Stolen Innocence (2 page)

—Romans 8:28

 

 

Every two minutes somewhere in America someone is being sexually assaulted. Ninety-five percent of the time the victim knows their perpetrator. One out of every sixteen perpetrators will ever spend time in prison and the ones that do spend time in prison are usually out in a year or two for good behavior.

We live in a society where sexual abuse is not a topic to speak about. With the recent media coverage of the Catholic priests, it has put a lot of attention on the matter and opened the eyes of many. It is time people take a hard look at what our world is coming to. One in every three girls and one in every six boys will be sexually abused before their eighteenth birthday. In the United States alone there are an estimated sixty million survivors of sexual abuse. Sixty-seven percent were abused under the age of thirteen.

A victim of abuse faces a lifetime of humiliating, degrading, and life-altering events. In my diary I give you the personal look into the lives of my family's ordeal and how my innocence and trust were taken from me at a young age. All it took was one night for my entire life to change. Some may wonder why I would expose such a personal and private matter, but if my diary is to save one child from becoming an innocent victim of abuse it was well worth publishing my dairy.

By the time you put this book down you will get an in depth look at my personal journey and how I have become the person I am today. In the time it took you to read this foreword, another person became an innocent victim of sexual abuse.

I
couldn't have survived the way I have without being blessed by the people in my life.

My parents, who have always supported and believed in me, without your guidance and love I wouldn't be the person I am today! Thank you for the life you have given me.

My sister Caitlin for always being a phone call away. No matter what time of night you were always there to talk giving some of the best advice. You'll go far in life with your dreams.

My sister Allie for her courage of coming forward and being a survivor like myself. We share an incredible bond that will last a lifetime.

The Children's Advocacy Center of Northwest Cook County, Illinois for letting me break my silence and beginning my healing process. You should all be proud of the work you do.

Mrs. Ardell who saw my inner strength. You never doubted me! You've supported me through it all. I wish there were more people in the world like yourself. You'll always have a place in my heart.

Dr. Stern who told me I'd write an incredible book. The countless hours I've spent in your office unraveling my childhood. I wouldn't have done it without your continued support.

Dana and Amanda two people I can always turn to for support or just a good laugh. Thanks for everything you've done over the years.

Kim were both survivors and we will both make the best social workers someday. You're a great friend and although we met on unfortunate circumstances we have come a long way together.

Miss Prokopij who has inspired me to follow in her footsteps of becoming a social worker.

Pastor Bill Hybels for opening my soul and turning me to God. I walk away after your Sunday services with a warm feeling inside.

Finally I owe my biggest thank-you to God. He has been my inspiration and hero. He has been there through the thick and thin never giving up on me.

Even when I doubted him he stuck by my side. I look forward to the day we meet. Thank you!

I can't believe I still use this little pink diary. I got it so many years ago. Well here are the events of what happened today. Mom pulled into the parking lot of the three-story hospital. Once we got inside we sat down in a waiting room. I sat staring at the large aquarium watching the colorful fish swimming back and forth. What a boring life it must be being a fish. They are so beautiful and seem very peaceful. My life seems to be nothing but the opposite and sometimes there are days I wish I wasn't alive. For a long time I've been searching for peace in my life. I've been sitting on a couch next to my mom as she reads a magazine for the past half hour. Thoughts race through my head of what is to become of me. My nerves are in knots not knowing what is about to take place. A television off to the corner of the room shows the daily news. Why, I wonder, is there nothing but terrible things our world reports in the everyday news? Nothing but murder, rape, and war. I begin to relate to the television as war goes on in Iraq. I'm fighting my own war inside me. I suddenly hear my name being called. A man standing by the receptionist desk introduces himself to me. “Do you want your mom to come with you?” he asks. I told him I would be fine on my own. Mom wishes me good luck as I follow behind the man. Walking down a hallway I notice all the doors are locked and operated from the front desk. I pass a cafeteria and a bunch of offices until I'm led into an office called registration. A middle aged man greets me and asks me a variety of questions. He then goes on to explain how my records are kept confidential. From there I am led to another room where I am told I will have an assessment done. For another twenty minutes, I sit waiting. Looking around, I see another boy about fourteen arguing with his mother. Finally a woman greets me and motions me into a small room. I take a seat on the couch while the woman pulls out papers. She begins by asking me a couple questions. We are interrupted by the sounds of screams and doors slamming outside the room. She tells me we are going to have a code green and it will get pretty loud. She asks me if I wanted to stay there in the room or go back out in the waiting room. I decide to stay where I am. She walked out, closing the door behind her. Over the intercom, I hear code green being called. I then realize the yelling is coming from the boy who was arguing with his mother earlier. The yelling turns to crying as the boy is led away and I assume he is taken to a secure place elsewhere in the hospital. A few moments later the lady apologizes for the trouble and continues. She begins again by asking me what brought me to the behavioral health hospital. I can feel the tears forming in my eyes. I was a victim of sexual abuse.

