Vigaland Non-celebrity #MeToo Story #15-Paula

PTSD after Childhood Sexual Abuse

I lived through those days where women in the office were sort of “Expected” to be sex objects. And if you didn’t giggle and play along with the sexual banter you were “cold” or a “dike” or something, and you really never got promotions, raises, and often you were “let go”. I once worked for a man while I was in college who had me go to his home and help his wife with her Hadassah mailings. Then when I got back to the office, he called me into his private suite for “notes”. Only he locked the door and turned on his fake fireplace. I told him to unlock the door and he acted “hurt’ And said “don’t you want to play around?” I said “Never”. He chuckled and said “You can never say never”. I said “OK you may have a point. But this I know, it will NEVER be with you. Now unlock the damn door.” He did. I was gone in weeks. Another guy hired me to be his secretary, and then began to stand over me while I was filing and said things like, “I’d love to be that little pendant you’re wearing. It just keeps flipping in and out of your shirt”. He continued to press me, even after I became engaged . He would think up reasons for me to stay late or come over to his house while he was packing for a sales trip. He grabbed me on one occasion and tried to kiss me. I told him, “I can’t get your coffee in the morning and then serve up myself in the afternoon!” 

Once I did monumental overtime on one of his contracts, for which I was not paid, and I asked him if he got the (HUGE) contract could I have a 1% bonus? It would have meant several months of rent for me. He said, “No, are you nuts?” I think I got my motsie with these guys because when I was 12 years old I was lured into the woods by a stranger. He was working the pony rides at a carnival at our local shopping center. Being a serious horse nut, I was petting the ponies which were not hooked up to the ride.He approached me and said “I can see you have a way with horses. They like you” . Then he said, “I have to go brush and feed the other ponies we have over there,” indicating a large field across the street. “Would you like to help me brush them?” Of course I said “Yes”. 

When we got over to the field which was bordered by woods he said he needed directions to the hospital to visit a sick friend. I knew the hospital was just across the woods, and being the local kid, knew the trail to get there. Of course, I wanted to pay back the favor and said “Sure, follow me!” When we were about halfway through the woods, he grabbed me from the back, his hands wrapping around my throat, and attempted to pull me into his chest.  I fought back, coming up with my fists under his chin,  which I think scared him enough to let go. I then ran like a scared rabbit, and he didn’t pursue me, probably because I’d messed up his anticipated scenario. I ran home, then into the woods behind my house and went up my favorite tree. I lay in the branches for about an hour before I went home and told my mother what had happened. My parents called the police and I must say the Detective who came was wonderfully gentle in his questioning. He asked if I felt I could recognize him and I said “Yes”. Then we went together back to the shopping center, and I saw him through the Woolworth’s window looking at comic books.As I pointed him out to the police, he looked up and made eye contact with me through the window. I’ll never forget his look of fear and contempt when he saw me, just before the cops cuffed him.  The police  found a big knife with rib cutters on him. I had to give a deposition and go to his court hearing. Because of my young age, I didn’t have to take the stand, but the detective read my deposition statement, and the judge said, “Is this your testimony?” I only had to nod yes. My assailant had already done time in another state for assault, and my testimony put him away again in my state. I have had lifelong PTSD from that experience, but I think it taught me not to be afraid of men, just fight back! And the more women who come forward with Office asshole predators, who think we are toys, the better.

I also should mention to you that after an episode at my church with a Catholic priest I knew well and worked with (I’m a musician) that when he was removed for sexual violations I went into about a year-long tail-spin. Couldn’t go to church except when I was being paid to, nightmares of my assailant, etc.  Fortunately, one of my best friends and my Irish band member is also a psychiatrist. He doesn’t usually mix his profession with friendship, but he did “talk me through” that episode, and even confessed that HE was assaulted when he was a teenager.  I think the recent accounts of sexual assault among the movie execs, and politicians, will only help young women to speak out. This has to stop!

On a final note regarding having written this for the #MeToo podcasts,  I have to say, writing it out precipitated some more dreams and other PTSD symptoms I still suffer from after all these years. Maybe at 65 I am one of your oldest respondents, but I will tell you, it never goes away.

To refresh you, my story recounted an assault when I was 12 years old, by a stranger, and I had to go to court over it. Every time I have had to relive this, it has taken me awhile to come back to “Normal”. Most recently, a well-loved priest at the church where I am the organist, was removed because of long ago involvement with juveniles. The whole episode sent me into months of nightmares in which I relived my assault, could clearly picture my assailant, and took literally almost a year before I felt comfortable in church. I felt as if the assault had happened again, because a trusted friend turned out to be a perpetrator. Mine might be an extreme case of PTSD, but I have to say that the young women I see enduring this, my daughters included, at the professional/office level and in the “world” of dating, make me think we have an epidemic of assault going on.

I didn’t go into it in the brief account that I wrote, but I have had lasting effects from my assault. One really upsetting one is that I cannot drive over high bridges, or over high interstate highway spans. I was talking with a friend of mine who is a psychiatrist, and she determined it was because I could not see the “other side” of the span, which emotionally put me back into the woods where I was trapped by a long trail in front of me and my assailant behind. I could not see my way out…! I don’t relive the event when I am driving, I just go into panic mode when I cannot see the whole route in front of me.

Anyway, I now take the longer routes with no high bridges, and I can make life work. 

All my best,

Paula Settle

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