Tracie's Survivor Story

In a lot of ways my story starts before I was born.  The man who would become my uncle, Swift, was a child molester for years.  It is true.  Not only have I been told this by other victims of his, but he was convicted of it THREE different times in the seventies and eighties.  I know that the first thing you think after reading that is, he must have gotten a lot of jail time by that third time.  I know you are thinking that, because it makes sense.  But you know what?  You are wrong.  He didn't get a lot of jail time...not the first time, not the second time, and not the third time.  In fact he didn't get any jail time.  Zero days of jail. 

My grandmother got a doctor to agree to exaggerate the disability that he had in order to get leniency from the judge.  The third conviction came with a sentence of 5 years probation.  By the time I was four years old, he should have been four years through his probation time, but instead my grandparents had moved him across the country, and talked the officials in the new state to drop the probation all together.  Like it had never happened. 

At four years old, my family moved into town.  It was quickly set up that my grandparents (who lived with and cared for my uncle) would do after school childcare while my parents worked.  A nice arrangement except for the part where they left their kid with a child molester every day for several hours.  That part, not so hot!

The sexual abuse started right away.  There is a lot of it that I don't remember, and there is a lot that I do remember, but won't share here so as not to be triggering...but here is a very clear memory that will give you insight into exactly what my father's family is all about.  Once, my grandmother walked in on the abuse. I was four years old at the time, so it was one of the first times he had done something to me. She came in the bedroom where we were and caught him right in the act.  That is when the yelling started.  The yelling at me!  She told me that I had done a very bad thing, and if I told my mother...(who did not know the whole story about Swift - they worked very hard to keep that from her, but keeping secrets is what my father's family did best)...if I told my mother I would be in big trouble.  I was to keep my mouth shut.  After I tearfully agreed to what she said, she left the room.  She closed the door, and left the room.

The abuse continued.

It continued for the next five years.  Until I was nine.  The only reason it stopped is because Swift died.  I have written recently about the confliction I experienced having my abuser also be the person in my childhood who was my best friend, who spent lots of time with me.  I pushed those abuse memories down so far that honestly I have lots of back holes where memories should be.  And lots of snippets of what was.  Those snippets are brutal...not being able to fill in the whole picture.  The desire to know the entire story and the fear of the entire story intertwine with each other.  When those snippets pushed their way to the front of my brain, I pushed them back.  I thought denial was my friend.  I was too confused, hurt, shamed, and scared to try to deal with it.

I grew up and lived my life amidst that denial.  There was self-abuse and fear.  I spent a lot of time inside my own mind, unsure of the world around me.  Forming connections and relationships with other people was hard.  I was wrapped up in secrecy and confusion.

As an adult I found out about the fact that Swift was a convicted child molester.  That pushed all those snippets up to the front, and this time they would not be denied.  Now that I had them, and acknowledged that they were there, I didn't know what to do with them.

While I was pregnant with my daughter, my grandmother died.  I was heartbroken.  Not at her death.  I was heartbroken that I hadn't worked up the courage to confront her.  To look her in the eye and ask her how she could put an innocent 4 year old little girl in a room with a child molester, scare her into silence, turn around and walk way. 

My daughter was born.  The best day of my life.  As she grew, I couldn't get past one thing....the absolute revulsion I felt every time I saw her with my father.  I wasn't savvy enough then to know about covert abuse, or what that meant, but I did clearly remember all the lies he told...the lies he taught me to tell to my mother and others to cover up for him and what he did.  Your father should teach you about truth...not how to lie. 

On the night I had my miracle encounter with Angela Shelton on 48 Hours, I had no idea that my life would forever be changed...in an incredible way!  I went to her website and found the survivor forum that used to be there.  I started talking to these women and men, and reading their stories.  It was amazing.  There were people who actually understood me!  They got me.  There were all these things that I did, that even I didn't understand, and they totally got it.  This was the beginning of a change for me. 

I had a desire to know what exactly Swift had done. If I couldn't fill in the blanks of my own childhood, I was going to fill in the blanks from before I was born. What was it that my father's family knew about this man, what was it that my father knew about Swift?  How much was he aware?  I had a dear friend go to the courthouse in Arizona and pick up all the trial transcripts.  They arrived in a big manila envelope.  Hundreds of pages.  I read through them.  That is when I found the letter.  While my mother was pregnant with me, totally unaware that there was a small trial going on for her brother-in-law the child molester; my father wrote a letter to the judge.  I stared at the copy of the letter, written in his very distinctive handwriting.  He asked the judge to give Swift leniency, to not give him jail time.  Then he promised that if something happened to my grandparents that prevented them from caring for Swift, he would take him into his home and be responsible for him.  Here his wife was, pregnant with his first child, and he is writing a letter to a judge offering to take a child molester into his home to live. 

Sick does not begin to cover how I felt.  In fact, I threw up, and I cried, and I repeated that process many times. 

I was inspired...a woman on a mission to find healing.  I was determined to never lie for my family again, to never cover up for them or their sins.  I was going to shed that shame that didn't belong to me.  To hold onto it no longer. 

A little therapy was next on my list.  I made an appointment with my pastor and his wife.  Now, this was scary on several levels.  It was one thing to tell my story to people on the internet, in anonymity, with an implied understanding because they had been through it.  This was totally different, I was going to sit in person with people who were not only my pastor and his wife, but also my friends, and tell them this thing that I had hidden for so long.  It was a big step!  But it was worth it.  The love that they poured out on me.  The wise counsel.  It was worth it to brave those fears and speak the truth.  There were more counseling sessions.  They set me up with another woman who was a survivor and I told my story again.  We cried and prayed, and it was wonderful!  I was healing!  I became thankful for every breath that I breathed.  I learned that I could speak this truth in boldness.

I had a moment where I confronted my father.  It didn't go very well.  Lots of denial on his part.  I have learned that I can't control other people, only myself.  So I choose to forgive him, and keep moving forward with my life.

When I felt the darkness closing in I pulled out Searching for Angela Shelton.  I sang Be Wise Be Strong Be You to myself over and over again.  I prayed, sang worship songs and read and played with my daughter. I went to that forum and poured out my fears and dreams and hurts and joys...and thrived on the support that I found there.  I hung on for dear life...because I realized that my life was dear.  My life was a precious gift and I wanted to live it.  I wanted to live free, no longer shackled by that abuse, no longer shackled by the behavior and coping techniques that came from the abuse. It wasn't easy.  There were still times when I fell back into old patterns, retreating far into myself.  There are times even now, that I fight against that darkness, but I have learned to fight it.  To pull myself out of it. 

Eventually the forum closed down.  We moved around and I lost contact with all those supportive people that I met online.  Life changes.  I still worked on healing.....it's a journey!  Last year I gave into my husband's cajoling and joined facebook.  It was one of the best ideas he ever shared. I found some of those old friends from the forum and reconnected.  I found new people too. Survivors doing the hard work of healing and living.  I remember that moment where I wanted to connect with them and felt afraid.  I stepped over my fear and got to know people these people and was welcomed into the family!  In the last few months I have learned a lot about asking and being open to receiving.  I have learned about getting control of those negative thought patterns and control of my life.  The healing journey continues, and with it, so does life!  I can honestly say that I live my life in JOY, it isn't always perfect and it isn't always pretty...but I am still thankful for every breath.