To Save a Life

{me, before everything began}

*I must give a disclaimer before I begin this post. This topic has been on my mind a lot lately, and it is not an easy thing to talk or even write about. In fact, this may be the hardest post I have ever written thus far. I did not want to write it, but it has been keeping me awake at night with this nagging feeling that I must push through and get it out. This post may save someone else's childhood or it may help someone who has also felt that they were alone and that no one else could possibly understand what they have been through. Maybe you have a friend who has been through this, or a mother, even a sister. If you have a young daughter, I beg you to read this.

***

"I have no regrets in my life." A dear friend of mine stated over four years ago as we kept pace together, running the two mile course around beautiful La Franiere Park. It was another splendid day, the humidity was low and it was cool enough that we had on long sleeves and pants. The water on the lake was rippling, birds were flying overhead, ducks were navigating the shore and fallen leaves were dancing across the ground. We took turns pushing the double jogging stroller with our first borns in tow, her first, a girl; my first, a boy. 

Her words arrested me for a moment and I was momentarily flabbergasted. A life of no regrets? It sounded wonderful, a life lived to the fullest-- no pausing to look back or to second guess ones self.

Those words haunted me for days thereafter and every once in a while I'll still hear them-- no regrets.  

You see, I have so many, many regrets in my life. Some are of my own making, and others are choices that other people have made that directly affected my life. Today, I'm going to talk about some of them. It is uncomfortable, and heart wrenching, and these things have plagued my life and changed who I once was when I had no fear of people and wanted to please everyone. I am going to talk about three of these major events, though there are others.

These are the events that when shared, I feel can change or save some young girls' life today. I won't go into explicit, lurid detail-- partly because it's not neccessary, and also because it still hurts too much. I know you will get the point, regardless.

Sorry if this post gets long-- that's the nature of remembering.

***

I met my best friend from elementary school, Wendy, in the 5th grade. I had only lived in Alaska for a few years at this point, so to me, Wendy was distinctly different because she was Native Alaskan and not like the children I grew up going to school with in North Carolina. She had long, beautiful, thick dark hair and nearly black eyes that twinkled when she was happy. Once summer hit, we would spend endless hours together having watermelon fights, begging her dad to take us to the video rental store, spying on the cutest boy in our class that also lived in her neighborhood, and talking; always talking.

Wendy was the one who introduced me to Melanie when school started up again. Pretty soon, we were an unbroken triangle-- always trying to sit together at lunch, whispering and giggling in the halls, and planning what we were going to sing at the school talent show-- we were contemplating a Paula Abdul or a Janet Jackson song.

During this period, we were constantly having slumber parties-- usually at Wendy's house, though there were was one at Melanie's. I remember the first time I saw Melanie's room. She, like me had a love for unicorns. Her walls featured posters of the unique single horned horses that she had colored herself-- the kind that had the fuzzy black outline as well as posters that lit up when a black light was turned on. She had oodles of stuffed animals, a lava lamp, ceiling stars that glowed in the dark, her own TV in her room and a daybed.

I had always wanted a daybed-- something that could function as a couch/makeshift futon during the day and was a bed when you moved all of the pillows and stuffed animals to the side. I was in awe of everything-- simply everything.

We three twelve year olds stayed up late, watched movies, giggled, talked, ate candy and other junk food and had a generally wild and fun time. Eventually, we all got tired and Wendy curled up and slept on the trundle bed on the floor. Melanie squished one way on the day bed and I slept the opposite way-- my feet at her head, her feet at mine.

It took me a while to drift off-- the excitement of everything kept me awake for a while but I eventually dozed off. I woke up some time later and at first, I couldn't figure out why I was awake.

I wasn't the type of girl that frequently woke up at night or needed to use the bathroom so I blinked and tried to focus on the light that was streaming into the room from the hallway.

In that moment, I realized that my shirt was up, and my chest on the left side had that numb, uncomfortable feeling when it's been rubbed too much and for too long in one spot.  I could see Melanie's dad hovering over my left shoulder and when he saw that I was awake, quickly tugged my shirt down and told me to go back to sleep.

