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Post edited 4:21 am - August 31, 2010 by admin

Betty
Victim Turned Victorious: My Story of Breaking the Silence

I want to share my story with you. It's not something I am proud of, but I feel compelled to share my experience with you in the hopes that it might prevent some of you from making the horrible mistakes I made and facing some terrible consequences. I am a non-traditional student here at _ _ _ _ _. I moved here to Missouri a year ago when my marriage ended and I found myself needing a place to live and work to support my two sons. We moved into the basement apartment of my brother's home in Guilford, and I began taking classes here at _ _ _ _ _. This is not my first time as a college student, and it's largely because of something that happened to me when I was first in college 18 years ago that my 13 year marriage fell apart.

You see 18 years ago, I became involved with a professor at my college. I am not proud of that fact. Some people will hear my story and say, "She was over 18, so it was consensual. It's her fault. She made some bad decisions." I definitely made some horrible decisions. I freely acknowledge that I do bear some responsibility for what happened. But I also know that this professor took advantage of my naïveté, and systematically groomed me. I was a minister's daughter, and I never would have done the things I ended up doing with him had he not proceeded a little at a time to break down my defenses, to gain my trust, to blur the boundaries between appropriate and inappropriate touch, and to systematically desensitize me, until I was doing things with him I never in a million years would have dreamed I'd be doing.

What happened with that professor came back to haunt me years and years after the fact. Some of you will call what I did with him an affair. I have come to realize that what was done to me was, in truth, sexual exploitation. It was not about love and romance. In truth, at times I wondered if the man hated women. Many of the ways he treated me were so incredibly degrading and disrespectful. I knew I was being used. So why didn't I stop it sooner? Because I didn't believe I deserved better; I didn't think anything better would ever come my way. And so I was willing to let myself be used, because I felt that some attention from a man was better than no attention at all.

You see, no man had ever really expressed interest in me, and I used to think that was because of my handicap. My twin sister and I were both born with Cerebral Palsy as a result of a car accident my mother was in when she was six months pregnant. My sister, Bonnie, was born totally helpless. She could not walk, talk, or do anything for herself. I was affected with a much milder form of CP. Mainly my CP caused me to have an ugly, awkward, halting gait when I walked. I was truly blessed to have such a mild form of Cerebral Palsy, but I always felt "less than," "not good enough" because of my handicap. I had a pervasive negative attitude. I was extremely self conscious, and I had next to no self esteem. I really did not like myself, and guys could sense that about me. Those traits were honestly what kept guys from wanting to date me, but I blamed my handicap.

So when this professor started noticing me, I was hungry for attention. Moreover, he was one of the most popular professors on my campus. All the students loved him. He seemed so cool. He'd go out to the bars with students after class, and hang with them like a friend. So, for this man to be noticing me of all people - well that was a pretty heady feeling. I felt so flattered.

What I didn't realize at the time was that this professor was noticing me, because he realized what an easy target I would be. I was lonely, I had no self esteem, I wanted desperately for some guy to pay attention to me. Moreover, I really didn't have many friends - no emotional support system - so he didn't have to worry about people interfering and bringing me to my senses.

He started by complimenting me in class, telling me how smart I was. It progressed to the point where he "gifted me" with privileges other students didn't have. He let me teach one of his classes for him. What an honor! That was something no other professor in the department was doing at the time.

I was your proverbial "Goody Two Shoes." I didn't drink, I didn't smoke, but soon some of the students were going out to the bars with him, and I got invited along. It was exciting for me, the minister's daughter, to be hanging at the bars. I felt like such a "bad girl" and it was fun! Besides, I was out with one of the most popular professors on my campus. I was dancing with him! Could it get any more exciting than this? We all began to go out to the bars every week.

The first kiss he ever gave me was on the dance floor at one of those bars. I'd just been notified that day that I'd been accepted to present a paper at a national conference. He kissed me under the guise of "congratulating me". Why this kiss didn't send up HUGE red flags that he'd crossed an incredibly inappropriate boundary, I don't know. But I took it in stride. It honestly did not occur to me that anything inappropriate had occurred. After all, he was just congratulating me.

I honestly do not remember how it progressed to the point that I was taking off my clothes for him. There are some gaps in my memory, which I have since learned is not uncommon for someone who has experienced sexual abuse. I know it was at least two months after we all started going out to the bars. But the manipulation eventually proceeded to that point and then it went beyond. It never went to actual sexual intercourse, but it went to the level just before that. Sometimes we would go to my dorm room. Sometimes we would go to his house. Sometimes we would go to a deserted parking lot. Sometimes we were in his office.

