I always wondered how people who have experienced one form of sexual violence/abuse or the other and are from less than supportive/loving families cope. I know my struggles despite coming from a loving and nurturing family (even though I did not tell them about the abuse until much later). I can’t imagine the added struggles that come with that knowledge, or the bigger hurdles they have to jump. Not having that sense of security and belonging is bound to do extra damage to an individual in addition to the damage done by the sexual violence.
It took a sibling working with survivors of sexual abuse and assault in the healthcare sector for me to open up to her about my experience with child sexual abuse. For the first time after about 19 years, I felt safe sharing my experience with someone.
I have learned how to be patient with and kind to myself because I went through things as a child that most adults do not have the capacity to handle.
For the longest time I was confused whether I was a victim or a willing participant because my abuser was close to me.
I was recently having a discussion with someone about our time in Uni, she said she now understands why I used to get so upset when guys stopped me while I was out and about, to tell me they liked me, to ask for my number or even ask me out. Something that would probably have been flattering to others was a nuisance to me because of my history with child sexual abuse.
In the past I have always wondered why I did not speak up about my abuse experience. I had also never been able to accurately determine how old I was when it happened. While conversing recently with a family member, I figured out that I was just 7 years old when it happened. Having a couple of nieces and nephews around that age, I now understand that I was too little to process or understand what was happening to me at that time. So I tend to give myself a lot more grace now.
Whenever I was in the company of men, I would always imagine the worst case scenario, I would also look for quick exits in a room, or objects I could use as weapons if I was threatened. Protecting myself from potential or perceived threats, became the order of day. In more recent times, I’ve let my guard down a lot which brought me to a point about a week ago, where I was alone with a man in a potentially unsafe situation per my evaluation and I experienced a brief moment of panic and quickly extricated myself from the situation. A situation I would not have dared put myself in about 7 years ago. I still evaluate men, deeming them safe or unsafe. I might not be as hypervigilant as I used to, but my recent experience reminded me of how important it is to be aware of my safety at all times.
I recently had a brief flashback of when I was molested as a child. This memory had been missing for a very long time, almost 20 years. I realized that even though I had healed, bits and pieces of the unfortunate experience may flood my mind at unexpected times. It made me feel sorry for the little girl that had to go through it all by herself.
There seems to be a common theme in my method of disclosing my experience of sexual abuse with my family. I told them all over the phone with a fair bit of distance between us. Either being in different states or different countries. I guess a therapist or psychologist will have a field day analysing my method of disclosure.
Some of the thoughts I have had as an adult upon seeing the person that abused me as a child include: He probably cannot even remember abusing me, we are both pretending we do not know what you did to me, karma is a b@*&h (when I hear something unfortunate about him), hope he does not abuse his child, I do not care what happens to him (indifference), he probably was abused as a child maybe that is why he abused me, I have the power to destroy an entire family if I speak up, pity (when I had healed).
These are some of the responses I got when I told the people closest to me that I was abused. I believe you. It makes me sad that it happened to you. I love you, I wish I could give you a hug. Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?
Once in a while I find myself saying ‘it was not that bad’ when I speak about my abuse experience. I felt it was my duty to reassure people. I now catch myself saying that and correct myself by saying ‘it was bad’ as any form of sexual abuse or violence is a terrible situation that should never have happened.