Warning: This post contains sexual and abusive subject matter.

As I have had opportunity in my later years to grow beyond the scope of my upbringing I am continualy blessed by a sense of peace that is precious beyond comprehension. As a tortured child the idea of rest from fear was a faraway dream as intangible as cotton candy clouds and Neverland. I lived always in a state of panic, occasionaly sleeping, and then with one eye open. It is not often now that I relive the battle scenes of my youth. Like demons that tire of haunting an empty house they seem to have fled the bloody ground upon which this battle, MY battle, was fought. There are moments though, subtle, inobtrusive moments when the tiniest thing can trigger an unexpected chain reaction and another skirmish briefly ensues.

I was having such a great time. I was hiking with a friend at one of my favorite places on earth. The terain is diverse and there is so much texture in the vegetaition and rock formation that there is always something pleasing for the eye to land on. I just happened to take a wrong turn that day and we ended up traversing the desert about twenty minutes longer than I had originaly anticipated. This instance in itself is baffeling and should have given my intuition a pause for concern, but I admit Steve can hold up his end of the conversation and I was completely distracted by something we were arguing about. As we approached a trail that innocently leads to a tunnel, a trail that I always avoid, the conversation went like this,
"Oh! I know where we are now. That trail goes down to the tunnel." Imediately I was sorry the words had escaped my mouth. The response was anticipated, and it came just on cue.
"A tunnel! Cool." The spark of curiosity acompanied the words.
I replied with a little nervous laugh and a growing sense of fear in the pit of my stomach. Nonchalantly I replied, "Yeah, it's okay. We aren't going that way though, we're going around."
"Oh. Why?" Dissappointment.
"I'm claustrophobic." Nervous laugh again. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask, so I wouldn't have to tell the truth."

I hate, hate, HATE the idea of apearing vunerable or weak or dependant in any form. I loathe the weakness that lives in my soul. Those are the things about me that I hide from people. My fear of abandonment, my claustrophobia, fear of being physically touched by another person. Fear in any form is always attacked from within myself. I swing wildly at it trying most often to bluggeon it to death, and for the most part I am successful.
I was contemplating these very things yesterday, as I was hiking in almost the same spot; the first time I went repelling, the first time I held a snake, the first time I spent the night in the middle of the wilderness camping alone, the first time I went into a cave. Like many people who have fear, I attack it. With all my strength. I MAKE myself participate in what is frightening me so that I will win. I will not be controlled by fear if it takes every ounce of spirit within me, and I know I will die, trying to not be afraid.
You see I was manipulated with fear from a very young age. I want to share this particular moment with you, so you will understand.

I am twelve. I have been sexually, physically and emotionally abused everyday for three years now. I have learned two things pertaining to survival at this point. One, make yourself invisible. Don't ever speak, show emotion or get in anyone's line of sight. Two, do what you're told. Whatever it is, do it.
My perpatrator is my step-father. He later also became my pimp, selling me to the highest bidder, but that's another story. He is drunk and on his way to a very nasty cocaine high. My mother is gone for the weekend to a family funeral out of town. It is Friday morning, I'm getting ready for school. As I stand in my bathroom brushing my teeth he appears in all his glory, totaly naked, with an erection. He grins. I know well enough what this grin means, but I continue getting ready hoping against reality that what I know is comming just might this time pass me by. No such luck. He forces me to give him oral sex. His hands forcing my head and pulling at my hair. I close my eyes and try not to cry, again. I spend a lot of these years crying. I gag as he ejaculates in my mouth, but I choke it back anyway, that was lesson three by the way, I won't go into it here. He then procedes to cut my blouse off with a pair of scissors. This is not called for, but rather for "effect", he was a showman. He grabs and yanks and slaps. I am out of breath and absolutely NOT fighting, but he hits me anyway. I am forced into the doggie position with my head inches above an unflushed toilet, and he is violent, moving from vagina to anus and back again for what seems to be an eternity. At some point I check out. I can see it happening from some point of view, but I cease to allow myself to feel. At this point I have not yet accepted the shame and humiliation this has caused over the years. That will come much later, in the year 1990 when I am twenty-three, and yes, that too is another story. I have no concept of what time it is, but at this point I'm thinking I'm not going to school today. I am right. He forces me to my feet by pulling my hair and then just as I manage to stand he pushes me down again. I lay still trying not to think about anything. He pulls me by the arm down the hall, into the spare room and finally, into the closet. I am naked, and cold, and unfortunatley, afraid of the dark. Over come, I vomitt on the floor. I am tired and fall asleep. I have no recolection of time passing until I hear voices. My step-father, is throwing a party. I can hear women giggling, and men laughing. There is loud music and the faint smell of food. I think I'm hungry, but I'm not sure. After a time I can hear them getting louder and getting high. Eventually, I can hear someone or two having sex in the spare room. I again decide to just sleep. It's dark and I have to go to the bathroom. I have no idea how long I have been here, or how long I have to stay. I pass the time by singing and imagining. I can't hold it any longer and in the spot where the vomitt has dried on the floor, I urinate. I know full well I am going to get it for that, but it can't be helped. Long stretches of time fill the silence, it seems forever...
When the door finaly unlocks, I wait. I wait a few minutes hoping that he will not touch me. As I emerge, I am crawling on my hands and knees. I look ahead of me and on the bed he is there, passed out. I continue to crawl down the hall to my room. There is still dried urine and semen on my thighs, my back aches and my legs are cramping as I finally stand up. My assumption of a wild party was confirmed. The evidence is lying all around the house. Lines of unused cocaine are on the kitchen table. Somewhere, way way down inside me, there is someone crying. I think it might be me. I don't know. I'm not listening. I realize as I come out of my fog that it is Sunday afternoon. Four o'clock. My mother will be home in two hours.

You see, I know now what you all reading this can see so clearly. Two days in a closet, and it never occured to me to cry out, to make a sound or beat on the door or to try and save myself in any way. I was controlled by fear. Completely controlled by fear.
I have issues trying to resolve this in me. I was not brave, I was not willing to stand and fight for myself. To this day, I hate fear in my life. I LOATHE weakness, of any kind. I will not be controlled by fear any longer. I hate the thought of being vunerable, and admitting that I am in certain areas still, is even harder.
This is why I carry shame for pieces of who I am, and this is why I refuse to be conrolled any longer by things I don't know or understand.

I am learning that the beauty found in people often times come from the very scars they themselves are ashamed of, and this, this is the thought that drives me in my own way to love people the way I do. You see, in loving all your wounded self, showing you the charm and lovliness that is uniquely yours, I am loving myself too.

This is the truth of a part of who I am...

and I will not be afraid.