Teach Your Children Well…

Somehow, I knew deep within me as a young mom to have “those” conversations with my son early… “Never be afraid to tell me anything”, “I will always believe you”, “If someone hurts you or touches you in a not nice way, tell me”, “If someone hurts you and they threaten to hurt you or me if you tell, don’t believe them”, “Scream as loud as you can and drop and run if someone tries to hurt you…run to me son”… Seems the simple, old “never talk to strangers” conversation was too trivial…never on my radar because those that had betrayed me had always been well known to the family, or, …family… How did I know to teach my child well…?

At 16, I was completely independent…not grown up, just on my own. My friend Diana and I were hanging at her mom’s in Ocala. We ran by her mom’s, then her work, Wendy’s, then onto to “party at the campground”…which I remember seeming to be a regular event. Everyone seemed familiar with the occurrence…a regularly scheduled program…a local thing… No one asked the time or the address…just a bunch of nods and smiles. Hell ya…let’s go…

Seemed like one of the usual parties. Bonfire…keg…Boston, Foreigner, AC/DC…all the usual suspects. Then that gut alarm started to go off when these three (back-wood assholes) started standing a little to close to Diana and me. Yes, we were underage and drinking alcohol. We were both buzzed and certainly acting like dumb ass drunk teenage girls. Then the three rednecks started to circle us and quickly maneuvered us away from the 20 or so crowd we were drinking with that evening. Pushing. Shoving. Then… we were down on the ground. What the fuck is happening? I looked at her in terror…Diana was next to me. There were palmetto bushes all around us. Dirt and rocks under my knees. I could here the music and laughter at the fireside we had just drifted from…seemed just feet away…I was mentally frozen. I had no voice. One took Diana then the other took me. The smaller of the three just watched. On my knees…raped…in silence…he pushed off my back as he stood up, no words uttered…buckled his pants and he was done. Not a fucking word from anyone. It happened so fast…and…in slow motion…looking back, it wasn’t their first rodeo…orchestrated…a well rehearsed dance. I was stunned in silence for moments…staggered to my feet…sheepishly grappled with my shorts…embarrassed as if it were my fault…my heart was pounding…what next? Diana stood up and started to laugh. I’m sure out of fear. My guess is so that we could walk away…so that we COULD walk away. We walked away… Diana and I grabbed the keg hose and filled our cups up and shot back the beers as fast as we could…exhale…ok…that’s better…nothing happened…right? Neither one of us spoke for the rest of the night… It was never mentioned again…

Today I realize that I had no voice because it had been silenced long ago. When I spoke up, I was told to shut up. Never taught that I had anywhere to go to with my fears, hurts, sad’s or mad’s. I had no say…no value.. no worth. Just learned to shut up and survive or be destroyed. And so I did…that night in the Ocala National Forest…I kept silent, never told and survived.

Fast forward…My son was 9 or ten. Family had come to visit..a male family member and his “wife”. I had worked evening shift the night before while my son stayed with my mom. Came home after shift and slept at my mom’s to wake up with my son and the “visitors” who had brought their camper and was staying in it just outside in the yard. I kissed my son on his “fork head” (his childhood phrase) and fell fast asleep.

I woke up suddenly…frantic…I don’t know why. The sun was up… I looked in the bed next to me and realized my son wasn’t there. I listened for a split second as I bolted upright in the bed and heard voices outside…it was my son and…him… I ran out into the living room and screeched at my mother “where the hell is (my son)?!?!?! In usual fashion, she looked at me with disgust and said flippantly…”he’s outside with (him), what’s your problem?” I scramble outside, jumped down four steps, ran to the camper, snatched open the door of the camper with the ferocity of a she-devil that I didn’t even know existed within me…then the wave of panic hit me as I saw my son… absolutely fine…standing there chatting with (him)…nothing wrong…nothing happened. Why did he bring my son into the camper? Why was I so panicked? Why was I so scared that my son was with (him)? It would take me years to put it all together…

As a young girl, I went to my mother and woke her in the middle of the night to tell her what (he), that same male, had done to me…protect me mom…make it stop mom…help me mom…save me? Her response? “Oh stop it Kristine. You’re dreaming. Just go back to bed.” I spent the next 20 years sleeping on my stomach, up against a wall, protecting myself…because no one else would..

You taught me well mom. You taught me I had better keep my mouth shut, or I’ll have no place to sleep. You taught me I had only me to rely on. You taught me my value by placing your comfort over my safety. You taught me that if I became too much of a bother, that I would be next. You taught me that it was all in my head. You taught me I had no voice…no right…no say…

How did I know to teach my son value? How did I know to show him his worth? How did I know to teach him to come to me for protection…from anything or anyone? How did I know I needed to protect him…from (him) and anyone else? Who taught me to show him that his well being was, above all else, most important? How did I know to teach him to protect himself…that I believed him…that I would protect him…? …That he was loved, worthy, and that he had a voice…and could use it…?

My guess is a Higher Power, of some sort…I don’t really know. I do know that I am grateful for whatever divine intervention helped me to teach my son well…no matter what…

Teach your children well…