Audrey's Story

THE SECRET COMES OUT! September 2004

What Is Child Sexual Abuse?
"Child sexual abuse is defined as an act imposed on a child who lacks emotional, maturational, and cognitive development. The ability to lure a child into a sexual relationship is based upon the all-powerful and dominant position of the adult or older adolescent perpetrator, which is in sharp contrast to the child's age, dependency, and subordinate position. Authority and power enable the perpetrator, implicitly or directly, to coerce the child into sexual compliance. (Sgroi, Blick, & Porter, 1982, p. 9).

I have buried this time and time again but it still returns to the surface of my life, haunting me, a ghost of the past. What key it has to open the doors of the future I do not know and I am unsure about. But, I do know, and I think I have always known, that secrets hold power, a negative power. Secrets give the perpetrator the power to continue to manipulate situations to their advantage and satisfaction at the expense of others.

To intentionally hurt others is totally against my being and against the law of life itself. As an adult, I have tried to live to my best, not always so as a young adult and not always succeeding as an adult, always making many wrong choices. The constant giving of myself to those that need, whatever that may be and over my own desires at times, I realize now, was due to common threads of the past that patterned me to behave as I have.

I NO LONGER GIVE MY POWER AWAY!

I sit here in the corner of an empty, expansive open field, surrounded by woods, the sun beating down at me and the wind roaring all around me, at peace, hoping to remain alone today to get this out on paper before my courage turns into weakness and my voice goes unheard again. In this place close to nature, I am most at peace, knowing how small I am in the scheme of things and not sure of my place. My hope is to become one with nature, camouflaged by the trees, so no one can see me and no one steps off the path through the woods curious as I was to find this spot. A beautiful waterfall, continuously pounding the rocks below, that drew me here, seemingly miles away, and completely oblivious!

I do not know when it all started. My parents told me I was born out of love. My Mom carried me, but my Dad had the pain as the story goes, around the same time Marilyn Bell was swimming across Lake Ontario. They were not the most loving people and I am not sure what the word love meant to them.

My recollections go back to being a baby and my older brother consistently helped my mother look after me. I distinctly remember being in the living room of the house I grew up in and my Mom still owns, my brother, Culley, lifting me up on his shoulders as I giggled and screamed with delight. I remember him stepping into the dining room and turning me around and putting his mouth between my legs and blowing. I remember feeling the heat of his breath through my clothes and still giggling as most kids would. This came to me long after I was grown and is the earliest memory I have and which haunts me as the start of sexual abuse in my life.

My Mom always praised my brother and said he was always such a great help to her raising me, always wanting to change me, bath me and look after me.

We lived in a dysfunctional house much like many others I found later, but for me then, it was a normal as normal could be. My father worked as a truck driver for Smith Transport, which was eventually bought out by CP and drove for 40 years. He was on the road for weeks at a time, with many stories of his own. He had many previous opportunities and trades and his name is probably still on the drawings and blueprint for the Don Valley Parkway, or Death Valley as we called it and is probably still called today. He tried many things but stuck with driving, it paid well and I am sure relaxed him, to be away from his life and six kids way back then. He was tired and grumpy most of the time and as soon as he walked through the door my mother would start complaining about us kids and how bad we were.

I was the second born, eleven years difference between me and my brother Culley and then she had four more, a year to two apart. A handful for sure and there was always something going on. I do not know when the verbal abuse started, it was always there, or the first time my Dad hit her or us. It was a frequent thing that went on behind closed doors and was the norm. As an older child, I remember nonchalantly waiting for the ambulance and for my mother to get up off the floor after my Dad called her stupid and knocked her down. I grew up fearful and terrified of him as we all were and resentful for my Mom telling him we were bad and also turning a blind eye to the things that went on, though many years later I understood her pain and his.

My brother Culley molested me most of my young life. Our basement lay unfinished for many years and he use to take me down there and pull off my panties and play with me. I was initiated to oral sex at that time. I know as a child it felt good to be with my older brother and he made me feel good, not knowing anything was wrong with this; it carried on for years and years as our secret. My brother threatened me with my father’s violence and mothers telling when it did become something that did not seem quite right.

It was a constant, daily part of my life as was the verbal and physical abuse at our parent’s hands, something I held as a secret for many years.

