Overcoming Sexual Abuse » disclosing abuse

I Blamed Myself For My Abuse Since I Didn’t Tell

Christina Enevoldsen — Thu, 24 May 2012 09:10:01 +0000

by Christina Enevoldsen

When my daughter was nineteen and her father and I were in the middle of a divorce, she shared the horrible truth about what her dad had been doing to her for most of her life. As I tried to wrap my head around the fact that I had been completely blind all those years, a few words slipped from my mouth, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I know now how painful those words can be. They communicate that all would have been well if only she would have come to me. That question might have also meant, “If that’s really true, then why are you only telling me now?” But I never doubted the truth and I didn’t blame her. My reaction came from feeling like a fool for being deceived by my husband all those years.

Bethany didn’t want to feel responsible for the breakup of her family, so she held onto the secret until I left her father for other reasons. It was apparent to me that my daughter’s silence stemmed from an effort to survive the best she could, but I didn’t see things that clearly when it came to my own abuse.

For a long time after I started talking about my abuse, I felt guilty for not speaking up sooner. It didn’t seem as though it could have been so hard to tell someone that my dad was hurting me. I thought I must have either been a very stupid or weak child or that I must not have wanted the abuse to stop.

I didn’t believe I really had a right to complain about my abuse since I hadn’t complained about it while it was going on. If I hated it so much, why didn’t I say something then?

As an adult, I wanted to scream at my child-self, “JUST TELL!!!” I was blaming the little girl I had been for all my pain. I thought if she would have just pushed a little harder, she could have saved us both.

There was one time I remember specifically that I had a chance to disclose my abuse. I was ten years old and a psychologist from the school district pulled me out of class after observing students for a few days. I knew she had singled me out because there was something wrong with me. I already felt like I had some kind of sign on me that told everyone that I was bad and disgusting.

The woman asked me why I seemed sad and I struggled for an answer. I didn’t relate my sadness to what my dad was doing to me. I didn’t even consider that those things weren’t normal. I tried to come up with the “right” answer, so I told her I didn’t have any friends. That wasn’t really true, but I did feel very alone.

The woman seemed disappointed and annoyed with me. I didn’t know what she wanted or expected, but I wasn’t doing something right. She worked with me and taught me social skills for a few months and then I was on my own again.

I felt like the whole world was against me, so reaching out for help didn’t seem like a possibility. I felt like I deserved bad things. I didn’t have hope for my life being any less painful so I focused on not making it any more painful.

Even though I judged myself for not figuring out how I could be saved, I can see now that I was very smart in some ways. During those years of incest and other abuses, I adapted by developing my intuition. I learned to read people very well so I could prepare myself for what was coming. I could anticipate what they would do and sometimes avoid more harm. Without knowing how I knew, I knew certain people weren’t safe.

Looking back, nothing about that psychologist told me that I could trust her. She seemed to view me as a project rather than a person. I had the feeling she was more interested in her own success than in truly helping me. I couldn’t trust this stranger, but why couldn’t I trust my mom? Why didn’t I tell her?

When I was in my early forties, I stood before a group of people and named my father as my abuser. It felt good to let go of the secret, but when I went to bed that night, I felt horrible guilt for “betraying” my dad. I heard a little girl’s voice tell me that I was going to get in trouble. I knew that was a voice from the past and assured myself that I hadn’t done anything wrong, but deep down, I believed I deserved to be punished for telling.

I didn’t know what the “punishment” might be until I got a letter from my mom. For years, she’d accepted that I’d been sexually abused, but when I uncovered my father as my primary abuser, she accused me of lying:

Christina-
I am writing to inform you that your malicious slander of your father has not gone unnoticed. You have built an entire world out of your fantasy. In dreaming up your sexual abuse you have maligned your father’s character and deeply hurt his heart and mine. Your lies shall surely catch up with you.

I want you to know that if you have any plans of writing a book, we will sue you and anyone who has anything to do with it. Your defamation of your father’s character will stop. You will not enjoy one penny from any book published about this gross lie.

And I should let you know that we filed some of your inflammatory statements about your father and me, along with your threat against me, with the Mesa Police Dept.

