Abuse — From the Perspective of the Abused

We are not really “allowed” to talk about sexual abuse, from the perspective of being the abused. Or that is how we feel.

We feel we always need to describe it, seeing it from the outside, just delivering facts — from outside of our bodies. Or we are allowed to be in it, in our emotions, but then not tell the story of what happened.

There is a felt perpetuation of dissociation in the treatment situation.

I think I understand the fear of the treater, or listener. Perhaps if I tell it from the inside of me, they fear I will get so triggered, that I will forget that I am not living in my past anymore, and get stuck in there? In my horrors? In my disgust? In my shame? In my anger?

I bought a new set of charcoal crayons and papers yesterday. (It feels like buying candy! Soul candy!)

I know whose perspective the drawing is showing. It is the child looking up at her abuser.

And I ended up making a drawing with my new charcoals in the middle of the night. I was super tired. I just wanted to test my new charcoals and paper. I just put one coal crayon to the paper, and after 15 intense minutes, I had a picture of my stepfather in front of me. And after another slower 15 minutes, I left it — the drawing was finished.

I know whose perspective the drawing is showing. It is the child looking up at her abuser.

After some heavy dreaming and some time spent today on being with this perspective, I wanted to share it with you.

Why are we so afraid of human experiences? I don’t think the explanation is only that I am afraid of my own emotions. I am, have always been, equally afraid of yours. Who is it that cannot sit with that small child, older child, teenager, young woman (or man) — who are — or were — used for sexual gratification for older men (and sometimes women)?

Who am I protecting by not voicing my inner experiences? It can be argued that I am protecting myself, by protecting you. And I think that is true, too. I do not want to hurt you. But I also know, by hurting you — with my truths — I am hurting myself. As you will most likely not be able to deal with it and what it awakens in you.

Now that I understand I can’t keep on living protecting others from me — or even protecting myself by protecting others — I don’t find it so hard to be with me and my experiences anymore.

Who am I protecting by not voicing my inner experiences?

The pictures you see before your inner eyes, when you hear me talk about the abuse — I have engraved onto my retina. I can’t get rid of them. I see different versions. Leaving me with many, different, very raw human emotions that are reflected back into me, penetrating my mind as well as my body. Creating a forced connection with intrusive pictures from my past that used to erase part of who I am.

I cannot afford to care anymore. I feel a very strong need to share MY human experiences.