An Alien Encounter: A Look at Sexual Abuse

I am in my therapist’s office, after finding out about my daughter’s sexual abuse, and I am slowly recalling the morning after the first time I was sexually violated by my stepfather…..

I saw myself as a young child, sewing a cloak of many new colors, a cloak of artificial self-esteem and confidence. This new cloak would carry me through most of my adult life. This cloak was a shield protecting me from who I became overnight:

Unworthy, unloved, invisible, ugly, and useless.

That memory opened the flood gate and instantly I was back lying in bed at nine years old wanting to make some sense of the strange encounter. I tried to understand who I was now and how I was supposed to act. At the hands and whims of my stepfather, I had been whisked into a new identity and I was on the lam.

Alone at nine years at nine years of age.

After all, there was enough pressure in the fourth grade. I was already having trouble memorizing my times tables and was getting in trouble for it at home.

I lay there after being my stepfather’s sexual release and looked out my bedroom window. I watched him clean the pool just like any other normal day.

He looked happy, content and even pleased with himself.

My stepfather is Native American. My mother is Caucasian and grew up in a wealthy prominent family in Oregon. My mother left my natural father to sneak off and marry my stepfather. My grandparents were furious and disapproved of the marriage. They loved my natural father and couldn’t understand the abrupt change in my mother’s heart.

I remember vividly when my mother took me to my stepfather’s shack when I was just over two.

He had no electricity. He offered me a glazed donut. There was a couch with a blanket on the back. My mother was acting weird. Looking back, I think it was giddiness. I didn’t like it.

When we left, she closed the door and, in a little girl’s voice, she confided in her toddler that she was going to marry this new man.

I felt like my world had ended. The ironic thing is that I told this memory often to my parents growing up and they were shocked that the memory of such a young child could hold such detailed information. I recalled every detail of his white shack on the corner, both rooms, and the small, almost non-existent kitchen.

They always confirmed with astonishment what I described. We also laughed when I told them that I thought my world had ended, because then we were all busy being a happy, fake family.

As I continued to try and make sense of the horribly shameful and invasive encounter, I realized what was going on. It wasn’t him. How could it have been? Aren’t parents supposed to protect you and keep you safe no matter what?

I had a new identity and so did he. It was obvious. A creepy sex-starved alien must have come into his body at night and corrupted his actions. Case solved. The alien obviously thought my life was worth breaking, and that my dreams were worth stepping on. Sick, creepy, alien jerk! My stepfather just didn’t know someone was overtaking his body, that‘s all.

That realization was enough to get me out of bed, dressed, and into the kitchen to grab some breakfast before going to school.

My sister was already at the bar, eating cereal. As soon as I joined her, my stepfather came in whistling, and asked us how we slept last night. That was proof there was an alien in our presence.

Up until I could figure out a plan of how to expose the alien, I tried not to be around my stepfather, especially in the evenings.

I went to school and attempted to learn and study as planned, all the while keeping my new identity a secret. I stayed away from friends for a while, not knowing how to act. I was never sure at what point the sex-starved alien would overtake his body and have his way with mine.

Still, the alien found ways to be around me and spy on me.

One evening after a shower, I joined my family in the living room to watch Sonny and Cher. (That show always made me happy. I loved Cher’s energy.)

Instead of having a warm, cozy evening as I intended, the alien laughed in front of everyone and mocked me, doing a dance like the private one I had just done alone in the shower.

Horrified, I realized that he must have been watching me dance nude in the shower.

I thought it had been a private moment of expression, gesturing, and flicking a washrag around. Suddenly, it was shattered, stolen, and turned sick and embarrassing because of his sexual urges.

I gathered that my mother must have walked in on him so he was trying to make light of it, or I am sure he wouldn’t have said anything and continued his peeping.

I felt violated and overpowered by the cunning alien once again.

I went to my room and closed my door, hoping to shut out the new world I was living in.

I began praying more than ever.

It was around that time that I began sensing a presence around my bed when I slept. Sometimes it was so present and strong that I was sure that if I opened my eyes, I would see someone standing there. A few times I even peeked, but I never saw anyone there.

Even though I wasn’t afraid of the energy, I began clapping my hands in front of and behind me, imagining a shield that no one or no presence could penetrate. The alien was the only one who continued to violate that space.

I asked God whom the presence was, knowing in some way, in some amount of time, he would show me.

One night, as I began drifting off to sleep, I saw a beautiful angel in my mind’s eye and realized I was indeed surrounded and protected.

I fell asleep with a sense of peace and knowing……

If you or someone you love has been sexually abused, please join me at www.spiritoflivingwell.com with an all new free tele- support group beginning in June. A private first call, just you and me, is available to monitor and respect your comfort level prior to your first small tele-gathering. Be prepared to be inspired, touched and uplifted by new safe friends on the call.