Updated: May 24

Dealing with shame is a long slow painful process. I was instructed to talk about the shameful event as often as possible with anyone who would listen.

I started with the people who were closest to me at the time. My spouse, my best friend since childhood and a few of my neighbors.

It was not easy sharing moment by moment of my rape. This was the most shameful event of my life.

It was 1980. I was 13. He was the boy that I had dated on and off over the summer. We were together at a friends house. I and a friend of mine were visiting him and his friend on a half day of school.

We all horsed around for a while until my boyfriend asked me to go into the fort with him. I liked the idea and I agreed.

Once inside we started making out as all young couples do. There wasn’t any talking like in the past. He kept kissing and I kept kissing back.

We got tired of sitting up so we laid down. He started to touch my chest. I was unsure in my mind but I decided to let him. This was a first for me.

Not long after he unsnapped my jeans and started exploring. I was quiet for a few moments until I started to speak hopeful to deter the situation. It wasn’t working. Instead of stepping back, he got angry.

I was sitting back up now and he muscled me to the prone position and started taking my jeans off. I started to fight him but he took one hand and held both of my arms down and kissed me to quiet me. Everything went fast from there.

While the rape was happening I begged him to stop but he did Not I started to cry. I told him I needed to get home. My mother would be expecting me. I spoke a few more times until I then turned my head to the left and went numb.

Numb stayed with me for a very long time. Years. I never said a word to anyone because it never happened. In my mind it was a nonevent and irrelevant.

At the age of 30 and pregnant, I gave birth to my child on a holiday in November when my older son had a half day of preschool. The coincidence left me numb again.

I hear you,



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