Today a little girl was sexually molested in front of my eyes and I couldn’t stop it. I did what I do in traumatic situations and froze… stone cold still, inept, weak, worthless. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t make it go away and neither could the people hosting the {insert a Washington State government program here} informational video meeting for seconds, or was it minutes? It doesn’t matter anymore, her little face and victimization has haunted me for hours now, and yet I can’t even remember the color of her eyes, but I know her hair was brown. The only time I’ve ever wished for the dementia my grandmother has is now. Please God can I never remember this? Can I never see her again. But I can’t unsee her, like I can’t unsee the other things I’ve seen that make me want to fit and faithfully keep kids safe. I can’t make it go away, not the memory of what I saw, not her violated image now seared in my mind. It is still there playing over and over again, he is evil, pure evil and he ought to rot in hell. I am glad there is a hell and I am so angry, so violently angry with the God I serve for allowing this. Why God why? And she is still out there. And all the questions and tears and sorrow will still not save her or brutalize him the way he deserves.

I did what I know to do, after breath came back, rapid heart beats exploded in my chest, I was alive even if I was ruined. Time to run, but run to where? I was not in danger, it is a little girl I do not know and cannot run to save that is in danger. Time to fight, but fight who, he held the camera below his face and though I try to remember any thing distinguishing, there is nothing but his brutality and her innocence ravaged. I immediately contacted my chain of command and reminded myself of all the good men out there. Yes, that’s what I did and have spent the afternoon doing. Finding my heroes, men that can fight and do protect and will save children. Men like Tim Ballard, founder of O.U.R (Operation Underground Railroad), Ashton Kutcher, co-founder of Thorn, Travis Norwood, foster father extraordinaire and author who has murdered evil men in story in such a satisfyingly brilliant way. I remember good men, I focus on them and pray for them and for more of them, brave, courageous men who will stand up against sexual exploitation and speak out against this evil. I must hope for and believe in good men because every time I hear of another victim, or man who has sexually abused or exploited someone I think they are all like that. I believe for a moment that all men are sexual deviants and evil. But they are not. They cannot be. There are heroes, there are protectors, there are good guys and Captain America will always be my favorite hero, because he is purely good, with no if, ands or buts about it, but I am OK with heroes having their moment of shame and awakening that fires them up to rage against the evil in the world too. I need to believe in redemption, in forgiveness, in good men and heroes and in big, strong arms where little girls can be safe.

I need to believe we can find her and rescue her. I need to believe she will be saved swiftly but at least before she’s much older and used to being exploited on camera. By then she’ll be a somewhat more mature age, and her victimization may not appear so blatantly pedophilic and repulsive. By then men who might jump at the chance to beat the vile devil that molested her at the age she is in the video, would more likely get aroused watching her violation, and tell themselves she was doing it because she likes it. I hope you think of the little girl if you’re tempted to watch. I hope you’d rather protect and defend than be party to the depravity that got us here, because no one starts with kiddy porn. It starts with “You know she wanted it” and “She doesn’t matter.” But she does matter. And she must be saved, she just must! I have made my report to The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children and I will believe that Thorn or other good guys and gals will find him and rescue her and good will win in the end. This I must believe!

Plenty of organizations and people talk about healthy sexual choices, libido, the premature sexualization of our youth, sexual abuse, human trafficking and even sexuality and the church. Why another person? Why another perspective?
 
I am a sheep. I am not ashamed of it. Instead of trying to buck my natural tendencies, I decided a long time ago to pick carefully who I follow. If I have faith in them, their cause, and their points of view, I will be the best recruiter, spokeswoman and solider in the ranks because I believe in them. It’s not a job, it’s not a requirement, it is a calculated choice I make to believe and follow.
 
With all the talking and my personal philosophy, it seems that I should pick someone else’s platform, organization or model for promoting healthy sexuality and exposing sexual abuse and exploitation and follow their lead. In a way, I will.  So, why be a maverick?  Because sex and sexuality aren’t just platforms; they are part of the substance of all of us.
 
