Today’s post is the 4th story of healing for Sexual Assault Awareness Month.
Remember, everyone’s journey is different. This is meant to let people know that healing does happen and to identify all the different ways and all the different areas that your life can grow and change.
***Please be aware, the following is a story of someone’s journey through sexual abuse and healing. You may find aspects triggering. If you need help, please contact RAINN @ 800.656.HOPE(4673).
Do you remember me? The young 8 year old who you led into your room; your own sister’s friend. Do remember what happened that night? What you did to me? Or was I just an object to you, a toy you could use for your enjoyment one night and never have to face again. That night you took my innocence away, my sense of right and wrong, and my safety. But worst of all you took my body away from me. Eleven years later it still doesn’t feel like mine, and it probably never will.
You have hurt me in so many ways over these past years that I don’t think you considered that night, have thought about, or even cared about since then. I have made it my life’s mission to make myself perfect, but yet undesirable to people. I want to please people, but I keep a wall up to keep them at a distant so they don’t hurt me like you did. I have gotten to the point, many times, to just finally kill myself so I don’t have to remember what happened, so my mind can finally cease to create a thought, to just truly take what happened to the grave and forget what I went through.
But guess what? I am so much stronger now. I am not that weak and easily manipulated little girl any longer. I have told “our little secret” and reported it to the proper professionals. It is on file what happened that night.
I am so angry with myself. Irate. Mad. Furious. Livid. It took me 11 years to come forward about how you sexually abused me. But I know those feelings should be directed at you. It wasn’t me who caused this to happen. I didn’t force myself on you and ask you to touch me or violate me. I, as an 8 year old, didn’t even know what was going on. I just knew it felt good. As a child I followed the pleasure centers in my brain. If it hurt I didn’t do it, and if it felt good I continued with it.
A survivor in Pennslyvania