CONFESSIONS OF A SCAPEGOAT
It all begins with an idea.
Those who know me well call me Jess, my followers call me “The Amazon Lady”, and my kids call me mom. I am almost 40 years old and have recently begun reflecting on my childhood. Most of my life, I thought I had a pretty boring and relatively normal youth, but as it turns out, it was full of trauma that I have been bottling and ignoring for years. I was oblivious to how this trauma molded me into the adult that I am today and how it was negatively impacting my life. You see… I was our family’s scapegoat. I was the one on whom everything was blamed. I was the one that everyone could hide behind. I was the one that was used as a pawn. I was the one who had to grow up a lot on my own and made way too many mistakes doing so. I was the one who tried to be there for my family emotionally, even though I was always kicked when I was down.
Did you know scapegoats are discussed in the bible? The bible references scapegoats as living sacrifices, and when you grow up as the scapegoat in a dysfunctional family, that is exactly what you become. A dysfunctional family will often single out one person to take the blame for all of the problems. This allows the family to go on as if all is well and their behaviors are “normal”. The scapegoat usually points out issues within the family but spends her life being gaslighted and ultimately left questioning her reality. However, when the rest of the family is unwilling to admit the obvious, keeps secrets, and hides the truth, the scapegoat will not understand.
I spent a lifetime being told that I needed to “grow up” when I felt emotions, always questioning my memory of what happened because of constant gaslighting, and never feeling good enough to “fit into” my own family. I spent that same lifetime being told that “she is family, you need to be the bigger person.” Being the scapegoat in my family, left the “Golden Child” title to my only sister, who wore the title well. She got away with everything, because I was the screw up, and all eyes were on me. Even as an adult, she still dictates the family dynamic, and I reached a breaking point with all of it. I spoke out about it and lost 50% of my family for doing so. Scapegoats are expected to keep the family secrets because those secrets never make anyone look good, but the shame that has been created in the scapegoat leaves her feeling too embarrassed to share them anyway.
So here goes nothing; this is my story. These are my confessions, the confessions of a scapegoat.
THE NIGHTMARE MARRIAGE
It all begins with an idea.
My parents met back in 1984 and dated for only a few months before they split up. I was 12 when I realized that I was born in March, and their anniversary was in November. Things made a lot more sense at that point. They didn’t get married because of love; they got married because of me. I was an accident, and I blamed myself for their volatile marriage for years. It’s strange because I am not sure how I was so oblivious to it before this point, but they never even got along, much less loved each other. I do not remember them showing each other affection, ever. I remember my dad being gone for work all of the time, and I remember that we didn’t have a lot of money, and he was always mad at mom for spending any.
Our house was small, but it was home. We lived in Browns Summit, NC, when I was a child, and we lived there until I was in the 3rd grade. My teachers always told me how smart I was, and school was relatively easy for me. Sadly, all of that changed in 3rd grade.
I was a Girl Scout and enjoyed taking trips with my troop. The weekend my life was flipped completely upside down, I was at camp. I remember the canvas tent with two twin beds and bookshelves for us to put our things on. I remember putting my Teen Spirit deodorant on that shelf and being proud of myself for packing deodorant! I remember the smell of the tent, and I hated that smell, but I loved the freedom of being away “on my own” and away from my family.
That weekend was cut short when my mom arrived to pick me up a day early. I was confused, and I packed my stuff up, completely unaware of what was happening. I never went back home, and my parents were officially separated. I was far too young to understand what that meant, and I don't remember knowing anyone whose parents had split up, so this was brand new territory for me. I don’t remember being sad, just very confused.
Years later, I learned that my mom had come home to find our house ransacked. Furniture was flipped over, holes had been punched into the walls, and it looked as if we had been robbed. She went into the master bedroom, where she found my dad sitting on the bed, reading the bible, and holding a shotgun. Rightfully so, she was terrified. My sister was with her, and she grabbed what she could and left, stopping to pick me up on the way to stay with her family.
We moved into the bonus room over the garage at one of my mom’s best friends' houses, and we lived there for several months. I don’t remember sleeping in that house, which I know I did! I remember doing dances in our free time to Bruce Springsteen's “Streets of Philadelphia”, which was the saddest song! Mom, my sister, and I would go to dinner every night to let their family have time alone, and we took advantage of the five sandwiches for $5 at Arby’s A LOT!