My mother would let him look after me while she tended to other things and the other kids. He changed me, dressed me, bathed me and put me to bed. I remember baths with the others, though I don’t remember if anything happened to them so much. Most times we were alone. He use to play with me in the bath and after drying me, he would pull his penis out like a toy and get me to touch it, it was then, him giving me my regular bath, that he asked me to kiss it and perform oral sex and so it all began. He would put me to bed at night, say good night to Mom, and sneak back into my room, he hid in the closet if he heard her coming. As soon as things were quiet again he would come out or after I fell asleep, I would be awakened with him pulling off my covers and lifting my nightgown to my neck and opening my legs as wide as they would go. I have many memories of him, at the end of the bed, he would move me down the bed, put my legs over his neck giving me oral sex while he jerked off in Kleenex. It got so I could not sleep and feared him coming and hiding in my room or getting caught and the having the wrath of my parents focused on me as he manipulated me to believe. I prayed he would leave me alone but he did not. It got so I would fake sleep, close my eyes tight and pretend I was somewhere else, wait for him to finish, and put it out of my mind.

As I got older, in the bathroom, he would sneak in, put his penis between my legs as I peed then come into Kleenex or on me and wipe me off. I remember a couple of close calls, his finger hushing me to be quiet until he managed to sneak out, sometimes hiding in the bathtub behind the shower curtain. He walked out into my Mom once and lied and said he mistakenly walked in on me when it became uncomfortable due to my age for him to be with me. Day after day and night after night it was the same thing and went on for years. He babysat us and so it was easy for him to do what he wanted. When my parents were out and as the others watched TV, he would take me downstairs, he started questioning me to how it felt always wanting me to tell him it was good.

The wrath of my parents got worse as we all were pummeled with obscenities, spanked and slapped routinely, the closest body part always feeling the sting. Slapping us across the face or head was popular by both of them and I remember my Dad taking a 2x4 to the boys, for whatever reason now I don’t remember, sometimes there was no reason. Dinnertime was a time of foreboding as someone always got in trouble. We were taught to shut up, as kids, were to be seen and not heard and forced to eat what was in front of us to the point of being sick at the table. I remember many times when my Dad would yell at me, I would stand there terrified and pee myself, and then he would humiliate me even more. I was luckier than the boys; only for the fact my father didn’t physically hurt me as much, because I was a girl. We grew up called stupid and many words I never understood until much later.

A reprieve from my brother came when he was charged along with another boy for rape of a girl he took out. Unfortunately, the girl’s reputation, though none I am sure, was presented as if she asked for it and was believed over my brothers and his friend’s lies. Though, this was kept from us, I only got bits and pieces of the conversations and accusations made, it was difficult not to hear what was going on, it was a big mistake in our house! It was many years later that my mother confirmed this. My father beat him good over that and he was sent away to the army. When he came back, things resumed with me.

He eventually got married and had two girls of his own, to this day; they do not talk to him. I felt guilt of not finding my voice and the courage to tell then, as I am sure he did the same to them as me as there was sexual abuse of some nature over them that came out much later.

I do not remember what age I was when I was told to baby sit, 10-12 years, but though I protested, you ended up doing what you were told in our household, whether you liked it or not. I was expected to baby sit Culley’s girls on a regular basis. Even with a wife, it did not matter, the sexual abuse continued. He would drive me home after babysitting, but always stopped on the back, country roads, around Sewells Road and Passmore Road, he had many favourite spots, and he seemed to know them all. It started with him pulling me over while driving, unzipping his pants, forcing my hand on his penis begging me to touch him while I begged him to be taken home. He would tell me after, we won’t be long and he would drive me home after, it was always after. He would pull over to a deserted spot and have me jerk him off, or he would sometimes get out come over and leave open the passenger side door as he would pull off my shorts or whatever I was wearing, make me lie down and have oral sex until he came in his hand or would rub against me until he came. I felt powerless to do anything and to his bidding told him I liked it and it felt good though wishing he would hurry and just take me home. I never knew how long we were but it happened every time I babysat without fail. I became to know the back roads pretty well.

