Knight in Shining Armour

The last 3 posts were done in order to explain a situation that happened last week.  As I have mentioned, I was working the Steps and completely out of the blue feelings overcame me.  Writing those posts helped and I appreciate your sticking with me.  This blog helps in so many ways.  I am happy that people read it and I truly hope it gives strength and support to others.   For me, there are good days and not so good days.  Last week was a string of several bad days in a row, all brought about by an innocent contact from someone that rescued me from the abyss I had been living in back in 1978.


The procedure I had in New York kept me out of the water for a couple weeks and there was a significant blood loss that really wiped me out.  But I swam anyway.  Not particularly well, but I did swim.  I went to practice and went through the motions.  After a month or so, I was physically back to fighting speed.  Since I am a documented asthmatic, we told everyone I had been having a rough patch with asthma and again people accepted it and forgot about the strangeness of the situation.  I stuffed it deep inside. Until just recently, I realized how deep it was.  I learned early how to “fake it till I make it.”

My Brother

My brother is 2 1/2 years older than I am.  The “offender” was his age and one of his high school friends that he had left behind when he went into the military. At the time, he was serving at a base about 5 hours from where we lived.  I told him nothing about what had happened and neither did my parents.  It was not uncommon for my brother to show up with friends from far away places at our house or camp for a home cooked meal or at camp for a party.

In the late summer of that year, on one of his trips to visit my parents and I were at camp.  He showed up with a car full of buddies.  It was a great time of cribbage games and laughs.  I was still swimming and under age, there was no alcohol for me but it didn’t matter, we played guitars and had a great time.

After that trip, my brother showed up with one of the friends he brought to camp at one of my swim meets.  It was great to see him and after that visit, we started writing letters.  Then talking.  I had not been involved in anyone since that Spring and this man was kind, quiet and extremely caring.  Many times, I thought he knew what had happened to me.  I continued to burn up the pool, get through high school and think about college.  My new friend was very supportive, showed up at the occasional meet (after driving for hours) and sat next to me on the bleachers, cheered me on. I always felt safe.

An Item

It was known after a while that we had bloomed into a couple.  Kisses and hugs, no sex.  To think back on it now, I don’t know he did it.  The last thing on my mind was sex, but I could crawl up into his arms and he would hold me close.  One day we were riding in his car somewhere and I just blurted out a very small abstract of what had happened to me before I met him.  I don’t remember what it was exactly but I remember  him saying, “I knew someone hurt you, I felt it.  I want you to trust me, I would never hurt you that way. Ever.”


I sat in his car sobbing and trying to apologize for being so damaged. I couldn’t stop crying.  I didn’t unload the whole story. But once I had started, I needed to know what I was saying wasn’t going to cause him to leave me too.  I told him about my father calling me “Whore.”  All he said was, ” Everything is going to be all right.  Just as long as I never, ever meet this guy.”

I started slowly to rebuild my trust and he was the reason.  We dated for 3 years.  There was no sex, he treated me like a china doll.  It was my Higher Power helping me heal, helping me to grow up.  This part of the story is over but there is more that will be told later on that had come to light during my Step work.  The Good News is he isn’t angry at me now and didn’t feel like my apology was necessary.  More on that later.


Cleaning Out the Locker, (Part III)

If you are late to this series, I talk about being raped in the first post, I talk about dealing with it immediately, in Part II.  Now when it really gets “good.” *sarcasm filter*

Thanksgiving Break

My boyfriend came home from school over Thanksgiving and we got together.  I asked him what had happened when I came to visit him at his Fraternity.  He sort of scolded me for my visiting him and said, “You could have really gotten into trouble.”  I said, “But I wanted to see you and I didn’t expect that you would hurt me the way you did.”  He said, “Well, I didn’t mean that to happen either and if you hadn’t come, it wouldn’t have.”  Bewildered, I let the subject drop.  We both were working together over his vacation and things were normal “sort of.”  He went back to school and finished out his semester, returning for Christmas break. Again, we saw each other but it wasn’t the same.  He never apologized or even offered an explanation and I felt lost.  I was still in high school, while he was on vacation and working, I was often at school or swimming.  The time and experience distanced us.  There were no harsh words, there were no words at all.

February Vacation

I was going to practice, getting ready for the next big meet.  I looked down at myself and saw something.  I was gaining weight.  Swimming 5,000/day and gaining weight?  I also hadn’t been feeling well.  I went to the Doctor and the news came.  I was pregnant.  I will never forget that look on my mother’s face.  She was horrified, so was I. On the way home in the car, Mom said, “Are you going to call him?”  I said, “Yes, I guess so.”  She said, “Let me deal with your father.”  I knew that was going to be bad. Real bad.  This would cause another of the famous fights we had in our household.  One we hadn’t had in quite a while.


My father came up over the stairs 3 at a time.  “So what is the little whore going to do about this?”  I heard him say.  All ready I had called the fraternity house and left a message, it was common to call the House phone and leave a message.  It was uncommon for me to have to leave many, without any returned call, which was how it played out.

Boarding the Plane

A silent plane ride to W. Hempstead, NY and a silent 3 days set the stage for the day I killed my baby.  I had an abortion.  No boyfriend to hold my hand, only an ashamed mother that tried to make the best of a terrible situation.  There was no “decision” to make whether I was to “keep” the baby, my parents decided I would abort. And I did.


I never told my parents about the events that led up to my pregnancy. It was bad enough all ready.  I was ashamed. I knew my father would load a shotgun and kill my boyfriend and though I really thought I wanted to myself, the shame and grief was too great to deal with all that.  My parents thought it was teenage sex, I got pregnant.  I left it at that.  Time marched on and I got back to my life, scarred and never to be the same again.

I never saw my old boyfriend again until about 5 years ago at a funeral.  He couldn’t look me in the eye and how could he? He did know that I was pregnant though the news never came from me to him directly. My calls to him remained unanswered.  There was no such thing as voice mail then.  I learned that he knew absolutely from a mutual friend that asked me about it 10 years ago.  He only asked because I had asked him where “our” friend was living.  After that conversation, I got rip roaring drunk and cried myself to sleep, a cry I had been waiting for for 24 years.