If your molester is dead your charges are unfounded

When I was a child and I felt sad, I would sit over a heating vent on the floor, and put my face in the warm air coming from the forced air furnace in the basement.

unfounded

When the police officer in Canada sent me the email summarizing the police report from 1997, I sat by the gas fireplace and hugged my knees to my chest. I turned my face towards the heat and tried to find comfort in the warm air.

I slept on the carpet in front of the fireplace the night I received the e-mail. The gas fireplace was on all night.

unfounded

I tried to find comfort in the same way I did as a child.

unfounded

The answer was not what I had expected. I was alarmed.

Please be aware of the fact that since we were not able to interview or question Mr. Schack with respect to the allegations, this file is deemed to be “unfounded”.  Don’t be alarmed by the status of the file, it simply refers to the fact that we couldn’t prove the allegations that you brought forward.

unfounded

Merriam Webster on-line, said unfounded was: lacking a sound basis : groundless, unwarranted <an unfounded accusation>

The Free on-line dictionary said unfounded was: 1. Not based on fact or sound evidence; groundless. 2. Not yet established.

The police  couldn’t prove the allegations because the man who molested me was dead.  The man we called Uncle Carl, had molested me. The police couldn’t prove it, but it was still my truth. The reason I had tried to find him in the first place was to try and protect other children. They are protected now because he is dead.

The sargeant was able to locate a person with the same name and age of your suspect who was believed to be living in Western Canada.  He coordinated a number of requests with the RCMP in an attempt to locate Mr. Schack, only to discover that he was deceased as a result of a self inflicted wound. – From the summarized police report 1997

The email with the police summary was sent to me on February 21, 2013. Today is September 7, 2013. For the past six months and 17 days, the word, “unfounded”   has whispered to me.

unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded

 

This story has sat in the rough draft file of my WordPress blog for months. Six months and 17 days, to be exact. I didn’t want to write about this part of the story.  No, that is not completely true. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to write this story. I didn’t know what to say. I felt shame.

And I am eight again wanting someone to believe me.

And I am fifty-four sitting in front of the gas fireplace.
And I am fifty-four  trying to live in the present and not in the past.
And I am fifty-four saying to the little girl who lives inside of me.
The little girl who wishes her past was different.

“It’s okay Pamela. He can’t hurt you anymore. You don’t need to find his gravesite to be healed from the wounds he caused you. You can live today with joy. You don’t have to feel shame because of the police report. God loves you, and Jesus love you. Jesus will always love you.”

I don’t know how to forget the past. I told my friend Suzanne that I wanted the story of my childhood to be over. I wanted a period at the end of the sentence. The end of my story was going to be when I found the grave-site. I had visualized the grave-site like a serialized TV movie. A close up shot of me putting flowers at his grave, and then a wide-shot as I walked away.

Suzanne said, “There will never be a period at the end of the sentence. You will see something and you will remember.”

I know she is right. My past is always in the back of my mind. When someone wants to spend time with my child. I am protective, cautious. If I see a Japanese doll I remember the doll he gave me.

So perhaps the healing I seek will not come from forgetting the past. There is no crisp line marking where I “get over it.”  Healing won’t come from forgetting, but from the accepting that I can not change the past.

Live boldly today. Make today count, and yesterday will become a shadow that no longer touches you.

Today, the sun is shining. Today I am alive. Today I can live boldly. My past doesn’t have to define my present. Today I delete the word unfounded.

 So often survivors have had their experiences denied, trivialized, or distorted. Writing is an important avenue for healing because it gives you the opportunity to define your own reality. You can say: This did happen to me. It was that bad. It was the fault & responsibility of the adult. I was—and am—innocent.
The Courage to Heal by Ellen Bass & Laura Davis” ― Ellen Bass

This did happen to me.
It was that bad.
It was the fault & responsibility of the adult.
I was – and am innocent.
My story is based on fact.
It is not groundless.

unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded  unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded unfounded

 Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see a shadow.
Helen Keller

I will take Helen Keller’s advice. I will keep my face to the sunshine.

I don’t see a shadow.

I can not choose my past. I can not change my past.

Today, I can change. I can choose my attitude. My future will be made by the choices I make today. ( Would you like to tweet this. Please click here. tweet, tweet.)

I will keep my bottle of Joy dish soup beside my sink. and I will pray to always embrace joy in my life.

Joy is a choice.

I choose joy. Today and always.

What do you choose?

Will you consider buying  a bottle of Joy dish soap? When you wash your dishes  be reminded of how much God loves you . When I wash my dishes,  I will have the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy down in my heart, down in my heart to stay.

Please let me know if you want to be in the Joy Dish Soap Player Team  Just leave your name in the comments, and I will write your name on a 3×5 card by my sink. You don’t have to go into detail about your life. God knows your past and your pain.

Just say, “Add my name to your list. Please put me on the Joy Dish  Soap Prayer Team.

Three times a day when I wash the dishes I will pray for you. Some days It may only be once a day. Some days I write all day and won’t do any dishes.

And will you please add my name to your list?

————————————–

Disclaimer:

My story of childhood abuse is here: Warning, Some of the stories are graphic.

• Uncle Carl molested me when I was eight
• Uncle Carl was not my uncle.
• Mommy, I have a secret
• My mother said, “I will kill Uncle Carl if I see him.”
• Believe your children
• 17 ways I try and protect my children from perverts
• Can I forgive the man who molested me?
• Where is the grave of the man we called Uncle Carl?