|ChrisOLeary.com > Sins of the Fathers > TOC > A BAD Touch
In the last communication I had with Sandra Price of the Archdiocese of St. Louis, which was the e-mail Sandra Price sent me on July 1, 2019, she threatened to expose confidential information about me.
...you waive your right to confidentiality...
She was also the person who Stonewalled me when I tried — increasingly desperately — to set up a follow-up meeting with Archbishop Carlson in the hope of getting help for my family and me.
So, when she unexpectedly touched me on the shoulder last night at the prayer service for abuse survivors, for reasons I can't understand, the impact on me was anything but positive.
Oh come on, you say.
It was just a touch.
I'm sure she was just trying to be supportive.
But my reaction was negative.
At a minimum, it felt like she was fucking with me.
And that took me back to a BAD time and place.
To a time of abuse and vulnerability.
And I'm done feeling bad about or apologizing for how things make me feel.
A BAD Touch
This is a BAD time of the year for me.
I'm sure the Risk party that I've talked about happened right around this time of the year when I was in 4th grade. I suspect something happened on the night of Halloween in 4th grade.
Just yesterday, my mom was telling me that my 4th grade teacher had said something to her about how I seemed depressed, and she and my dad talked and tried to figure out what was going on.
So people IMMEDIATELY started noticing.
But the people who KNEW — starting with then Father and now Cardinal Timothy Dolan — failed to act on what they were seeing Fr. LeRoy Valentine was doing with and to boys.
What they were seeing.
With their own eyes.
For whatever reason, in the middle of this terrible season for me, the Archdiocese of St. Louis decided to hold a prayer service for abuse survivors. It was held at 7PM on November 6, 2019 at St. Ann's church in Normany, MO, and was led by Archbishop Robert Carlson of the Archdiocese of St. Louis.
I decided to attend in the hope that I could have a word with Archbishop Carlson as a follow-up to our March 26, 2019 meeting, especially since Sandra Price had cut off all communication. At a minimum, I wanted to ask Archbishop Carlson — again — to end the Smear Campaign that had cut me off from my family, friends, parish, city, and basically everyone.
I don't do well in churches, so I sat in the last row in the back left corner, as far from the altar and as close to an emergency exit as I could get, as I do when I have to attend school functions that are held in churches.
The prayer service was set up like a mass, with readings and a homily and a series of prayers and blessings replacing communion. Two hours had been blocked out for the event, so I was surprised when, after a half an hour, I got the sense that things were wrapping up.
I had spent the prior thirty minutes trying to figure out what I was going to say to Archbishop Carlson as he greeted people as we left the church but, as he descended from the altar, my heart started racing as I realized the moment was here.
In fact, I was so distracted by, and focused on, +Carlson's movements that I barely noticed that a blond woman a few pews in front of me had gotten up to walk into the back of the church, presumably to help +Carlson. I looked down and to my right and gathered up my notebook and the papers I collected.
I didn't see any signs of security — and, despite the Terroristic Threats incident, it was fairly obvious the folks with ArchStL didn't view me as a threat — but, just in case, I decided that the best way for me to approach Archbishop Carlson was with both hands on my notebook out in front of me, rather than with one hand down and/or hidden.
Then, as I was setting on my notebook and papers and my grip on them, I felt a quick pat on my left shoulder.
A pat that threw me.
That sent a shiver down my spine.
That caused what I call an ass spasm.
A feeling of pure fear.
I don't know what the hell it was meant to be but, remember, it was done by the woman who from April to June 2019 had Stonewalled me and denied me what Archbishop Carlson had promised me during our March 26, 2019 meeting; a follow-up meeting and another chance to touch and turn his heart and get help for my family and me.
This was also the woman whose last words to me were a threat to expose confidential information about me.
...you waive your right to confidentiality...
I don't know what she thought she was doing — if she was being supportive — but it's impossible for me to view as supportive the deeds of someone who will deny my family and me the help we need.
Much less by calling to mind in me the very things my abuser did to remind me of the control he had over me.
What's the Big Deal?
Here's an unedited, stream of consciousness word-dump.
I'm sitting there, triggered as shit, and someone from the freaking Archdiocese of St. Louis comes up and touches me without my permission or even my knowledge.
Just like Valentine used to do.
* * * It felt like being violated. * * *
It felt like being owned.
It's stupid, but it was intimidating. Like a reminder of their power.
She/They reserved the right to bust through my walls and violate my personal space. I couldn't hide from them. They had no respect for my boundaries.
Was she telling me to stay in my seat?
I'm sitting there, all by myself, with nobody else around me, trying to manage my emotions, and she just comes barging in and touches me. And it's HER, whose anything BUT an ally. Whose last words to me were a threat to reveal confidential information about me, presumably stuff that was gained during the discovery process of my lawsuit.