I feel absolutely AMAZING! Like incredible! The past 24 hours have been wild. So I decided that I needed to let the person who molested me know that I knew what he did to me. So I Friended him on Facebook and then wrote a Messenger note to him letting him know that I know, that I hope no one ever did to his daughter what he did to me, that he better not EVAH darken the threshold where my father’s body lay once he passes from this life to the next or there will be hell to pay, since he had already disrespected me and my parents by being on the alter behind where her body lay.
I sent it off and the only thing I needed was to make sure he saw it. In Messenger you can tell when a message has been read, so I waited a bit and checked, but it still hadn’t been read. Although my blood ran cold as I was writing the message, after I hit Send I felt relieved. And I went to bed.
When I woke up this morning, my phone was buzzing. So I picked it up to look at it to see two things. 1) A notification from the molester, who will now heretofore be called Chester, inviting me to message him on Messenger and 2) A text from my brother saying he would call me shortly on his way in to work to check on me because Chester had taken it upon himself to call my brother to figure out what was going on.
The Nerve. I was annoyed, but I felt like, okay, he’s probably in damage control mode and as soon as the message left me—and my body—what everyone else did with the info had zero to do with me.
So I phoned my brother to tell him I was okay and that the call from Chester was unnecessary. He went on to tell me what he said and that he (my brother) believed me and gave me his full support. That meant a lot. And I was not expecting it, but it felt nice to receive. Then I heard my brother mention that Chester told his dad, who is my dad’s best friend.
For a brief moment I panicked because it meant that he might tell my dad. But then I reminded myself again that what others did with the info had nothing to do with me. I had been carrying around this info and pain for long enough and I am done.
So I get off the phone, and start my day and all goes well. No more contact from Chester. And my message to him letting him know I had nothing to say to him could not be sent. Oh well. No biggie.
I proceeded on with the rest of my day and my wife comes home. I tell her what I had done and what had transpired because I needed to hold space for myself yesterday before I could really share all of this with her. She was loving as usual and held space for me as well.
Then the phone rings. And it’s my dad. I thought panic would rise up in me. But I felt an incredible calm. He started the conversation as if nothing had happened. We talked about his cruise and other stuff. Then before he got off with me, he let me know that Chester’s dad, his best friend, reached out to him and that he supports me 100%. Period. And that whatever I needed, he would be there. I am supported. By my mother, who always has my back from the great beyond, my brother, and now, my father. Then came the tears.
But they weren’t sad tears. They were happy tears. Freeing tears. The most amazing tears I’ve ever cried. I felt 1000 pounds lighter.
All of it felt like it was releasing its grip on me: the shame, the secrecy, the self-hatred, the (false) feeling of being weak. It felt incredible. Everyone who cares about me knows. And still loves me. And most importantly, I still love me.
I feel like I can breathe. Like I have a new life ahead of me. I feel like dancing and just shouting from the rooftops, “I’m finally free of it!”
I know this is a process and that it all doesn’t just happen like a light switch, but I feel something new in me has turned on. I feel brave and courageous and proud of myself. And I can accept those things for me. Because I’m finally accepting me.
I finally love me.