And I will always be your mother whether you recognize me or not as such.
Your mother-
Mary Schamer

The violence of her words devastated me. The denial of my sexual abuse felt like a denial of my life and existence. She insisted that I remember that she’s my mother. Those words stung. I realized that I didn’t have a mother—not just now that I’d told my secret, but that I’d never had a mom who loved and supported me.

I felt invisible to her my whole life. I’d constantly tried to be good enough, to work hard enough, to live according to her rules. I was too busy trying to earn my mother’s love to notice that there was no love to earn. She hadn’t suddenly changed into a mean person. She hadn’t recently turned her back on me. She was treating me the way she always had.

That showed me another perspective. The closest thing to love I had as a little girl was from my dad. Even if I had to trade my body for a little attention and affection, my dad was the only source of anything that resembled love. Even though I didn’t like what he was doing to me, I felt more security from him than I did from my mom. Telling wasn’t an option when I was being abused since the punishment for breaking my silence was that I would be completely abandoned by both of my parents.

Examining the past has shown me the truth about myself and about my abuse. I know in my head and in my heart that I’m not to blame for what happened to me or for the abuse continuing. I’m content knowing that I listened to my intuition and even if I couldn’t stop the abuse, I was successful in surviving it.

Blaming myself was another method to survive. It was an attempt to take control of a situation where I had no control. Instead of admitting that I was a helpless child, I envisioned myself having power. I tried to change the past through self-blame, but as long as I did that, I remained a victim to the past. When I finally acknowledged that I didn’t have power or choices when I was a child, I was released from guilt and blame so I could be empowered now. I can’t change the past, but I’m very capable of healing from it.

Now that you’ve heard my experience and thoughts about this, I’d love to hear yours. Please comment below and don’t forget to subscribe to the comments so you can continue to partake in the discussion.

Christina Enevoldsen is cofounder of Overcoming Sexual Abuse, an online resource for male and female abuse survivors looking for practical answers and tools for healing. Christina’s passions are writing and speaking about her own journey of healing from abuse and inspiring people toward wholeness. She and her husband live in Los Angeles and share three children and four grandchildren.

[read Christina's story here]

What If My Family Rejects Me? Part 2

osa — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 20:12:19 +0000

by Christina Enevoldsen & Bethany Ruck

My daughter, Bethany, and I were both sexually abused by our fathers and were strongly opposed by our family when we dared to seek justice for her abuse. We’re sharing how we came to terms with our grief and how we learned to meet our needs apart from our family.

Christina: I lost my family in stages. There was the time I divorced my abusive husband and my parents took his side. They rejected me for awhile, but when my ex-husband got engaged right away and they saw how happy he was, they forgave me. A few years later, I confronted my mom about her years of lying to me and her defense was that since nobody’s perfect, my standards were too high. She also reminded me that I was commanded by God to honor her. We parted ways then. The last and final time I lost my family was about a year later when Bethany and I reported her father (my ex-husband) for sexual abuse. My parents attacked Bethany and defended her perpetrator-father. Until then, I still had some hope for reconciliation.

Bethany: When I first began the journey of reporting my father, I expected to make some enemies, but little did I know just how many were to be made. After my father’s arrest, the majority of my family rallied against me. They defended an unrepentant and unremorseful child molester. They attacked and persecuted me for finally standing up to my abuser. That came as a shock. Aren’t family members the ones who are supposed to love you unconditionally? Yet their love was based on agreeing with what I did.

The biggest blow was the betrayal from my grandparents (on my mom’s side). They accused me of destroying the family, yet failed to see how much destruction the secret caused in the first place. My grandma told me I was wicked – a term she doesn’t use lightly. And when I thought it couldn’t get any more painful they attempted to bribe me in exchange for me dropping charges. They tried to reduce my pain to something some unmarked bills could fix. I was the one victimized and they were making my abuser and themselves out to be the victims. It was confusing. I did something right, I stood up to my abuser, but my family treated me like I was wrong.

I was never in touch with the fact that my father’s abuse was a statement that said, “You’re unimportant, worthless and unloved,” until the sting of extreme and vocal rejection from my grandparents. Then I became aware of just how badly he rejected me as well. My dad’s pleasure always came before my needs. In this, the rest of the family was doing the same thing.

The amount of pain I felt was overwhelming. I began to see the people I’d known all my life for who they really are and realized that the family I held in such high esteem was just a facade.