He slipped out the door and the room was bathed in darkness again.  

I might have forgotten that anything had happened had Melanie's dad not pulled me aside as we were getting our things ready to go home.

He grabbed my arm as I was walking out the door and shut it before I could get out and said, "Hey, nothing happened last night. I came in to tuck you girls in and you had pulled your shirt up in your sleep. I was just pulling it down when you woke up. Don't tell your mom and dad about this."

I was pretty scared because I knew I hadn't pulled my shirt up in my sleep and the fact that he told me not to tell my mom and dad made it seem even more suspicious. I think I ultimately didn't tell my parents anything at first because I didn't know what to say. It wasn't until Melanie told me on a separate occasion at school that sometimes her dad came into her room at night and did things to her that I decided it wasn't a mistake.

I went to the school nurse and asked her in a round about way what to do if someone was touching one of my friends. This, of course spurred all kinds of questions and answers in which the truth came out. I can't remember all of the details on whether the nurse called my parents or how it went down, but they eventually knew what had happened and that Melanie had told me about what was happening at home.

Things got really bad after that.

Her dad called our house and I answered the phone. He yelled at me over the phone and called me things that no child should ever hear. In fact, I think he made several calls over the course of a week though we didn't pick up the phone. Once, he left a message saying more of the bad things he had said on the phone on the message. 

At school, Melanie wasn't speaking to me and I couldn't figure out what had happened. She just said, "You know what you did! I told you not to tell anyone!"

Eventually, Melanie told me they were moving to Hawaii because of what I did. They packed up pretty fast and moved out of town and it was years before I would see her again.

One night, my parents and I happened to be in Anchorage which is about 50 miles away from the town of Palmer which we lived in. We were at the mall and had decided to eat pizza at one of my mom and dad's favorite places called Round Table Pizza. It was a typical pizza joint of the 80's and 90's-- it had a jukebox, an arcade room; the usual fun stuff for kids.

 I was in the arcade room before our pizza was ready just checking out the games and seeing if there were any I wanted to play when someone said my name. I turned and saw a vaguely familiar face standing before me.

She said "Do you remember me? I'm Melanie."

Then it clicked and my stomach tightened. I didn't know what to say, so I looked at the floor and said, "How are you? Where have you been?" She told me that she had moved to Hawaii and then she said, "You ruined our life."

I think I may have mumbled sorry and then someone, maybe her mom, was calling her. I didn't want to see them-- her mom or her dad, so I said goodbye and back pedalled out of there as fast as I could.

The guilt I felt over ruining someone else's life ate me up. 

Big time. 

When future things happened to me, and didn't involve anyone else but me, I still couldn't find the words to tell. I thought maybe it was my fault these things kept happening. Maybe there was something I was doing or not doing. So I kept it inside. If I did share what happened, it was usually too late. Too late to make the person responsible for those actions pay for what they did. This is one of my biggest regrets-- because I didn't speak up, someone else most likely had to go through what I did because I didn't have the courage to raise my voice. I was just so scared. Young and scared. 

 ***

{Mr. Friendly Neighbor Man's house}

Pretty much since the time we moved into our neighborhood out in Palmer, we had these awful neighbors that lived to the left of us. They had two kids, a girl and a guy who loved to tease and torment me. If you've seen the show 'The Little House on the Prairie' with Melissa Gilbert and Michael Landon, you'd recognize Nellie and Willie in this girl and guy.

It got so bad that if I saw them outside, I would either hide in the house until they were gone or sneak out through the back door and amble alongside the house so I could avoid them. So, it was with great pleasure one day that I saw that they were moving. It didn't take long for the house to be reoccupied, this time a single man and his dog.

No kids.    

When he saw me outside, he'd make small talk or tell me that I looked pretty. As a nearly fourteen year old girl, it was flattering to be called pretty. This man became an odd friend of sorts. I'd tell him what was going on or share things I had written with him. He always seemed interested in what I had to say and seemed to be a kind person.

