While on my mindful walk I ran into a neighbor. For a moment I had to sort out who he was and what his story was. I remembered he had seizures. I interrupted a conversation he was having with someone in his driveway to ask him if he could shed some light on his memory after his seizures. I ended up talking to him for much longer than I had anticipated. Talking to him reminded me of something I had forgotten. He and his wife divorced years ago. Many of the neighbors were asked to testify in the divorce. I was one of the neighbors. It was my first deposition. Then my first testimony in front of a judge. It was so stressful that I had a seizure. It was worth it to do the right thing by this child though. Probably should have been put on meds back then!!!!! Perhaps I would have not then had 5 massive seizures years later. Anyway, the attorney that deposed me I really liked. I liked her a lot. She sent me tons of emails asking for clarification on certain things. After I testified, I thought long and hard before sending her an email. I decided I wanted to civilly sue the man who sexually assaulted me. I wanted justice. It was the only real written or spoken word of the events that happened in the garage years prior. The attorney never replied. I called the office and was told she got the email. I waited. She never replied. I called again. No response. She just wanted me for that divorce. She was nice to me to get what she wanted. I bore my soul with the explicit details of what had happened to me. She did nothing. Said nothing.
Talking to my neighbor brought floods of memories. Memories of me speaking. Memories of me trying to bring justice. Me reaching out for help. Me using my voice.
What is one to do when their voice goes unheard. Keep yelling? Keep begging? Keep fighting?
These recent memories have reminded me that I have never given up.
Those who tried to silence me only succeeded for a short period of time.
I always came back fighting.
I always came back with a voice
Even on this blog. If only on this blog. I have a voice. For anyone who chooses to listen.
I will not be silenced. I will not be afraid. I will not keep the secrets of the abusers or hide their names or be intimidated by them. If an attorney won’t listen, I will tell you that David Bloomquist sexually assaulted me right here on my blog. Maybe some girl will see it and know him and it will protect her.
When I was just a young girl I painted on our ski jump that Billy Banks is a child molester protect your children. Because I did not just accept being silenced. Maybe one mother or father will read this and protect their child from the secrets of that town and Billy Banks.
I must tell you that with my health and the PTSD it does feel like I am in a broken state that will not ever be repaired. But I must also tell you that my spirit is still alive and well and it leads directly to my lips that speak the truth.
I don’t know if I can save another child from what happened to me.
Maybe a parent will read my story and protect their child better than my parents did me.
Maybe a parent will read what I did NOT get and choose to love their child as fiercely as I love mine.
That is my hope and prayer. That every evil that was done to me can be equally replaced by someone choosing to do the RIGHT THING.