Knowing what I do now, I am so grateful that my mom tried hard to keep life as “normal” as possible. I really didn’t know much about what was going on, or maybe I just wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t see my dad much, and that wasn’t weird. Dad was gone a lot anyway, and this kind of felt like a really long, fun sleepover! I think we stayed there until the end of my 3rd grade year in school, but I can’t remember if that is what happened or not. Once the school year ended (I think), we moved in with my great-grandma in a little town called Elkin. I realize that not everyone has the luxury of growing up knowing their great grandparents the way that I did, but I did. I called her Grandma Grandma and man, did she love us big!
Being at her house meant several things, one of which was Little Debbie Pecan Spinwheels. I don't remember her eating any of them, but she always had them. She knew how much I loved them, but I hated the little pecan pieces inside. She would unroll my pinwheels, pick all of the pecan pieces out, and roll it back up for me to eat. That is love! We also played outside a lot at her house. Catching fireflies in the yard is a vivid memory. There were always so many fireflies there.
We also built a lot of “cities” in her driveway. My mom had read us a book called Roxaboxen. The story is about kids that build a city that they name Roxaboxen. We used sticks and rocks to outline our homes and streets. We used recycles and what we could find in her carport for furniture and various home goods, and we would play for hours in her shady driveway. My sister and I didn’t get along much, ever, but we did when we played Roxaboxen.
I have other memories from her house too, but we didn’t live there long. Mom found a one-bedroom apartment in Elkin, and we moved in before school started. We had nice neighbors, and we loved to roller skate and ride bikes in the flat parking lot. I had no idea at the time that we were living in low-income housing. Mom gave us the bedroom, and she turned the living room into her bedroom. That still didn’t seem weird; I actually remember thinking my mom was cool for doing that! Who has a big bed in their living room? We did, and that seemed so fun. I don’t remember the one bathroom being a problem, and I don't remember eating many meals there.
I do remember turning the closet into my own little fort. My sister kicked a LOT, and I couldn’t stand it. So I put blankets and pillows on the floor of the closet and slept with the door closed. While I thought that was cool and loved having a space that was “mine”, my dad didn’t agree with me. When he saw that I was sleeping in the closet, he “took my mom back”. Or at least that was the version of the story I heard at the time. After less than 6 months in Elkin, we moved back into a new townhouse with my dad in Greensboro.
With another new house and another new school, I was getting used to moving around. I liked this house. Dad and I watched thunderstorms out the back sliding glass door of the living room on many occasions. We loved riding our bikes on the sidewalks that were running throughout the neighborhood, and there was a place next door that had so many fruit trees.
It was at this house that the irritation of having a little sister really sank in. She copied every single thing that I did, and it drove me crazy. I took every chance I had to torture her. I slept on the top bunk, and I would pick the popcorn off the ceiling. When I had a handful of ceiling plaster, I would lean over & whisper her name. She would look up at me, and I would drop it in her face. I told her once that I knew there was no way that she could climb this big tree outside, and she did it to prove me wrong. I convinced her to climb to the very top, and she got stuck. My dad had to climb up and get her, and he was not happy with me! Life was oddly normal again. My mom and dad were no longer separated, dad was around a lot more, and things were going well at school. I was a straight A student, had one of the best Science projects at the science fair, and got 2nd place in the DARE essay contest!
Mom & Dad renewed their vows at a little church and bought a house for us to move into in Summerfield. I was so excited about the new house. It meant that I finally didn’t have to share a room with my sister anymore! I don't remember how old I was when we moved into that house, but I think I was in the 6th grade. Looking back on things now, that vow renewal is the only time I remember seeing my parents kiss or hug. As a child, that was just how marriage looked. I do remember seeing the parents of my friends being affectionate and thinking, “What is wrong with them?” It felt fake and forced, and I was never very comfortable with public displays of affection.
We loved our neighbors and had friends up and down the street. It wasn’t a neighborhood, but since we lived so rural, everyone knew everyone. We started going to a church close by, and I was active in GAs (Girls in Action) and the Youth Group. I took several mission trips with that youth group and made a lot of friends. While I “6th grade dated” a lot of the guys in my youth group, I was just one of the guys. I broke my ankle playing basketball with the guys on a mission trip in Maine. I loved church, and that was a good thing because we were there a lot. Being there meant having fun with my friends, and being at home meant feeling uncomfortable because of the constant tension.
