#Metoo x 4

I am a #Me too.
In case you don't know what that hashtag stands for, it is representative of women and girls who have been sexually harassed or attacked or raped sometime in their lives.

I was 9 the first time I was inappropriately touched sexually by my brother and two of the neighborhood boys.
They took turns. They thought it was great, and said as much out loud to each other. It went on for 4 years.
And I never told another living soul until I was an adult.
I had confided in my husband of course. But then I met this woman through our local elementary school, our daughters had become friends and so we became friendly; meeting for coffee and chatting on the  phone.
She confided to me that her brother had done horribly inappropriate sexual things to her as a child.
I told her my story and felt a kinship with her; here at last was a woman who would understand what I had gone through. But the very next day, she told her neighbor my story and her neighbor just happened to be my cousin, then my cousin told my aunt and then my cousin told my sisters and then my cousin called and told my mother. My mother called to confront me and said that they did not believe my story and felt I had gotten caught up in the hysteria of this other woman's story. One sister even went so far as to say that SHE had never been touched or approached by our brother so it couldn't possibly be true. She wondered aloud if perhaps a counselor had put the notion into my head or maybe that I had dreamt it and then thought that in my mind it must be true.
To say I was devastated is an understatement.
I learned to not trust other women after that. And I never trusted another person with that secret.
It was never spoken about or brought up again with my family.

I was 11 the second time it happened. This time, a camp counselor who took advantage of me during a game of blind folded nature walks. There were 20 of us playing a game where we were tied together and blind folded and were told to use our ears to listen for nature sounds and our noses to smell clues as to where we were and what we might be near.
Never in a million years would I have guessed that I would have also needed my eyesight to see who "it" was who had touched me in such a vulgar matter. Was it only me? I don't know. I was too afraid to tell and too afraid to ask.  To this day I have no clue who did it.
I was 11 years old, flat as a board with no curves to speak of and I was in sixth grade.

As a high school sophomore I guess you could classify what happened to me as a date rape but it wasn't mean or vicious. I had initially said yes to my boyfriend about going all the way, then I changed my mind at the last minute but he didn't acknowledge my change of heart.
Instead he said "Wait..I'm almost done" and I cried the whole way through it.
I remember thinking in my head  This is what Cosmopolitan writes about? This is sex? Where's the fireworks? Where's the warm fuzzy feeling? Where's the love? 
Is that all there is? That was it?!?
(Nobody told me that all of that would come in due time with a man who respected me and loved me and pledged his life to me.  Even then, it took about 5 years of marriage before sex got any good.)

When I was 18 and working at a local lumber company, one of the Contractors
(a married man with 4 kids) took a liking to me. He was older than my own father. He would tell me sexually explicit jokes or say sexually explicit things to me. At the company Christmas party he asked me to dance and not knowing how to get out of it, I said ok. He stuck his tongue in my ear and whispered that he wanted to see me later.
I was freaked out and grossed out.
I told him that I had plans later, that me and my friends were all meeting at another local bar.
Later that night he showed up at the bar where me and my friends were and tried to buy me a drink. He asked me to dance again, though this time I refused both the drink and the dance.
He suggested that we take off and go to his place. He offered to drive me home. He put his hands on my shoulders and started massaging them.
My best friends boyfriend finally told him to get lost and he left.
The next day at work, my manager called me into his office and asked me had this man been bothering me.
I hesitated. My eyes must have widened because my manager said..."It's ok. You don't have to lie. He won't be bothering you ever again."
And with that, Mr. Contractor man was transferred to another location.
I never knew who told, and frankly I didn't care. I was thrilled that he was gone.


So.
Why am I telling you guys this story?
Mostly because it's been in the news lately and so many women are posting #Metoo on their social media accounts.
It's surprising and shocking and sad.
It boggles the mind how many women there are who have been abused in some form or another.
So I figure if they are all going to share their stories maybe it was time for me to share mine and hopefully this is the right time and place to share it.
A place where I feel supported, where I have friends, a place that feels safe to me.

Anyway...that's all I've got.
Thanks for reading,
Love, Lolly