May
27
The Reasons A Sexual Abuse Survivor Asks: Am I Permanently Damaged? (Guest Post by Rachel Thompson)
I am so excited to have the one-and-only Rachel Thompson on my blog this week to discuss one of the most challenging questions survivors of trauma face. You can read my post on the same topic over at Rachel’s blog here. Find out more about her at the end of the post, but without further ado, welcome Rachel!
***
The Reasons A Sexual Abuse Survivor Asks: Am I Permanently Damaged?
By Rachel Thompson
This is just one of the many questions a survivor of childhood sexual abuse asks ourselves every day of our lives. People who have not been traumatized in this way will likely scoff at this question, thinking, “Of course you’re not! Why would you think such a silly thing!” and when you’ve thankfully never experienced abuse, this kind of question does seem silly.
To those of us who have survived early childhood sexual trauma (or any kind of sexual trauma), as I did at the age of eleven, we do wonder, because this is our normal. Not knowing what normal is? That’s our normal.
Living inside the knowledge that we are damaged (or question whether we are) is a given, a burden we carry inside our souls, and accept with stoic grace because we are different now.
Whatever you do, don’t give away the secret. It’s ours to keep. Whatever you do, hide behind the shadows of the sun.
I used to wear my soft flannel Raggedy Ann jammies as I held my baby sister, rocking her close to my heart, giving her a bottle for my exhausted mother, crying at her silky pale skin, dark fringe of lovely lashes looking at me with wide-eyed wonder. Holding her tiny fingers, I grieved for that ballerina innocence I no longer carried.
Little did I know that those thoughts had a name: PTSD, aka Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Not only those thoughts, but also an entire host of other fun stuff like nightmares, flashbacks, anxiety attacks, social anxiety, depression, physical manifestations, perfectionism, headaches, hyper-vigilance, body dysmorphic disorder, and more.
No More Secrets
I kept the secret until I couldn’t anymore (all that is well-documented in my books Broken Pieces and Broken Places, available on Amazon; I’m writing Broken People now)…sheriffs, courts, and trials. But more than that, the secret was making me sick. I was swallowing stomach acid, jumping at whispers, terrified to walk alone. The abuser, the next-door neighbor, a father himself, did his two-year sentence and returned. My family stayed.
I saw him in the morning. I saw his kids throughout my school day. They pointed and laughed. I saw him after school. His wife lost her mind. She rarely came out, but when I saw her, she threw me eye daggers. I checked the doors every night. I rechecked my windows all night. I never slept throughout the night. I barely slept.
I hardly slept.
Continuing to live next door to the family, to him, for another six years (eight years total after the abuse) created an unbelievable amount of anxiety and stress on me; likely in ways I still can’t comprehend. My parents were adamant we stay – they did nothing wrong. Why should they leave? It’s kind of insane to think about the fact that we stayed all those years, but we did. As soon as I could afford to move out, I was gone.
I don’t blame my folks for not supporting me by moving away; it’s not that they intentionally minimized the abuse or went out of their way to act as if it didn’t happen – they were not educated or mentally equipped to handle it. We’ve talked about it and have a good, supportive relationship. That’s just how it was – they were busy raising three girls on one salary and to them, their reality was: we cannot afford to move. Deal with it.
I moved to college apartments, where I ended up in a date rape situation with a classmate. I moved to the bad boy who broke my heart in way that hurt so painfully it felt good, because I felt something. To recreational drugs, parties, taking eighteen units each semester, working thirty-two hours a week just to graduate in four years to get through it all. Zooming through it all.
Numbing the shadows away.
As I find my way through my thirties and forties, the PTSD, the shame, it’s all there lurking in the background, but not stopping me from pushing forward. Marriage, children, career – having it ‘all’ – for a while anyway.
Perhaps it’s my resilience, or the way my parents unintentionally taught me to just get on with life, or maybe it’s my own ambition and determination, but I compartmentalize it. Migraines, really my only obvious symptom; at times, my only escape. Or so I think…
Having children – life-changing, of course. And it all comes crashing down. Post-partum depression, anxiety, even thyroid and lingering hormonal changes smack me right in face. For the first time ever, I find myself on a therapist’s couch, in a state of utter panic and deep depression. The first time any doctor of any kind asks if I’ve ever been sexually abused. I cry like a little girl lost.