He began telling me he loved me. I knew he didn't. I knew he was just using me. And I felt so degraded, but I was afraid of being alone. He preyed upon my weaknesses, my fears. I remember once telling him to his face that I thought he was a bastard. We were in his office with the door closed. He got angry, threatened to leave me, put his hand on the door handle as if to go, and I leapt at him, begging his forgiveness, saying I didn't mean it, pleading for him not to leave me. I'll never forget the triumphant smile that crossed his face then, as he took me in his arms and kissed me. I wondered at the time how he could so immediately forgive me and forget. I mean, I'd just told the guy I thought he was a bastard. How could he not be hurt and offended? I realize now what that nasty, triumphant smile was about. He knew he'd reeled me in. He'd played upon my worst fears, and he knew from that point on I'd do whatever he wanted as long as he would not abandon me.

I became an entirely different person. I began wearing the skimpiest outfits. Soon he and I were at the bars two and three times a week. I HATED the person I had become. I would sit in church on Sundays feeling like such a fraud. All these people thought I was such a good girl, but I knew what I'd be doing with that man during the week. I knew how incredibly sinful and dirty I really was. I was so ashamed, but I didn't know how to stop.

So how did it end? It ended when I contracted mononucleosis after accidentally drinking from a friend's water glass. I didn't know why I was so tired all the time, but I kept getting sicker and sicker. I finally went to the doctor when I started throwing up water. The doctor diagnosed me with mono which, because it had gone untreated for so long, had developed into hepatitis which had further developed into severe anemia. I was told by two different doctors that I was out of school for the rest of the year; there was no way I could continue.

I called this professor with the news. I expected him to be there for me. He wasn't. I ended up having to move back home with my parents, and he didn't bother to call even once during my convalescence to check on me. There were no notes or cards. And it was at that point, I realized that he honestly didn't care about me, that for all his "I love you's", he had never loved me. I count that mono as one of the greatest blessings of my life, because it was what gave me the courage to break free from him.

I remember the day I threw away the sexy lace teddy he had bought me. Two doctors had told me there was no way that I could possibly return to school before the next semester. I was back in two weeks. When I returned to my dorm, there was a huge box in the lobby for the residents to donate clothes they didn't want anymore. I took that red lace teddy he'd bought me and threw it in the donation box. Then I scrambled up the clothes in the box so that it was buried deep and I could no longer see it. It was a symbolic burying of this dirty, sinful chapter in my life, and I felt such incredible FREEDOM as that teddy disappeared in the box. I was no longer that person, and I never wanted to be her again.

I intended to bury that chapter of my life. I was so incredibly ashamed of myself, of what I, this good Christian girl, had done, of who I had become. I never wanted anyone to find out. When that teddy disappeared beneath the other clothes, I thought it was really over - never to be resurrected again. How wrong I was!

About six months after things ended with that professor, I met the man who was to become my husband. Friends first, we began to date about a year later, and two years after that, we were married. I loved him with all my heart, but I began to develop problems with intimacy. You see, my sexual experience before my husband had been with this professor - this man who I knew had used me, who had told me he loved me merely as a way to get into my pants.

I didn't honestly believe anyone could really love me. I mean, I had a handicap. What guy would want to be with someone with a handicap? So when my husband would tell me he loved me, that he thought I was beautiful, I thought, "He just wants to get in my pants. Just like that professor."

Every time we had sex, I would feel so incredibly dirty, like a sexual object my husband was just using. I began to avoid sex whenever I could. I would pick fights with my husband, becoming "prickly" because I knew if I could get him mad at me, he wouldn't be asking for sex. I knew what I was experiencing wasn't "normal." I knew that I should be enjoying intimacy with this man I loved so dearly. I knew I needed help. But I was too ashamed. If I went to a counselor, then I'd have to discuss my sexual hang ups. If I went to a counselor, I would have to disclose what I had done with that professor, and I just couldn't do that.

As time went on, because I didn't get help for my problems with intimacy, things got worse. About ten years into our marriage, I began to experience flashbacks when my husband and I were being intimate. Certain ways my husband would touch me would trigger humiliating, degrading memories of the way that professor had used me. The flashback which would occur most frequently was an incident which took place in the hallway at my school. I had been speaking with another professor, when this professor came up behind me, and under the guise of trying to scoot past me, he rubbed full body against me, in the presence of the other professor.

