by Bethany Ruck 

When my last boyfriend and I began dating, we would see each other once a week. The in between times were filled with hour-long telephone calls before bed, a lot of getting to know you time and even more of the sickening, “No, I miss you more” fluff.  One night the conversation led to just the right place, where I could tell him about my childhood sexual abuse. I remember prefacing it with a warning that I had something very serious to say; then I told him. He didn’t seem to have much of a reaction, so I assumed that he didn’t feel comfortable asking questions. Okay, change of subject. I guess he didn’t want to talk about it, so I went about the rest of the phone call as normal. The topic of sexual abuse didn’t come up again until much later in the relationship.
 
A year down the road, when I decided that I wanted to report my father for sexually abusing me, I sat my boyfriend down and told him my intentions. Our relationship had turned significantly more serious by that time, so I wanted his support. Instead of support, I was met with an attack. “If I would have known you were sexually abused I never would have dated you.” he said. I was shocked! I never fathomed that he would react like that, especially since I specifically remember telling him about the sexual abuse a year prior. The relationship soon ended, but not without further hurt.
 

Comfortable with Emotion
Crying is healthy. It’s an expression of emotions. Something yucky on the inside is trying to come out, so let it! My boyfriend did not see it this way. Instead of letting me cry he would yell at me, telling me to stop. We were living together at the time, so when I needed a good cry I never had a safe place to do it. I couldn’t express my emotions because he was always there. Finding a partner who is comfortable expressing their own emotion and hearing mine is a prerequisite for a healthy foundation. 
 
Supportive of My Healing
Healing from sexual abuse is not a quick fix. It’s a long road with bumps, low visibility and a whole bunch of people trying to cut you off. Embarking on that journey without a healthy support system is impossible. With my last boyfriend, I wasn’t looking for someone to hold my hand through the healing process. I just wanted someone to say every once in a while, “You can do it!  Great job. Keep going!” Instead of being my cheerleader, I got torn down for my efforts. He only saw how my past abuse affected him, instead of how beneficial healing was to both of us.
 
Isn’t Abusive
I know this sounds so obvious, doesn’t it? But it’s so often overlooked. I thought I knew how to recognize abusive behavior. All I had to look for was someone who didn’t molest children or didn’t give me that creepy feeling, right? WRONG! Perpetrators generally have patterns of abuse that span over several areas. In my case, my boyfriend used his words against me, manipulating and playing on my weaknesses. Every time the relationship turned south he would tell me that a few days prior he had been shopping for engagement rings, in hopes that I would see what a grand gesture of love he was trying to make. In one fight I remember being referred to as “damaged goods” because of the abuse I had no control over.
 
In the end, I didn’t get what I wanted out of this relationship. Instead of love, I got rejection. I firmly believe that love is an action, not some gushy feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when that special someone comes near. He told me all the things I wanted to hear, but his actions showed me that he was more concerned with himself than with loving me.
 
I wish I would have seen clearly going into that relationship, but I’m now better equipped to do so in the future. 

Related Posts: 
Sexual Abuse Invaded My Marriage
Is This Love That I’m Feeling?
Power Play: How to Recognize an Abuser
Prince Charming Was a Murder Suspect
Dangerous Men, Red Flags, Victim Mentality
Emotional Abuse and Identity Hunger  

[read Bethany'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.

Christina Enevoldsen

by Christina Enevoldsen

When I was a child, I was very well-behaved. I listened to my teachers and earned good grades. I got along well with other kids and followed all the rules. I obeyed my parents and did helpful things around the house. I never got in trouble except for one thing: My parents complained about my bad attitude.

At ten years old, I had no idea what an attitude was or how I was supposed to change it. This complaint ruined my perfect behavior record, so I determined to correct it. Eventually, I figured out the unspoken family rule: Thou shalt be cheerful. Looking back, I can see that the pain and secrets under the weight of my father’s sexual abuse were leaking out through my “bad attitude.” I had to endure the abuse and then conceal my feelings about it. The message was: “No matter what’s happening, smile about it because frowns make others uncomfortable.”