Time to do the work. I’m forty years old and I recognize that I’d never started to recover from the trauma that happened thirty years ago.
How damaged am I?
As I look back, now that I’m fifty-two, the author of two bestselling, award-winning memoirs where I share my experiences living as a survivor, as a woman, a mother, and how being a survivor has affected my own life and relationships, I realize I can’t change what happened, yet sharing my story is powerful, as is community with other survivors.
Are we permanently damaged? I’m not a shrink, so I can’t answer that professionally. I can only say that the flashbacks, triggers, and nightmares do lessen with time but never completely go away. The reminders are always there for me, like a film that never stops running, though I have learned how to redirect my thoughts which is quite helpful. I don’t feel the need to numb myself (save the occasional glass of wine or martini). Sometimes, I find myself in wonder that I’m not addicted to anything more than Nutella and writing!
Ultimately, I’ve decided the amount of damage doesn’t really matter that much. How do you measure it anyway? Is there a damage scale? (Probably, but as I say, I’m not a shrink.) I read a lot about recovery, I research, I write, and I actively and passionately advocate for survivors. This brings me a huge amount of healing as well. Only you can decide if the amount of damage matters to your recovery.
There’s a beauty in recovery, recovery is healing, and healing is grace.
***
Rachel Thompson is the author of newly released Broken Places (one of IndieReader’s “Best of 2015” top books and 2015 Honorable Mention Winner in the San Francisco Book Festival), and the multi award-winning Broken Pieces, as well as two additional humor books, A Walk In The Snark and Mancode: Exposed. She owns BadRedhead Media, creating effective social media and book marketing campaigns for authors. Her articles appear regularly in The Huffington Post, The San Francisco Book Review (BadRedhead Says…), 12Most.com, bitrebels.com, BookPromotion.com, and Self-Publishers Monthly.
Not just an advocate for sexual abuse survivors, Rachel is the creator and founder of the hashtag phenomenon #MondayBlogs and the live Twitter chat, #SexAbuseChat, co-hosted with certified therapist/survivor, Bobbi Parish. She hates walks in the rain, running out of coffee, and coconut. She lives in California with her family. Rachel Thompson is represented by literary agent Lisa Hagan, and is published by ShadowTeamsNYC.
The Egghead Agenda 
Such an honest post. People can’t fathom that sexually abusing a child violates every part of that child’s being.
Thank you for reading and your comments, Robert. It hard to fathom, even for me — I have two children and my son is now eleven (my daughter almost seventeen). My brain cannot comprehend how it would affect them, and I have no problem being Mama Bear with them.
When people make callous comment to survivors like me, such as ‘Get over it,’ or ‘Move on already,” I simply smile — they are so sadly ignorant. In fact, they reaffirm I’m on the right path with my books and blogging — education and community changes lives.
I’m only now beginning to understand how the abuse has made my relationships with other people tenuous. My first response to feeling love is to go numb. You can imagine how devastating that is to my relationships. Thank you for starting your blog and adding your voice.
This post is the gut wrenching truth.
That’s a great way to start.
Reblogged this on Art by Rob Goldstein and commented:
sexually abusing a child violates every part of that child’s being
God be with you.
thank you 🙂
As always, on this subject, Rachel, your voice is strong and clear. Thank you. rebloging
Thank you, Robert! Being honest is how I write because I feel it’s how we connect and bond to other survivors, as well as help educate those who haven’t been through this experience. xx
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
There are triggers (not horrible and graphic) here, but Rachel’s message is worth risking them.
Am I permanently damaged? I used to think so. Holding it all together until I had a kid sounds very familiar. Post partum depression (undiagnosed for years), and hormonal and thyroid issues – check. My abuser lived under my roof and my parents did nothing to change that. I’m 52 this fall and have only made real progress in healing over the past 4 to5 years (mostly the past 3). Thank you for your writing about this. My newer blog (Remembering My Divinity- linked to my gravatar) is all about my healing journey that happened to take a spiritual path a few years ago.
