Introduction

Welcome to Michaela Mae's Audiobook Experience for The Barn off of Colfax Lane: an unfiltered memoir about sexual assault and the mixed feelings that come with it. 

In this book Michaela tells her story of the childhood sexual abuse she experienced when she was 12-years-old while taking horse back riding lessons from a horse trainer in Oregon.

BOOK SUMMARY:

I was 12 years old the first time my horse trainer grabbed my left boob and asked me if I had ever had sex. I'm not sure what caught me off guard the most: his question or the fact a 79-year-old man had his hand firmly cusped around my boob while asking me, a 12-year-old, if I had ever had sex. I've blocked out a lot of that season from my mind, but that first day sticks out clearer than the rest. Is it because of the shock? Is it because I hadn't fully remembered my pro-dissociation skills yet?

I have no f*cking clue, but I do remember the green-striped tank top and the dark navy blue jeans I had on that day. I remember watching his lips ooze as the words, "Have you ever had sex?" spilled out of them. I remember the blank stare in his eyes, the black specks of chew stuck in his teeth, and the way his cheeks met his chin like a pillow shoved under fitted sheets.

My eyes left my left boob, flung around the barn, and up to his face. The light coming in from the barn door behind him lit his back, but darkened his face so his face looked as dark as the blank stare in his eyes. My brain raced for answers that made sense. Hell, it searched for a question that made sense too. "No, of course not. Wait, why is this happening? How do I answer? Do I answer? Am I dreaming?" I couldn't speak, so I looked up at him blankly then he turned and walked away.

LINKS + CONTACT:

Get on the Waitlist for my next book: https://thewesternhippie.myflodesk.com/mc5b9wv2ps

Grab a hard copy of The Barn Off of Colfax Lane here: https://amzn.to/3PvBiKN

For inquiries or to connect with Michaela directly, email michaela@michaelamae.com

© 2024 MP Media. All rights reserved.

Narrated by Author Michaela Mae.

Keywords: survivor memoir, childhood sexual abuse memoir, childhood sexual abuse, trauma memoir, healing memoir, horse trainer abuse, equestrian community, read by the author, audiobook, Oregon, Michaela Mae

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Introduction present day Michaela I was twelve years old the first time Todd Kingsley grabbed my left breast and asked me if I had ever had sex. What surprised me the most? His question or the fact a seventy nine year old man had his hand firmly cussed around my left breast. I have no fucking clue. But I remember what clothes I had on that day, I remember the blink stare in his eyes, I remember the spike of chewing tobacco stuck in his teeth, and I remember how the lighting coming through the barn door behind him lit his back and darkened his face so that his face looked as dark as that moment did. Even though that moment happened nearly sixteen years ago, the side effects of that moment and the moments that followed still come and go. The one struggle that remains more constant than some of the others is the mental struggle. It has always felt like several taunting ghosts hiding in the closets of my mind. They keep me aware of their existence, but never announce when they will come out to haunt me again. I suppose if I were a ghost, I would do it that way too. Making an announcement seems like it would erase the whole point of haunting someone, but still, a warning would be nice instead of anticipating when their next appearance will occur. Will it be when someone approaches me too far far will it be when someone approaches me from behind or too close to my right, or when someone places their face too close to mine? Or will I return to outer space the next time someone tries to kiss me? More on that in the next book. Or my scariest fear is there another ghost in my mind that I don't even know exist? I try to remind myself we all have ghosts, and issues arise not because I have ghosts, but because I try to cover up the ghost or deny their existence. Can someone call ghostbusters? Everyone has their go to protective mechanisms. My drug of choice has always been make it look perfect at all fucking costs, Michaela, make it look perfect. Then if I can't make it look perfect, I bury it or pretend like it's not there. Lastly, if the first two fail, and I have to break down, I do it alone where no one can see me, then act as this act as if the breakdown never happened. I think it's created the illusion to those closest to me that I don't have breakdowns. I do. I just do them in private. In many ways this book has allowed me to see and face many of the ghosts I've hidden and dissociated from in the past. The first few drafts were hard. I call the first draft the rage pages because, fun fact, I still had a lot of rage stored in my body that I didn't know about. But the writer and me envisioned how I would write this book. We would start with the first day he touched me, build to the f we would start with the first day he touched me, build to the first day he kissed me, and then go to the last day he ever touched me and kissed me, and it would all be in perfect order. Crescendo. And that's what was so hard for me within the first few drafts. I had to face the fact that this book would not go like the perfect picture I painted in my head because Michaela does not remember everything in perfect order. Therefore, she couldn't write the story as she originally envisioned. Fiddlesticks. To deal with the rage that emerged from the first few drafts, I had a spiritual guidance session with my friend Kimberly to help clear the anger. Once we released the anger from my body and mind, it allowed creativity to flow through me in a way that I had never had dreamed it that I had never dreamed possible. The more I wrote, the more I started to appreciate the mental scars and the depth and the understanding they have brought into my life. For as long as I can remember, I have prided myself on having a good memory. I didn't have to work as hard as the other kids in school because I could see something a few times and remember the material exactly as I saw it. Then I entered the summer of 2008, and it became a better strategy for my brain to forget the images it saw than to remember them. Because of this, I was guided to write from the perspective of twelve-year-old Michaela. One, because it's her story. And two, she remembers how the story goes better than I do. But even then, some parts of the story I've come to accept may always be the Swiss cheese part of my memory and hers too. So without further ado, here's the story of the barn off of Colfax Lane, as told by twelve year old Michaela, Swiss cheese and all.