Mental Illness? or - Salvation                                                               Copyright ©2014 Hazel Gay

Hazel Gay's To Heal the Broken-Hearted

Spring, 2019

After watching what is happening about women and sexual assault, the doubt so many
people have about if they are really telling the truth, I decided to take excerpts from my
book and consolidate in one place. The following is scattered thru my book on the timeline
in which it happened.

When I was about 6 years old, I was molested by my maternal grandfather (a year after
my father was killed in action during WWII.) I did not say a word to anyone. I had a grand-
mother that did not hug me and my mother only hugged me when I was sick. I knew not
to be alone with him so spent the next few years escaping from situations. I finally told
my mother after I was 20 years old when she left him alone in my house with my two
little daughters. It would be 40 years at least before I found out he had molested two
more of my female cousins. 

1959. One night at college I got in the car with a man I knew who was supposed to give me 
a ride home. He drove out on a country road and parked. I really did not think much of it. 
Till he became aggressive to the point I could not fight him off. I was 5 feet tall and 
weighed about 100 pounds. Ironically, if I had not fought so hard, he would have used a 
condom but he could not handle me and that at the same time. So, I wound up pregnant. 
Before Roe vs. Wade. No, I did not go to any authorities. I was divorced. Who would 
believe me? Little did they know, the only thing I got out of sex was human contact. 
I had no libido. (A result of childhood trauma?) I remember telling my ex-mother-in-law 
who responded with, “There is no such thing as rape. A girl can run faster with her 
skirt up than a boy with his pants down.” (I would not develop a libido till I was 
about 21.) 

My husband 
       By the summer of ’71 I could push a switch in my head, turn my mind off, go blank, to 
allow my husband to ‘make love’ to me.  It had always been a minimum of five nights a week 
whether I wanted to or not.  He had even used force a few times.  Once he had felt 
tears on my face but that didn’t make him stop. I had stifled my impulse to scream; I had been 
stifling it for years! And my mother tells me to read in the Bible, ‘Wives, submit unto your 
husbands!!!'” It stopped only with divorce. 

1977. I had a chance to meet the son of an ex-president of Nigeria, a very exciting idea to 
me, a chance for cultural exchange. It would be a few years before I would realize I 
was “set up.” No, I did not tell anyone about that rape, either. I knew it would be 
hopeless to try to do anything to the son of an ex-president of Nigeria. I would be 
crucified if not more. 

I know there are some people who do not think a husband can rape a wife but I can tell
you from first-hand experience, they can. You learn to send your mind to another place.
And later, you fight off delusions that you were used sexually by animals. Literally.