me touching him.
“The one thing I do remember is his words. They are burned into my brain. “You don’t touch girls older than 10 because you could get them pregnant and then you’ll get caught.” I don’t know why he said it. It doesn’t make sense but I heard those words and I knew he knew what he had done was wrong. That was the first time I was assaulted. I was 10 years old. 10! I feel rather lucky because I spend the next 6 years without incident. Isn’t it sad that is my attitude? Because I know people who haven’t been that lucky.
“I was 16. It was August. I was super excited because a senior boy had asked me to a concert at the high school. He didn’t have a car so my dad let me take the van. I picked him up and he asked to drive. I’m sure now that he was already thinking and planning what he was going to do to me. I was enamored with him so I agreed.
“He didn’t take us to the high school. He took us to a remote lookout point. Then we talked for a while. When we first got to the lookout point I was anxious. I knew it was bad. But then he didn’t try anything. I let my guard down. That’s when he first put his hand on my breast. Under my bra! I was shocked. I hit his hand away. He laughed. I don’t remember anything he said to me. I don’t remember how he got my pants and underwear down. I just remembered lying on the middle bench seat staring out the window at the stars. Crying. At that point I stopped fighting him. I prayed. and looked at the stars. Trying to take myself (if only in my mind) to another place.
“I don’t remember taking him home or getting there myself. I do remember feel shame. Worthless. I remember going straight to my room, shutting the door and crying. I don’t understand my choices, but the next evening I snuck him into my room and let him have sex with me. He had already taken anything worth having, right? I continued to “date” him for about a month. Who else would want me? I was soiled. More than when Thomas touched me. When we broke up I continued down a dangerous path.
“I talked to my bishop. He told me I needed to repent. Clearly I had done something terribly wrong. My church leader was telling me that. I didn’t feel worthy of my Savior’s love and forgiveness. Which I was also told meant I wasn’t doing something right and needed more repentance. I lost hope. In myself. In those around me. And I strayed. Far. I slept with most of my boyfriends. Why not? I wasn’t worth anything anymore. How could God forgive me? I couldn’t forgive myself. And that was part of the process. It wasn’t until I met my husband that I learned about love and forgiveness.
“I remember the night he asked me to marry him. I heard an angel shout, “Yes!” So I told him yes. I remember telling him about my past in the following days. I remember the hurt look on his face. I remember feeling like everything was falling apart. Again. I remember him taking me home without telling me if he still wanted to marry me. I remember the joy I felt the next morning. He had prayed or the spirit had talked to him. I’m not sure. But he learned that I was not broken. And that was the first time I learned it too. From him. He read me his patriarchal blessing. The part about his wife. He told that part was about me. What a great blessing to my soul at that moment! I still struggle with everything. But I have a partner that I can lean on through the hard times.
“I still have only told a handful of people that I was assaulted. I think that’s going to change. There is strength in numbers. God will never abandon us. We are his children. He loves us. I was married and sealed to my husband 16 years ago. I am blessed to be a mother to 4 children. I have been blessed with an education, which I think has helped me find my voice. I know that I have been forgiven for my actions after this trauma. I know that my experience helped me handle my daughter’s sexual assault. I know that I’m worth so much. I’m a daughter of God. I’m strong. I’m kind. I’m Denise.”