We were driving back home to MD. He had done his damage control, talking about how "weird" the previous night had been, making sure that I wasn't going to tell anyone what "we" had done, especially my mom.
Over time, I came to understand the periodic extracurricular activity as the cost of his patronage, his interest in me. I didn't tell mom for nearly 20 years, when I was in therapy. It was nearly a decade before I told anyone at all, and then with an ulterior, if unconscious, motive. And also, until therapy, with the mistaken notion that it was something from my past that hadn't affected me much.
I have come to realize that even my complicit participation, including that first night, is on him. If a much younger person offered themselves sexually to me today, (I sincerely hope and anticipate that) I would graciously decline, and insist that God has a far better plan for us, for them. I wouldn't take advantage of their vulnerability and naivete.
This weekend of remembering has been very hard. There have been times when I have wanted to physically hurt myself. I've also been tempted to pursue aspects of desire that are not God's will for me. I have thus far managed to turn away from these temptations, and to trust that God's plan is better. But I don't therefore imagine that the battle for my mind and heart - and to determine where my trust truly lies - is over.
No comments:
Post a Comment