Christina: I hadn’t had contact with my parents for nearly a year prior to the reporting incident and I felt so good to be free of them. I hadn’t realized until I broke contact how much oppressive energy I was carrying by having them in my life. It was a relief!

When they attacked Bethany so cruelly, I felt like I really saw them for the first time—my real parents, not the ones I imagined I had. I was outraged. All those years, I assumed my dad was sorry for abusing me, yet his reaction showed who he identified with— an abuser. He wasn’t sorry for what he did to me and it was like he was abusing me all over again.

I was finally angry at my dad for abusing me. I spent many months processing my anger. I expressed it by beating my mattress, yelling into my pillow, talking it out and writing about it. I wrote him a letter and poured out all my feelings on the paper. It was a relief to unload it and let the paper carry the rage. I spent my whole life being overpowered by him, just taking it. It felt good to finally be opposing him.

Bethany: I was always afraid to express my anger and didn’t know how to share it in a healthy way. I was afraid of losing relationships if I showed disappointment or unhappiness in anyway. I was too emotionally dependent on my family to risk that. The first time I remember allowing myself to feel angry was after I reported my dad. I hated that I had to suffer yet again for his issues. I wished that he would have done the right thing and turned himself in instead of dragging me through the court system. It was one more time he was failing me as a father.

A few months later, anger toward my grandparents surfaced. I put my feelings in a letter and sent it to them. I was finally able to confront the people who abused me and I wasn’t afraid of their reactions.

Christina: Facing the truth about my parents brought up memories from my childhood abuse. I wasn’t only grieving the loss of my parents, but I was mourning for what I never had in them. The pain of the current rejection opened the door to the original abandonment and abuse—that very first time I lost my family. The emotions from the past and present were mixing together. Sorting out all my feelings was like untangling a huge knot.

Bethany: When I had bouts of emotion, I stopped to examine why I was feeling that way. Some of the emotions had clearer roots than others, but understanding what triggered them helped me to come to terms with what had happened. I picked apart the reasons why I was experiencing it until I gained clarity.

Christina: On most levels, I accepted that I would likely never have a relationship with my parents, especially my mom. But on another level, it was hard to give up hope that she’d eventually come to her senses. In reality, I could never trust her again. Why would I ever want to settle for a relationship with someone who values me so little? Yet there was this little girl’s voice inside me pleading, “Mommy, please love me!”

But it was a complete fantasy because what I wanted wasn’t possible. I still had a hole in my soul that longed to be nurtured. That’s what I had to work on–nurturing myself so I could finally let go of my fantasies.

I’m re-parenting myself. To do that, I’ve had to address my inner child—the part of me still longing for a family. Taking care of my inner child has been one of the most challenging parts of my restoration. I had conversations with her in an effort to sort out my thoughts and feelings. At first, I’d imagine myself talking with her, but disgust and hatred filled me. I didn’t want to protect her; I only wanted to destroy her. It was surprising to see the intensity of my self-hate.

In my mind, it was her fault that all of this happened. It was her weakness and smallness and vulnerability that caused the abuse. Removing the blame from her and forgiving her allowed me to get closer, but I also realized that my feelings toward her reflected the way my mother felt about me. Once I realized that, I got angry that this little girl was treated so unjustly. I felt compassion for her and wanted to care for her myself.

Now, I pay attention to what she’s afraid of and comfort her. I listen to what is important to her and give her a voice. I give her the gentle treatment she never got. As I’ve taken better care of her, I’ve been able to take better care of myself. As my feelings toward her have become more loving, so have my feelings toward my adult-self. I’ve learned to give myself the love I never had.

Bethany: The separation from my family made me take a closer look at the people left in my life and people I meet now. Do they treat me well? Do they validate my true self? Are they growing toward emotional health? Are they supportive of my healing process?

Where do they fit in my life? I’ve had to learn to set appropriate boundaries for each person. When I make new friends I don’t allow everyone to have a deep place in my heart. I can’t share intimate feelings with everyone. I remind myself that there’s not some grand race to make everyone my best friend. Now, I get to know each person better than I would have before and take time to examine their intentions and qualifications before allowing them to get closer to me.