I was a very shy, introverted person by this point. The events that I described prior to this changed me almost over night. Where I used to talk to anyone, now I was nervous and didn't know what to say. I wanted to feel like I belonged, but didn't feel like I belonged anywhere. I ended up switching schools because the kids at my old school kept saying that I was snobby and that I must think that I was too good for anyone because I wouldn't talk to anyone or make eye contact. In reality, I was lonely and I really wanted a close friend. So when this man didn't treat me like a stupid kid and actually seemed to listen and didn't make fun of me or laugh at me, it was a relief.

Despite trying to reach out and make new friends around this time, I went through a terrible depression where I wouldn't care for myself or the things around me. I won't go into too much detail here but things were a mess in my life inside and out.

I called Wendy one day to tell her I was thinking of suicide. I was a squeemish girl so I wasn't thinking of slitting my wrists or anything like that. I was going to walk to a nearby bridge and jump. As my thoughts swirled out of control, I wrote really dark poetry during this time. Jumping must have been really on the forefront of my mind because here is one of the poems I wrote:

Suicide's Angel

Toes curled, clenching cold concrete.

Limbs taut, straining tight on edge.

Hands fisted tightly, knuckles white.

Oblivious to the cars behind her,

Yielding, propelling, nudging, racing.

One split second of raging frenzy.

Adrenaline rushing, pumping, seething.

Fleeting glance at a man,

Leaning silently, cautiously looking,

Curiousity gleaming.

Sweat wet in a golden sheen.

Turning back and looking downward,

Into the swirling abyss of a river.

Heart throbbing, pulsating, beating,

As she flies through cool, bitter air.

Tragic gray eyes blinking

Against brilliant sunshine,

An instant like eternity,

Watches counting the seconds

As she plunges deep, thinking only,

I'm free. 

What I didn't know was that when I told Wendy about what I was thinking of doing that she had called the police. There was a knock at the door and there were two paramedics standing there on the doorstep. It was my turn to be angry that someone had outed me, and I was. They asked me if everything was okay, and I told them it was. They asked if I needed any help. I told them I didn't. They told me that I had to sign some release form saying that I didn't want any help from them. I signed, and they left. I thought that that would be the end of that and I could wallow in my sadness all by myself.

I was wrong.

My parents came home and told me that Wendy's father had called them and told them what was going on and then there was a BIG discussion about what was going on. The next day, we headed into Anchorage for what I thought was just a family excursion. My mom and dad ended up taking me to an in-patient hospital to treat my depression.

I was there several weeks.

When I came back, Mr. Friendly Neighbor Man was still there and asked where I had been. I told him about what was going on and then he told me he had to go out of town for a week and asked if I would house sit for him and make sure the dog was let out and fed. 

He took me through the house telling me where the dog food was and how to lock the kennel. What I thought was odd was that he had bought oreo cookies and ramen noodles for me to eat "if you get hungry" and told me that I could watch whatever I wanted to on the TV. He said that he had a lot of movies too and that he didn't mind if I hung out around the house.

He left three days later, and I did what any teenager does when they have a house to themselves.

I snooped.

I found pornography magazines.

And XXX movies.

And things I knew were toys that people used on each other.

And real photographs of this man naked.

There were also photographs of young girls that were nude and posed with him doing things that I knew I shouldn't be seeing. It wasn't like I went into closets or bedroom drawers looking for this stuff. The pictures and two toys were in a kitchen drawer. The movies were in the TV cabinet with the other movies he told me that I could watch.

I don't know why I didn't say anything, or do anything, or TELL anyone. But I didn't. I was disgusted, and scared and I just wanted to get away. I ended up going over there only to feed and let the dog out and as soon as I was done, I booked it out of there.

On day five of seven, I was letting the dog out and he came home early. I remember the hair standing up on my arms when he walked in and knew that something bad was going to happen.