Author unknown

On Wednesday, January 30th, 1985 my mom went into labor. Fifty-seven hours later she gave birth to me at home all naturally on a waterbed. She decided with all her pregnancies not to take any medication for pain. I was twenty-one inches long and eight pounds eight ounces. My parents named me Erin Merryn, pronounced Mur-rin, but my dad's family pronounced it Mare-in. “Erin Mare-in.” They thought it was funny. My middle name was changed to Elizabeth a month later. I like Merryn better. As a baby I was very shy and quiet until around two and a half years of age when I started talking and wouldn't stop. I would talk to just about anyone I saw. At three years old a priest told me his name was Father Deimer. I asked him “Whose father?” and he answered me that he was everyone's father, my father, my parents' father, my grandparents' father and even their parents' father! I gave him a funny look and said, “Who are you God?” Everyone got a good laugh especially since it was coming from a three year old. I was considered a daddy's girl from the start. I'd always be sitting by the door waiting for daddy to come home. My mom was a stay-at-home mom raising three girls. I was the middle child. I always enjoyed my mom's macaroni and cheese, which included a song my mom made up that we would sing at lunchtime. Dad works hard running his own business. As a little girl I'd look forward to my kiss, hug, and a high five I received from my dad before he left for work. My sisters are Allie and Caitlin. Allie is two years younger then I. Caitlin is the oldest and three years older than I. My childhood has been filled with trips to the zoo, amusement parks, beaches, trips to Michigan to camp and visit the sand dunes. I never had to go far to have fun. In my own back yard were a swing set, playhouse, and a huge wooden sandbox my mom made and filled with sand. My street was filled with children so anyone who drove down it could hear the screams and laughter of kids. Down the street lived three boys around my age and they were friends of Allie and me. Across the street lived Caitlin's best friend, Carey. The two of them were inseparable. The sidewalks down our street were designed with colorful sidewalk chalk drawings and the driveways were filled with bikes, wagons, and strollers. When it was time to leave for school, the neighborhood kids would meet at our house and my sisters and I would walk with everyone. There was a park down the street from our house that all the neighborhood kids would play at. We would also ride our bikes or roller skate in the tennis court. Summer is the season I've looked forward to most. Running around the neighborhood barefoot with my sisters and neighborhood friends. The hot summer days are always spent in the backyard in the sprinkler or plastic pool. Most of my weekends are spent in Wisconsin at my cottage, which my parents bought when I was one year old. Two years ago I experienced my first big adjustment. WE MOVED! It wasn't far from where I grew up. It is still in the same town and only about five minutes away. The new house backed up to a pond and has a path that leads to the elementary school. Not only did I have to get used to living in a new house, but also a new school. My best friend was moving too, but she was moving all the way to Arizona. Her name was Shannon and I haven't heard from her since I moved two years ago. Although the move was difficult I adjusted well and soon made a new best friend. Her name was Jessica and she was the first one to talk to me when I started my first day at the new school. She was in my class and it was the start of a friendship. The summer after our move we spent most of our time going to our summerhouse and playing at the beach. I also brought Jessica up to Wisconsin where we were dressed in matching red, white, and blue dresses for the annual forth of July parade at the beach. My mom had made the dresses. After a summer of going to the pool, my Wisconsin cottage, fishing in the pond, and the summer day camp run by the park district, it was time for another school year to begin. Another person that came into my life when we moved was Emily. She moved across the street a week after we moved in. So she was new to the neighborhood, too. My sister Allie and I became really good friends with Emily, spending most our time hanging out with her. Early in the school year I learned that Jessica's dad's job was being transferred to Indiana. It was very sad and it was at this time in my life I began to realize that life isn't always fair.