Sunday, May 20, 2012


I've been doing some reflecting about past posts. The very first post on this blog makes me cringe. I can't believe that all my crazy is out there for the world to see and read and judge. It almost makes me panic and I want to delete it and erase it, but at the same time, having it out there makes me feel strong. Like I'm standing up to the depression and facing it head on instead of backing down, and hiding it, ashamed.

A few posts ago I mentioned the fact that I have been molested twice in my life. One I can remember and one I don't. Some people in my circle (family and friends) only knew about one of these instances if any at all. Announcing it on here was a huge step for me. Putting something I have kept secret for half of my life on the internet for the world to read was difficult to say the least. I posted it so that people might understand me more or better, so that they would know where it is I come from and how some events in your life can truly effect your mental health, whether you are conscious of them or not.

I have realized there may be people who read that and are offended. Crazy as it may sound, and maybe this is all in my head, but there are those who are extremely close to me that I have never said about about the "events" to. I feel as if they may be offended that I didn't confide in them or go to them when these things happened.

I want to start by saying that they should not be offended. These events involved no one else expect me and one who hurt me. I had many reasons for not exposing what took place, and because I was still a child at the time some of those reasons may seem petty or even silly, but they were my reasons and should still be respected. I did not share these events with some because I was hurt. They were there when all this took place and while I screamed out in my heart to God that they would be prompted to come save me, no one came. Others I feared would take what happened and twist it to use to their own advantage, holding it against those involved and only causing more drama in a severely dramatic situation. Some I just felt as if it was none of their business. Others I thought would judge me because of it, because I was too scared to fight back.

Regardless of my reason for not telling some of my closest family and friends of these experiences, I made the decision long ago. If you are hurt that I did not tell you originally, I do apologize. Maybe I should have been more open about what happened. But I was hurt, scarred, and scared. It has been a shadow with me through out much of my life and I'm tired of it following me around so I'm leaving it here. I have forgiven those involved, those who personally and physically hurt me and those who didn't come to my rescue. I'm moving on as best as I possibly can and maybe one day I will be able to truly forget about it.

Part of me kind of wonders what my life would have been like if I had been open about what happened.  Would the abuser have been charged with a crime? Tons of heart ache and issues I have had and still have could have been avoided, I'm sure. But I made the choice then not to come out about it and I have dealt with the consequences. I have prayed about it and even spoken with bishops about it and how to handle the telling of certain individuals about it all. I'm not sure that it even matters now though. It's so far in the past, it wouldn't change the future if I did.

Anyways - Thinking on that too much brings me down, and that's the opposite of what I need today, so there. Happy thoughts now.

It's the last week of school before summer... the last summer before both daughters are in school. Time to plan and play (and clean... blah)

Maybe some of this will help someone to deal with their own depression or "events" that occurred. Maybe it helps others to be open and honest. Maybe it'll just help my friends and family understand me a bit better. If you're reading this though, let me know. I'd love to know you're there and that I'm not just typing into nothing.

That's the thing about depression: A human being can survive almost anything, as long as she sees the end in sight. But depression is so insidious, and it compounds daily, that it's impossible to ever see the end. The fog is like a cage without a key.

Elizabeth Wurtzel
From Book Prozac Nation

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