“The D.A. and a police officer flew toI found this at the site “Breaking Down the Walls of Silence”.
to take my statement. I began to reveal the details I could never forget. I could picture the car and recall the feelings I had. I remember the clothes I was wearing, because he had me take them off. He touched me and asked if it felt good. I said no and he said, 'well, someday it will.' Who would ever think four simple words could do so much harm: 'Well, someday it will.' Damned if I do, damned if I don't. Maybe that's where all my adult guilt came from. Maybe that's why when I ate caramel coated with chocolate or had pleasurable sex or won an award or got a great job, just moments after the elation, I'd be slammed with an overwhelming urge to punish myself. Because at the core, I felt I was bad. I felt that I caused it. That it was my fault. Ah, Sarah, I knew that pain. Los Angeles
So that was it. They took my statement and they flew away. I had no idea what to expect next, but what I got was a phone call. I wouldn't have to appear in court. No one would ever hear my story because the judge and my uncle's lawyer had read my statement, and the corroborating evidence was enough to make him plead guilty in October 2002 (not to me, but to Sarah's case). He got 14 years. He's old. I hope it's his final resting place.
For me, this opportunity, this turning point, gave me a chance to face a very old but still raging fear. I can't say that a victim of abuse is ever completely healed [no, this sort of abuse and maybe all other sorts are far from harmless, and maybe it isn't possible to heal completely, how muck the perpetrator and society try to rationalize what happened]. But this experience allowed me the space to feel validated, vindicated and, frankly, not crazy. It was not my fault. If this has happened to you, you may want to contact the Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network at rainn.org. I wish you strength and love, and a journey that leads to your own realization that you are lovable, worthy and deserve good things. If it hasn't happened to you, count your blessings and do something in your community to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone you know.”
Also see “Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network”.
Teri Hatcher writes/says:
“Then I got angry—that my mother didn't show the paper to me earlier; that I didn't put my uncle away when I was 7 years old. But, of course, no one did back then. 'Back then.' It makes me sound like an old person. But seriously, just 30 years ago, no one did. No one talked about any of that, and by the time I was conscious enough to know how wronged I'd been and how damaged I was as a result, well, the statute of limitations had flown by and my healing was only as close as $150 an hour for years of sessions that luckily I could afford.”
Yes, it costed a lot of money too to process what she had been through. Can all afford to pay for therapy (and what sort of therapy-help is often offered too)?
Yes, maybe we should speak up against all sorts of evilness here and there? Not keep quiet?
Why isn't this a bigger issue in media? About sexual and other forms of abuse early in life (and even earliest in life) and the consequences of them? Where maybe emotional abuse and the consequences of that is underestimated??
And I am also thinking of commentators on the net again... Shall one ignore them? Or (try to) speak up against them? See this article (in Swedish) about the phenomenon "Alex Schulman and vulgarity as a life-style"... What is this phenomenon an expression of? What do they want to achieve the ones which are using this sort of debate-style? Are they aware of their motives? The deeper motives and needs? And are they interested in them either the slightest bit? That they for instance are pouring things out to make others feel uncomfortable, and make them feel as uncomfortable as possible... Should one just let them and never react?? Should more people react on them??
But, the things I write about... Aren't always comfortable to read about!?? And I too need to pour things out... Yes...
About Alex Schulman, Lisette Schulman (his mother), Allan Schulman (his father) and Sven Stolpe (his maternal grandfather). Lisette Schulman's blog "The Schulmeister". The manner they argue in goes in the family (of the little I have read, seen and understood)?