Now that I've understood what it's like to become a parent to oneself, I thought I'd share the story of what happened to me when I was 9 years old. If you've read my book The Call for Divine Fathering - flying with the feathers of the eagle, you probably noticed how many of the other inmate women indeed had their own stories of sexual abuse, often occurring at that age. I didn't think mine has had any great impact on my life, but perhaps it has much more, than I've previously realized.
I had been to a class party with my classmates. We loved to have dance competitions and while I had my eyes set on the tall. blonde guy dancing among the best called Christer, it was his friend Jonas, who showed his fascination of me and my dialect (since we've just moved down south from another town) and wanted me to be his girlfriend. He was 10 years old at the time.
After the party, he asked if he could walk me home, so we walked alongside the bike-path towards my neighbourhood, some 15 minutes away. Then he suddenly wanted to kiss me. I let him. But it was the most awful sexual experience I've ever had. His tongue deep into my throat, almost choking me. When another boy showed up to chat, I took my chances and run home.
But, he ran after.
As soon as I came inside, my Dad noticed that I had run and wondered what had happened. Right then, the door bell rang and Jonas stood there, wondering why I had run away from him. I said that I had almost gotten raped, my cheeks blushing with shame, while both my Dad and Jonas affirmed my safety. He and his friend went to take some apples from our abundant garden and I went upstairs to my room.Then they left.
The day after, I broke up with him.
The little 9 year old girl didn't know!
Since then, I have had some great kissers and good sex with a couple of different partners, but I can't help but wonder if this is the reason why I have such a problem going to the dentist. Is it? I freak out in panic and gag as soon as I open my mouth. I've also been through another assault; an attempted date rape after having dinner at a guy's apartment when I was 21. That time, I also ran home.
After writing about it, I lost mine.
What happens then, when we don't have any home to run to? Having a home is the foundation of feeling safe.