I am so depressed

I'm sad. Too much horrible news. I never seek out bad news online, because I'm just too sensitive to cope well with it. I don't purposely avoid it either though, so when it's right there in the headlines it's pretty hard to miss. Anyway, all on the same news page were a two-year-old raped at Sea World by a family friend while her parents rode a ride, a 5-year-old raped by her mother's boyfriend and then spanked for it when her mother walked in, a 6-year-old raped by her grandpa and made by her grandma to write him an apology...

I cannot even describe the sick visceral reaction I feel when I see just the headlines. I always cry.

I didn't really read the articles. I didn't want to or have to to feel the full force of the despair that most often hides in me. I was raped very young, too many times to know. Just like so many people, even I prefer to think that this cannot happen, but it does. I have young daughters. I look at them and think that it cannot happen. It's too inconceivably horrible.

My girls wouldn't let it happen, I prefer to think. They're strong. They would tell me. But I know that's not necessarily the case. I didn't tell my mother for years. I didn't know how to say no to the men who raped me. I didn't fully understand what they were doing. I barely had words to describe it, if I had gotten up the courage, past the threats and embarrassment and humiliation in order to tell someone. It was so yucky, I didn't want anyone to know.

People had suspicions, I'm sure. Even my mother had suspicions, but it was too horrible to be possible, so she shook it off until I became so withdrawn and suspicious and fearful that my young mother could no longer hope and pretend. She'd been raped as a child, too.

I prefer to think that I would definitely do something, anything to stop it from happening to another child. But when I had my suspicions about a child in my care, the things she said about her mother's boyfriend, I did what we're supposed to do. I called child protective services. They did nothing, despite his history of raping his 12-year-old sister, impregnating her, raping their child, and his niece, and who knows who else. The police simply said he did his time for those crimes. Now he's living in a houseful of little girls with a woman who knows his history, yet leaves the little girls alone with him anyway. I don't understand.

So I ran 5K, but I'm still wound up. I want to call my husband and cry, but I've got my girls to feed and get ready for ballet. I don't usually wallow, but I need some cocoon time.

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