I can’t remember certain aspects of my early childhood. This is important, because my biological father allegedly molested or abused my sister and I. We were only 2 or 3 years of age. Whatever was going on then made my mother bolt, almost literally. I have family members who share quite a bit more with me about my early childhood than my mother is willing to release. What I heard is that she ran from him in the cover of darkness, from one end of the country to another.
I had early manifestations of childhood sexual abuse. I masturbated starting around the age of 6. My sister and I reenacted with our stuffed animals oral sex, full intercourse and the like. I don’t want to go into detail here.
I was never worthy. I was addicted to pleasing myself, addicted to pornography and had elaborate sexual fantasies involving my same s teachers who I thought were attractive.
I had the worthiness interviews and I lied through my teeth. I was so ashamed of myself, my thoughts, my actions, my same sex attractions and my ‘secrets’ that I dare not give myself or my sister away.
Was I being chaste? No. It took many years before I found the courage to talk to my single ward bishop about my sexual deviance. He didn’t know how to help me. No one did. I hated the church for making me hate myself. I prayed and prayed for God to change me, to take away the unclean parts of me. Nothing came of it. I felt empty and lonely, misunderstood and worthless.
When my bishop said I could not take the sacrament, I just about burst into tears in his office. How else was I to repent? For two, arduous years, I fought myself. I didn’t take the sacrament. I didn’t participate in wars activities. I had my records removed after my marriage to a RM, who turned out to be an abusive man. I have since then remarried a non member, and we are working through my lingering issues. I still hate myself, I still believe god hates me, and i still believe I have no worth.
There were suicide attempts in my early teen years, because no matter how hard I tried, I was never worthy in the eyes of God. No matter how hard I prayed, no matter how hard I tried to repent, my bishop still deemed me an unworthy woman. I will never forget the awful, overpowering fear and discomfort while in that office with the bishop and me at the tender age of 8, 11, 13, 16 and so on. I was never “okay”. I still struggle with this feeling of worthlessness on a daily basis.
Not once did the bishop ever ask about childhood sexual abuse, any abuse going on in my home, and no one got me or my siblings any help. The signs were all there, but no one cared. We were all told just to pray and trust our bishop.