Before I fact it up for today… can I just say how much I love “House”? Because oh my god I do. Hah. And for today’s fact – a warning. I’m sticking with the serious theme of facts I’ve been on lately.
Fact 12: I’m a survivor of sexual violence.
When I was 4 years old, an elderly lady owned the house next door. She often had Ricky, who lived down the street, come over to take care of her gardening — mow the lawn, keep the bushes trimmed, etc. One nice summer day, she was out at the store, I was playing in the front yard by myself when Ricky walked by. He invited me to help him with the plants in the backyard, and I decided it sounded like fun. I don’t know exactly how old Ricky was, but he was at least 10 years older than me. My neighbor had her backyard porch surrounded by a 8 or 10 foot wooden fence & bushes that were equally as tall, so if you were on the porch, no one could see you from any other yard. While we were back there, watering the bush beside her back door, he sexually abused me. I will leave out the graphic details, but it was mainly touching me in my private areas, and encouraging me to do the same to him — no intercourse. I kind of thought it was a game, but at the same time I knew there was something bad/wrong about it. I can only recall it happening that one time, but, he made me promise not to tell, and I didn’t, pushing the memory to the back of my mind.
When I was 13, my best friend (the one mentioned in fact 11) was dating a guy, Dan who lived two blocks over from us. The side of my house has a mini stone wall that juts out, so you can’t see the side of the house from the front. We had always played behind the wall for as long as I can remember, and I was back there one day when Dan cornered me. He started coming on to me, telling me how badly he wanted me, and attempted to rape me. I somehow managed to get away from him (my knee making contact with his groin helped my escape) and he stayed away from our block for a few weeks … he even broke up with Becky so he didn’t have to come around anymore. When he finally did come by again, he began to taunt me some, but he picked the wrong day to do that. He didn’t notice that I had been working on some wood — that I had a small handsaw in my hand. My previously mentioned time-bomb temper flared, and I took off after him, slashing at him with the saw. He managed to get away with only a few scrapes, and I got grounded for a month … but I still wouldn’t tell *why* I had attacked him — I thought if people knew what he had tried with me, that they would think I was “bad.” I did finally get some counseling a few years later, though.