My name is Suzanne. I am a Survivor of sexual abuse and assault. I want to tell you my Story of Hope. When I was 13 years old, I began babysitting a very sweet, intelligent boy. His father befriended me, got me to trust him, then offered to drive me home. Instead of driving me home, he drove me up the hill near my home, overlooking my neighborhood. And there he forced himself on me in his car. This encounter continued for 4 years, every week, until I graduated from high school. When I was 15, five of my brother’s and sister’s friends drugged me and took me to some secluded basement somewhere, took turns with me and tortured me with objects all night long. I never told a soul about any of the encounters until 5 years ago.
Now here’s where the Hope begins.
I struggled because I felt I was alone in my misery. That something was wrong with me. I would jump at certain sounds and be terrified to be alone in the house. I was extremely uncomfortable every time a man looked at me. And I even tried to jump in front of a car. But I survived. At the same time that I was suffering and cutting, I found solace in my writing. I could disappear into the mythical worlds and lives that I created. And I would find peace taking walks and just sitting by the beach. These activities saved me from myself.
The years passed and I got involved helping in a women’s organization. But I hid my secrets from the world. I hadn’t found my voice yet. I would have these horrible nightmares of him choking me while looking me in the eyes. And I couldn’t understand why I’d feel crazy after sex sometimes or if I went on a date and didn’t have sex.
Finally, 10 years ago, I was answering hotlines for a domestic violence agency and that was when my Angel showed up. She was the Associate Director and she could read my signs. She would talk to me, suggest that some of my actions implied past abuse, encourage me that I could talk to anyone, no judging, just gentle nudging. That no one there would judge. And she was just so nonjudgemental and open. I finally broke down one night and ended up telling her everything the next day. She encouraged me to begin therapy. (I found out later that she was praying for me everyday.)
Upon doing therapy, the world opened up to me. Not right away, but it did. I have learned to accept myself for the unique person that I am. I still have certain symptoms. I cannot sit in a very hot car without feeling stifled and trapped, and have panic attacks, but I have learned to roll down windows and I’m fine. I have accepted these traits as part of my uniqueness. As I got more in depth with my therapy, I discovered other organizations online like
Pandora’s Aquarium where many other survivors held my hand thru cyberspace as I struggled thru my healing. It was then that I realized that I am NOT alone and I was no longer isolated. I have also discovered other wonderful survivors who have become my friends thru cyberspace thru facebook, the
Joyful Heart Foundation, and the
Angela Shelton Foundation. And they are my army of angels. I use my writing and mandala art to set my secrets free and to give myself a Voice.
This month, I will be officially a published writer for the first time. I now use my Voice to speak for those who have not found their Voices yet. Healing can happen. We can overcome. We are the Champions.
I share this poem with you to bring you inspiration and hope.
Please do not copy this for your use without my permission.
FREEDOM
By Suzanne E Morse
Twisting, turning, jerking free,
melting the iron bars
that imprison my Memories,
heaped one on another, over the years,
that have been molding in my dark recesses.
They begin to ooze, trickle, then gush out.
I feel them clawing their way to my consciousness,
tearing open the scar tissues in my heart.
Dark secrets I’ve kept hidden in my mind’s caves
are now trickling like blood through my brain
and seeping into my heart.
I’m not building a concrete dam ,
nor do I fortify the bricks, lining my crumpled wall,
or cork up my bottle of poisonous fluid.
Instead, I swing open the heavy, metal gate,
letting my dark secrets overflow,
flooding my eyes with rivers of water.
The painful memories, they gush out now
in mournful sobbing,
until they meet up with the Son.
His searing rays reflect off the sparkling water,
shiny, bright crystals dancing in His warmth.
The heat evaporates my memories, my dark secrets, one by one,
as they pass from subconscious to conscious,
leaving behind stronger soil
and a smoother riverbed.
I’ve set my ugly secrets free,
and now that they’re gone,
I am free.