He was looking at me oddly and telling me how he was away for some Navy Seal thing that he had to do. He told me that he had guns and other weapons in his house. He wanted to show them to me and told me to follow him. I didn't want to follow him. I wanted to leave. But he was an adult and I didn't think I had a choice to leave because I was always told to listen to adults.

We ended up in his bedroom. He told that before he showed me anything else, he wanted to take some pictures of me and for these pictures, he wanted me to take off my clothes. If they were good, he said that he could sell them and I could be famous. I didn't want to be famous. I didn't want to take off my clothes, I just wanted to go home. But I was scared that he would hurt me so I did what he said. He took several pictures and made me do different poses. At one point, he asked if he could touch me. I was hugging my knees and crying at this point, trying to cover my body and I just shook my head no. He let me get dressed and I left-- I never ran home so fast in my life.

I stopped talking to him after that. I found out a few weeks later that he had married a foreign mail order type bride that was younger than eighteen. She couldn't speak a word of English and when anyone saw her outside, she had that same lost, crushingly sad look on her face that I often saw on myself in the mirror. Not long after that, my mom (who still knew nothing of what this man had done to me) told me that he had left his house in the middle of the night and that the feds and police had found over two thousand different photographs of young girls in his house. Two-thousand pictures. I told her that he had taken my picture too, but it wasn't until two weeks ago this year that I told her that I was nude in these pictures.

I became pretty unraveled after that. I was failing in school, I was constantly fighting with my parents, I couldn't sleep at night and the depression came back. I ran away from home that year, once for a whole week and the second time for a full twenty four hours. When the police found me the second time, I told them I didn't want to go home. I spent the night at a foster home and was interviewed and found that my home was a suitable place for me, so I went back.

I guess I was trying to run away from all of the bad memories and all of the things that were going on in my life. I thought if I lived somewhere else, I could just start over and I wouldn't be reminded of all of these bad things every time I looked out my window.

I don't remember the man's name. I've tried to remember, but my mind just keeps blocking it out. I feel horrible that I never told my story when I had the chance to right everything and that it is perhaps too late. I've told Troy that I want to find out the records of who has lived in that house and see if I can track down what this man is doing now. Hopefully, he is behind bars. I pray that he is not free, out doing this stuff to other young girls like he did to me.

 This man stole my trust of people. It is because of him that I can no longer look men in the eye or speak confidently to people I first meet. He is the reason why for years after this happened, if I suddenly found myself in a hallway with a man I didn't know, I would flat out run to get away from him-- even if the man in question looked "normal". I became scared of people following me. Once I learned to drive I would literally go to the police station if I felt like the car behind me made too many of the same turns. In short, this man destroyed me. 

***

Two years later, the house next door still stood empty. I had stopped looking at it because if I looked, I would remember. Wendy had long stopped talking to me after the whole Melanie incident and the suicide call. I remember trying to call and talk to her one day because I felt like I needed a friend to talk to. She quietly told me that she thought we were moving in different directions and that we really couldn't be friends anymore. My heart was crushed even though I hadn't seen her for some time. My new best friend at that time was what you would deem today as a frienemy. She dated everyone I had dated, usually right after I had dated them. If I said I wanted to do or have something in particular, she would try her best to do it or have it first.

So it stung when the guy that had moved in across the street liked her and not me. I tried my best to be the fun girl next door, but I didn't talk a whole lot and I was very insecure and didn't have a lot of self confidence. Nick was always game to come over and jump on the trampoline with us, but his eyes were only on her. 

Imagine my surprise when I got a phone call from him one day out of the blue. He asked what I was doing and asked if he could come over. My heart flip-flopped when I thought of him coming over to see me-- all alone. I frantically straightened things around the house but in less than three minutes, he was at the door. I let him in, trying not to seem over eager. We made small talk and he asked to see the house. I gave him a tour and then we ended up back downstairs again. I couldn't think of a single thing to say so we just sat, side by side on the couch.