And because I’m a victim. I think there are two kinds of victims, ones that keep the secret and ones that tell. I am one that told. It didn’t work out so well for me, but I’m a teller. Victims want to be heard. More than that, we want to be believed. Some rise above “victim” status and become advocates, for themselves and others. And that’s where I am.
 
I have a story and I want the sympathetic parts to be heard. I want to use my platform to help others who are hurting and heal others who have wounds from sexual trauma. But there’s a dark side to my story that I’m not so keen on exposing. I can also be considered an offender, never a predator, but I have hurt and exploited others because of the trauma I experienced. This isn’t unique to me, many victims have, in sorting out their own abuse, become intentional or inadvertent offenders or predators.  It is a very dark place and I don’t know of a platform for it. And… I don’t know of a simple “fix” or solution even when it’s exposed.
 
My platform speaks to the good people of the world, the pure, the safe people. As Salt N Peppa said, “Let’s talk about sex! Let’s talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be.” I want to give honor to the people and organizations making a waterfall difference in a bucket of sexual abuse and exploitation. I want to put light on things that promote healthy sexuality in children and adults in a caustic and sexually aggressive society.
 
My platform speaks encouragement to men to be bold, heroic, sexy and honorable men and encourages women to be classy, sexy, enchanting and honorable women.
 
My platform speaks to people with esteem and body insecurities that distort their ability to enjoy their own sexuality. I want to encourage a love, respect and acceptance of our bodies and highlight the sacredness of an intimate physical and sexual bond.
 
My platform speaks out about the “little things” people do that promote the abuse and exploitation of others they would never think of victimizing… and yet, with money, actions, words, or silence, they offend through “innocent” or unconscious acceptance of sexual evils.
 
My platform speaks to men and women trying to navigate safe, healthy, fun flirtation and sexual expression in a world and workplace that’s hyper alert and sensitive and to those playing on a slippery slope of unacceptable sexual expression that is unattractive, unprofessional and unbecoming.
 
My platform speaks to child victims who became child offenders then later, when grown, realized the gravity of what they’d done and found healing but redemption escapes them and they deal with guilt and fear of exposure for past transgressions as much as their own pain and wounds. It’s for people who struggle with disclosure because of shame and possible punishment but want to extend apologies and restitution to those they offended.
 
My platform speaks to reformed sluts and predators, who are ashamed, afraid or unable to share their stories but want to do something to help stop abuse and exploitation now that they’ve repented, changed or are in anonymous recovery.  For ladies like the one who slept her way to the top of her field and now, despite the prestige and title, is ashamed of how she did it, but doesn’t want to lose her status. They are out there. They deserve grace and a voice, because haven’t we all screwed up and hoped for redemption when we’re truly remorseful?
 
My platform is for the pedophile who doesn’t want to offend anymore, but needs support to stop; and for others chained to their own secret sexual addictions. It’s for the ones who, like me, when I was hooked on drugs, are too far down a bad road or buried deep in depravity to get out without a safe hand of hope to help them up when they’re done and want out of the pit.
 
Finally my platform, as much as I hate it, and as much as it turns my stomach, speaks directly to vile predators who like being evil; the ones who are turned on by the silence breaker’s stories of date rape, of childhood molestation and of sexual exploitation. They are out there, feeding off our stories of trauma and lack of self-esteem and self-control. They read, they listen and they watch and it’s disgusting, but it’s real. I want them to know... I’m coming to get them! I know some of their tricks and secrets, I know how to expose and shame them, I know they fear light and I know how to get spotlights pointed in their direction… I’m a teller and they better watch out, because I’m telling! I’m out to reduce their supply of young easily exploited girls and boys, women and men. I’m out to reduce the demand for their depravity. I’m out to fight!
 
My platform is a place of cathartic healing, honest and humble soul searching, advocacy and exposure. I’m compelled to do it. Parts of advocacy are yucky and dark. Part of my story is disgusting and shameful. Part of me doesn’t think the bad deserves to see the light of day because I don’t want to expose the good and pure people of the world to the darkness that lurks just beyond the scope of their perspective. I don’t want to open innocent eyes to evil. I want to protect. I want to keep kids safe and innocent. I want to help victims heal.
 
