Forgiveness does not mean forgetting.

This post might be hard for some to read.  A little more insight to me.  Don't feel sorry or any of that jazz, though.  I'm just telling a story, and maybe it will speak to you, maybe not.

25 years ago, I was an innocent (for the most part) little girl.  I loved to play outside, ride my bike and pretty much drive my mom and dad crazy.  I'm pretty sure I was in 6th grade when this happened, but I can't be sure.  It was either the end of 6th grade, or the beginning of 7th grade.  I was built like a little boy, even though I was wearing a training bar.  Flat as a board, no boobs to speak of.  My mom's dad was in town to visit and I was on the couch with him.  From what I remember, he was rubbing my back, then he decided to switch that up, and he moved his hands over to my chest.  At that point, I screamed and punched back with my arm.  Mom heard the commotion, and came at once.  From there, she called my uncle and he came to pick me up.  I remember him saying he would kick his ass if he wasn't so drunk.  I was kept out of school for a couple of days and everyone talked to me, asking if I was ok.  I guess I was, but don't really remember much.  I just have that scar to carry with me.  I don't think of it, if hardly ever.  But here recently it has been coming up quite a bit.  

Yes, today as a 37 year old woman, it's not that big of a deal.  But to that little girl, that I was before, the one who didn't understand, it was a HUGE deal.  It shattered everything I knew.  It sexualized me WAY before I was ready.  It opened up dialogue that I shouldn't have had to deal with.  There are people who have had to deal with much worse, that is their journey.  This one, though not as bad, was still bad to me.  This was supposed to be my grandfather, yet he touched me in a sexual way.  You don't ever forget that.  I don't care how much people have tried to minimize that through the years.  It didn't happen to them, and they can't tell me how I am supposed to feel about it.  It sickens me to think of him.  So I don't.  I think he apologized to me when I was 14, but I didn't care.  Mom tried to make me speak to him, but that is not how I operate.  She forgave him in a way, and tried to make peace with him, but me, I wanted nothing to do with him.  It has caused some issues with mom and I through the years, but that is her dad, and she can feel or do what she wants. 

Today, he is in the hospital and they don't know what's wrong.  He may never get out.  I'm ok with that.  No, I don't wish him dead or anything, I just don't care what happens to him.  I will not go visit, if he dies, I will not go to the funeral.  He is no one in my life.  He is just some guy.  That is not making some of the family happy.  I don't care.  I have one life to live.  Can he ever give me back my innocence?  Can he take away the pain and suffering he caused?  No, he can't.  There are just some things in life, you can't do over.

So, I guess this post is just really a rant and a vent.  I am who I am.  I forgive people, but that doesn't mean I will ever forget.

12 DPI

Pregnancy test still negative.  Each morning, I jump up to POAS (pee on a stick) only to be confronted by a BFN ( big freaking negative).  I'm super emotional, and I don't know if it's because I'm about to start my period, or if all the hormones that have invaded my body this past month.  Today is the 16 year anniversary of my divorce, which normally makes me smile.  Today, I'm especially nostalgic.  Not because I miss him, but I miss the idea of having someone love me.  He definitely didn't, and most of the guys that I've wasted my time on haven't, but there is still a chance that someone, someday, will choose me.  Not holding my breath though.  :)

Ok, that's about all that is going on.  Just trying to stay sane.  Easier said than done this week.