While I was cleaning up and organizing, I found a folder of court papers that has thrown me for a loop. It has brought a great deal of emotion and feelings that I haven't felt in a very long time. I know it's there; I know that I pressed charges, but it is not in my everyday anymore. I really thought that I was over it, that I wasn't affected by it anymore. Well, those are the things that I thought until I found all these court documents. Yet another layer that I thought I had already mastered. I am heartbroken at how things went. I am heartbroken that I never got my moment of justice, and that things turned out the way that they did. I am pretty sure that for the most part I have always felt like I did it to keep Angela safe. I pressed charges so that another little girl would never have to survive or experience the things that I did. Through the entire process I felt pretty worthless. I didn't feel brave or that I was doing something that a lot of people don't do. For me there was no other choice I just had to keep others safe, and I was willing to do that at any cost to myself.
When I looked through some of the paperwork there were things that stood out, things that I didn't remember and so many feelings were brought to the surface. Feelings that I thought I never had to deal with or feelings that I thought were long gone were there in full fashion and my heart is tender, my soul is sad, and I am so incredibly disappointed in the entire justice system. I wrote Neil the producer on the Documentary and of course he always has just the right words. He said that there was nothing else that I could have done that it's a, systemic failure. I cried for hours after reading his email. He gets it, as an attorney he more than understands. He has a compassion and heart for people like me. He said they should have pursued felony charges. They should have yes, and I don't understand why they didn't. Maybe I would not have been a good enough witness. Once the tears finally started to dry, I got more than angry. Why would a person go through everything that pressing charges includes and then have the DA say oh, we are going to offer a plea. If you have no desire to get evil off the streets, what are we doing? I went into this knowing that it wasn't going to be easy. Easy was never something I expected. I wanted to keep others safe. I didn't want another single person to be hurt by him, not on my watch.
I wasn't at all prepared for this layer of healing and it caught me so off guard. My entire life I, was doing this for Angela. I wanted her to have a chance at good things in life. I wanted her to have a life that I never got to experience. Somehow finding all these court documents, it's more about me. I felt worthless my entire life and these papers just reinforced all the things that I already thought. I wasn't worth a felony charge we are just going to give him a misdemeanor. A lesser included offence. A lesser offence? How could that even be an option, I have paid for the things that he did to me, my entire life. Someone who hurt their dog, and was convicted could get the same punishment as my father? I am all about animals. But somehow this felt more than unfair. I think this is the first time ever in my life I am able to see why I have always felt so worthless and for the first time today that just is not ok. I was just a witness in my own case. The DA even said those words to me, I was just a witness. What was that supposed to mean. No, No they had that part very wrong. I was everything else besides a witness. I was a victim of the kind of cruelty that you cannot imagine. I was much more than a witness I was a little girl who survived the unimaginable and still managed to smile and find good things in life. As a 5-year-old girl exhausted from a night of my father raping me. I was able to see that little bird drinking from a puddle of water. I was able to notice the clouds moving and changing shapes. I was the little girl, whose every inch of my body hurt but still made sure that everyone was taken care of around me. I was a girl whose body ached from things I never should have known. The little girl that was exhausted every day in school, because a good night's sleep was something I knew nothing about. No, I was not just a witness, I did not just watch as these things happened, I was a part of them those things happened to me. My father did those things to me and for you to tell me I was just a witness is insensitive and cruel because the things I endured deserved a felony charge and the longest jail term that was possible. I didn't get those things for me. I lost things that nothing can ever replace. Things were taken from me, before I even knew that they were something special, I believe that those things, all those things make me more than just a witness. This was my case, I was the one who survived those things, it was my mind and body that paid the price for my father's sickness. All I wanted was justice all I got was more pain.
This is going to take some time, to sort through. I haven't been able to look through everything, it's just all too much. So many dates and signatures and people's names that I have never heard of. Did all these people know what happened to me did any of those people even see me as a person or was I just a witness to them as well? Was I ever a little girl to them; that fought her entire life to grow and fight for others? I am not sure that part was seen. My heart aches, for me for the girl that I was so many years ago that just wanted him to stop hurting others.
My heart is so angry at the injustice of it all. All that time and energy, and for what? The toll this this entire process took on my life was immeasurable. Today it's just so much. Details and pieces of information and trying to remember how they all fit together. It's a little more than overwhelming and is going to take me some time to dig through. I find myself missing Detective Plemmons. I think about him and hold my heart he saw and cared for that little girl so hurt by the world. He answered every phone call and never once made me feel like I was a bother. He did his best always to answer every question even if i had asked it a thousand times before. There are so many things that I want to ask, I want to know his thoughts and find out how some of the pieces fit together. I have missed him for such a long time not once did he ever blow me off. I think that to him I was more than a witness. Someday, someday, I just want to share with him how far I have come. I was so ashamed speaking with him, I would know his hands. I still remember his hands.
My mind is so tired, my heart feels battered. I just need to give myself some time, just another layer. Just another layer, I know I did the right thing. I would do it again in a heartbeat, I do wish for me that the outcome was different. I can't ever go back; nothing can be changed. Somehow this has lit a fire that so much needs to change. People wonder why people don't come forward; my case is an example from beginning to end of just why more survivors don't. In all the work I do the rest of my life I will forever and always talk loudly and often about my story so that someday, we can change the way things are done and we can honor each victim, instead of making them just a witness. I will never ever stop until we treat survivors differently.
I heart your heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment