I became a statistic when I was three years old. I was one of the children, who every year are sexually assaulted by a family member. My life changed in the blink of an eye. It might not have changed just then, but it definitely changed as I got older and I began to understand more about what happened to me.

Don't get me wrong, I understood what happened to me was wrong the moment that it happened. I knew that even though he told me not to tell anyone, that I should go tell Memaw ( my grandma) right away so that she could get in contact with my parents who were having a very rarely seen date night. I remember the Sheriffs coming to my house like it was yesterday. I remember the horrible thing that happened like it was yesterday. I can vaguely remember talking to lady and playing with a doll while she asked questions like " can you show me on the doll where he touched you?"

As I got older, especially in middle school, the sex talk in health class was the one that I was least looking forward to because talking about sex in any sense of the word felt dirty. I didn't want anyone to know what had happened to me because I was afraid they would think I was dirty. My mom and I have talked a little bit about what happened to me. I can handle a little bit of the conversation at a time before it becomes too much for me to handle. Let's not forget that every time I get jury duty papers in the mail and they ask if I have ever been the victim of a crime I have to write "gross sexual imposition" on that line for the rest of my life. I'm 26 now, but there are still things that trigger me and take me right back to being three. That truly is a horrible feeling.

Along with the feelings of shame came the feelings of great anger. I was angry that someone had done this to me. This was someone who in my three year old mind was someone to be trusted because I didn't know any better. I was angry because I didn't feel like I had any control over the situation. To this day I hate having the feeling that I have no control. I carried that anger for a long time. I was angry because the time that he did in jail will never be enough to pay for what he did to me. I worry about what the man that I marry will think. I worry about how I will react when it comes to being intimate with the man I love. I was in high school when I finally gave that anger to God and forgave the person that hurt me. Now, I didn't tell him that, but God knows and that's enough for me.

I'm not writing this for attention or sympathy. I do hope that someone will read this and see that they aren't alone. They're not the only one with these feelings. Find someone to talk to whether it be a therapist,counselor, or a good friend. Don't hold these feelings in because if you let the feelings control you, you are letting him win. Lastly, it's okay to be angry and hateful, but it feels so much better to forgive.