My name is Elisa and if you would have told me ten years ago that my life would be what it is now at twenty-seven I would have called you a liar.

You see ten years ago I was hopeless, tired, ashamed, sad, scared, useless, used up, and dead inside.

 

Let me start from the beginning. I grew up in a wonderful loving home in Tucson AZ. My parents were happily married and I knew I was loved. I was the second born, one of five children. Three girls and two boys. My Dad was and still is a counselor and teaches young people about substance abuse prevention. My mom was a stay at home woman who rarely raised her voice at us. She was funny, beautiful, smart, cooked everything from scratch, and a wonderful example of who I wanted to be as a wife and mother. They gave up drinking and smoking when I was very young. I remember thinking that we were the only family that didn't have alcohol in the house.

 

My parents were Christians and we were very involved in Church and never missed a Sunday service. As far as living in a safe environment, I did.  I loved school and had good grades. I was involved in extra curricular activities and had lots of friends. Life was great!  It's funny how you think that things will always be the same. That your parents won't get old or that you will always live in the same place forever. If only life was so simple...

 

I was in the eighth grade. It was the week before graduation and I was with my youth group at a Skating rink. My youth leader pulled me off the rink and told me to sit down. She had a very serious look on her face and told me in a shaky voice that my mom was in the hospital and that she had collapsed while running a race with my little brother. They thought it might be a heart attack. Not my mom. She was only thirty-six years old. I was sure that it had to be a mistake or that it was something minor and she would be out of hospital in no time.  The ride to Tucson Medical Center was a long one. When we got to the waiting room I saw my Dad, his head in his hands. I had never seen him cry before. Then he looked up at the five of us and said "God might take your mom home tonight".  And eight days later, the day before my eighth grade graduation He did.

 

My freshman year in High School started off well. The family was still coping from the events of the summer but we did what any other family would do. We tried to go on with our lives the best we could. My Dad was a mess and cried a lot. We ate frozen pizza it seemed like every night but we did the best we could.  I didn’t realize how sad and lost I really was. My grades started to slip and I found my self becoming curios about boys and developed a crush on the captain of the football team. He was so cute. Every girl liked him. I would smile at him in the hall way thinking he would never go for a girl like me. I was too simple. My family didn't have a lot of money and the way I dressed showed that fact. Besides I was much younger. I started high school when I was only thirteen.

 

Some time after my fourteenth birthday I got a call from a friend of mine. It was pretty late at night and he wanted to invite me to a party. He told me that my football crush had personally asked that I come over! I couldn't believe it. He wanted me to come over?! I felt like the luckiest girl in school!  There was only one problem. My Dad!  There was no way I would ever be allowed to go to a party. Especially if there were guys there. My dad had taught me that all boys were EVIL and I had no business even talking to one. Ever! So the only reasonable thing to do was sneak out of the house.

 

The party was only a couple of blocks away so it was an easy walk. I remember being so excited and feeling so good about myself that I was chosen out of so many girls to attend such an awesome event! I had a smile on my face the whole way there.  Upon my arrival I quickly learned that this wasn't a party at all. There were about three guys and no one else and it was clear that all of them had been drinking. I started to get a little scared but thought that everything was still fine. When my crush invited me to the back room I went with little hesitation. I was only fourteen. I was naive and liked him so much. We sat on the bed and immediately he wanted to make out. I thought to myself okay, making out is okay. It's just kissing. Nothing wrong with that.

 

I can still smell the alcohol on his breath and his slurred speech. The kissing only lasted a few minutes.  He started touching me and told me that he wanted to have sex. I was a virgin and sex was not what I had in mind. I told him that I was afraid and that I didn't want to. I told him that I didn't want to get pregnant. He promised I wouldn't. He had planned the night and had a condom on hand. He wouldn't stop to listen to what I was saying. He just kept pushing and becoming more aggressive, almost annoyed that I wouldn't stop talking. The only thing I remember next is that he had managed to talk off my pants and was on top of me. I was crying at this point and he kept saying it's okay. He  held my body down with his and stole my virginity.  When it was over he got up and left the room. I went in the bathroom and cried. The shame was instant. One of his friends gave me a ride home. I left that night a different person.

 

The next day I knew that something wrong had happened, that I had been taken advantage of and should probably tell someone. But I couldn't. If I told my dad he would have killed the guy and I didn't have another adult I felt I could trust. Besides maybe it was my fault. I should have fought. I should have done more to stop it. I mean I did sneak out and go willingly. Maybe I deserved it.

