Family Man Arrested

Notes From a Dreamer ... on Dreaming
Dreams and Dream Interpretation

Notes From a Dreamer ... on TRUTH
My Poetry, Short Stories and more

Family Man Arrested for Molestion
Maybe you know him -- I do -- or I thought I did

I had a shock yesterday and today I'm still grappling with it. I learned that a former male
associate, whom I worked with rather closely for two years and whom I believed to be a
nice family man, was arrested last week for molesting eight little girls. Yesterday I was
dumbfounded. Today I feel abused, for it has brought up memories of a past all too
willing to be brought to the surface of my awareness yet again.

As I am sure many of you reading this know, once the memories are there, in the
forefront of your consciousness, they don't easily let go. And so it was today I found
my thoughts going something like this: "Don't forget to call Cindy to set up the meeting
for next week. How could I have not sensed something? Four o'clock, Wednesday --
Sam, Pete and Mary have to be there, too. I'm usually good at sensing these things --
obviously not. Geez, I hope everyone's available. I hate setting up these meetings, this
one's available at two but not at three, that one can only make it at four. Does he have
any idea how his actions have affected these girls? And don't forget the projector. Of
course he doesn't. And what about his poor wife and family. Remember scrambling last
time because you forgot it? Oh my god, his family -- he has two daughters doesn't he?
Please, please tell me that he didn't touch his daughters."

That's when I had to get up and go to the ladies room -- alone -- to cry once again.
OK, now that I've dried my eyes and read this, I can honestly say that this is not what I
intended to write at all. It is, as I'm sure you'll agree, CRAP! It just goes to prove what
memories and pain can do to an otherwise intelligent woman. When I sat down tonight I
wanted to tell you how I was feeling, and instead, as I usually do when I am hurting, I
intellectualize it and it comes out like this. Sorry, but that's just the way I am.

One minute, I want to SCREAM!!! and SHOUT!!! and RANT!!! and RAVE!!! to no one in
particular and the whole world at large. The next, all I want to do is crawl into a ball in
the corner and cry until it doesn't hurt anymore. But that just might take forever and
I've got other things I want to do with my life. In spite of the fact that I want to pull the
blanket up over my head and tell the world to go away and leave me alone, life goes on.
There is no shoulder to cry on and the landlord wants his rent. So I dry my eyes and
intellectualize more.

All I really want is ANSWERS. Why do men do this? What possesses them? What
makes them need to do this to innocent children? What goes on inside their heads that
lets them justify what they do? How do they fool us and take us in? How do they make
us believe they won't hurt us? Why do we trust them? What do we have to do to make
it stop? What can we do to make the hurt go away? Why does it still hurt after so many
years? All I really want is not to cry anymore. I'm 42 years old. It's been over 12 years
since I first started remembering. It's been over five since I recalled the last incident. I
consider myself strong now -- a survivor.

Most days go by now without a thought of my past. Yet, whenever I listen to the news
and hear about another case, the floodgates open and I'm back there again. Eleven
years old -- he's telling me that I'm special, he says that I'm beautiful, he tells me he
loves me, he wouldn't ever hurt me. Maybe no one will ever understand just how much I
needed to believe that at the time. I needed to believe that I was special to someone,
and I didn't know what he was doing to me. I didn't understand.

And the tears fall. I know that I am not alone in my experiences or my feelings. Knowing
this sometimes brings me strength, sometimes only more pain, and sometimes it only
brings more questions in need of answers. I wonder if anyone but the victims can ever
really understand what being molested and/or raped can do to you. I'm sure the
perpetrators can never understand, for if they could, they surely wouldn't do it. You
can't possibly know the demoralizing effect being raped can have on you. You can't
possibly know how deep the wounds to your soul can go. You can't possibly
understand how the very essence of every fiber of your being can be imprinted with the
pain of being molested as a child -- unless you've been there.

If you're crying now, you've probably been there and know what I am talking about and
I am truly sorry for making you cry, but it wasn't really me, it was him. DAMN HIM and
every other one just like him. For those of you that love someone that's crying right
now, it really is OK if you can't understand the pain. We don't expect you to. All we
need is a shoulder to cry on every now and then -- and to know that you would take
away our pain, if you could.

Trust me, I've been here before. As I said, hearing it on the news, seeing it in the
paper, every time, it brings back the memories. But this time, it really hit me like a ton
of bricks. This time, I KNEW him personally, but I guess I didn't really know him at all.

Maybe, that's why they keep getting away with it. Maybe, that's why we never had a
chance. That's why our children need to be enlightened and protected. Because,
somehow or another they appear harmless to the adults -- even the ones that think
they know they'd be able to spot them. I keep telling myself -- I should've known -- but
I didn't. And a part of me still wants to believe that it's not true. But I saw his picture
on the news and there are EIGHT girls that say otherwise. I need to go cry again for
awhile. It's Friday night. I just may crawl under my blanket for the weekend.

© 2001 Bobbie Ann Pimm
Originally published on writtenbyme.com