By Terri Jenkins
April is Child Abuse Awareness Month, so I feel it is appropriate to share more details of my experience that I referenced in my first blog. For a long time now, 44 years to be exact, faith has been a large part of my life and although my childhood was disrupted in the most shocking way imaginable, I always felt there was a higher power watching over me.
Here is my story.
Living in Miami, I was the middle child in my original family; I had an older brother and a younger one. Due to unfortunate circumstances between my biological parents, my mother Carole, found herself alone trying to raise three young children at age 22. Things were not easy for her and eventually, we were taken from her custody (that story will come at another time) and put into foster care. I did not see my younger brother for a couple of years and it was even longer before I saw my older brother again.
I was in multiple homes until I was relocated to one where my younger brother was, and we remained together until we were adopted together in 1972. There were seven children already there, so I was number eight, three girls and five boys. I rode my bike down the road to the Catholic church so even at a young age, faith was a part of my life.
I don’t remember the first time it happened but as time went on, I remember thinking “oh, no not again!” The foster father, Hank, was a tall man and had a somewhat heavy build but he was a sick man. I honestly don’t remember if he ever told me “if you tell anyone, I will hurt you” but I did not tell anyone. I had to wonder though, that if he was doing things to me, was he was doing it to others? Possibly. He would wear a bath towel around his waist and to this day, I have a hard time with that visual and in my previous relationships. I kindly asked that they not do that while around me.
It is what it is.
In 1972 after I was adopted by a wonderful couple, Joe & Barbara Duckett, it was revealed to them what happened to me. No formal counseling took place and there was not an agency like the Children’s Advocacy Center in existence at that time.
So, I went on with my life, but I was the opposite of what the stereotype is with young girls who are sexually abused – meaning that I was not a promiscuous person by any stretch of the imagination.
Fast forward to 1998. I started working at the Children’s Advocacy Center in Valdosta and was there for nearly three years and in some ways, that was my “formal therapy” – in helping children through that process, I in turned received help.
It was years later that I found out the foster license was removed from the couple and their oldest daughter was on a victim’s list. Before that though, in 1980, I contacted the foster mother to tell her what my life was like and they came to visit me at my little trailer in Lake City, FL.
Why did I write?
It had to do more with her than him but when I saw them exit that motor home, I wanted to tell him “I have never forgotten what you did to me.”
They had two sets of twins, both developmentally challenged that they were fostering and my heart sank when I saw them because I wondered if they were victims as I was.
Did Renee know what was going on? I don’t know. Is Hank still alive? I don’t know. I reconnected with Renee through Facebook over a year ago and through messenger, we exchanged some words but nothing about what took place many years ago in her home. She lives in Central Florida and is sick, and honestly, what purpose would there be to bring it up?
When I do presentations, I ask people to close their eyes and to think of their first sexual experience. There are uncomfortable sighs, gasps and nervous laughter – but when I say mine was at six-years-old, the room becomes quiet.
Who typically has their first one at age six? I recount memories and the looks on faces are sobering, sympathetic and sad.
The message I want to relay to those who are reading this, male or female, is that horrible things that happen(ed) to you when you are young (or older) don’t have to dictate the path you take in life. Some people sadly can’t cope but for me, I can honestly say I have long reconciled my experience with sexual abuse and almost being kidnapped by a sexual predator who lived next door.
How?
By choosing to allow my faith in God heal me and guide me in everything I do.
I will turn 57 in July and it was not until about eight years ago that I started sharing my story publicly. Has it been hard? Yes, but it has been very necessary to become a voice for those who can’t find theirs yet. To say, it was not YOUR FAULT and that you will be all right!
If you take the opportunity, you can overcome and be a productive member of society. I feel like I am one and I make a positive difference in the lives of others and that is due to God’s grace. Our past is what it is, but it does not have to define us. Mine did not define me but it is a part of who I am and that will never change. There is always a CHOICE. I chose to forgive this man and not allow myself to be held captive by his sick actions.
If you suspect someone is going through this, please report it. If YOU are going through this, please know there is help for you.
Reach out to me, to someone. You can be a survivor too!
God bless you.
