The book A Prisoner by No Crime of My Own has been professionally edited and will be published this year. To pique interest, I will share tidbits from the manuscript with you each Tuesday.
I’m not mad at the cops. They did what they could. While my story is an extreme example of searching for justice, it is very ordinary when it comes to making a case against an abuser. They seem to always win. I know it’s a stretch to use the word always, but in a comparative sense it seems fitting. The number of abusers who walk away uncharged is staggering. Abusers begin their stories with each victim built around lies. Their lies continue as their abuse and grooming grows. Lying is just second nature to them so they are unaffected when approached by the truth or a lie detector test.
Victims come from a very different experience.
Even before the abuse emerges, abusers attempt to blur boundaries of what is appropriate, inappropriate, normal, or abnormal. Then, before long, the predator introduces secrecy to gain cooperation, participation, and silence. If you want their love (well – better stated, you need their love) then you will do as they say and never betray those secrets. You break every rule that God built inside of you and are no longer in touch with things as they are. You must deny reality. They are your rule makers, your god. Everything they want from you, you learn to give them.
At three, no one has defenses. Then, they weaken your God-given fortifications as you grow so they can pluck from you what they want. The essence of innocence is stolen. As the waves came from the oceans of deceivers in our youth, our winds must now blow a torrential storm back in the face of abuse. The worst classification of abuse might be the journey against the winds of our abusers calling out accusations against us – we are liars, we struggled with mental illness.
This is not a head issue. These are issues of the heart.
. . . to be continued . . .