Here is my story:

 

I can’t remember how old I was when I started having flashbacks. I remember being paralyzed when one would “hit”. It would be as if I was floating above the room where it was happening watching it occur. I knew where I was in these flashbacks and I knew the people, but had no memory of what was happening.  I had no idea why these flashbacks were occurring because I had no memory of anything bad happening to me as a child. 

 

In the flashback, I am at a neighbor’s house. I went there to play with a friend who was the same age. They had a male relative living with them. Somehow, he encouraged me to come to his room and lie down with him. I’m about 6-7 years old. And, I remember him touching me inappropriately. I have no idea how many times this occurred but I recall my friend coming to the door and telling me to come with her and I did not. I spent so many years feeling guilty about that - she was giving me a way out and I didn’t take it.

 

After graduating from high school, I went on to get a degree and start working full time. The flashbacks were still coming and I was beginning to feel like I was crazy. So, I decided to see a therapist. I was so lucky to have just randomly picked someone so wonderful. I told her what was happening and she made a statement to me that I will never forget “People don’t just randomly imagine these things happening to themselves. If you are having these flashbacks then something happened to you.” Strangely, I remember the relief that gave me. I was not crazy. She helped me understand how children can block memories to protect themselves. She also told me these flashbacks would likely continue especially when I had children and they reached the age when I was abused. But, she gave me hope that I could heal. We spent many sessions working through the guilt I had - I felt like I could have walked out of that room where the abuse happened and did not. She reminded me that I was a little girl trusting an adult who took advantage of that trust. We worked through the guilt I had of never telling anyone - and the likelihood that my friend and her brother were likely also being abused. 

 

At some point, she referred me to group therapy. That was one of the best things I’ve ever done. Women from all different backgrounds with similar stories of abuse - child, domestic, sexual - all bonding over their trauma and healing. After starting the group, I remember being in the bank one day and seeing a lady that was in the group. We looked at each other and only our eyes acknowledged each other because we knew and respected the privacy of the group. But at that moment, I realized that you never know what someone is going through. This woman was in a bank doing her job with a smile on her face but I knew what she was going through at home. And, I know that’s why I’ve tried so hard to live a life of compassion for people. 

 

During the years I was in therapy, I was not choosing healthy relationships. I could feel myself getting stronger mentally but I still wasn’t always able to translate that to my relationships. In particular, I had two serious relationships during this time - in both cases I confided my abuse to them. One ended because we were just too young. For the second, though, I had high hopes that this was the right one even though he had anger issues and was verbally abusive. I am so thankful I was in therapy during this time. It helped me realize that I deserved better than the treatment I was receiving. I think my final breaking point with him was when he told me that I was using the abuse as a crutch. I needed his support and that was his response. 

 

As I got stronger in healing, I was finally able to tell my family what happened. We lived in a “safe” neighborhood. No one could have ever imagined something like this was going on. I’m sure my parents felt some level of guilt but my childhood was in the days of sending your kids off in the morning to play and saying be home before dinner. There was only one person to blame and that was the abuser. My mother went back through my baby books and came across some notes from my teacher in the first grade where suddenly my grades and behavior changed - further confirmation that something happened to me at that age.

 

Several years ago, I received a FB message from an old neighborhood friend asking me about the abuse - it seems that our mothers had connected on the subject so she knew what happened to me. She was also having flashbacks so I shared what I recalled from my childhood. Sadly, her situation was with someone else in our neighborhood and not my abuser. Two abusers in a “safe” neighborhood. Sad and scary. 

 

Today, I don’t dwell on the abuse. I know it is a part of the bigger picture that has made me who I am. My parents still live in the same neighborhood. I still pass the house where I was abused. I feel sad for what happened in that house. But, it doesn’t define who I am. I am thankful that I was able to heal and grow and that this brought me so much compassion for others who are silently dealing with their own trauma. 

                                                                    Anonymous

 

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