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As she sat there in the front of her car shaken and in tears, Cassie wondered how it was that after all these years the memories of her childhood could invade her mind and heart so readily today. 37 years had past. Yet they could be triggered so easily.
Standing in the photography studio, trying to do something positive for herself she froze as he put his hands on her. The memories flooded back paralyzing her just as it had 37 years ago when her stepfather had put his hands on her. Here again she was that little girl. Vulnerable and afraid even to speak. How is it that the same scene could be replayed over and over. Were all men just pigs or was it that she had somehow put herself in positions so that she could replay and again punish herself for her “sins.”
As she came to her senses, in tears and fled from the studio leaving the photographer confused and more than a little frightened by her reactions to him, Cassie drove home shaken and angry not only at the professional who took advantage but at at herself for yet again finding herself in the position of fighting off a predator.
All those years ago, standing alone in the basement with hands probing her newly developing breasts she had froze. She was 10. Having just started menstruation and been given the facts of life how hard it was for her to deal with the “facts” of her own life. Here it was. Presented to her by her mother the stark reality that what her stepfather had been doing to her was not right. Why would he do this to me? What did I do to promote this?
From this point forward Cassie avoided his very presence like the plague. Carried this knowledge and pain in fear of speaking it to anyone. They would most certainly think that she was evil. That it was her fault that he had done these things to her. Her life changed in an instant of knowledge and clarity. She could not hurt her mother. Her grandfather, the one man in life who had loved her and done so unconditionally was gravely ill. She would have to protect herself as best she could. Locking doors, evading alone time with him and hiding her newly developing body so as not to be a temptation to him. The abuse stopped when menstruation started but the damage had been done. Not only to her psyche but to her sense of self worth.
For the past 40 years she had been fighting to rebuild that sense of who she was, who she could be, To become the woman she wanted to be without being impeded by this “man”. He died in 1985 but his ghost lived on in her mind and heart. Invading every aspect of life from work to relationships. At 47 she was alone, without someone in her life, by her own choosing. Better to be alone than to find “him” yet again in some man who would abuse her heart and soul. Maybe not sexually, but in some way they all did.
Perhaps someday she would be able to bury “him” for good. But it was a stark realization this day that he was alive and well in her mind.