Mom and Dad were together for 13 years before the marriage came to an end. The end was very ugly, and I remember thinking, “How can two people hate each other this much?” My mom moved me into the master bedroom with her, and my dad took over my room. I would lay awake at night and listen to my dad unpack boxes that my mom spent all day packing. They argued nonstop, and I couldn’t wait for it to just be over with.
I was so glad that I had so many friends on our street because I could go play outside at someone's house and get away from the yelling. I wish that my parents' divorce was the worst memory of that time frame, but I lost three grandmas as well. My Memaw had been sick for years. Wheelchair bound and unable to speak, I didn’t know her well. But I remember my mom being so sad when she passed. I don’t remember the order in which they passed, but I also lost my Grandma Grandma and my Nana. Grandma Grandma was Memaw's mom. Memaw was my mom’s mom. My mom’s dad was my Papaw, and his mom was my Nana.
I have just as many happy childhood memories at my Nana’s house that I had at my Grandma Grandmas. Nana has lots of land and a huge garden. Spending a day at Nana’s almost always meant biscuits made from scratch and fresh jelly from her cabinet full of goodies she made and canned. I spent a lot of time with my cousins at Nana’s house. We would disappear into the pastures for hours! Sometimes, we would be in the barn, jumping onto hay bales. Sometimes, we would walk down to the creek that ran under her driveway and splash around. Sometimes, we would see who could hold onto her electric fence the longest! Whatever we were doing out there wasn’t safe, but it was fun, raised in the country fun! Losing Nana and Grandma Grandma so close together felt like I lost my childhood. Those 2 women saw no fault in me. They loved me always with zero conditions. They were always excited to see me, and even when I was doing things I shouldn't be, they were kind and calm. Both of their husbands died before I was born, so I didn’t know my great-grandfathers. I heard lots of cool stories about them both, but all I ever knew either of them to be were single women who had the strongest faith in God and were capable of anything.
Both of their deaths rocked me. It was the first time I had experienced death, and I was devastated. It was confusing to see my mom so sad and know that all of the happy times spent with them were now just memories. Before I had time to process all of it, my parents were getting divorced. My life was crumbling around me, and it would get so much worse before it got better.
The divorce was horrible. My sister and I moved into an apartment with my mom after what felt like years of living in the master bedroom with my mom. My sister and I were back to sharing a room again, and we had visitation with my dad every other weekend. I went to my dad’s to visit and saw the house I had loved... empty. No furniture, no food, no kids; he had nothing left. When I think about all of this now, I feel manipulated. I feel like I was forced to make a decision that no child should ever have to make, and I moved back in with my dad so that he wouldn’t be alone. I knew how much it hurt my mom, and I hated that I disappointed her. I didn’t want to hurt her; I just wanted it to be “fair”.
Moving back in with Dad also meant that I got my room back; I was away from my annoying little sister more than I was with her, and I had freedom from my mom, who I believed was pretty strict. However, that freedom came with a price. My dad was never at home, and I spent a lot of time in that house that I loved, alone in the middle of nowhere. I had to grow up lightning fast and learn to care for myself when he wasn’t around. This was happening in the year 2000, and computers were not something we even knew about in small town NC! We didn’t have the internet to keep us occupied, and I was still making mixed tapes from the radio to listen to my favorite songs! Being alone was hard. I ate a lot of Chef Boy R Dee straight out of the can and watched a lot of TV. VH1 Pop-Up Video and TRL were some of my favorite shows, but I also watched Unsolved Mysteries and Rescue 911. I am pretty sure that watching those shows night after night while being home alone is a huge reason why I have insane anxiety issues. Thanks a lot, William Shatner!
I was 14, and suddenly, I had to be an adult. It wasn’t just about taking care of myself. I became the ear for my dad when he was at home. He would go on dates with new ladies and go out with his friends; then, he would come home and tell me all about his adventures. He told me a lot of things about my mom, my grandparents, and my family as well. Things that a kid shouldn’t know, and things that I spent decades believing were true, all of which painted my mom out to be a monster. While I hadn’t known much about my parents’ separation before, I was being caught up on the daily. I believed that my mom was to blame for everything, and that is exactly how he wanted it. The more he told me, the further I grew from my mom, and the closer I felt to my dad. I didn’t realize until a few years ago that a lot of the stuff he told me wasn’t true.
Some of the “adult information” that was shared with me…
He told me that my mom had him “committed”, and I wasn’t even sure what that meant. He told me that my mom had him arrested and put into a mental hospital when she left years ago and that she did it to keep him from seeing me and my sister.
