I have a name.

This will probably be my shortest blog post yet.

My memory is improving every day, thanks to the treatment. I mean that literally–every single day I remember more things, and write them down.

Well, I now remember names. And faces.

And I think that the (primary) religion teacher at St. Anthony Junior High who raped me is still alive. And still teaching there.

Well, I’m making phone calls.

I’ve been wrong about so many things, so many times in my life, that the last thing I want to do is ruin the life of a man who is not guilty. So I have no intention of singing his name from the rooftops! But I’m talking to someone at Survivor’s Network for those Abused by Priests, or SNAP. And some of their legal allies. I just want to get everything sorted out.

Because if he’s still there…well, so are other little girls. If there is even a ghost of a chance that I can save them, then my life will mean more than I ever imagined it could.

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4 thoughts on “I have a name.”

      1. To this day I remember being anally penetrated but I don’t know the circumstances or what led up to it.. I was five or six…

      2. It’s okay to not remember. There are details I don’t remember. I’ve already remembered more than I expected to…memory is such a strange thing. The important thing is, we’re still alive.

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