My palms are sweating, my heart is beginning to pound, and I am already near tears.  I have just written my first sentence and I am already having an emotionally difficult time in writing this post.  I feel the subject is so important that I am willing to do this in hopes that I will help someone else who has been through this.  This isn't some academic research article.  I am writing this as a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. 

Caution:  This post may contain content which is an emotional trigger for others who suffer from PTSD and who have endured sexual abuse.  So do proceed with caution and it may be good to have someone on hand you can talk to if you find yourself dealing with overwhelming emotions.

I am fourty-four years old and my abuse took place when I was five years old.  Although it has been more than several decades since this abuse took place, I still re-live the fear and terror of that time.  I can remember details surrounding the abuse and my abuser with sparkling clarity.  But I still cannot remember the actual traumatic events after all this time.  I am finding that this gap in memory is not so uncommon and actually is part of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

My father had just died when I was four.  Shortly after my father's death a friend of my father came to visit my mother and me on a frequent basis.  This man would bring me expensive presents including a huge dollhouse with real lights.  He always had gum and candy to give to me as well.  He never came to our house without something to give to me.  My mother in her grief and distraction allowed this "friend" to babysit me. 

I have a memory of sitting on this man's lap and him chiding me that I wasn't my mother's little girl anymore, but his.  And that is as far as the vision unfolds before my fear kicks in and my memories go no further.  My memories pick up when I am talking to my mother and I am repeating words I have no understanding of their meaning.  My mother looks at me in disgust and then panic.  She wants to know where I have heard such words before.  I tell her that our friend has told them to me.  It is then that I am whisked away to the doctor.

I remember feeling confused and frightened during the examination.  An overwhelming sense of shame comes over me as the doctor speaks privately to my mother.  I don't understand why at the time but I feel dirty and bad as though I have done something terribly wrong.  The next memory I have is my mother bringing me to a courtroom. In my disjointed memory, I see him.  He is sitting with this back to me.  Somehow aware of my presence, he slowly turns his head towards me.  He smiles.  And I feel pure fear. 

Although it was the last time I physically saw this man, I continued to see him in flashbacks and nightmares many years later.  As a matter of fact, I can still see him now.