I have never in my life responded publicly to a TV show, but just couldn't help myself after watching today's show!
I, too, was abused by my stepfather from the ages of 7 to about 16. To most outsiders my step-father was a "savior", relieving my mom of the burden of raising two children on her own. But what went on "Behind Closed Doors" (a brilliant title, by the way) was too much for most people to believe. My step-father's advances towards me were rather subtle at first although I knew they just didn't "feel right". As I got older and started to mature, the advances became more frequent and more blatant. I even recall making an entry in my diary, around the age of 10, that I thought that I was being sexually abused. As the years went on, maintaining a normal, teenage lifestyle became more and more challenging for me. I ultimately became unstable enough that I was admitted to a psychiatric unit for fear that I would harm myself. While in the hospital and at one of our family visits one Sunday afternoon, a nurse walked by my room and noticed that the my step-father was maybe a bit too "affectionate" towards me and that I looked really uncomfortable. She did me the favor of bringing it up to my counselor and they later asked me if it was something that I wanted to bring up at our next family meeting. Part of me was very apprehensive about breeching the subject because I always had that fear that I was exasperating the situation. On the other hand, I was relieved because I truly wanted to feel comfortable in my family and , after all, my step-father had always said I could talk to him about anything! Well, I chose to go ahead with the confrontation and it didn't bode well. Mind you, at this point, no one knew to what extent my step-father's affections had gone. This was just an attempt to make him acknowledge my personal space. He didn't react well to this and took it very offensively. In fact, when my mom and step-father left that afternoon, I asked my step-father for a hug and all he could offer was a hand-shake. This was probably the hardest part of the whole process because I knew at that point I had opened the door to a big secret. When I finally went home from the hospital, it was the beginning to a very difficult year. Not only did my step-father refuse to acknowledge my presence, he made sure that no one else in my family accept me either. My brother and step-brother thought I was a freak and for my mother to give me any sort of attention was a sin in our household. At the age of 17 I finally broke down and went to my high school guidance counselor when I got to the point where I couldn't sit through one class period without suffering from extreme anxiety. After about a week or two of consulting with my guidance counselor regularly, I had finally revealed enough for him to take further legal action.
Of course, my mother was called to come to the school so they could inform her of the situation. The authorities made us aware that form that point on, my step-father and I could not legally co-habit ate. I just knew that my mom would never forgive me if I chose to have him removed from our home, so I chose to, at the age of 17, to get my own place and do what I had to do to graduate high school and support myself.
Although at the time I thought it was quite noble of my mom to offer to help pay my rent, I later realized that the truly noble thing to do would have been to kick my step-father out of the house. But like Heidi, and I'm sure many others, my step-father was the bread-winner and I think my mom just didn't want to go back to being a single mom struggling to support her two kids. (My brother is the other child in the picture here and, trust me, he didn't leave this situation unscathed!)
By shear determination, I did graduate and at the age of 18, moved back home. Of course, this was only because my mom had finally decided to divorce my step-father. She didn't, however, make this decision because of what he did to me (and my brother). She actually found out that he had cheated on her on more than one occasion (it was one of his jaded mistresses who ratted him out to my mom).
After about a year of living back at home, I decided to join some friends in a major city. Being from rural Maine, I thought that living in a city and getting away from all the bad memories would be healthy.
I ended up meeting my now husband and having our two children. It wasn't until we had our first child that I really started feeling resentment towards my mom. It was then that I realized what it means to love a child of your own and the lengths you would go to protect them. For years I was able to speak to my mom on the phone and really feel a sense of homesickness. However, I found that when we would go to visit in person, I would feel very angry towards her. It took me a while to realize why I had these feelings.....
A couple of years ago I confronted my mom as to why she chose to stay with a man who felt it was necessary to completely break her children down. She didn't have a definitive answer for me. I think she was just afraid.......
This past October my mom was diagnosed with a cancer called "multiple myoloma". She died February 1, 2008, just two weeks short of her 60th birthday. I have forgiven my mom for the mistakes she made. I certainly wouldn't repeat them, but I can;t spend my life being angry at her.