Such nasty reports always in the press. Big sex offense here, granny assault or child molestation there. I am double in that; on the one hand I am thinking of my colleague case managers who are undoubtedly very busy taking care of the parents of the victims of, for example, an assault. I see the lot of work this entails for them, and I feel the emotion that every person feels with these messages. On the other hand, personal memories whirl through it. Memories of a child's assault when I was 5 years old. My assault. An assault that changed my life in 1 day from innocent and open, to closed and confused…
A hot summer day, an innocent 5-year-old girl dressed in just a swimsuit (yes, it was such a hot day). A sister 5 years older with me and also a neighbor with bad plans, who also had the chance to carry them out.
On a vacant lot behind our block of houses, he saw his chance and struck. Two girls' lives turned upside down. start image; I on the arm of the neighbor so as not to come into contact with the nettles. He held me so tight that the elastic of my swimming trunks cut into my skin. I hesitate and decide to say something. To my horror I notice that he does not move his arm, but pulls my pants down. Yes, but that's not right, is it? Panic. Followed by a total blackout.
Next image; I see my sister standing in front of the raspberry bush. That bush is on the part of the site where we are actually not allowed to go. Too remote, no one to see you. But somehow we got there. My sister does her best to fend off the neighbor, and she succeeds.
Read also: you are a victim, not a slut!
Next image; I'm frozen. The neighbor does what he wants with me. My sister begs and persuades me to go home with her. I scream inside “I want this to stop”, but am unable to act on it. My sister finally gets me this far. Or she gets the neighbor to stop and let me go. I don't remember exactly. We walk home while I think my sister is saying everything to me. I can't quite hear it and am in complete shock. I think she's helping me pull up my pants. In the afternoon, sister says..."Mom, Elsemiek has something to tell you...", but Elsemiek keeps her mouth shut. For her, the assault was already under lock and key, a box that could only be opened again years later.
About 20 years of therapy (on and off, not continuously happy) is needed to get this completely clear for myself. To feel. To get a picture of all the effects it has had on my life and to finally be able to really let it go. And also to see the positive sides of it (that's why I'm so good at my profession as a case manager and therapist). It took me 20 years to be able to move on, to be able to trust again. And yet, every now and then it comes back in full force. When all the media reports about bad events are going around. Then it brings me down again.
As a victim of an assault you have a life sentence. But there is a difference; I can still feel the ground under my feet better, even if it still falls off every now and then. And I have a Love to cry with. That also makes a big difference. I still have to wear it myself, but no longer alone…