But I also want vengeance! If I can’t make my abuser pay for what he did to me, I will make all monsters pay by exposing their tactics, their avenues of exploitation, their ways of flying under the radar. If I can’t fix my childhood and put stronger advocates in my own life, I will advocate for every child who is being victimized or who will victimize someone else because they’re hurting and confused. If I can’t understand and wrap my head and faith around why a good and loving God would let sexual abuse and exploitation enter into the hearts and minds of men, I will explore every avenue of why He could have possibly allowed it, and how He can truly be safe to trust.
 
Why Sex & Jesus? Because I have a voice and opinion and so does everyone else and I want to invite you to be in on a most uncomfortable but necessary conversation and open up even more lines for honest dialog on the good, the bad and the ugly of it all.

This one is going to be tough, and long. No need to read it, but the words must be written before I present too many more of my thoughts and opinions on dating, relationships, sex and spirituality. Before I can take you through my year of dating, complete with my plan, rules, dates (I mean data presentation) and man-alysis, I need to go back... way back, and get out of the way, a bit of my sexual history in order to explain some of my viewpoints, perspectives and boundaries that I’ve set as I wander in the Middle.

But first a comment to my family and request to any who do read this:

To my family, should you read this please know I in no way mean to dishonor or disrespect any one except the offenders, and even in that I will speak the truth and whatever disrespect or dishonor it garners is because of their actions. This post will include my perspective of the events; the results of my perception have led me to become the woman I am with the beliefs that I have. Should any of you like to speak to the words that follow I absolutely welcome the dialog and will not judge, blame or condemn you for anything that was done or said or not done or said. In the same way I hope that you all can be understanding enough to let me get this out. It is time.

To my readers. Thank you for reading every blog that you have. You never cease to amaze me. I’m not famous by any means but that so many read so often humbles me… That you share your encouragement, stories and thanks with me is a bigger blessing that I know how to handle, thank you. This post, is highly personal. I’ve tried to always request, accept and appreciate constructive criticism and reviews and have swallowed down the nasty criticism like gristle on steak. I do not want to keep anyone from expressing any opinion in public or in private (by all means if you want to post a review good or bad on Catching Tatum please do!) but I would ask for this post to please remember this is my soul I’m sharing. This is not a character, this is not an issue of structure or arc, this is my life, and one of the most sensitive areas of it. If you want to criticize, please be sensitive of that. I welcome and ask for comments and dialog. Let’s talk openly and honestly about sex, the stereotypes, the dogma, the cultural shifts and trends. Let this be a safe place to speak about the issues. Let’s use this as a catalyst to reach into dark places and expose evil but please be gentle if at all possible.

So here we go... What needs to be said is that my parents were divorced. My father had custody and I was raised in a staunch, Pentecostal culture. My mother saw me regularly and lived a wild lifestyle which included drugs and alcohol and questionable acquaintances. One of these acquaintances violently sexually assaulted me before I was five years old. His approach was what society pictures a pedophile to be, angry, evil, threatening; but this is actually an A-typical pedophile MO. Most pedophiles are, “kind,” “love kids,” and are unassuming and groom their victims with trinkets and secrets. I was blessed to always know my predator was evil. I knew he meant to take what he wanted, make me do what he wanted, how he wanted it done because he threatened to kill my little brother if I ever told. The most horrid memory I have of the whole thing is not of the acts themselves but of my baby brother crying and me being desperate to do the act correctly so he could live.

His threat insured that I knew, and have known evil, from the beginning of memory making but, it didn’t keep me from telling. However things happened, I don’t know, but the man was extinguished from my life, the physical injuries healed, the incident under rug swept, the emotional wounds, untreated, remained.

