I don't post here often, apart from my stories, preferring instead to write directly. I try not to post if I don't have something important to say.

My mom suffers from short-term memory problems. Things that happened an hour ago she may or may not remember; things from years ago she remembers as clearly as anyone else.

In 1961, I was abused by my babysitter and her boyfriend. For many years I suppressed any memory of that period in my life. Then, 16 years ago I started having flashbacks. For those of you who have not suffered from this, please understand, the unasked for memories can intrude on your life and totally devastate everything you thought you knew.

For me, the memory of trying to tell my mom what happened destroyed much of my self assured identity. The fact of the abuse tore at the fabric of my reality. I'd worked in a shelter for abused and battered women and children and their stories of abuse resonated with me. But, it took that memory of abuse to finally show me the reality of my life.

I had asked my mom repeatedly over the last 16 years if she remembered that night. I left out details, not wanting to have her somehow confabulate my questions with what really happened. She never could remember.

Tonight, she called me late. She "had" to call, there was something she "had" to tell me then, before her short term memory erased what her long term memory had brought to mind. She proceeded to tell me about that night. Details which I had NEVER told her came tumbling out.

Thank God... At last I knew; I wasn't crazy, I wasn't making things up, what I remembered really happened.

I'm not foolish enough to think this episode is behind me, it's not. But for right now, right here, I know. I woke up this morning the victim of abuse with nothing to back it up except for the flashbacks, and the memories they brought. Tonight, Praise God! I'm a survivor.

It's been quite a weekend. I never expected what happened. It started on Friday, when out of the blue my therapist approved me to start my own RLT (real life test). A few hours later my long-suffering wife of 36 years suggested I spend a year, as a woman; If I and my therapists are right, it's time. If not, then maybe, just maybe, our marriage will survive. This was a shock, it was exactly what my therapist had just suggested - and I hadn't yet told her what Carol (my shrink) had told me.

I am in shock!

On the other hand, I have a wonderful sister who wants me to move in with her and her wife. She believes that it's time for me to use my seminary training (Gordon-Conwell) and work on establishing a church on the principal that Christ came to save all men and women; not just the fundamentalist white anglo-saxon, white bread church.

Yes, I am also a pastor.

I would be grateful for your prayers; that God would show me the direction he would want me to go.

Blessings and hugs to all of you,

Beth