Chapter 2

                                               The Slow Destruction of My Spirit

             I always wondered if there was something that I had done wrong, or something that I said that made me an easy target of sexual abuse.  I just chalk it up to being the only young girl that was within reach of this old man, and he was sick and twisted enough to take advantage of the situations that I found myself in.  I can't remember how old I was, probably about seven or eight years old, when Grandpa Ryan started messing with me, but I know from conversations that I wasn't the only one in the family to experience the abuse.  He was sick enough to try and make a game out of what he was doing.  Always saying derrogatory remarks.  I would go and visit my grandma and he would send her out for a walk, before I realized that she was gone he'd be cornering me and trying to kiss me, or bust into the bathroom and pull me to the bedroom and pinning me to the bed by laying on top of me.  I kicked and screamed all the time until he would get up, and I would run home in terror.  

  I tried telling my Uncle Rick, but soon found out that he was just as abusive as my grandfather.  I was terrified to tell anyone, afraid that they wouldn't believe me.  My mom wasn't there all the time, and my dad was working constantly.  There were times when they had to leave me at home with my oldest brother, Keith, who was mentally handicapped.  I was capable of watching out for myself when they left me with him, they just put him in charge of emergency calling.  Most of the time, I would end up at my grandma's house visiting her.  After a while though, I found myself wandering around not knowing where to go.  Not only was I being sexually abused by my grandfather, but my brother was starting to touch me in ways that were inappropriate.  It only got worse with time.  I eventually broke down and told my mom of both cases, and she told my brother that she would have him thrown in jail if he ever touched me again.  My mom tried to keep me away from my grandparents house as much as possible, but, you couldn't keep me away from my grandma. 

  Every little girl has her friends, and there is always one that you find that you think you could tell anything to.  Well, I was no exception to the rule.  My best friend at the time,  Leanne, hurt me badly in an emotional way that nobody should be hurt.  She got up and told the entire school bus everything that I had told her about my grandfather and my brother, and had all the kids calling me "the neighborhood slut". I was completely devastated.  All through junior high and up til she moved to Nebraska our sophmore year there was a wedge between us.  She was a friend that I had met when she moved into the school district back in second grade.  We met each other when the teacher told me to show her around the school for the day.  That day, at recess, she was pushing me on the swing, and pulled me off backwards by my pigtails.  I was very angry at her for it, and when she went to climb the monkey bars I jumped and grabbed her ankles and pulled her down into the gravel.  I can't remember who got hurt the worst, but from that day on we considered each other best friends.  I find myself smiling every time I think of her.  I had to learn to forgive, even though I couldn't forget what she had done.   That was the same year we had to put Grandma Ryan in a nursing home because Alzheimer's had set in and taken over her, and my mom could no longer take care of her.  Eight months later my Grandpa Ryan died from a broken heart. I can't say that I was terribly upset at the fact that he was gone.  I could only think that I didn't have to put up with anything like that ever again. 

  I can remember like it was yesterday setting around our gymnasium at our high school, back in August of 1989, alot of the kids that I had grown up with were upset.  I asked someone what was wrong, and nothing was said.  Later that night, I was at another friends house by the name of Sarah, and one of her neighbors came over and was talking about Leanne, saying, "I can't believe something like that could happen to such a young girl".  I had no idea what they were talking about, until I asked.  That was the night I found out that Leanne had held a gun to her head and shot herself.  We were 16.  I cried and cried, knowing that I would never see her again.  Sarah stayed with me all night, calling my mom and telling her I wouldn't be able to drive home, and would see if I would be able to drive in the morning.  I have always believed in Karma ever since Leanne took her life.  Nobody knows why she did it, she didn't tell anyone.   

  After Grandpa Ryan died, my father and I grew apart.  By this time I was in my teenage years and didn't really want anything to do with any of my family.  I mainly hung out with Sarah, getting into all types of trouble.  I was having so many problems getting along with my dad, I was ready to move out.  It all started with our conversations about Grandpa Ryan and the sexual abuse.  Dad denied it ever happening, saying he didn't believe it.  It tore me up thinking my dad didn't care, and in turn, I didn't want to be around my dad for fear that he would turn out exactly like Grandpa Ryan.  I went storming into my room one day after arguing with him over something, I don't remember what it was about, but I screamed at my mom, "I'm going to go stay at Sarah's house", and started packing my bags.  She started crying and asked if I would go and see a psychiatrist.  She had no idea why, or what was going on between us, and i wasn't used to her being around seeing us yell and scream at each other.  I agreed to go, reluctantly, being I already knew what was wrong.  But, the psychiatrist convinced me to talk to my dad and tell him what my fears were, because of his denying what my grandfather did.  So, I did talk to my dad, and agreed to work out things between us.  It took a while because up to that point, I hated him.  I was starting not to care about any of the men in my family.