Christina: When I lost my parents, I was aware that I might have a tendency to fill the void with other people who might not be very healthy. I knew I had to go through the grieving process instead of using other relationships to cover my pain. I made new friends, but I was careful not to put unrealistic expectations on them by putting them in parenting role or any other role that would give me a ‘fix’. The more I healed and learned to meet my own needs, the more I was able to allow my relationships to develop naturally.

Now I’m surrounded by my Family-of-Choice. Most of my friends have been wonderfully supportive, even if they don’t quite understand it all. I communicate my needs to the friends who want to support my healing process. For examples of specific needs, “How To Support A Survivor of Sexual Abuse”.

I’m very aware of the environment I create during this season, especially in my relationships. I choose to stay away from anyone who pressures me to perform for them. I’m discovering the real me for the first time in my life and I can’t be bothered with those who don’t appreciate that. But I’ve also noticed that as I leave one unhealthy friendship behind, I gain a healthier one.

Bethany: I used to feel defeated by my family’s betrayal and wanted to throw in the towel. But the same hurt that kept me down also helped me to realize how much I needed to press on. I couldn’t live in pain like that for the rest of my life. I became determined to live a life without my family’s blinders on and without their constant rejections. I feel more of an individual. I no longer controlled by their beliefs about me or what they say.

Christina: Leaving my family was painful, butI’ve still had to work through my pain, but the pain of leaving was so much easier than the continual pain of remaining with them. This way, the pain is dissipating instead of perpetuating. I wish I would have seen sooner all the damage those unhealthy family relationships were causing, but I’m thankful to see the truth now. I’m proud of the progress I’ve made by finally taking a stand for myself.

Through my parents, I received the gift of life. Only by leaving them did I begin to fully appreciate and develop that gift.

Bethany Ruck is cofounder of Overcoming Sexual Abuse, an online resource for male and female abuse survivors looking for practical answers and tools for healing. Besides helping abuse survivors see the beauty within themselves, she enhances the beauty of others as a professional make-up artist and has worked in television, film and print.

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How Do I Disclose My Abuse?

Christina Enevoldsen — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 19:42:56 +0000

by Christina Enevoldsen

I talk about my childhood sexual abuse very publicly now, but I didn’t start there. The first time I ever told anyone I’d been abused it didn’t go very well. For years, I’d repressed most of my childhood memories when suddenly, in my early twenties, I knew I’d been abused. The knowledge came in a flash. I didn’t have any specific recall, know who my abuser was or feel any pain, but I was sure I’d been sexually abused.

I thought my parents would want to know, so the first chance I got, I visited them. When I walked in their house, my mom stood in the kitchen. We made small talk for a few minutes, but I couldn’t wait to tell her the reason for my visit, so I blurted out, “I was sexually abused.” I heard a booming voice from the other room where my dad was watching television, “NO, YOU WEREN’T!!!” My mother responded without interest, as though I never said a word.

Years later, when the memories flooded back and I realized that my dad was my abuser while my mom looked the other way, their responses made so much sense. I didn’t know it then, but now I know that telling my parents wasn’t the best place to begin disclosing my abuse.

Breaking the silence of abuse is a vital step toward healing. The secrets you hold actually hold you, keeping you captive to the abuser’s power. Telling is a way to break free from the bond the secret created between you and your abuser.

The way you take the first few steps in disclosure can influence whether you advance or withdraw in your healing. Telling a safe person who validates you makes it easier to go on to the next part of the process. When you disclose your abuse to someone who is compassionate, understanding, and accepting, it’s a relief to know you’re no longer alone. However, sharing emotionally vulnerable moments with someone who is unsupportive may cause you to feel even more isolated and can hinder your progress.

Though many survivors of abuse assume that their family will believe them and comfort them, that isn’t always true. In fact, it’s very common for families to reject rather than support the survivor. Sometimes parents reject the possibility that their child was abused because to accept the truth is too painful. Sometimes the disclosure brings up pain from their own abuse. They might also feel personally threatened. They may view it as an accusation that they aren’t good parents for failing to protect you.

Many victims of sexual abuse are abused by family members. In that case, other family members may have divided loyalties. If the daughter was abused by Grandpa, parents have to choose one family member over another. Many family members are unwilling to do that, especially if they have their own unmet needs from the relationship with the abuser.

