Hi, I am Pamela Walton. I am 56 years old and this is my story.
I grew up in a professing home. Both my parents were professing and they also grew up in a professing home.
I was sexually abused by my dad, Terry Walton, now deceased. The first time I remember, I was only 4 years old. My siblings and I loved to crawl into bed with our parents when we were little. Most little kids enjoy this. My dad would make sure that I was laying next to him. I remember not liking the feeling and wanting to snuggle on my mom's side of the bed. My dad would pull my innocent 4 year old body up close to his. He only slept in a t-shirt and underwear. I remember the first time this happened and I felt something hard and stiff against my back. Being that I was only 4, I didn't know what it was or what it meant. I only remember knowing I didn't like the way it made me feel so uncomfortable. He would also drape his strong adult arm over my small 4 year old body and hold me there. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to move to. I certainly couldn't get away from him. He was so strong. The next time us kids went to cuddle with our parents I remember trying to go on my mom's side of the bed. My dad would demand that I lay by him. I hated it, I was scared and I knew something was wrong. As an adult, I know now what I was feeling on my back. What person would do that to their child with everyone around and think it is OK? A very sick person that is who.
When I was around 5-7 years old, my grandmother lived in a mobile home park and her trailer was next to the pool area. As a family we would go to my grandmother's and enjoy the pool. Most kids love to spend time in the pool. I hate it to this day as my dad used the pool to sexually molest me. He would corner me in the pool ( I was just learning how to swim) and he would put his fingers under my swimsuit and finger me in my privates. He would also make me sit in the hot tub with him and put the bubbles on. He would pull me onto his lap and again start to finger my privates. I was between 5-7 years old. He was stronger than me. By this time I was deathly afraid of him. He would tell me not to tell and if I did I would disappoint my mom. I was terrified of him. This abuse went on for a few years. To this day, I hate wearing swimsuits and going into pools or the ocean. I live in Hawaii and he took that pastime of enjoying the ocean away from me.
When I was 12 years old we moved to Oregon. I really thought that things would change for me. Well I was wrong. The sexual abuse only got worse. If I was not feeling well and couldn't attend Sunday morning meetings and needed to stay home…he always volunteered to stay home with me. I tried to get either my mom or grandmother to stay with me. They never did…my dad was an angry man and scary when he was pissed off. When he would stay home with me, he would crawl into my bed and place his hands under my nightgown and touch my breast and my vagina. I remember laying there pretending to be asleep hoping and praying he would get bored and go away. Hell no he stayed that way until just before the rest of the family came home from meeting. You probably by now are wondering why I didn't tell my mom. You need to understand that he terrified me, he would yell and scream at me if I refused him. I was 12! I was a child!
From the age of 12-16 the sexual abuse didn't stop. He would touch my body every chance he got. I would resist and he would start yelling at me at dinner time. I hated sitting down to dinner. I hated him, I hated dinner, I hated my life. He would tell me to go to town with him, just so he could run his hand and fingers all up my thighs. I hated it, I was scared and I hate him.
The abuse finally stopped when I was around 16 and told him to leave me the hell alone. I started babysitting as much as I could just so I wasn't at home. My childhood with him was hell.
I never said a word to anyone, he made sure of that, he made sure my voice was silent, he made sure I was scared of him.
I finally told my story, when I was 21, to a bunch of strangers when I was in college. I also told my mom and siblings. I felt that they didn't believe me and I was told not to talk about it to anyone and certainly not to the man who ruined my life. I was silent for a few years and then I started talking and telling my story to a few cousins. I have not stopped.
Childhood sexual abuse ruins children's lives. I have flashbacks all the time. I am triggered by smells, words, men who look like him, etc.
My biggest regret is that I never reported him to the authorities. I don't know if he abused anyone after me. I left home at 20 and never looked back. I do know that leopards don't change their spots, they just learn to hide them better.
To this day I am afraid of the dark , don't like pools or the ocean, won't wear a swimsuit to the beach, can't have a healthy relationship with a partner, and the list goes on.
You need to stop covering for the perpetrators, you need to remove them from all meetings so they have no access to children and so their victims/survivors do not have to see them. You need to support and listen to the victims/ survivors. You need to weep for the victim/survivors.
I was a victim for 12 years, in limbo for 6 years and a survivor for 35 years.
Terry Walton died on September 11, 2017. That was the best day of my life!! I was finally free of him. I listened to his funeral on the phone not because I was sad, I listened so I would know for sure he was dead. I had my mom send me a photo of the casket in the hearst, not because I was sad, I wanted to make sure he was in there and going in the ground. I sobbed tears after I hung up the phone, not because I was sad, because now I'm able to really heal. The monster who ruined my life was gone and I had the freedom to live.
I have mentioned the impact that the abuse has had on my life, I have never mentioned the impact it had on my mom and siblings.
When I became a mom 33 years ago, I promised myself that I would not let my dad around my kids. I have two biological kids and two adopted kids. In 1993, I moved all the way across the ocean to Hawaii when my oldest children were 3 and 15 months old. Over the years, I have convinced myself that I don't like to fly. (I kinna don't) I have been thinking about this and I now wonder if it was my way of protecting myself and my kids. If I say I don't like to fly and truly believe it then no one will ask me to visit them and I don’t much.
Because of this my mom and siblings lost out in getting to know my kids. My mom has seen my kids under 10 times in 33 years. My siblings just a few times. We all lost out on having that relationship.
Because of the sparse contact, I drifted away from my siblings and I don't really know my sister's kids either. Everyone has lost out because of the abuse.
Once my dad passed, I was able to feel more comfortable in mending those relationships with my family. I still have not been back out to see my mom or my brother since 2008 because now I truly have a fear of flying. I did see my sister in 2015 at our gram's funeral. I needed to be at her funeral so I faced those fears.
My brother and I have texted more in the last few weeks than we have in 30 years. He has been checking up on me and making sure I am doing ok through all this. I appreciate that.
During Covid we all decided to do video chats, myself, mom and siblings. Three years later my mom, sister and I still have our weekly video chats. We have missed very few.
I wanted to write this because not only am I hurting and have my own story to tell, the families also have their own story to tell.
My dad took so much from our family and I will never forgive him for that.
I love you mom, sis, and bro and thank you for supporting me and standing by me during this upheaval that has once again crossed our paths. I know with all your support I will be in a much better place to get through it.