One in Three
Monday, September 20th, 2010
When I was four or five I was molested by a neighbor. Older brother of my best friend, sexual stuff, in a treehouse out of view of our houses.
My mom figured out something was going on pretty fast. She was very angry, although it was clear to me that she wasn’t angry at me. She also made it clear that I had the right to say no. She said something to the boy’s mother, and I had this new noeyness, and the molesting stopped.
And that was pretty much that. For other reasons, we moved soon after. I didn’t have bad dreams or bad relationships; in the new neighborhood there was a bully with a big dog, and an older boy was my much-appreciated protector. I didn’t have a memory that surfaced later. I went long stretches of time not thinking about it at all. (more…)