As is typical for a child who is sexually assaulted at a young age, I acted out in sexually inappropriate ways. I was reprimanded frequently for doing “bad things.” There was never a reason why I ought not masturbate in public, other than it was wrong. There was never a reason for wearing panties to bed other than my private parts should be covered up. There was no counseling as far as I’ve ever known or remembered. I imagine that the incident was so emotionally painful and difficult to digest that everyone preferred to pretend it never happened... and so we did.

Later in my childhood/adolescence I was wearing something that might have been considered provocative and a family member took it upon himself to fondle me. I froze. I couldn’t believe it was happening and I didn’t know what to do, so I did nothing. I let it happen. I said something about it later to my brother, and it turned into a HUGE family fight and I ended up recanting what I said to make everyone shut up.

At this time self-harm (a typical expression in children who are sexually abused) as well as drugs and alcohol became a prominent part of my life.

And then… I let it happen again another time! It was the same kind of deal, I was wearing something I probably shouldn’t have been wearing in a place I probably shouldn’t have been wearing it and this same family member did the same thing again and again I froze and again let it happen. I knew the guy liked porn, I knew he spoke crudely of women, including me... and I knew I was wearing the wrong things. So this time I didn’t say anything at all to anyone ever, I just got high.

After that I made sure to avoid that guy as much as humanly possible, to keep myself covered as much as possible and to keep my mouth shut because it just made things worse. I used a lot of drugs and alcohol and self-injury methods to forget about it. My behavior was erratic, but my grades were good and the teachers at my school, especially the second most amazing man I’ve ever known, my guidance counselor, Dr. David McDolald watched out for me. This man, a good man, worked with my family to get me into counseling. It helped. Even though I showed up high on more than one occasion, I’m grateful for the counseling. I learned techniques in those counseling session with Nancy that I still use to this day. I learned to go to a safe place when I’m stressed; for me that was the tree lined banks of the Stillagaumish River. I suppose that was when I truly fell in love with creation.

Then I started acting out sexually. My first chosen sexual experience occurred just after I turned fourteen and by the time I was fifteen I decided I was going to forget the bad guys once and for all. I wanted to erase or replace what they did but I didn’t have a boyfriend and didn’t necessarily want one so, for lack of a better term, I profiled boys at my school and picked a handsome young man who didn’t run in my circle of friends. I took some time to befriend him, I told him what had happened to me and that I’d like to have good sex to replace the bad sex. I was a cute girl, he happily obliged, and he did much to heal a wounded part inside me. I can’t and won’t advocate for sex outside of marriage, and I honestly wish, even with the abuse, I would have understood how sacred my body was, but I didn’t. I was a lost child trying to bandage up a gaping wound. I did what I thought would fix it and I chose a good guy to help. He did right by me. Right or wrong, good or bad, I will ever be grateful to him for showing me a better kind of sex and intimate touch.

Up to this point I’d never used condoms or birth control. I remember “blah, blah, blah” in health class so I didn’t pay attention. I think the Pentecostal upbringing convinced me that I ought not have sex so I kind of ignored the teaching because it didn’t pertain to me. And then I did have sex and… it just happened once, or twice, or ummm yeah... you get the idea. It was likely during this time I contracted HPV (genital warts) and herpes but because I had no out breaks I didn’t know. So, that’s way more information about me than I want anyone really to know, but here’s why I say it... Kids, adults, everyone reading this, if you’re having sex with multiple partners practice safe sex!! Whether it applies to you or not, whether you’ve ever had an outbreak or not, whether you can have kids or not, learn how to use condoms and don’t have sex with multiple partners without them. Gents, you can carry STDs dormant in your body your whole life and pass it on over and over and over again. Cover it up! Ladies, we’re usually more unlucky and tend to see outbreaks with most all STDs more often than men but not always. We live in a socitey with an STD epidemic. We’ve made a vaccine for HPV because upwards of 75% of the reproductive-age population has it. Herpes is super easy to spread and there is no cure and up to 20% of 14-49 year olds have it (actually CDC says this is probably understated due to those who do not show symptoms). This article from 2014 sites 20 MILLION NEW STD outbreaks each year (http://www.livescience.com/48100-sexually-transmitted-infections-50-states-map.html)!!! Obviously if you have one, you’re not alone, but don’t spread it. And if you don’t have one, why take the risk? I’m done preaching. Do it God’s way, or be safe doing it your own way.

