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One of my readers asked for my input about what helped me deal with my childhood abuse. Read this blog for the story.
Unfortunately, I am a great example of what NOT to do with a child.
My sexual abuse was barely acknowledged and in the past few years, my mother has taken to denying it happened at all. Naturally she denies that she physically or emotionally abused me.
I never received any counseling, and my rape was never reported to the police. I had to go it alone. Once my parents found out about my sexual abuse, I had to tell the parents of the babysitter, who we lived next door to so I still saw him every day, and that was the end of it. We live in a small town, and no one wanted a “scandal”, so my life continued as it was.
The man/boy who raped me was 15 at the time, and moved away a few years later, but in the meantime, I still saw him. His sister was one of my friends, so there would be times that I was at their house and he was there.
In the case of the oral sexual abuse, again it was not reported, and the man ended up working at my middle school as my gym teacher years later. There was nothing on his record to prevent him from getting a job with children. He made comments during our gym class about how he had changed my diapers, etc. but the undertone of so much more was there.
My abuse continued years past the actual physical act.
When we were in attachment therapy with Sammy, we talked about my abuse, because it was somewhat similar to Sammy’s. We talked about how I could understand what he felt. After we’d been doing therapy for about a year, Sammy’s therapist turned to me and asked me where I had learned to love, because my background certainly should have given me attachment issues of my own.
Her question took me very much off guard, and I truly had to think about the answer. The only answer I could come up with was my Great-Grandmother. She is the biggest hero in my life. She was my one constant, and I was fortunate enough to have her in my life up until about five years ago.
I don’t know what she knew about my abuse. We never talked about it, but I always knew she loved me. She told me so quite often, and always hugged me. We spent time together, and she helped to make my wedding dress. I could spend a whole blog telling you what an incredible and strong woman she was. The point is, she was my rock. Without her, I probably would be a mess.
My next blog will cover how to do things RIGHT with a child.
I know many abuse survivors with similar stories. They found the courage to tell, but their parents chose to “avoid a scandal” and assumed the child would be “resilient” if they just pretended that it never happened. The parents’ reaction caused just as much damage as the initial trauma.
None of my abuse was ever reported, either. In my case, I was too frightened to tell. Also, when the abuse is happening under your own roof and when your parent is the one providing other abusers with access to you, it is hard to know who to tell, anyhow.
I am glad you had your great-grandmother in your life. For me, my saving grace was my sister. We are both certain that, if either of us had been an only child, we would have turned out much differently.
- Faith
Not only is it interesting how many of us who are parenting survivors of abuse are themselves survivors… but also how many of us did not report it.