I had never felt so incredibly demeaned as I did when that incident occurred. I knew that professor was purposefully degrading me and showing how much inappropriate behavior he could get away with in the presence of other faculty without being reprimanded. It was a game to him to see how much he could do in public and not get "caught". That incident made me absolutely sick to my stomach when it occurred. And now, nearly 15 years later, when my husband would touch me in certain places or certain ways on my body, I would flash back to that incident. "Stop!" I would snarl at my husband. "You're demeaning me!" "I'm not demeaning you," my husband would say, totally baffled at my reaction. "I am appreciating your beautiful body."

I have since learned that what I was experiencing when I would have those flashbacks or when certain touches would "trigger" me, taking me back to those degrading incidents with the professor, I was experiencing Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. And it is because of my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, that I am choosing to speak out and bring my story to light. I don't enjoy telling you about my past. It is humiliating. But I feel compelled to share my story with you in the hopes that maybe hearing my story will stop some of you from making the horrible mistakes I made.

My marriage ended in large part because of what happened with that professor so many years before. My husband did not understand why I could not enjoy sex. He was totally baffled when I would snap at him to stop demeaning me. He grew tired of the fights I'd pick in order to avoid intimacy. He felt rejected, and eventually he went looking for love elsewhere. He hooked up on Facebook with an old high school friend. They began to have an affair. She didn't avoid intimacy and she didn't pick fights with him. She certainly didn't make him feel rejected. She said all the right things, all the things he needed to hear. He ended up leaving me for her.

The night I found out he was having an affair, I decided to swallow my pride and get counseling for my intimacy problems. I began intensive therapy with a counselor in Atlanta, in a desperate attempt to save my marriage. I met with the counselor twice a week to address my problems with intimacy. But it was too late. "I'm going to counseling," I begged my husband. "I'm getting help." "It could take you eight years to get healed," he responded. "I'm not willing to wait. You're healing for someone else. I'm tired of being rejected. I'll never touch you again."

"I HATE that professor!" I raged, sobbing. "I HATE what he did to me!" But my husband remained unmoved. He'd given his heart to someone else. It was closed to me.

Somewhere about five or six sessions into therapy, my counselor gave me a book. "I think you're ready to read this now," she said. It was Wendy Maltz's The Sexual Healing Journey: A Guide for Survivors of Sexual Abuse. As I read, a whole new world opened up for me. I got goosebumps as I read the symptoms that victims of sexual abuse experience. I had eight of the top ten symptoms the author listed. Suddenly, so much made sense. I wasn't just some freak of nature who didn't like sex. What I had been experiencing was a result of the sexual abuse my professor had perpetrated upon me. For so long I had blamed myself for having an affair. I realized for the first time, that while I did bear some responsibility, I had been victimized. It wasn't an affair; he had sexually coerced me, systematically groomed me. It wasn't a consensual relationship between equal partners; he had used his position of authority to seduce and sexually exploit me.

It was at that point that I determined it was time to break the silence: I needed to speak out. I could do nothing to save my marriage, but if I could share my story, maybe I could spare another girl from going through what I had been through. If I could that, then the loss of my marriage would not have been for nothing. I knew I was not the only girl who had been seduced by someone in authority, thinking that she was involved in a romantic relationship, only to realize too late all too bitterly that she'd been taken advantage of.

And by the very intimate nature of sexuality, I knew all too well that there were girls out there who were suffering in shame and in self blame for what had happened to them. When a person has been violated, s/he feels dirty, defiled. Often the victim blames himself or herself, and all too often, because society blames the victim rather than the perpetrator, those who have been violated suffer in silence. They pray no one will ever find out their dirty, little secret. They fear getting close to anyone, because they think if anyone discovers what has happened, they will be rejected.

I speak to those of you out there who are looking starry eyed at your teachers. You fantasize about a romantic involvement - how sweet it would be if only this teacher would fall for you as much as you've fallen for him. It's not uncommon for a student to develop a crush on her teacher. Many teachers are very dynamic, they can be really funny, and sweet, and it can be a really heady feeling, when this popular teacher begins to notice you. I mean, after all, they are an authority figure, they have power, and look, they're attracted to you!

Let me say first and foremost, not all instructors are going to behave unethically. Not all instructors are going to take advantage of you. But some may. And you have to be aware that it could happen to you. It is inappropriate and unethical for your instructor to become involved in an intimate relationship with you. There is an imbalance of power; your instructor has control over your grade; and your instructors are the ones you will turn to for recommendations when you get out in the workplace. As long as they have power over you, an intimate relationship is not equal and not appropriate.