Moving on… As I entered adulthood my sexual explorations took a dark turn. I’d rather not go into the details. Suffice to say I am appalled by memories of things I did and saw, participated in and watched. Before that time I’d known both scary, bad sex and better, gentler sex. I knew what I was doing was not right, but it’s hard when you’re walking down a road with others to be the one to stop and turn around. Then before you know it you’re in a pit, ten feet deep scratching at the sides to get out, but the demons with you keep pulling you down. It’s kind of like there’s no way out and so you sort of give up or give in and stop even trying to pretend you’re a good kind of person. I let drugs take over my life, I was self-harming, I was participating in illegal and illicit activities of all kinds and I was absolutely, unequivocally, hopelessly miserable.

This is where God steped into my life. He gave me a second chance. I took it and I knew a big part of the cleansing and healing for me would revolve around my sexuality. I knew my libido was higher than most girls and my affinity for sex would likely get me in trouble again so I decided, upon pledging my life to Christ, to also make a pledge to not be alone with any guy for a year. It was a tumultuous year. It was full of purging bad thoughts, memories, ideas and visions from my mind and replacing them with whatever was true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent and praiseworthy. There were a handful of occasions that I spent time with my first ex-husband alone, it was also the first time I ever recall actually saying no to sex and having my words respected. He wasn’t happy about it but he respected my words and for that I’m grateful. It taught me I didn’t have to give in to every request and that even if my voice was small, it could still be heard.

The lack of sexual activity was exceptionally difficult. I had become very used to sexual touch, whether good or bad and my body, like it hungers and thirsts, craves sexual release. I had always practiced self-stimulating behavior and didn’t stop but I had a horrible sense of guilt about it at first because “the church” seems to demonize masturbation. I think it’s a very personal and private issue and I think, like anything else, it can be misused, but I do not think it is sin, nor have I found any place in the bible where the ACT of masturbation is noted as wrong, condemnable, punishable or sinful. (I think I’ll be so bold as to challenge anyone who questions me to prove me wrong on this.) At that time, as at this time in my life, while I practiced (and currently practice) abstinence, masturbation is a regular part of my life and I think I’m pretty open about it, and I think it makes a lot of people uncomfortable, but I think it’s a subject worth exploring, especially within the church, instead of condemning.

Then I met he who left me. We did not wait. While we were married I always felt a little sad that we didn’t but it didn’t bother me too much because we were supposed to do that whole “til death do us part” thing. Well, that didn’t work out so good and now I see that he was just another guy that followed the same pattern. I want them, or I want sex, so I sleep with them. It’s what I knew. I want a man so I give him what I know they all want, or a man wants/takes my body and I’m powerless or frozen to resist. And now that he’s left, the what if is… what if I would have abstained? Would he have stuck with me through it or would he have left before we had lives and children intertwined? Is this the big test to see who stays and who leaves? Is this why it’s a big deal to God? I’ve been abstinent for nearly two years and dating for a year of that and I absolutely guarantee you it’s a HUGE deal in the minds of men, and me.

But I want this. I actually asked for this. I remember writing the scene in Catching Tatum where Justin and Tatum are in bed together and she has the choice to make love to him or not. I wrote out the choice she made then remember looking heavenward, in my lovely little writing room that I miss so much, and saying out loud to God that I wish for once in my life I would have waited to put out. It was wistful prayer at the time, I was married to the guy I thought was my partner for life and the chance was lost to me.