When I asked my mom about this, she painted a very different picture. Her story, however, was harder for me to believe. My dad may not have been around much when I was little, but there was no way what she said was true; my daddy wasn’t capable of it. She picked me up from Girl Scout camp and wouldn't take me home because she was scared. My dad ransacked the house, flipping furniture and punching holes in the walls. She found him in their room, reading his bible, with his shotgun in his lap. Unsure of what would happen next, she called the police and picked me up from camp, fearing what would happen to me if he got to me first.
I refused to believe that was true. There had to be some logical explanation for his irrational behavior. Certainly, my mom is just being dramatic, and this can’t be the real story. I guess that means Dad’s version is the truth, and my mom is a liar.
He told me that my mom’s dad cheated on my Memaw at our house. We went out of town for the weekend, and Mom gave her dad the keys to our house so he could sleep with his “girlfriend”. My Memaw was wheelchair bound and bedridden from multiple strokes and severe diabetes. Her best friend was his new “girlfriend”, and according to my dad, they were sleeping together in earshot of my Memaw at the very end of her life. He told me that Memaw told him that she could hear them and that Mom gave them the keys to our house to have a weekend away together while we were out of town.
Several years later, my Papaw married my Memaw's best friend. I loved her dearly and knew her better than I ever knew my Memaw. She seemed to make my Papaw happy, but clearly, that cheating rumors had to be true, right?
He told me that the divorce was because my mom had multiple affairs, one of which was with a married deacon in our church. According to him, this affair had become so public that our family was asked to leave the church that I had grown up in. He told me that he followed her one day and caught her red-handed with one of her best friends’ husbands.
Man, I remember thinking, “How awful is my mom?”
As an adult, I have learned that isn’t the actual story, and most of the “details” have been manipulated to make her look as bad as humanly possible and for my dad to look like the ultimate victim.
These conversations are not conversations that I should have had as a 14-year-old girl.
At 14, I got my period, started cheerleading, and had my first real relationship. My dad should have been encouraging me to build and strengthen my relationship with my mom. This was a time in my life when I needed my mom more than ever, and he was taking every single opportunity to badmouth her and drive a wedge further and further between her and me.
The nightmare that was my parents’ marriage may have been over, but it was just the beginning of the nightmare that would be my youth. Mom was my dad’s second wife, and it wouldn’t be long before he had a third.
THE CHEERLEADER
It all begins with an idea.
I don’t remember when my dad started dating Terri, but we moved into her house at the beginning of my sophomore year in high school. She had two daughters, Monica and Mandy. Monica was 3 years older than me, and Mandy was a year younger than me.
At first, living with them was fun! I had sisters again, but they were pretty cool, and my dad was happy again. Terri wasn’t the same kind of mom that I had known my whole life, and her girls seemed to embrace the freedom that I had grown to know.
Moving in with Terri meant that we left our home in Summerfield, and the last piece of my “roots” faded away. It also meant a new school, a new high school, as a sophomore. I was so anxious about the move and being in a school where I knew no one. Thankfully, Mandy had grown up with these people and knew what felt like, everyone. She introduced me to a lot of people, and I started finding my place there.
Before school had started, Terri had been very encouraging of me beginning all-star cheerleading. I joined a local gym that had a COED team and cheered with them for a season. I had a few friends there, and I was at the gym as much as possible. There was another cheerleader there that went to my school and we carpooled a lot. My time at that gym made a huge impact on me, and I really didn’t want to leave. However, the gym was pretty far away, and practices were inconvenient for us. I had tried out for the cheerleading team in 8th and 9th grade at my old school but didn’t make the team either year. The first time, it made sense to me! I had zero experience and no idea what I was doing. The second time, I was angry, and I knew a big part of it wasn’t related to my skills; it was related to my non-existent popularity. Switching schools and spending a year training in the all-star gym gave me the confidence to try out again at my new school.
When I walked into the tryouts at the new school, I quickly met another cheerleader my age. Her sticker said that her name was “Cera”, and she was pretty funny! We were instant friends, and I didn’t know it then, but we would be lifetime friends. Her mom turned out to be the cheerleading coach, and she also played a pivotal role in my life. “Mama Mo” or “Coach Mo” as we called her, had a huge impact on my world, which all started with a phone call from her telling me that I had made the team. I answered the phone in tears, and I still remember the entire phone call!