 

I told my best friend and made her promise not to tell anyone!  It was Saturday. When I got to school on Monday morning everyone knew. I was called names like slut and B----. People looked at me like I was wearing a scarlet letter. I was the talk of the whole high school. What happened?

 

Within weeks of the rape I was drinking. I started ditching class and hanging out with kids who accepted me and were kind. Other outcasts. I felt this heavy need to have a boyfriend and even wanted to experiment sexually. I mean there was no point in holding out anymore. I was no longer a virgin (something I had planned to save for marriage), so who cared.  Not long after the drinking came the drugs. First cigarettes and pot. Later much, much more.

 

My dad transferred me to another school hoping that I would get it together in a new environment. He thought my behavior was simply out of hand because of my mom's death. He still had no idea about the rape and wouldn't until 12 years later.  This new "environment" became more opportunity for me to meet all the wrong people. I continued getting drunk daily and it was at this time that I was introduced to older guys and crystal Meth. It wasn't long before I became addicted to both the high which came from the substance abuse and the relationship I always had to be in. I would never allow myself to be alone. And I would do whatever it took to fill the hole inside of me. Anything.  This went on for five years. Sex, addiction, self destruction.

 

My wake up call happened when I found myself pregnant and away from home. I had moved across the country hoping to settle down some and stop drinking. The only problem with that was I had moved with me. I hadn't changed at all. I met a guy and next thing you knew I was sleeping with him. Again I felt as though I had to have sex with him for him to stay in the relationship.  I was so afraid to be pregnant. My only "real solution" was to have an abortion. I was not ready to be a mom and I thought that for sure something would be wrong with the baby if I did decide to carry. I had been drinking, smoking, and doing drugs for years and I knew that I had done damage to my body and probably my baby's body too.

 

I went to the clinic to get some information about the abortion and took it home. I kept reading the brochure over and over trying to convince myself that ending this life would be the best for everyone, but I couldn’t stop thinking that this was indeed a life. I was so afraid to tell my Dad that I had gotten pregnant by a person he had never even met before. Why did I have to constantly be the screw up in my family? Why couldn’t I do anything right? I couldn’t save myself for marriage and now I would have a baby out of wedlock too.

 

I finally mustered up the courage to call my Dad and ask for help. I will never forget that conversation… I couldn’t even get the words out. I said “Dad I need your advice. I have a big decision to make”. He knew what I was talking about and told me not to have an abortion. He said “Elisa you will regret it for the rest of your life”. He also told me that if the baby’s father didn’t want to be involved that he would be there every step of the way.  And he was.

 

I decided to keep that baby boy. He is almost eight years old now, has a smile that goes from ear to ear and a laugh that is contagious. He is my pride and joy.  It was that little baby that got my attention in a way that nothing else had. I wanted to be a good mother. I wanted to get my life together so that this kid wouldn’t make the same mistake I had. I was a single parent and decided that I was the one that could help or hurt this situation.

 

So I did the best I could. I got help. I accepted responsibility for the choices I had made in my past. I forgave the people that had wronged me and decided to move forward. I would no longer feel sorry for myself and the hand I had been delt. I would create a new road to walk on. What freedom!

 

I made healthy friendships with people that would encourage me to be the best I could be. Don’t get me wrong it was tough not to go back to my old life style, but every day it got easier and easier.  Before I knew it years had gone by and me and my son were doing great. I had a job I loved and didn’t need a boyfriend to validate me. I was happy and fulfilled. I had seen examples of healthy marriages and started to desire that as well. I wanted a friend who would love me that way. Love me enough to commit for a lifetime. Someone that would treat me well and accept me for me.

 

I decided that I would wait as long as it took to find that guy. I would not give my heart and body away to anyone else until I knew it would be forever.   Well, one Saturday afternoon in April that day came. I met and fell in love with my best friend. I never knew that I could have or even deserve the kind of love I share with my now husband, Fernando. He is kind, patient, funny and an amazing Father. He is so much more then I could have asked for in a man. He loves me despite my past mistakes and encourages me to share with others my experiences. I am a better woman because of him.

 

I share this story because I believe so many of us are searching for something to fill the void. For everyone it is something or someone different. There is hope. If you are reading this story there is hope for you. You may feel unworthy of love or happiness, but that is not true. We all deserve to be treated with respect. No one is perfect. We all deserve a second chance.