Vicki's story, continued:
"When 26 years later I reported my abuse to the police, it was explained that because I was a minor my mother would have had to consent to the police and children's aid to interview me.  She denied access to everyone...except a doctor who completed a full exam on my tiny 7 yr old body.  
He concluded that I was abused.

My mother used this as a tool against a man she desperately wanted to keep and my father was too afraid of being I was a pawn in their sick relationship for the remainder of my childhood.

I maintained a relationship with my family and kept the abuse to myself as " people just wouldn't understand" as my mother told me.  I discovered at age 35 that as a mother of 3 teenagers, after being married for 15 years, that I had never allowed myself to attach, trust, or fully understand what it was like to be loved by another.  I would always maintain my independence of never needing anyone.  

Since I have broke my silence, I have discovered the words " I need you". These 3 foreign words have changed my life.  I have learned that not everyone will support you, but that does not mean that you should give up.  I reported the abuse at 7 and no one listened. I went to the police station on December 11 2010, and was turned away.

I went to another police station that same night only to be told they were too busy...and returned that next night to the same police station, only to have the sex crime unit immediately apologize for it taking so long.  FINALLY I realized that the sexual abuse I encountered for almost 2 years as a child was not just an inconsequential act...that I was a little girl that did nothing wrong, that it was not my job to keep the family together, that I did have a voice that mattered.

In the past year I have had some profound healing experiences.  I have had the memories of my father abusing me so burnt into a place in my mind that I could physically feel the pain when I told the story for the first time in that police station.  I had never felt such a pain.  This pain was called emotions.  

I have learned that not only did I have no emotions until that point, but as an adult the emotions were so intense and foreign that I finally understood how people would inflict pain upon themselves.  

I was healed from by doing one thing.  Telling my story.  For me it was a moment that changed my life.  I realized that those memories that I had of such trauma had never been addressed.

My easiest analogy, that I explained to my therapist, that made sense to me was this....if I have an argument with my spouse, the next day I remember why we argued and why I still feel angry.  However, in a week, a month, a year....the memory is just a fleeting thought with little recognition that holds no power over me.  

Holding in the abuse for my entire growing life never allowed me to let it go.   It stayed perfectly formed in what I call my pandoras box.  Today that box is wide open and carries some very intense emotions, but the memories are becoming blurrier and blurrier everyday. Even more important, I have learned to sit with my emotions.  I still have only ever cried a hand full of times in my life but they have all been within the last year and a half, which means I am allowing myself to cry.  (I may do this as I sit alone but at least I am doing it right?). 

Last week was the first time I have seen my dad since reporting the abuse a year and a half ago, and I felt so much guilt, pain, anger, and sadness.  I spent my weekend sitting with all these mixed emotions and today my thoughts on my thoughts and feelings are this: I do not wish my father harm or ill will, I do forgive him, and part of me believes that he really sincerely does regret ever hurting me. And as for my mother,...well maybe that will be the next healing adventure I conquer.

 I no longer feel like a victim, or a person that is just disposed of with such little regard...I see myself as a ME. A strong, loving mom and wife who has an entire lifetime to learn about real love, real bonds, and what trust, dependence and yes, even true forgiveness feels like.

 I am Vicki and I am no longer silent.