Me, Too

This might be hard to read.  It will not be terribly easy to write. 

I've been following the case of Dr. Larry Nassar, the former Sports Medicine doctor at Michigan State University.  He's the doctor who was accused of sexually abusing hundreds of female athletes at the university, who has already been sentenced to 60 years in prison for Federal Child Pornography charges, who has pled guilty to the sexual abuse of 7 girls/women.  There are accusations of protection up the chain, from Nassar's colleagues, to the Athletic Director, to the President of the university.  The survivors testified in their impact statements that he was reported, yet nothing was done.  According to one girl, "we must have been confused."  That was one of the responses to the original reports years ago.  This doctor was sneaky, conniving, manipulative, devious...you name it.  Even the judge said she couldn't say any more words to describe him. 

He abused these girls with their parents in the exam room.  Now, just think about what kind of person it takes to be that bold.  To take that kind of risk.  To have to be so perfect in his evil that he remained undetected, for all of those instances, even with other adults in the room.  It's so incredibly sickening. 

Today, after over 160 victim impact statements had been read over the past week, after hours upon hours upon hours of confrontation, liberation, tears, healing, anger, and old wounds reopened, the judge sentenced Dr. Larry Nassar to up to 175 years in prison.  This is in addition to the 60 years he is already serving.  He will never see the light of day, ever again, in his pathetic feeble existence. 

I believe this case is truly a precedent.  We are finally on our way to end this fight that women perpetually fight on a daily basis.  We are not objects that belong to men.  We are not avenues of control for you to travel down.  We are not your toys, we are not your dolls, we are not anything of yours.  We belong to ourselves. 

I fought my own fight about 10 years ago (give or take,) during my first marriage (not to Phil.)  I have never, ever published my story in any kind of public setting.  I've held on to it for all this time, only telling the necessary people, so that I could feel some reprieve from the pressure on my heart. 

I was violated.  My husband at the time's grandfather put his hands on me.  See, I never knew any of my biological grandparents.  This was the closest to a grandfather figure that I ever had, and he screwed it up. 

I will never forget what I was wearing:  a t-shirt I got from a Billy Joel concert, a jacket, and jeans.  It was a nice spring day, and it was just him and me in the living room, just having a normal conversation.  I think at one point, he had asked for a hug, because I got up, and went to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  He was sitting in the recliner, so as I leaned over to hug him, I felt a pinch on my nipple.  In all honesty, I didn't think much of it; I have always been chesty, so this could have been an instance of bad aim, or whatever.  After I kissed him on the cheek, he held his embrace on me, and said, "Come on, now, give me a REAL kiss" and tried to stick his tongue down my throat.  I IMMEDIATELY rose up, took a step backward, and said, "What?!"  Then just like that, he stood up, walked toward me, put one hand up my shirt while the other one tried to go down my pants.  I was absolutely horrified and pushed him off of me and again, said, "What are you DOING?!"  I can't remember his exact response, but it was some stupid excuse about just wanting a hug or something.  Right after that, he handed me a crisply-folded $100 bill and said, "I just want you to know that I'm so proud of you."  I now realized that the pinch on my breast was not bad aim.  That was the dirtiest, filthiest money I have ever touched in my whole entire life.  I walked away, with the money in my pocket, because I couldn't do anything else with it.  I immediately buttoned my jacket.  I looked ridiculous, but I just needed to be covered up.  I had to hide myself as much as I could. 

A short time later, he was leaving, and asked me if I was okay.  Still in shock and disbelief, I just gave quick nod, because other people were in the house by that time, so I couldn't let on that anything had happened. 

The next day, I woke up so, so sad, and lost, with a veil of uncertainty covering my eyes.  The only thing I could think to do was to grab my Bible, and take it with me to work that day.  I still don't know why I was compelled to do that, but I did.  It made me feel better, but I knew that wouldn't solve the problem.  I decided to confide in my Mother-in-Law at the time and ask her advice.  I told her the story, and even though I was visibly shaken and upset, her response was so unbelievable, that I still can't fathom it.  She said, "Keep the money and enjoy it."  KEEP. THE. MONEY. AND. ENJOY. IT. 

I decided that Bryan needed to know, as well.  So, when I got home, I sat him down, and told him everything that happened.  He didn't believe me.  My own freaking husband didn't believe me when I told him that his grandfather had put his hands on me.  It wasn't until I pulled out the $100 bill and threw it at him that he opened his eyes.  But, it didn't stop there.  He instantly reacted with, "Well, just don't tell anyone, because they won't believe you, anyway.  My granny definitely won't believe you, and you can't ruin his reputation in church by letting this get out."

Now, is it becoming clear why assaulted women don't speak up?  Because the victims become the criminals.  Because the victims are ostracized and scrutinized and made to feel at fault.  Because they are ashamed and embarrassed because of how people will perceive and treat them.  Because "oh, they (the abuser) would never do that."  Because nobody believes us, because we "must be confused" or "we misunderstood" or "it was an accident" or "we didn't say 'no'" or whatever.  SILENCE IS NOT A "YES." 

You know, there is so much to say, but nothing else to say about this.  After hearing other stories of abuse against my friends, and after hearing some segments of Dr. Nassar's victims' impact statements, and hearing about what they endured, I originally thought that the gravity of my incident was not nearly as severe as the others.  In my mind, I could have suffered worse.  But then I realized that abuse is abuse.  Inaction is enabling.  One of the women who delivered an impact statement said, "What good does it do to teach our children to tell an adult when that adult does nothing?" 

I hope and pray that the young girls in my life never, ever have to endure anything like this at all.  I also hope and pray that any girls or women who have endured something like this find the courage and strength to speak up and take the control of their lives back.  Ladies, speak up.  Take action.  You are not alone.