About 1 in 4 girls and 1 in 6 boys are sexually assaulted in the United States. So you probably know someone who it has happened to. They probably dont talk about it. It might be the hardest thing to talk about. It is so hard to talk about that I didnt tell anyone until I was an adult. And I still havnt told that many people… until now. Monsters are supposed to hide under your bed. They lurk in the dark and wait until no one is around to attack. My monster lurked in the dark too. He still does. He just isnt in MY nightmare anymore.

I remember meeting him. I called him Dad almost immediatly. I wanted a dad and I was finally going to have one. I was seven years old. He was charming and funny. Everyone liked him. He had daughters of his own that he was close to. He had grandkids who loved him. There was nothing to worry about.

My dad died when I was three. But now this man came into our lives promising to make our family whole. My mom wanted a father for us. He coached my basketball teams. He took us out on boat rides. He swam with us in the pool. He cooked and joked and played.

But then there were the other things. The moments that were uncomfortable and you couldnt tell why. It was always accidental touching. We would be playing but very often you were being touched in ways that made you uncomfortable. There were the times when you would see parts of him you didnt want to see, and always “on accident”. As a child, you ignore things like that. You try to forget them. You think it was accidental.

Then there are the things that you know are on purpose but it is so awful that you wont let your brain compute it. I would wake up with my monster beside my bed. I would wake up to being touched. When I would wake up he would stop. I usually just stirred like I was going to wake up to get him to go away. But I always knew what was going on. Maybe somehow I knew that it was unsafe to let him know that I knew what he was doing. Maybe I was too embarassed to face it. Maybe both.

There was one night where I jumped when I realized that he was in my room. He asked me, “Why did you jump?” I said, “Oh, I just didnt expect to see anyone.” Of course I was jumping because I was scared to see him there. He left because I had seen him.

I never told anyone. Why didnt I tell anyone? At the time I dont think I wanted to admit that this was happening. I didnt want everyone looking at me and asking me questions. I didnt want to make this huge upheaval in my family.

Thank God, someone else was braver than me in my family. When he said something inapproproiate to them they told. At first, everything was downplayed. He apologized to us for what “we thought” he said. But all in all it was a denial. At first as a family we brushed it off. We accepted his explanation that it was all a misunderstanding. Fortunately my mom saw the truth and made him admit it. They went to therapy under the guise that they were working on things. My mom was really wanting things on record. He admitted to the therapist that he was planning on raping us. My mom kicked him out. He had adopted us. If he wanted to he could have had a right to shared custody. My mom threatened that he give up his rights or she would tell his family, friends, and employer. Still, no one knew what he had done to me.

And then I reacted in a way that makes no sense. I cried. I told my mom that he was sorry. I didnt want them to get divorced. To this day, I dont know why I wanted him to stay. Now I am so thankful that he was removed from our lives. It just goes to show that children are fragile and confused.

I still didn’t tell anyone what he did to me. I stayed quiet. I honestly put it out of my head all together. I never talked about it for the next 7 years, to anyone. Then one day I was sitting in a hole in the wall restaurant with my mom and her friend. I was 21 and we were having margaritas. I don’t remember what we were talking about but all of those memories came flooding back. All of a sudden I was sitting there and saying to myself, “Omg, those are things that happened to me.” Even though I remembered, I still didn’t tell my family. What if they thought I was making it up? What if they didn’t believe me? What if this destroyed my mom?

I used to daydream about what I would do if I ran into him. I was shopping at a grocery store once when I was playing it through my mind. Pick up a bat, toss it in the air Harley Quinn style, and beat the shit out of him. Or would I just stare at him to show him that I remember. Or start yelling to everyone around that he was a pedophile. I never got to find out. I never saw him again.

Years later, my family member and I were having drinks and hanging out. A little alcohol usually starts conversations you wouldnt usually have. We began talking about it and realized a lot of the same things were happening to us. Awkward moments, accidental incidents, etc. And we never knew.

Now, as a mother, I have had so many talks with my kids about things like this. I have told them about what happened to me and I told them how I didnt tell anyone. I want them to speak up. They arent around anyone I don’t know. I ask them every once in a while about these things. I notice as I write this that I still don’t use the words: molestation, rape. It is such a hush hush topic surrounded by shame. But I am open with them so they don’t go through what I went through. This happens to so many people. Men and women. As a parent you can’t just ask. You have to push. You have to talk about it a lot. I am okay now. And that coward.. that monster beside the bed, will eventually die and go where he belongs.