If you become attracted to your instructor, and your instructor starts giving indication that he or she is interested in you, and you are uncertain if the behavior is appropriate or not, ask yourself these questions: "If this situation were happening to my little sister, would I be ok with it? How would I feel about it? What would I advise my little sister to do?" Or "If this same situation were to happen to my daughter, would I be ok with it?" If you would not feel ok if these situations happened to your little sister or your daughter, then chances are very high that it's NOT an appropriate situation for you to be in either. I share this perspective because of what happened to my 18 year old niece. She had a teacher who began to flirt with her, make sexual comments to her, in the context of "kidding", and she didn't think it was that big of a deal. After all, he was only teasing. Besides, he was really popular. All the kids loved him. But then, when this same teacher made sexual comments to my niece in front of her 15 year old sister, my niece recognized for the first time how inappropriate his behavior was.

Another question you should ask yourself, if you are unsure if what is happening with your instructor is appropriate or inappropriate is, "How would I feel if my parents found out about this situation?" If it's something you have to hide, then it's inappropriate and you need to get out NOW.
What happened to me was sexual exploitation. Sexual exploitation isn't about love; it isn't about romance. It's about the use and abuse of power and control over someone. I was targeted by my professor.
Assistant Attorney General for the state of Wisconsin, Gregory Weber, outlines common qualities among people predators target. They look for someone with (1) obvious vulnerabilities, (2) someone who feels unloved and unpopular, (3) who has family problems, (4) who spends time alone and is isolated from his or her peers, and (5) someone who lacks confidence and self-esteem (Weber, par.12).
I fit the victim profile perfectly. I was a person with very low self esteem and a pronounced lack of confidence. Guys just weren't interested in me, so I was hungry for attention and affection from a man. I was pretty much a loner. I had had a group of friends with whom I hung out, but then they all graduated one year before I did, so suddenly I'd lost my support system and I was lonely - ripe for this man to move in on me and become my new "support system". And of all years, that year had been one of particular upheaval in my life. Besides all of my closest friends leaving, my twin sister had to be put in a group home that year, so I was experiencing further grief and loss. Moreover, I was going to be graduating myself at the end of that year, leaving the place that had been my "home" for so long, and moving to a new town two hours away where I knew no one. I had never been someone who could deal with change well, so I was desperate to hang on to anything and anybody familiar. This particular professor used to hang out with my set of friends, so in my eyes he became a special link to the friends I had lost. All of these elements combined to open the door for him to move in on me and become my confidante.
Weber shares the process groomers tend to follow. First, and foremost, "Successful predators find and fill voids in [their target's] life" (Weber, par. 13). They gain their victim's trust. They forge what Weber calls "an emotional bond" through lending "a sympathetic, understanding ear". This building of trust and bonding then paves the way to touch. Weber explains:
Predators use the grooming process to break down [their target's] defenses and increase the [victim's] acceptance of touch. The first physical contact between predator and victim is often nonsexual touching designed to identify limits: an "accidental" touch, an arm around the shoulder, a brushing of hair. Nonsexual touching desensitizes the [intended victim]. It breaks down inhibitions and leads to more overt sexual touching-the predator's ultimate goal" (Weber, par.15)

Once my professor had gained my trust and become my confidante, once he'd gotten my defenses down, then he began to move in on me, blurring the boundaries between what was appropriate and inappropriate. Any time he sensed I was uncomfortable with anything he was doing, he would move back and try again later, till little by little he had me doing more and more inappropriate things with him. He systematically desensitized me. And in the process, he told me he loved me. He took his time, breaking down my defenses bit by bit over a period of months, and that's a key element you need to understand: When a predator sets out to groom his target, he does not do all these inappropriate things in the beginning, nor does he do them all at once. He takes his time, and the process unfolds so gradually that often you, the victim, do not even realize how you have been exploited until after the fact. On the website http://www.adultsabusedbyclergy.org, Janet Wohlberg, author of "Sexual and Other Ethical Boundary Violations in Psychotherapy: The Victims' Perspective," shares this unsettling truth:
Most victims become aware of what happened to them only in hindsight and then blame themselves for not having recognized the red flags as they appeared. ... The grooming process may take weeks, months, or years, depending on the [victim's] vulnerability (Wohlberg, "Psychological Grooming," screen 2).

Predators say all the right things you want to hear - calculated things to confuse you, so that you will allow them to go further and further, because, after all, they're telling you they "love you," and shouldn't you want to please them, if they love you?

