Mandy Smith - Secrets in Big Sky Country

Mandy Smiths riveting account sheds new light on our understanding of the whole trajectory of childhood sexual abuse. With unflinching courage and candor, the author documents every aspect of this crime, from the grooming that takes place beforehand, the travesty of the abuse itself, the all too frequent family abandonment of the victim who tells, and the tragic legacy of emotional damage it leaves in its wake. And despite the horrors, this is a tale full of humanity, told by someone who chooses to love life however she can.

Sheila Munro, author of Lives of Mothers and Daughters: Growing up with Alice Munro

A womans voice breaking the silence, telling her secrets, makes a powerful sound. And thats just what we hear in Smiths truth-telling memoir, Secrets in Big Sky Country. Smith provides compelling witness to the violenceand its tragic after-effectsthat too many girls suffer. Smith, in her important memoir, sheds light on what can only be called crimes against humanity.

Sue William Silverman, author of Because I Remember Terror, Father, I Remember You

Smiths courageous account of childhood sexual abuse demonstrates not only the prevalence of this universal crime, but the resilience of a young girl to survive and become a warrior in the fight to eradicate the problem.

Marilyn Van Derbur, author of Miss America By Day

Harrowing and heartbreaking, Smiths story brings to light the problem of childhood sexual abuse that is still happening across the globe today. Finding her voice as an adult, and becoming an advocate for prevention and awareness, will surely help others.

Kristie Kernal, Education and Outreach Director, OAASIS: Oregon Abuse Advocates & Survivors in Service

Secrets in Big Sky Country is a compelling memoir on the consequences of familial sexual abuse. Mandy Smith writes honestly about her experience with a clear voice, revealing painful memories of a prevalent universal crime that crosses lines of race, religion, and socio-economic status. Mandys decision to share her story about abuse and the ways it damaged and shaped her life lets other victims know they are not alone; that the tunnel they are caught in has an escape and there is hope at the other end.

Ruth L. Ewers, MS, social worker and writer

Chills. Theyre what hit you in the opening paragraphs of Secrets in Big Sky Country, and then continue as you learn more of Mandy Smiths story. That she surviveseven wants to surviveis a testament to her strength and her courage. Her story reminds us that there is no cure for being a victim of childhood abuse; the effects never endat least not for the victim. Smiths memoir brings home to readers the extent of the permanent damage done at the hands of abusers, and it will inspire you to say, as she has, NEVER AGAIN.

Lori Schafer, author of On Hearing of My Mothers Death Six Years After It Happened: A Daughters Memoir of Mental Illness

Mandy Smith has proven herself as a tireless advocate for abuse victims. Secrets in Big Sky Country is a heartrending illustration of her own personal journey of healing and rising up to help others.

Bill Murray, founder of National Association of Adult Survivors of Child Abuse

A well-written intense account of childhood abuse, shame, and hurt. My heart goes out to the little girl who finds peace and shows compassion and to the adults in her life

Elizabeth Reis, Professor of Womens and Gender Studies, University of Oregon and author of Bodies in Doubt

Smiths story is a shattering account of a stolen childhood. By the end of her memoir, we see up close what true courage looks likeit is simply amazing that that little girl survived, healed, and ultimately chose love. That the reader comes away feeling hopeful is Smiths gift to us.

Valentina Gnup, poet and author of A Certain Piece of Sky and Sparrow Octaves

scerets
in big sky
country

Copyright 2015 by Mandy Smith

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, digital scanning, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please address She Writes Press.

Published 2015
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN: 978-1-63152-814-9
Library of Congress Control Number: 2015936899

For information, address:
She Writes Press
1563 Solano Ave #546
Berkeley, CA 94707

She Writes Press is a division of SparkPoint Studio, LLC.

Many of the names and identifying details of places and people have been changed for the sake of privacy. This book is a work of memory. Nothing remains fixed in the mind so strongly as the wish to forget it. These are my memories.

For my brother Cliff

You cant change the past but, with understanding, you can sometimes draw the poison out of it.

Carlo Gebler

Mill dust covers the worn leather boots at the base of the curtain that is my bedroom door. Lying in my metal-frame bed, I see the ghostly outline of my stepfather through its worn, flowered fabric. It is not my imaginationthe stench of whiskey and stale tobacco tells me his presence is real. He watches me through the long, narrow space between the curtain and the wall. And I watch him through the slits of my partially closed eyes .

M Y HEART RACES AND MY SKIN CRAWLS. The mice are on me again, scurrying, biting. I slap at them, trying to get them off my neck, out of my hair. I scream and wake myself. Jonathan, my husband of thirty-three years, is used to this. He reaches out without really waking and pats my sweat-drenched pajamas. He repeats over and over, Its okay, honey, and holds me until my trembling stops. My labored breathing returns to normal as I peek through lashes matted with sleep, scouring the room, making sure it is safe. I turn on my cell phone, and its backlight illuminates the room. When I see that it is only 3:16 a.m., I sigh, frustrated. I had hoped nighttime was over.

Later that afternoon, when I arrive for my appointment with my new therapist, Claire, I am disheartened. I should have been capable of getting myself to her office. Instead, Jonathan had to chauffeur me. Hes grown accustomed to the anxiety that keeps me from facing freeways, speeding cars, and traffic sounds. My fear of driving is palpable; I never stop feeling foolish about it. The maniacal car rides with my stepfather have long passedmy trepidation about going off mountain cliffs should be gone.

The first time I sought counseling, I was twenty-eight years old. The therapist then didnt want me to talk about my childhood. Instead, he concluded that my brothers recent suicide was the cause of my severe depression and anxiety. Psychoneurosis, he called it. It had manifested in long-term strep throat and hives resistant to treatment. As I left the counseling office, I tossed the antidepressant prescription he gave me into the wastebasket. I refused to be labeled mentally ill like my brother.