Spousal Survivors of Medical Sexual Assault. It's a "Thing".

We married, 5 years difference in age. We are wild ones!  We rode into our wedding reception on a Harley!! I had 4 kids, he had never been married. He married ALL of us.  We birthed 3 more kids and adopted 8.  We have dealt with foreign and domestic governments, to make things "right".  We lived and navigated life in a third world country, where we didn't speak the language. We have battled stigma head on, we have led very public lives.  NONE of that life prepared us for what we are living now.

We married, 5 years difference in age. We are wild ones!  We rode into our wedding reception on a Harley!! I had 4 kids, he had never been married. He married ALL of us.  We birthed 3 more kids and adopted 8.  We have dealt with foreign and domestic governments, to make things "right".  We lived and navigated life in a third world country, where we didn't speak the language. We have battled stigma head on, we have led very public lives.  NONE of that life prepared us for what we are living now.

Today I want to blog about homeschooling my kids with Down Syndrome and how awesome it is that i can do that while also running a successful business from home.

 

Instead, I NEED to write about how sexual assault (Specifically but not limited to #medicalsexualassault )and abuse later in life hurts (victimizes)spouses and marriages and why women sometimes choose to keep that secret from their spouse.  I want to feel like I am championing a cause that will help someone.  Even just ONE. I know this needs to be heard. But the truth is, I am so angry and all that is going through my head is how much #%<>^ !!  BULLSH+T this is.  WHY me!? Why this %#*!! experience and topic!!??  My whole life gets turned upside down, even down to what I share and this SH*T has tainted my “brand”. It has messed up who I AM!! It has even cost our family financially!! I ask myself where it ends and how to go on with the inability to trust,  even myself.  

 

I have to balance that truth with the reality that I can’t sit idle while there is NOTHING in place to protect others and as my community of warriors grow (Most of them don’t know they are warriors, YET) the ones like me that had sanctity stolen from their marriages and/or from themselves.  Have you ever thought of it that way? What happens when you choose to go behind closed doors for your intentional appointment, where society tells you that you are in the company of basically a god and you, the mere mortal are privileged to be in his company?  What happens when he can’t contain his primal filth and he uses you and your body without concern for your covenant with your spouse? (Or your simple value as a human.) No concern for the holiness of your body and who it belonged to. Using your stunned confusion to take it further and further. No concern for your history and the reality of how deeply you regard the sacred  and most intimate parts of who you are, and the joy those untainted realities brought you and your husband.  What happens when you feel that’s all been stolen?  How do you go on?  How do you look at yourself or your marriage the same?  How do you not question how your husband looks at you...now. How do you console a husband that is guilt laden because (if you told), his inability to protect you eats him alive daily, then for desert he is consumed by the inability to see justice on earth. (For now...) He is unable to deliver his choice of justice. Lest he be as primal as #Doctordirty. 

 

My LOVE, my PROTECTOR... &nbsp;

My LOVE, my PROTECTOR...  

You need to know that oftentimes women quietly harbor HORROR to protect ones they love, and for other reasons.  You need to know that there is never a singular victim  of a sex CRIME.  In my home, it has cost everyone.  It has cost everyone I know.  It hurt friends, family, business partners and people that I didn’t have the opportunity to meet and likely won’t because I can no longer assume I am safe with anyone, I cannot trust my own responses or ability to protect myself so it’s easier not to engage.  That’s not a really good place for someone that supports their family through networking and sharing themselves. 

 

I am a different version of myself this was not part of my personal development plans.  No amount of my fire walking with Tony Robins seared away what happened and what keeps me awake at night.  In the midst of it all, somehow I choose gratitude.  I know what it feels like to not have dignity left to stand in the way of authenticity.   I am grateful that if nothing else I WILL use what happened to me and others for greater change and to prevent this from happening again.   I am grateful to offer a space that keeps it real for women and families navigating this brand of hell. I am grateful for the hope that I won't always feel like I do this morning and the ability to encourage others of the same.  I am grateful for the other voices willing to be used, and I will be giving them guest spots here to share.  I am grateful for the reality (whether I feel it all of the time or not) that there is HOPE for justice and real change, because I can't stop until that happens.