But here I am. The longest I’ve gone without sex since my early teens, frustrated, so sexually frustrated but resigned and resolved to walk this out. To test myself: Am I stronger than my physical urges? Am I more than just an animal operating on instinct? Do I exist on a higher level? Can my mind, soul and spirit overcome the base desires of my body, or am I slave to it? To test men: Will anyone wait with me? Does anyone not pressure or beg, manipulate or push too far? Who is master over their body and not slave to it? Because if he can’t even master himself, how can I possibly trust him enough to be safe with him for the rest of my life? See, I don’t want just any man. Any man will take my body and satisfy his animal urges. I know this, life and men: good men, bad men, gentlemen and sadistic men have proven this to me time and time and time again. They will all take my body if I give it and sometimes even when I do not. I’m done having it taken. I want to give it to he who will not leave me. I’m not a virgin, certainly not pure, but I am new and for this time, I can choose to wait for him. I’m more than a body, I am a beautiful mind, a precious soul and a spirit in communion with the God of all creation! I will gladly share a little bit of all that’s in me with any man bold enough to hang with me for a while, but I’ll reserve the best of me for the last man I will ever love. I belong to him, and I wait for him. He’s looking for me and he’ll find me, or… maybe he is already looking out for me and just needs to figure stuff out, so I wait... And while I do I guess I’ll write about a lot of sex and dating, cause while I do not want to be single for long, it does have its moments of awesome.

I have only loved one man. I have slept with more. I have said it to more. But truthfully, I’ve only loved one.
I realized it after I’d been married to he who left me for about seven years. I was memorizing 1 Corinthians 13…

“If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to be burned but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

It’s simple to say “I love you.” It’s fun to make love. But it's hard to DO love every day… To not be easily angered, to be patient, to be kind, to rejoice in the truth, to protect, to trust, to persevere. These things are love.

I thought of the people I said it to and not meant it. I never loved my first husband. I lusted him. I liked my high-school boyfriend, until I didn’t … I was only a clanging cymbal. I didn’t love.

Now I’m here. Praying for love, hoping for love, waiting for love and I realize... I am afraid of the thing I want.

I loved a man once, I felt hands on my face, stared into piercing blue eyes that promised they’d never leave, this was and is my biggest fear, and here I am … alone.

I miss the touch of a man on my skin; fingers caressing me, tongue tasting me, intimate movements and moments that can bring my body what it desperately craves but I have pledged my life to the One who saved me. I choose Him and His way says to wait. So I will, but it means getting to know men on a deeper than physical level. I know leading with sex and seduction. I know foreplay, arousal, attraction but I have never lead with emotion or intellect or, thought of thoughts, God at the helm of a relationship!

I can give a man my body. I mean seriously men have been taking me sexually since before I was 5. My body means nothing, although I’m learning what a precious gift it is and I have come to a place of honoring it more than ever before. For me, there’s no danger in giving my body, for him there is, but not me. The danger for me is letting a man in again to the rest of me, the heart of me… that is oh so frightening!

I know singles that escaped relationships with addiction, abuse or infidelity. That’s not my case. He was a good man, but flawed like we all are. He let it consume him and destroy our family. I’m not exchanging bad for better. I’m looking to replace good with great. I don’t want to screw it up! I don’t want to jump too fast!

Here’s the part that’s blowing me away…

I don’t want to lose the life I have. I love my life! It is a good, blessed, happy life. Sure, yes, I am lonely. I wish for the masculine presence of a good-hearted man to grow old with. I want to start as soon as possible creating history with he who will not leave me, but not at the expense of how good things are. I feel bad saying it but… I don’t want to give up anything. I want to add intimacy and, of course, intercourse. I want a rock to crash into and to be his soft place to land after a hard day. I want to know and be known, physically, sexually, emotionally, intellectually and spiritually.

But I am a dog run over. I have been hurt deeply. It will take time to build trust. I fear that in our fast-food, hurry now – offer won’t last, instant gratification, society, time is a foreign concept. But… time is what I need, to be sure, to be safe, to fall... again. But for a man looking to grow old with a companion, time will be worth giving, so I shouldn't be afraid, but I still am... So I carry on, acknowledging the fear but, I am brave, I am courageous and I am open to love again, in due time.