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Journeys of Hope - Pam's Journey
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My
life was relatively normal until I reached the age of eight.
I grew up in New Jersey with a mother, father, and lots of
siblings. In the order of brothers and sisters, I was third
to the oldest. When my parent’s marriage unraveled, my
mother began dating a man ten years younger than she. In the
beginning, this man seemed nice and generous. He drove to
our house in his semi-truck, bringing various goodies for
us. Due to the scarce finances of my single mother, all of
this seemed wonderful to us. My mother’s boyfriend brought
us gifts, played games with us, and made our mother happy.
We began to have fun and enjoy his presence.
The molestation began slowly and gradually. I was eased into
the abuse. His hand would slip, as he tickled me. At first I
did not mind this playfulness. Then I decided to mention
these instances to my mother, only to hear her reply
"He's just playing. He means no harm". Within a
few short weeks, his fun and games progressed to fondling.
My mother began to get sick. It was later learned that she
had developed terminal cancer, and in order to extend her
life, she needed to move to a dry climate. My now stepfather
bought a school bus, converted it into a camper, and we
headed to our new home in Florida. I celebrated my eleventh
birthday on that trip to Florida. And it was then that my
stepfather raped me in a Florida rest area while my mother
was in the bathroom with the younger children. He told me
that my mother was very sick. He warned me that if I told
her of his actions, she would die, and I would be
responsible for her death. I was an eleven year-old child
warned of being held accountable for my own mother's death.
I cried alone.
We settled into a town in Brevard County. I attended school
there and the rapes continued. No one seemed to notice. My
mother began to get sicker, requiring her to be gone from
the house for long periods. One school day in May of that
year, I doubled over in pain on the baseball field. The
school notified my mother, who took me to the doctor. The
doctor told me that I was eight months pregnant. Not one
person questioned me about this. The doctor, the nurses, nor
the school officials asked one question or voiced one
concern. In April of 1973, my child was born. Again, no one
asked questions. It was assumed by most that I was just a
"bad girl". This wrapped up the school year. The
following fall I returned to school. The school board
allowed me to advance grades as quickly as I could. The
rapes continued, and my mother became sicker.
No one noticed what was happening. In 1976, my mother died.
I took my three year old child, and ran away. I lied about
my age and married the first man that I could. I did this
for no other reason than to get away from the abuse. Of
course, this was not a successful marriage. I struggled with
guilt because I had left my younger siblings behind. I was
worried that they, too would be abused. I hoped that they
were safe since the Department of Social Services was
involved with the family. I left the state and moved north.
In 1980 I met another man. He really cared about me. He
asked if I had been abused because he could see it in my
actions. In 1984 we married and moved to South Carolina in
1987. The following year, I had another child. I was working
and I had a nice home. As long as I kept a mask on and did
not face my life, I believed everything would be all right.
In 1990 my husband retired from the military. Life went on.
Working in property management or administration for most of
my life, I finally earned enough vacation time to visit my
sister in Arizona. Since my husband could not join us, the
children and I left for the trip without him. While there, I
received a long-distance call from a police officer who was
investigating crimes of my stepfather. I learned that my
stepfather had beaten a child 2,500 times with a board.
During the investigation of this incident, someone told the
police that I might have other information about him. The
State of Florida employed investigators to work very hard on
this case for four years. They were given a confession and
learned that my stepfather was still abusing children. I
agreed to press charges. After a long battle in court, he
received three life sentences for his crimes against me.
Since that time, I have gotten counseling and education. I
changed my profession to become a Victim's Advocate for a
Rape Crisis Center where I am the Support Group Coordinator.
I provide peer-style support groups in three counties for
victims of child sexual abuse, incest, and sexual assault. I
am also actively involved in the From Darkness To Light
organization.
If I can give one piece of advice to other survivors, it is
the following. Remember that you are a victim. It was not
your fault. It is never too late to report it as you can see
from my case.
I am the very proud mother of five children (my youngest one
is forever special), grandmother of two children, and a wife
of sixteen years. I will always be grateful to my husband,
Brian, for putting up with all that has occurred and for
standing beside me through it all.
--------Pam Giesick |
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