Monday, April 27, 2009

I never told ANYONE until now

My brother Dennis, otherwise known to all as Tomas, has been urging me to tell my story. He says that everyone has a story and is a book within themselves with a great story to tell. So as part of the series I am going to try to tell you my story, bit by bit, and I assure you that I won't give any details or names that might hurt anyone.

Last Saturday while Sharon & Scott were sitting with us in the back yard, Sharon suddenly asked me a question straight out of the blue. She said, "Mom....did you ever have a boyfriend before dad and go out on dates?"
I said, No not really, but there was this one guy who wrote me letters for a solid year that I never got...does that count, and I laughed.

My step-sister had found the letters hidden in my step-mom's drawer and told me that they were there and I went and read some of them and put them back. A year or two later he (the letter writer) showed up at the house and I hid and told who ever answered the door to tell him that I had moved. I was NEVER romantically involved with this guy, but each successive letter that I read got more romantic, so I can see now why my step-mom hid them from me. She actually should have just thrown them out, but that's neither here nor there now.

This is the part of the story I left out when answering Sharon....The real story about this letter writing guy was that he and his cousin had rescued me from an unsuccessful rape attempt of which I was severely scratched & bruised up and my clothes were all tattered and caked with dirt. Some man had grabbed me off the street and shoved me into his car as I was walking to my little girlfriends house in Pasadena. I was staying with my grandmother there for two weeks and had just gone down the street to play with my girlfriend. The man took me to a side of a mountain over-looking some beautiful homes and shoved me down a very steep embankment and tried to rape me. I bit him and fought back and yelled at the top of my lungs to the houses across the canyon for help but nobody seemed to hear me. I wouldn't cooperate and be still and out of sheer frustration he finally just gave up told me to put my clothes back on, and took me back to the same street and dumped me back off and that's where the guy who wrote me letters and his cousin found me sobbing. They asked for my home address and I gave it them and begged them not to take me home to my dad's. They got me some clean clothes and cleaned me up as much as they could at a gas station and took me to my grandmothers house. Nobody but them knew what happened. I told my grandmother that when I was playing with my girl friend that I fell down and that's how I got hurt. I was very young...I think I was 11 years old and I'm only saying that because I don't remember having any breasts yet.

Later I found out that the cousin of the guy who kept writing me worked at the same place that my step-mom worked and it became a problem for my step-mom...not me because I didn't care about these guys the way that my step-mom thought, but I couldn't defend myself without telling the truth about how I knew them.
I really don't know why sometimes we feel like we can't tell the truth to our parents...the people who are there to protect us and keep us out of harms way. But I felt guilty for not fighting more at the beginning when the man was shoving me into his car. I was totally taken by surprise and I had been told repeatedly to be careful and I wasn't....I was just humming to myself and skipping along down the street not paying any attention to anything or anyone as I had been told to do.

I did tell Sharon that once a little boy who liked me pulled off the glowing end of a firefly and stuck it on my finger as a diamond ring and I never forgot that moment. So now when I see the fireflies come out of hiding and sparkle around in the moonlight I always think of that little boy and that moment and how sweet it was. So even when bad things happen to you, good things happen too that out-weigh the bad. And I will always be thankful for the good things in my life and the love that it has brought me.

5 comments:

somershade said...

That unfortunately is so common among young girls and they hardly ever tell because they feel like for some reason that they did something wrong.Like not pay attention.But What 11 year old does live in that state of paranoia and fear.They are just humming along playing.
1 in 3 girls that happens to.I'm just thankful he gave up.Cuz your a fighter:)love you momma. Powerful post! I get my bravery from you!

Alipurr said...

I agree with Sharon. powerful post. Thank God for His protection of you. I am glad you are writing your story down for us to know

tomlaureld@yahoo.com said...

I had always known that that part of Pasadena was full of young Mexican hoodlums (Pachuco). I knew that my grandparents neighbor was one but I was never bothered even though I knew that that if I would have stayed longer I would have been the same as them.
I am sorry that you were mistreated.

somershade said...

I forgot to add that I'm sorry that happen to you.love you

Kerri said...

What a dreadful experience for you to go through at such a young age. I'm so glad you managed to come away from it without more serious harm. You have great strength, Sandy. Strength of character as well as physical strength.

I love the little 'smile' poem :)
You always make me smile with your positive attitude :)