“Hello?”
“Is this Jessica?”
“Yes, this is Jessica.”
“Hey Jessica, this is Coach Mo, and I wanted to call and congratulate you on making the Varsity team this year!”
I sobbed, and through a flood of tears, I thanked her and told her how excited I was.
I was finally good enough to cheer at school. I was finally accepted into a club that I never thought I would be a part of. In addition to making the team, I was one of their flyers. Had I ever flown before tryouts? Nope! But I spent hours and hours stretching and working on balance and body positions. I walked into tryouts at a new school and told them I was a flyer! They put me with a group of girls to stunt with, and I went up and stayed there! It was the best feeling ever. The adrenaline rush of flying is like nothing I had ever felt. I was absolutely going to fight for this. The first time they put me up, I pulled a scorpion. Girls on teams now can kick scorpions and even do needles, but at this school, no one had ever done a scorpion. I remember hearing the shock in people's voices and the hush that fell over the gym when I did it. We came down, and everyone made me feel like a rockstar! High fives and good jobs, and other people wanting to stunt with me. After that moment, I lived for being in the air. I stayed in school so that I could cheer and so I could fly. The next couple of years were a roller coaster for me, and cheerleading was the constant that I needed.
I cheered at school for 2 years and learned so much about the sport. We hired my coach from my old all-star gym to do our competition routine my junior year, and my senior year, I choreographed it myself! I mixed our music using a recorded mixed tape with music chopped up from other routines I had heard or seen, and I loved every second of creating it, teaching it, and performing it.
Our school was a part of a small basketball tournament that allowed eight area schools to play each other in a multi-day event until there was a champion. It was called the Little 4 Tournament. I honestly have no idea where the name came from or what happened to the tournament, as it isn’t played anymore. We played each year at the Greensboro Coliseum, and all eight cheerleading teams performed together during the final game’s halftime at both the Girls' & Boys' games. Coach Mo was in charge of organizing the halftime event with all of the cheer teams.
In my junior year, Coach Mo hired the same coach from my all-star gym, who I had cheered for and who worked with our school directly, choreographed, and taught the halftime routine! I knew her style and how she worked, and I learned from her very quickly. I picked the dance up quickly and ended up working with girls at multiple schools to teach them the dance as well. The next year, when Little 4 rolled around, and I had already choreographed our competition routine, Coach Mo asked me to choreograph it! So, I did! It was so awesome seeing a routine come together that I had put together! I was so proud of it. Eight teams danced & cheered together, and I had created it.
The year after I graduated, Coach Mo asked me to come back and do the routine for Little 4 again, and now that I was out of high school, I felt like a real coach. I was choreographing routines for multiple events and teams, and I was getting paid for it!
Coach Mo left my high school soon after that and began coaching at another area school. She hired me 2 more years to do their competition routine, and I traveled to Myrtle Beach with them to teach them their routine during summer camp.
After 2 years of coaching alongside her at that school, she moved on to Greensboro College! I was honored when she asked me to come with her and do tryouts. She wanted me to teach a dance and score them to decide who would make the team.
I now had 6 routines under my belt and was even hired by another cheerleading coach to create music and a routine for another area school. I considered opening a business at this point, but I was young and dumb, with zero business skills! So, I let this be a hobby that I enjoyed and got paid for! It was officially my side hustle! It allowed me to keep doing something I loved long past high school.
I tried out for the cheerleading team at UNCG and made it my freshman year of college, but college and I didn’t get along, and I quit the team and school pretty quickly. I also tried out for a cheerleading team for an indoor football team in Greensboro called the Greensboro Revolution. I practiced clear up to the week of the first game, but this was not a cheer team! It was a dance team. I really didn’t have dance skills like this, and I was forcing myself to do something I didn’t like. So, I ended up leaving this team, too.
Choreographing with Coach Mo allowed me to do what I loved without being an athlete. I will forever be grateful for her trusting me enough to give me those opportunities. I worked with her right up until my daughter was born! I was teaching stunts and showing the girls how to fly, back, & base while I was pregnant with her! I remember a sweet baby Abbie playing in her travel pillow with toys while I scored try outs at Greensboro College!
That was the last time that we worked together, as soon after I moved to Virginia for my husband’s job. I was so sad to leave that part of me behind, but I was a mom now. I couldn’t devote the time I needed to choreograph and be a mom while living in another state. I loved every single project we had during those 9 years, both as an athlete and a coach.
