I remember my abuse and trauma in two parts. One was the sexual abuse I suffered as a child. One was the trauma of trying to tell and no one believed me. 

I remember the time I tried to tell someone. It was the same day I learned that the adults who were in my life to protect me were the same ones who could let me down. 

I remember not being able to get the words out. I told her that someone who went to our school had done things to me. She seemed to be distracted and half listening to what I was trying to say. I had never had the problem of being heard before. 

I remember her asking what “things'' really meant. I remember looking down at the floor as I said he had reached under my shirt to feel my chest. If the floor could have swallowed me up at that moment I would have let it. My heart started to race and I couldn’t get a full breathe in. It was my first panic attack. 

I remember her asking if it was an accident that I misunderstood. 

I remember saying he had done that more than once. And more.

I remember her asking me if it was something I had asked him to do. 

I remember saying I had said no. 

I remember her saying this was something I had to tell my parents, not her. The feeling of defeat creeping in as I realized she wasn’t going to help me.  I started to feel like she was mad at me, like I had done something wrong by saying this to her.  By saying it out loud. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. I just wanted someone to help me. 

I remember the moment realizing that adults didn’t always believe you. 

-Colleen