I was sexually assaulted by a senior member of my church’s staff for four years. I was 21, and was doing an internship at my local church to explore a calling to full-time ministry. She was 42, and a director of the discipleship department.
It was four years ago now, but I still remember vividly my excitement and anticipation in the weeks leading up to the start of university. Many of my friends and family always looked back on their time there fondly—some even longed to relive their university days. And it wasn’t hard to imagine why.
I sank into near depression after giving birth four years ago. My days were spent in tears of self-pity as I faced many issues on my own as a new mom, combined with misunderstandings with my husband and in-laws. My marriage was on the rocks. I had no joy. My life was a mess I could not get out of.
Nobody told me how hard it was going to be.
Nobody told me about the emotional roller-coaster ride I would go on after hearing the words of the emergency room doctor, “Your daughter needs immediate attention at a larger hospital.”
One morning when I was eight, I raced to the canteen excitedly with a female friend, all too keen to escape the prison cell of the classroom. In my eagerness, my hand accidentally swung upwards and lifted her skirt.