Years later, when I started coaching my daughter’s cheerleading team, Coach Mo kept in touch with me via Facebook and would always send sweet and encouraging messages! I coached her team for 2 years, choreographing two more competition routines, halftime shows, and various performances. We even took that team to Florida to compete in the first Rec Cheer National Competition, The Quest. We had to earn a bid to that event, so we attended multiple other events where bids were offered and won! We were so excited to go to Florida, and we pulled into the venue to check in for the competition on March 12, 2020. The competition was held at Disney’s Wide World of Sports, and we were eager to both compete and spend time in the parks!
We all know what happened in March of 2020, and it spiraled while we were in Florida. When we arrived, we were told the competition would now be a 1 day event instead of 2, the only fans allowed to watch each team were the parents and coaches that we traveled with, and awards would be virtual. While we were a little disappointed not to get the full experience of the event, we made the most of it! The girls performed their hearts out for us, and they won! After getting medals and taking pictures as a team, we were fitted for our championship rings! I couldn’t believe we accomplished all of this with a small town rec team, but it was awesome!
When the competition was over, we spent the rest of the weekend in Disney World parks, riding everything we wanted with no lines! Disney closed for Covid on March 15th after their last fireworks show. We were there for it. They locked the gates behind us on the way out and didn’t reopen for two months. I was so grateful for that trip. Going home to a lockdown was depressing and scary, but we literally just had the time of our lives! Obviously, the COVID lockdown prevented team sports from moving forward, and when they returned to practices, it was 5th Grade, and we were not able to do competitions. No venues would host competitions, and we sadly watched the season, and any opportunities for another chance at it slip away from us.
When my daughter moved onto middle school, I thought my coaching career had come to an end. However, a local middle school reached out and offered me a coaching position with their team. This was my first official paid coaching position, and I received the sweetest card in the mail from Coach Mo, telling me just how proud she was of me! I absolutely loved my team. The athletes were amazing, and we had a blast at practices and games. Unfortunately, the season was broken due to the second wave of COVID and the Delta variant.
I caught COVID in October of 2021, and I was hospitalized for 5 days, requiring constant oxygen and an antiviral treatment. Recovery for me was slow and painful. I lost 20 lbs while I was sick and had long COVID symptoms for a year after. We did compete our routine at States that year, but I had no guidance on what the judges in this event would be looking for. I created a routine in my typical style, and the girls nailed it. We were the only team in our division to hit zero. If you cheer, that means something to you. If you don’t, it means that we had no deductions in our performance. Despite an amazing performance, they came in last place. I was both confused and angry. Confused as a coach and angry for the girls. I did contact the competition to ask what happened, and they told me that our cheer was not the right style, so we were essentially disqualified.
As upset as I was, I was still struggling with my recovery; we purchased a new home, and I had just gotten married. With so much going on personally, I decided to part ways with the school and not return. I think that decision was a mutual one, as I had issue after issue with scheduling and COVID.
My cheer coach career had finally come to an end, but it also left me with 20 years of memories as an athlete, coach, and cheer mom! As cliche as it may sound, cheerleading changed my life. I still love the sport to this day. I support my daughter as an all-star cheerleader now and try to avoid “coaching” her as much as possible!
THE ASSAULT
It all begins with an idea.
By this point, we had moved into a much bigger house with her and Mandy. Monica had gone to college and visited now and then. I loved that house! I had a huge bedroom that I shared with my sister when she visited. Mandy and Monica had their own rooms, but I had chosen to share with my sister so I could have the bigger room. She didn’t visit often, and when she did, it was only for a weekend.
It was 2001, and we had the internet and a computer in our home office! It was dial-up internet and painful to use, but I loved the AOL chat rooms! I didn’t get into much trouble at school my junior year, but I did get myself into some trouble in those chat rooms! I met a boy in a chat room, and his name was Bryce. We talked for weeks online before we talked on the phone, but when we started talking on the phone, it was long distance. He lived in Georgia, and those once-in-a-while phone calls turned into all-night calls that landed my dad a $700 long-distance phone bill. OOPS! I don’t know if you remember 10-10-220, but it was marketed to be very inexpensive long-distance phone calling. However, if someone didn’t answer the phone, it still costs $1!
Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.
I was very grounded, and the phone calls and chatrooms were over. I had to stop being so introverted and step out of my comfort zone and meet boys in real life! Once, I was allowed out again, of course!