Thank you for sharing, Mariner2Mother… isn’t it fascinating how much of our journey’s have similarities? Motherhood brings out a whole host of new experiences which force us to ‘deal.’ I,too, have made the most progress in the last 4-5 years, and I can directly relate that to more active therapy, as well as writing my books and starting #SexAbuseChat on Twitter — which has led to massive survivor community growth.
I’m truly humbled to bring survivors together, to give us forums where our voices matter. xx
Thank you for sharing and reading. I’m happy to hear that you’ve found some progress and healing. My father is in his late 60s and is now, for the first time, starting to find healing from his own trauma. I really believe it’s never too late. I’m one of the lucky ones who got thrust onto a path of healing in my mid-20s, and now all I hope is that the path can only become easier for others to find. Still, I know what it feels like to grieve for all the years you lost, and that in itself can be a barrier to healing. “What’s the point? I’ve already lost the most important years of my life?” I used to tell myself. I’m forever grateful to the person who told me that I still had a life worth living and fighting for. We all do.
Thank you so much for sharing your story. I don’t know if mine will ever become a book; so far, blogging it a post at a time is working for me. Writing helps me so much. So much of my family doesn’t know, still. Just thank you. -Susan
I’m 51 and everything you wrote was right on the money. However, the biggest loss for me was the joy of sex. I see other people enjoying it and it is still, for lack of a better term, satisfying. But it will always be something else. You hear the innocent ways people lose their virginity. The discovery, the awe, the excitement and yes, a little fear. But I will never have that. For me it will always be something else. Something darker. Perverse needs you can’t explain but if your lucky, you find a mate who indulges you. If not, you go without. A permanent hole in your sex life. It is a permanent loss in the make up of who you are, and wondering who you could have been.
Hi jack — sex is such a minefield for survivors. therapy helped me immensely, and I am fortunate to be with someone who is very healing and loving. It wasn’t always that way, though. Our recovery journey covers mental, emotional, and physical (which includes sexual). I hope you are able to work through it with a good therapist and be open about the issues you are experiencing.
Someone trained specifically in helping sexual trauma survivors will be beneficial for you (not sure if you’ve explored that?). Sending you healing vibes and hugs. xx
Hi Jack–I definitely understand this feeling. As Rachel mentioned, therapists who are trained in helping sexual trauma survivors can work wonders, and I was able to work through a lot of my sexual struggles to have a satisfying sex life. It involved a lot of grieving for never knowing what “sexual innocence” is, accepting that I can’t have sex in all the “normal” ways (whatever that means), and coming to terms with disturbing images and fantasies. Some of that stuff never goes away, but many people can learn to live with it. Hugs to you and may you find peace.
P.S. speaking of wondering who you could have been. I wrote about how that idea haunted me in a previous blog: https://eggheadagenda.wordpress.com/2015/08/30/before-and-after-a-life-shaped-by-abuse/
Thank you for sharing, Rachel. This is so powerful–the idea of being set in your trauma because you were a child. Your brain, your body was developing outside of normal. It’s so interesting, and you write it so vividly.
Damaged like a dropped tea cup. Survivors are broken in different ways. We may still be functional but at the very least cracked and chipped. It is like scars, or tattoos on our soul always reminding us we are survivors, hopefully thrivers, sometimes creators, and maybe even healers. But definitely damaged, no doubt about it, and yes, it is a forever thing that also impacts everyone who loves us. The victim gets to put the experience in context over and over again, gets to “normalizie/ neutralize” the experience while never really reaching “normallity or neutrality.” To pretend otherwise is an insult partly because victims (and that is a good word, we move entirely too fast to survivor title) don’t always remember events until years, sometimes decades later. Its ongoing and domething like trying to stay dober. Everyday is a new opportunity to be better, to be more whole, to be more present…
Rachel,
I am envisioning myself giving 11 year old Rachel a warm hug and then high five-ing her for she is the bravery and cleverness that survived!
Reading this was like seeing my reflection in the mirror.
Indulging myself in your gift of writing is uplifting and inspiring.
Thank you for the continued impact and pivotal role you play in my healing journey.
xo
Wow. This is so much for me to absorb at once. I’ll be coming back to reread several times. The damage I feel is immense. I am at the beginning of the journey and your words give me hope. Thank you.
Thank you for reading, and I hope you continue to find things to help you on your journey–healing is always possible.