Suddenly, Nick leaned forward to kiss me and I pulled back. I knew this boy didn't like me-- not like that. He pushed me on the floor and I started to laugh; I thought he was playing around or something. He was furiously unbuttoning my jeans while pushing down his shorts and trying to get at me. Right then, I knew why he had wanted to come over and I told him "No." He kept struggling to get my things off and he had me pinned on the floor. Over and over I kept telling him no but he just kept at it. Just as he had begun to do what he came over to do, my parents came home from work and opened the garage door. Nick took off running through the front door and slammed it, just as my parents walked in.

Like the man next door, I stopped talking to Nick which his sweet step-mother thought was really strange because she knew how much I had liked him and how he used to hang out with my friend and I. I wouldn't look at them or speak to them from there on out. Fortunately, two years later, I had gotten a job in Anchorage and I was out of that neighborhood and away from those awful memories.

*** 

Yes, these things really did happen.

I wish I could say that I had come up with them to be merely illustrations of the point I want to make, but not so. Here's the part where I try to save a life. It could be your daughter's life or maybe this post will help you to understand what a friend, a sister, a mother or even yourself has been through. 

First, it is imperative that you know the people you send your children away with. It is not enough to know that your daughter is friends with their daughter and that they talk all the time and love to play together. It only takes a matter of minutes for someone to ruin the innocence of your daughter (or sons!) childhood and shadow it forever. Get to know the parents of your children's friends. If you don't feel comfortable with them or if something doesn't seem right, listen to your intuition.

A friend of mine told me that she let her daughter know from an early age that she would not be having or going to sleep overs because she's aware of the dangers of sending her children away with potential strangers. If there is a sleep over that has been planned with one of her friends, she attends the festivities such as eating dinner together and watching a movie and then gets picked up before everyone settles down to sleep for the evening.

Second, don't let your children house sit, run errands or do general favors for the neighbors next door unless you are going to be present with them or they can take an older sibling with them. As much as you want to trust your neighbors to do the right thing, you just never know who is really living next door.

Third, that guy across the street may be really cute and he may be great friends with the family, but under no circumstances should a guy be alone in your house with your daughter. Make it a house rule that no one comes into the house without permission from you first.

Also, just know that even though you attend church with someone or feel that someone is okay doesn't mean they are. Most people are good and will prove that they are good, but there are some that would suprise you if you knew what was really going on in their head.

Here are some statistics that really woke me up:

Roughly 33% of girls and 14% of boys are molested before the age of 18, according to the U.S. Justice Department. Nearly 2/3 of all sexual assaults reported involved minors and roughly 1/3 involved children under the age of 12. In most cases, however, child molestation goes unreported. Estimates are that only 35% of sexual abuse is reported. Kids can be frightened or embarrassed and many times do not say anything.

In reading Jaycee Dugard's story of her kidnapping and molestation, she said something that really stuck with me. She said that it's [her kidnapper's] shame not hers. She doesn't need to feel embarrassed by the things that happened to her because it wasn't her that did those things. He did them to her-- it's his problem and the focus should be on what he did.

I think this subject is taboo because it makes people uncomfortable and they don't know what to say or how to react to someone who tells their story. Most people try to sweep it under the rug and pretend that these things never happened. In doing so, we end up perpetuating the problem or not getting the help we need and deserve.

If something like this has happened to you, you are not alone. Yes, there are ups, there are downs. There are days you think you've conquered those feelings only to be slammed with depression or memories of what happened once more.

It can be hard to trust people-- hard to be confident, hard to know how to act "normally" when you're afraid of people. It does get better, but it's a slow process and I'm not sure you're ever really "okay" after something like this happens no matter what level or intensity it happens at. But you learn to function and you take it one day at a time.

I know this post is a sticky subject. The object of this wasn't for me to have a pity party or for me to get a grab at attention-- it is literally to open your eyes about the dangers that are out there. I hope you never have to experience something like this-- either first hand or through a loved one. It can be devastating. Keep your children close and get to know the people around you. You could save someone's life.