Bill was one of the first guys that I really liked at our school. When I met Bill, he was dating Maria, but it was pretty obvious that he liked me back. We hung out a lot, and I always had butterflies, but we never actually dated. We were “talking” when it happened, so I told him before I told anyone else. Sadly, he didn’t believe me. No one did, and I think that may have hurt more than the actual assault. The worst part, though, was that he no longer wanted anything to do with me. He stopped messaging and calling me. He stopped talking to me at school. He just wrote me out of his life.
My dad didn’t believe me either. He thought I had made the whole thing up. Why would I do that? Why did no one believe me?
Things were so bad at my house that I ran away from home. For two weeks, I chose not to respond to either of my parents’ attempts to find me. This was long before Life 360, and they had no clue where I was. As a mom now, I am horrified that I did this to them.
When I ran away, I was working as a hostess at a small family-owned restaurant. Honestly, I was terrible at my job! I hated standing at the front door just waiting for people to come eat, and we were never super busy. I found myself in the kitchen, talking to the other staff, mainly cooks and servers.
One of the cooks was Brian. Brian was kind of funny, but he was older than me, and I was never really interested in him. It was weird to me, but Bill hated Brian. I think something had happened with Brian and Maria, but I never really learned the entire story.
Brian and I were friendly when we were at work, but we didn’t hang out when we were off work. That was until I ran away from home. I ran away because he offered me a couch to sleep on, and it was a place where my parents would never find me. They didn’t know Brian or where he lived. I could hide out until I decided what to do next.
I had been there for a few days, drinking every night in this filthy apartment. His roommate was a drug dealer, and they had all kinds of stuff lying around the apartment. Bags of drugs to sell, needles, and pill bottles with names on them that didn’t live there.
I shouldn’t have been there. I shouldn’t have trusted that I was safe. If I could take it all back, I would do so in a heartbeat. I was 16 and stupid.
When I woke up the morning after the assault, I wasn’t even sure where I was. Everything was foggy, and I had no clothes on. I was alone and the only one in the apartment. I started finding my things and getting dressed. I was confused and couldn’t remember much about the night before. I took my things and left the apartment, never looking back.
I drove to a Taco Bell parking lot that was close by and cried. I cried for hours. Little by little, I put together what happened. I had been drugged and I had been raped. The last person that I remember speaking to was Brian. I remember him on top of me. I remember telling him to stop. I remember not being able to fight him off.
I was humiliated and felt like complete trash. The two people I told didn’t believe me, and I decided that it wasn’t worth talking about anymore. I quit that job and moved back home. I was grounded from running away, but I was happy to be back in my bed. Being grounded meant that I had a lot of time with my thoughts, and memories of that night just kept coming back. Eventually, I put the pieces of the puzzle together, and I hated myself.
Sex wasn’t something I ever had healthy feelings about anyway, but this ripped the idea of sex being about love in half. I no longer cared about saving myself or respecting my body because that control had been taken away from me. This led to years of me being irresponsible and unsafe. Since I lost control of my own sex life, I decided to use sex to control everyone around me.
I made so many mistakes over the next few years, and the first person who treated me like I wasn’t trash was my ex-husband. We met when I was 20 years old and dated for a year before he proposed to me. A year later, we were married and starting a family. I wasn’t sure how I escaped that former life without disease or getting pregnant, but I was grateful that I had.
Sadly, even though he didn’t treat me like trash, we never had a good marriage. Reality was, I was never in love with him. I loved him because I cared about him, but the love was surface, at best. The marriage lasted 10 years, and gave me two beautiful children who have brought me so much love and so many amazing memories.
The assault is a distant memory at this point, but I do wish that I had spoken up and pressed charges. Facebook suggested that I be friends with Brian a few years ago, and I almost threw my phone out of the window. I was stunned. There he was, smiling in his profile picture like nothing ever happened because it didn’t ruin him. It ruined me though, and I pray that no one else was a victim of Brian’s.
When I met my now husband in 2019, I couldn’t have dreamed how different our relationship would be. It is real love. Love like I have never known or even understood. He is the first person who made me forget about the assault. He doesn’t like for me to talk about it because he hates the man that hurt me, but he doesn’t look at me like I was at fault. He believed me when I told him the story, unlike the previous people I had told. He is my best friend and the love of my life. Our marriage is a gift from God, and I believe it was God telling me that I needed to forgive myself for my past because he had already forgiven me himself.