If you are a survivor of incest, there’s an excellent chance that you’re not the only victim in your family and your abuser isn’t the only perpetrator. In incest families the family system has a culture that protects itself by keeping the secret. That system’s survival depends on the secret being kept. They will sacrifice one member for the sake of the system. In most cases, the survivor who is willing to talk about the abuse is the healthiest person in the family. The survivor is the one who recognizes the truth the earliest and seek change and healing, while the others see survival by maintaining the status quo. That is a threat to the family unit and the person who wants change is often viewed as the enemy. Because of personal defenses, your family isn’t always likely to be the best source of support and understanding.

The best chance to receive a supportive response is to begin by telling a friend who’s trustworthy and comfortable with emotions. Choose a friend you feel safe with and who doesn’t know your abuser—someone who doesn’t have anything to lose in believing you.

A few years after telling my parents, I was validated by a group of women who openly discussed their own abuse. I learned from them that talking about abuse is nothing to be ashamed about. I was accepted and believed and I felt like I belonged. With their support, I had a firm foundation and I started to see that healing was possible.

I had mostly good experiences for many years. Occasionally, someone would get a blank stare and put up a defensive wall and I knew they didn’t want to hear anymore. That was okay. By then, I was well on my way to healing and I understood that people have their own issues and their own needs may not allow them to hear me. I didn’t take it personally anymore.

My next stage in disclosure was speaking to a group of about forty people, many of whom knew my father. I wasn’t sure what their reaction would be, but I felt ready to share it, no matter their response. I had enough of a support system, within myself and with others, so I was secure and didn’t need anything from them. I just wanted the opportunity to share the truth. They were overwhelmingly supportive.

I was validated by the group, but when I went home that night I heard a little girl’s voice in my head saying, “You told,” in an accusing tone. I recognized that the little girl was the little girl inside of me. She was the one who was warned not to tell. She was the one who was afraid and felt threatened. But as my adult self, I wasn’t under my father’s power anymore and he couldn’t do anything to hurt me. So I comforted myself with that and validated my progress—and continued to tell.

After that, I published the story of my abuse history online. I wanted it to be public. I wanted the whole world to see it. I wasn’t afraid of my dad finding out. I wanted my parents to read what I wrote. I wanted them to know I was talking about it. I felt empowered and strong.

My last step was talking on the radio. It felt natural and comfortable to talk about it. It was an affirming step and I felt good. But the next day, I was exhausted and felt defeated. In hearing myself speak about it, I accepted and understood my abuse in a different way, which helped me to tap into new levels of grief I hadn’t touched before. It felt bad, but it was part of the process and I was happy to be taking another step.

Even if you’ve been telling for years, you may experience new feelings as you take different steps. Take time to evaluate how you feel after each new step. Those feelings need to be validated and expressed. Emotions are good, even if they’re painful. Just as in all parts of the healing process, it’s important to take small steps and proceed at your own rate.

Part of telling is choosing who you tell and don’t tell. You don’t have any control over how people will react, but you do have control over who you share it with. You don’t have to publish a book or post it online. Talking about your abuse to someone is important, but you don’t have to tell everyone and you aren’t a failure or a coward if you choose not to.

Talking about your abuse is important, but how you disclose it can make the difference in how beneficial it is. These are some things to remember to increase the chances that your disclosure will be well-received:

1. Start with someone who is emotionally available and who doesn’t know your abuser.
2. Start small and privately.
3. Evaluate your emotions and practice self care after each new step in disclosure.
4. Take time to validate yourself after you disclose.
5. If you want to make your abuse experience known to more people or disclose to your family, establish a base of support with trusted others first.

No matter how anyone responds, what happened to you was serious and you deserve to be treated well. Don’t allow anyone to keep you from doing what’s best for you. You may not get the validation you need from everyone, but you can validate yourself.

PLEASE NOTE that there are situations where your safety would be put in jeopardy if you speak of your abuse publicly. Ritual abuse is one example of that. Please use extreme caution if your disclosure would put you in danger.

Related Posts:

Why Do I Need To Tell?

[read Christina's story here]

Does this resonate with you? Please join in by leaving your thoughts and feelings about this topic and don’t forget to subscribe to the comments.