 Within each of us there lies a story. It is a story that defines who we are and what we have become. We are family, friends, associates, and survivors ourselves, and our stories bring hope to those survivors that are just beginning their journey; they create a kinship with those that have survived as we have. So many of us have never told our story because maybe we thought it just wasn't interesting enough. Maybe we thought no one would believe us or that we have “gotten past it”. Maybe we thought that it was our own fault that these vile events happened to us and that there isn't any point in reliving them. It is BECAUSE of these doubts that we need to break the silence and share our experiences. From each other we will draw inspiration and courage and from that courage we will gain a voice that will be heard for many generations to come. Sharing your story will not only help others; it will help you!
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"Gentle Abuse" : The Ultimate Mind Twist |
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I have spent my adult life trying to untwist what I experienced as a teenager. Called by professionals, it was sexual abuse. What is so sad for me, is not only how I was robbed of my innocence, emotional, psychological and sexual development, but how no one questioned it, and how I continue to be challenged with trying to understand and overcome the wreckage of a pervert using me for his own benefit.
It started in the summer of '79. I had just finished my Freshman year in High School and had recently gotten my braces off. At 14 years old, I was just coming out of the awkward teen years. I had never had a boyfriend, and had only kissed a boy up until then. I didn't know what sex was, and as a typical adolescent, I was not emotionally developed enough to discern those "adult" situations and circumstances, and to know what was best for me. I was a child. It was not quite 2 years that my Dad had left with no word, and it wouldn't be until 6 more years that I would hear from my father, and finally see him after all of those years with no contact. Add that to the typical neediness of a teenage girl.
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Collateral Damage Victims of childhood sexual abuse, too numerous to count, come in all religions, all nationalities, all ages, and all backgrounds. Childhood sexual abuse has no color or religious prejudice, targets no special income group, and plays favorite with neither male nor female. The lingering tragedy remains with its victims for life, no matter how many years of counseling, no matter what type of recovery program. With proper help the trauma is reduced, manageable, goes into that attic in our mind, the one we’d rather never open. But there is always an unexpected trigger lurking, a chance comment, a familiar face, a resurrected glimpse of the past. We can learn to cope. We can learn to live again. We can even learn to be happy. The hyper-vigilance we lived with for years can become manageable. This is the good news for the victims of this epidemic trauma. What of the forgotten victims, the collateral damage? What is their good news?
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I always wondered why Dad did the things he did to me (us), was it my fault? Did I do something to entice him? I kept the secret until just recently. I have terrible nightmares. And I thought that was all it was until one day my sister said “Sorry honey that was not just a dream”. All the dreams I had about “some man” touching and violating me when I was 6 – 8 years of age turned out to be about my own father. He did not just violate me, he chased my older sister away from our home, he raped the two sisters that came after me, and he assaulted our five year old nephew. How can any one man destroy so many lives and so many innocents?
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Friend of a survivor,
As a friend of a survivor you go through a lot of thinking and reflecting. You wonder
Why? How come? You wonder how this could have happened to him. Then you stop and think that he wasn’t sexually abused as the man I know today, but as the child I never met. Once I knew what he went through as a child, I was able to understand why my friend did certain things as an adult. This has been a complete learning experience for me. Prior to my friend, I had never been exposed to someone who was sexually abused and had no idea of the destruction that it caused to my friend for the rest of his life.
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My experience is that I was about 10 or 11 when my mother began to experience memories and pain. For a while it was really bad. I realize now that people going through what my mother went through might seem crazy to people that haven't lived through very traumatic experiences. Part of my experience was seeing my mother in so much pain and agony. The other part of my experience had to do with my mother leaning on me and confiding in me at times before my Dad got home from work. All I knew then was my mother needed me. Now I realize I was only a little kid and wasnt capable of really helping my mother with what she was going through. I turned to heavy drinking and eventually pot use and really messed myself up.
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Personal Stories