My Childhood Sexual Abuse Story, Part 7

One week into blogging about my sexual abuse and I'd received so many messages from people I could barely respond to them all. Those messages were so helpful, partially in that they distracted me from the painful fact there were many in my very own family who I hadn't heard from and still haven't heard from two years later. 


(originally published January 29, 2012) 

Reader Christopher Donohue left a comment on one of my earlier posts that ripped my heart into little tiny bits and rolled around in my head all day yesterday:

I somehow came across your story today and it resonated (via being an INTJ) which recalled many of my childhood horrific memories which I still struggle with to this day even at 41. I commend you for sharing your experience from your childhood. No one should suffer via the hands of another in what ever form. 

I know this as I suffered from being brought up by a drug addict, turned alcoholic who inflicted abuse upon me from the age of 7 onwards (being hit with heavy items, left out in the cold in the nude, starved, made to stay awake and paint ovens (bright green or blue) and appliances in the middle of the night, made to lick up dog excrement, etc) along with suffering molestation by a scout leader and being constantly bullied at school. This along with being told I did not belong and that I came about due to the cause of rape has had a heavy burden on my life, of which I have only recognised the true impact (via by at times self destructive behaviour) in the last few years. I had spent many a year trying to run away from my childhood. To add to that having to turn off my mother's life support system and continue to raise and care for my intellectually disabled half sister, whilst my mother's siblings continued to abandon us has been detrimental to say the least. Yet I somehow managed to become moderately successful in my career. 

What partially keeps me going is knowing that many others have suffered worse than I have and we all are affected in different ways however big or small the event. I would like to know what benefits there may be in graphically outlining your awful story, and what you think you may get from it. This may help me with my journey. Good on you for sharing. One of the miracles of technology is the ability to link with others and share stories in the hope that we all learn and empower others.

My heart was beating out my chest reading Christopher's story. I found it interesting, the similarities in our ages when we started realizing the source of our lifelong struggles. I am 38 years old, and it's only been in the past few years that I've realized the impact of my childhood sexual abuse. Being a highly intelligent girl, I never wanted to admit that an event from my past could have such a profound effect on my psyche, my behaviors, my choices. I was too smart for that, right?

But a few years ago God started turning lights on in the hidden rooms of my brain, forcing me to admit that the abuse I experienced and the lack of attention paid to it had affected every single decision I had made since. It had affected the way I viewed myself. It had affected the way I handled relationships. It had affected the way I dealt with my family. It had affected my ability to deal with the minutiae of everyday life. There wasn't an aspect of me that wasn't touched by this experience. And that realization was mortifying. It occurred to me I'd spent the last 25 years being so embarrassed about the effects of the sexual abuse but not one minute being sad or angry that I had BEEN sexually abused and that it had been for all intents and purposes, ignored. How do you begin to get past something that's never really been named? Something you've never let yourself be angry about? 

I started talking about it again to Melissa. Long phone conversations on my drives home from dance practice late at night....she started encouraging me to talk to more people than just her, mainly my family. I'd analyze and reanalyze and over analyze and hyper analyze until I came right back around to where I'd started. But Melissa kept at it. And finally, I told my husband how I'd been feeling. He'd known about the abuse, but we'd never really talked much about it. I'd never let him in to that part, but after I did I felt like my airways were a little less constricted and I could breathe a little freer.

Once I did that, the ball started rolling quickly. I told my parents about my new realizations not too long after that, and then my siblings. But my sense was that 25 years of cobwebs weren't going to be shaken off so easily, not from me nor from my family. Like my brother Eric said so eloquently yesterday, when a lie has been built into the foundation of a family, the repair bill is going to be a huge expense. It also seemed to me that when something so shocking throws everyone into a fugue state for 25 years, only something equally shocking will shake everyone out of it.

Writing my story in graphic detail was what I needed to shock those hidden parts of my brain back to life. I've never been a "share my feelings with the group" kind of gal, but once I realized that was what I needed to do for myself I couldn't tiptoe around it. Now I can't help but to talk, because people who read my blog are asking me about it in real life. People are bringing it up everywhere I go. It's the antithesis of who I am to do something that encourages people to talk to me, especially about something personal, but I knew that's what it was going to take for an introverted introspective "J" girl like me to move forward.

An unexpected benefit from writing publicly has been the flood of personal emails, calls and comments, some from friends and some from complete strangers, who've been touched in some way by this story. Family friends from my past have had interesting insights into my story, complete strangers have felt compelled to share their own stories of abuse, casual acquaintances feel like they know me better after reading my posts, old friends now understand why I sometimes behaved the way I did. The feedback I'm receiving has been so helpful to me. I'm a data lover; pieces of information, however minuscule, are fascinating and relevant to me. I love that people are feeling compelled to share this data with me.

So, Christopher, hopefully that answers your question! I pray that you will have the strength to continue with your quest to find personal peace. For me, although my faith in Man was shaken to the core, my faith in God's sovereignty is what kept me from ever becoming completely submerged in the pit of depression. I appreciate your comment, and am privileged to virtually know you! Press on, my friend, and keep in touch...