I want you to hear what I have to say loud and clear here: Someone violating your body, touching you in a way that goes against your morals and values, in a way that makes you feel ashamed, embarrassed, and used -- someone disrespecting you, or manipulating you -- is NEVER what real love is, no matter how many times he says that magical phrase: "I love you".

Any time you feel demeaned, humiliated, or revolted by what someone does to you, it's NOT ok. It's a HUGE red flag that this situation is not appropriate. You have a right to your own personal space without being invaded. You have a right to be treated with respect and dignity. Anyone who truly loves you or cares for you will not disrespect you or your body. Anyone who loves you or cares for you will not leave you feeling demeaned.

It's a sad fact that some who will read my story have already been violated by a person with authority over them. It's a sad fact that some who will read my story will be violated at some future point. And it is for you that I am breaking my silence.

When sexual assault, molestation, sexual abuse, or even sexual harassment happens to you, it can leave you feeling "less than." It can leave you feeling degraded, humiliated, and like what happened to you is a dirty secret that must be kept hidden at all costs, because what would people think of you if they knew? Often victims blame themselves, and they feel such incredible shame that they are too embarrassed to seek out help. They just want to bury their dirty little secret and hope no one ever finds out.

That's where I was, and that's what prevented me from getting counseling. I couldn't imagine telling anyone what I, a minister's daughter, had done. I blamed myself, because initially I'd been attracted to that professor. I'd wanted and welcomed his attention at first. I was so incredibly ashamed of what I had done with him, of what I let him do to me, that I could not imagine ever letting anyone know - not even a trained counselor.

That was one of the biggest mistakes I ever made - not getting counseling till it was too late. And that's why I feel compelled to share my story. If you've been a victim of any type of sexual assault and you're hiding it out of shame and self blame, trying to bury it and hoping it will go way, I'm here to tell you: Time does NOT heal all wounds. The more time that passes, the more you past will haunt you - eat at you, prevent you from getting close to others, and from having healthy relationships.

You owe it to yourself to get healing, so that you don't go into future relationships as a broken person hiding a secret, who is afraid to be intimate for fear that you'll be rejected. You owe it to yourself and your future relationships to get healing first, so that you come into the relationship as a whole person with healthy attitudes toward touch and intimacy, with openness. If you hide things from your partner, your relationship cannot last and be healthy.

One thing you need to realize, if you have been violated, it is NOT all your fault. I lived with the faulty belief that because I was attracted to this man at first, what he did, what I allowed him to do to me, was my fault. It took me years to realize that he was responsible for his calculated actions. I had to stop blaming myself. And if you have been violated, you need to stop blaming yourself. It's the only way you can set yourself free to experience the healing and wholeness you deserve.

Don't suffer your violation in silence like I did. As long as you keep hiding your violation, it has power over you. It controls who you are and how you respond to those around you. There is nothing you can tell a counselor that will shock or surprise him or her. Counselors are trained not to judge you; they are trained to help you. So take your power back. Yes, you have been victimized, but it's your choice whether you stay a victim or whether you rise above it to become victorious over your circumstances. And once you break the silence and share your pain with someone who will not judge you, who can guide you to right thinking about yourself and what was done to you, then your dirty, little secret loses the destructive hold it has had over you. Breaking your silence is the first step to freeing yourself and to moving toward healthy relationships.

I am passionate about the issue of sexual assault awareness and education. I'm passionate about speaking out. I want you to hear my story - even the embarrassing and uncomfortable parts. Why? Because every time I share my story, that professor does not win. He loses the hold he's had on my life through shame for so long. And I'm not going to let him win. I have a right to be respected, and I have a right to be loved for who I am, because I am worth being loved. I deserve happiness, I deserve freedom, and I deserve wholeness. And if I can turn my experiences into something good that educates others, then that predator loses his hold over me. I'm choosing to take my power back. How about you? Will you make the same choice?

Bibliography

Weber, Gregory M. "Grooming Children for Sexual Molestation" The Zero - The Official Website of Andrew Vachss. 29 August, 2010. http://www.vachss.com/guest_di.....weber.html

Wohlberg, Janet W.. "Sexual and Other Ethical Boundary Violations in Psychotherapy: The Victims' Perspective." TELL, Therapy Exploitation Link Line. (Text of a talk given in NYC to the Columbia Analytic Society on April 4, 2006.) 29 August, 2010.
http://www.adultsabusedbyclerg.....l#grooming