Today I faced my abuser.
In the mundane setting of a supermarket, I came face to face with the man who sexually abused me when I was twelve years old. I wasn’t prepared. I hadn’t expected to be confronted by him as I desperately searched for something to wear (to my first social child-free outing in a year) in Tesco. But there he was.
I walked away. Quickly. I’m not afraid of him; but I’d rather avoid the confrontation. Without warning I found myself face to face with the ‘Uncle’ who had sexually abused me at a young age, whilst I babysat his children. I can’t imagine what he might have said to me given the chance; but I don’t want to know.
I’ve always said that I am completely unaffected by the events that took place involving said uncle; but today I had to admit defeat. Moments after spotting him my chest constricted, my breathing became shallow and I promptly barfed on the shiny white floor of Tescos. I was having flashbacks, and somehow they were causing me to have a panic attack.
As I write this, six hours have passed since I bumped into him. Still, I have not calmed down. Still, I feel sick. Still, I am shaky and uncomfortable and remembering.
This is the reason I write. My reason. I never want my daughter to come face to face with her abuser. I never want her to spend the day avoiding life, plagued by flashbacks and memories.
I spent hours today wondering why my mother didn’t do anything; why this man was walking free; if he was abusing some other young girl. This is why I write. This is what I am raising awareness of. This is what I want to stop.
Please, share this post. Or one of my other posts. Or a link to my blog. Help me raise awareness. I know how uncomfortable it is, but we need to raise awareness. Help me?