Trigger Warning – Childhood Sexual Abuse
You may know that I am currently in therapy for my anxiety and seasonal affective disorder. This is not new for me, I have been in and out of therapy for years, ever since the age of twelve, when I lost my grandad and my mental health took a hit. But grief wasn’t the only thing I was experiencing when I was twelve. I was also hiding a massive secret from everybody I knew. I was being sexually abused by somebody close to me, and it was tearing me apart from the inside.
I have spoken, in part, about what happened to me all those years ago, but never gone into much detail, for fear of what might happen to me – I am still incredibly scared of the person who did it to me, but also for fear of judgement from other people.
Two days ago, I was talking to my therapist about what happened to me, and mentioned the shame I still feel, and she urged me to forgive myself because none of what happened was my fault, and any conflicting emotions I felt and continue to feel now, any fear I am harbouring, I need to let that go so that I can move on from the past. She suggested that I write down how I feel, about what happened, and how it has affected me, so I am. I don’t know if I will press publish, or keep this one just for me, but if you’re reading this, I guess I went with the former.
When I was growing up, family life was a bit of a rollercoaster. My mum and dad split when I was a toddler and my brother was just a baby, and we would see him at weekends. We lived with my mum, who remarried when I was still young, and went on to have another baby, my younger brother. Life from the outside probably looked picture perfect, and it was for the most part, although my stepdad was very hard on my brother, and it put a strain on the relationship and our family in general.
When I was twelve years old, I remember my stepdad starting to pay me more attention. He would stroke my arms, have private conversations with me and just generally acted differently than he had before. I have spoken extensively with therapists in the past about what happened to me, and I truly believe that I blocked a lot out, but there are several incidents which stick with me. One of these was when the family was watching a film together on a big sofa that we had. There were blankets over us, and I was sat on the arm of the sofa, my stepdad next to me. He stroked my arm, and then moved to my, not yet fully developed, chest, stroking me. It made me feel so uncomfortable but I didn’t know what to do. I knew instinctively that it was wrong, but I didn’t know what to do. It made it so much worse the close proximity it happened to the rest of the family, and the fact that they didn’t notice. The place that I should have felt most safe was taken from me.
On another occasion, I remember getting into bed with my mum and him in the middle of the night. I had a bad dream and wanted my mum, but she was asleep, and he encouraged me to get in bed next to him, and then touched me up. I wanted to move but I was frozen in place, paralysed by fear. It wasn’t just physical abuse either. He would show me porn, and ask me what I thought about it. I remember him printing off Disney porn, and it makes me feel sick that he was using characters from beloved childhood films as some kind of tool to groom me.
These are the strongest memories that I have, but I know deep down that more happened than I can fully remember. My childhood was snatched from me, and I will never forgive him for what he did to me. I kept my secret for so many years, until Ed encouraged me to speak out a few years ago and I finally told my mum and dad, and reported it to the police. I had to recount what happened to me in detail at the police station, and go on record saying what he had done, only for the case to be dropped due to a lack of evidence and the fact that he denied what I said happened.
It makes me sick to think that he could do what he did to me, to somebody else’s child. He lived with another woman and her two children for several years after splitting up with my mum, but fortunately, having spoken to her, I don’t think anything happened to her daughter, who was a similar age to me when the abuse began. I feel a lot of shame, alongside the anger, about the fact that I let him do what he did to me. I also feel like it wasn’t ‘that bad’ because, as far as I remember, I was not raped. But I am coming to terms with the fact that, just because it wasn’t rape, it doesn’t make it any less traumatic, being abused by somebody I should have been able to trust.
I went on to lose my virginity, when I was fifteen years old, and from then on I let the men I was with use me, to treat me as they wanted, never focusing on my own pleasure or happiness. What happened to me as a child went on to affect every relationship I have ever had, even my marriage. I go through stages of being overtly sexual, and then not wanting to be touched at all, which can be difficult to understand and cope with for a partner. I also hate being stroked on my arms and chest, due to what happened to me, and it can make my skin crawl.
It wasn’t until the last year that I began to change the way I viewed sex, and I managed to take some power back, and feel in control, and it has helped me massively. I try and share posts about female sexual pleasure and self love, because I find it so important, and it empowers me.
I wasn’t sure whether to share my story, I still worry about people judging me for what happened, or for bringing up the past, and I do genuinely fear him, and a tiny part of me worries that he will come after me for telling the truth, even after all these years. But, if my story can help one other person to feel less alone, or give them the courage to speak out about their own abuse, it will be worth it.
I was sexually abused as a child, but I am determined to not let it destroy the rest of my life.
