I am distressed and sorrowful. Not for the first time, I feel helpless and alone. Now I begin to comprehend why I kept my sexual assault in 1974 a secret, at age 13. It wasn't me who wouldn't accept it had happened. I realized then, that others wouldn't understand how I was an innocent victim of a crime. That they couldn't accept it. This hurt me, as I always had a strong desire for approbation. Seeking approval was most likely involved in my relationship with my abusive teacher, and may have played a key role in his preparing me, or grooming, as it is called.
Some years after the events, I first told strangers, bolstered by alcoholic courage. Next, my parents. Then, as I started to enter many treatments for addiction and mental illness, all the doctors, and alcohol counselors. I told friends and sponsors in AA, and NA meetings. Of the many dozens of professionals I met in the field, and friends heart to heart, not one - including my own parents - reported it to the police. None suggested I do so, or offered support to take that step. I didn't have courage or the wisdom to do it alone. The long-term ramifications of unwanted homosexual sex as an adolescent created an addict, and homeless mental patient. I was considered reprehensible again and again. Institutionalized and hospitalized, released. Without acknowledgement of my true dilemma, this cycle repeated itself for 30 years. The fact that I was a criminal, welfare recipient, and patient; well documented, accepted without question. The cause, I believe, was sexual child abuse, contradicted by all. It was very painful and isolating.
The Victim Assistance Office was created by the Catholic church. I reported my sexual abuse (by an employee) to the Allentown Diocese in 2003, as many abuse victims across the country were doing at that time. With clergy molestation in the national news, I reflected, there is a chance my pain can be recognized and dealt with. As I foundered in and out of hospitals and jails, the Catholics made assurances of treatment and aid, but these were empty.
I was left to my problems. The only way to get any help at all, eventually, was to force the police to commit me. I called 911 from a payphone, threatened suicide, and waited there for a squad car several times. I made scores of sincere endeavors to recover, both as an inpatient and outpatient. These efforts were hampered by medical staff reluctant or unable to identify and deal with underlying causes.
Thirty-five letters to Victim Assistance Coordinators, Bishops, and other church officials went out from prison in the years 2005 - 2009. This effort was made in hope that persistence would convince them to admit my need for help. Once in awhile a few dollars would trickle in. The church never admitted their failure to treat me when I reported the abuse to them, nor would they alter their position that they merely providing christian charity to a wretched soul. No responsibility was taken, no apology.
I notified a district attorney of the crimes against me the first time In 2006, and got a call from their office in Dallas SCI. They told me that the perpetrator had only one criminal conviction. A DUI in 1992. I found this odd as I recall writing him in Lehigh County Prison in 1975, when he disappeared from school after an arrest at his home for possession of a large amount of drugs. I again wrote this abuser seeking apology and closure, in 2008. He promptly threatened to contact authorities to extend my prison stay. Then I wrote prisoner advocacy groups and others looking for justice, with poor results. My last resort was contacting law enforcement directly by mail a few months ago in 2009.
Decades after the abuse ended, I found the courage to collect my tormenting memories and put them on paper once and for all. This six page statement was sent to 12 law enforcement agencies, along with other documentation, in 19 letters total. I asked for charges to be pressed for sexual abuse. At first, some reports, by two different departments stated that charges could still be filed. Then silence. Pennsylvania State Police later wrote to inform me that the statute of limitations for prosecution ran out. This drained my newfound sense of empowerment.
I have been suffering from these cruel and perverted crimes most of my life. However, he remains at large, a respected, protected member of society. Free to continue his predatory ways. It becomes plain I will not and cannot find empathy, justice, or treatment. How heartbreaking. I am near 50 years old now, and I must accept it is unlikely I will find the satisfaction I desire. So be it.
For one, I am tired of being and playing the victim because I am very able, intelligent, and likeable. Perhaps it's time to think more practically, less emotionally. I have tried everything I can to get results, a considerable effort that has apparently failed. My life, on the other hand, has been spared. I do not comprehend how all the previously described could have let me down, but they have. I no longer have the energy or desire to participate in so unrewarding and impossible a fight by myself. I move on.
At the end of the day, we are all left to deal with our problems and fears by ourselves. Facing the challenges of life is painful. There is a commonly held belief - help is available for one's problems. Just like the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, justified National Pride, and Life after Death ... it's a lie. I have been reaching out all my life, and been denied with affected concern and smiling face. There is another myth that is endangered. I can count on others to take personal and professional responsibility, they are basically good inside, and they care. I believed that because it's how I wanted it to be. That's how I operated, having seen such misery. I must henceforth rely on my own instinct and luck. It is a rude awakening.