When he dropped me off home, a few times Martha, his wife at the time had called looking for him, He always had an excuse, he had to stop for cigarettes or gas, or would tell her he came in five minutes after she called, a lie, and stopped to chat and have coffee with Mom and would be home soon. I don’t remember my mother ever questioning him. When I babysat, and Martha was finishing up getting ready to go out, he would come into the room while I changed the girls and play with them blowing on them to make them laugh as he did me. Martha’s younger sister came from Scotland to stay with them around the time I became more and more resistant and realized this was not normal for brother and sister. One night while driving me home, he pulled his penis out and after constant protest I pulled a small knife and I threatened him and that I would tell if he didn’t take me straight home and if he ever tried to touch me again.

That was the end of the sexual abuse of me but I believe from an argument that ensued later on with my parents, he got caught sexually abusing his wife’s sister. That was the end of their marriage. Again, he was charged with something, served time, but released from jail he moved back in with my parents. This is when he also tried to abuse my younger sister who was also taken to that famous deserted spot on Passmore, but as an older child manage to resist him.

Though this time and still presently as far as I know he is still working as janitor or in maintenance with the local school board. He was definitely in his element allowing him to gain trust and continue to molest innocent children. Their has been many allegations. He eventually married again but the abuse continues and she is just as abusive and manipulating as him, they deserve each other.

Going back to my young life, it was dreadful living in constant fear and with no control over anything including my body. I rarely slept well, did terrible in school, barely passing into high school and was withdrawn most of the time. I hated and feared my parents and I spent hours in my room crying and praying nightly to die. I was called a slut and whore and more long before I knew what that meant and out of fear I continued to suppress the secret I held.

And so that life ended and a new one began…

One filled with self-destruction, sex, drugs and alcohol. I have had many hurtful relationships continuing the cycle of abuse, repeatedly with verbally and physically abusive men. I identify with many women’s issues first hand, rape, attempted suicide, abortion, miscarriage, failed marriages, divorce, single parenting, living in poverty, re-education with many change of careers and employment issues, I have gone from making 8.00 hour to 100.00 hour and back again constantly trying to prove to myself that I was not the failure I felt I grew up as.

After my Dad died, I tried to let the truth out. My mother was totally in denial about anything happening to me, herself also growing up being sexual abused and my sister confirming to me that he had also tried with her and got no where, but verifying the truth. Things fell into place, but my brother Culley of course denying it ever happened as I am sure he always will and getting away with all unscathed.

Still, I am dealing with those repercussions of my early life and of those that came after telling, left totally on my own, the loss of family and friends, and with many health issues, both mine and then later my daughters including her misdiagnosis and experimental surgery that has left her permanently handicapped and legally blind and also the future unknown. I have, it seems, always been looking for guidance, advice and some direction or purpose in my life. Many times, stripped of everything decent that lead to the lowest possible point in my life and I find myself here once again so many years later.

My story needs to be recognized to possibly stop the manipulation still going on within our family today and everyone needs to take responsibility for their part. My responsibility is to let this secret out. I feel driven to get this out and tell so many years later as difficult as it is. I have had more life experience then most have in a life time and my life has been affected in so many ways, so many lessons learned and I have been close but I have never given up.

Taking responsibility for my life now, to make the right choices, has lead me to my involvement and empowerment through alternative healing and that in itself has created a well of emotion that emanates deep down to my soul level. I have realized I have some healing to do on myself before I can move forward and this is it. My life, now almost 50 years later, is starting to make sense as I again begin the struggle to live and enjoy life. To feel the love of life I know is there as my life begins with accepting love of a good man that has come into my life, a gift to me, and the past laid out for all to see, a secret no more. I begin this struggle to accept that I am deserving of all good things that life has to offer.

It is time to let this secret out, put this to rest for me… take back my power and if in this, I can keep growing with it, if some good comes out of this, if I may be able to help others in similar circumstances, I can only hope. I feel my purpose here is to help and assist others through the same life crisis situations and if I can help just one person then I know, the lessons learned in this life were well worth the chaos that was my life and though I wish this came out years ago and not so late in life, it is here, now, that my life begins. As I look around me, this place of nature is so much clearer and vibrating with life, life I fought so hard to ignore at one time and as I finish this story I feel elated and excited as the truth is out and will be denied no more… life is just beginning for me.

Lynne Henderson

Dedicated to all the precious children around the world, always remember that no matter what happens to you it’s not your fault, don’t keep it a secret, break the silence.