I knew that to be loved, I had to have a good attitude. I took this lesson into adulthood and ingested all the books and articles I could find on positive thinking. It was almost a religion—in fact, my church taught it too, except they put a twist on it. “Thou shalt be cheerful, lest God think you’re ungrateful and take away what little you do have”.

I learned to have a positive attitude about everything—things that I should have run from. I accepted circumstances without questioning them. Instead of making improvements to my life, I improved the way I perceived my life. My optimism helped me to cope with the powerlessness I felt, but it unempowered me to examine things realistically.

This coping mechanism that helped me survive as a child also followed me in big and small ways into my adult years. It tied me to an abusive marriage for twenty-one years while I convinced myself I was happy.  I actively searched for good qualities in my husband and overlooked the fact that he was abusing me and my children.

This false grasp of reality also kept me serving in an abusive church for many years. I looked the other way while I was disregarded and dismissed. One of those times, I was serving in a very demanding role under the associate pastor, who claimed to be my friend. It was a position outside of my comfort zone, but she convinced me that it would be good for my growth. After years of serving dutifully in that role, I was dismissed without a word from ‘my friend’. She sent a message through someone else that she was finished with me. No explanation or thank you.

Did I allow myself to get mad at this pastor-friend? Did I confront her behavior? Did I learn that I couldn’t trust her? Did I refuse to participate anymore? Did I recognize that I deserved to be appreciated? NO.

I saw myself through the eyes of a helpless child with the only choice to smile about the abuse. I put on my happy face and told myself that this was a good occasion to stop taking myself so seriously. It was a character-building opportunity that would “humble” me so I was ready for the next position. My positive spin actually made me think I should be grateful for the abuse.

It was time to recognize my power and give myself permission to see the truth. Doing that required me to face the dysfunctional values my parents taught me. I had to face the lie that told me I was unworthy of love if I looked sad or that I would lose more if I was unthankful. I had to acknowledge my value apart from doing my happy performance. I had to confront the lie that I was still a helpless child. I reset my mind to the truth and recognized where I distorted the truth to avoid facing painful realities. Now that I know where they come from and how unfounded they are, I’m alert to those lies.

Now, my positive attitude serves me well. With it, I can imagine a better future than my current situation provides, knowing I’m empowered to improve things. I still think of the glass as half-full, but now I question what I can do to fill the glass instead of just assuming that half-full is all there ever will be.

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.

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]

I live close to Beverly Hills, the plastic surgery Mecca, where the question is, “Are they real?” I’m also a few blocks from where the Academy Awards and many film premieres are held, where celebrities smile for the cameras and wave confidently to the fans, yet we know many of them are shy, quiet and prefer solitude. It’s not always easy to determine what’s real and what’s not. Bethany Ruck, Penny Smith and I sat down to try to sort out the real from the not-so-real in our own lives.

Christina: For as long as I can remember, I’ve faced the challenges in my life as someone else. I’ve worn an internal costume of someone stronger and more capable. One I used often was a pioneer woman, able to brave the many hardships of the American frontier. Channeling a pioneer spirit made me feel stronger and braver.

Penny: I’ve done the same thing since I was a little girl. I’d pretend I was a pioneer or an immigrant, especially an Irish immigrant because I have so much Irish in me and I was always reading about the hardships they went through. Or I was a slave girl, somehow enduring things that were too difficult or scary for me. Someone brave and strong.

Bethany: Mine was a tough girl, someone you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley— one that you wouldn’t mess with because you know she’s going to fight back. Even if I wasn’t wearing my leather jacket, boots and heavy eyeliner, I’d be a tough girl with my attitude, the way I’d strut down the street or hold myself or the way I’d talk. Even in social situations, when I didn’t feel comfortable I’d be reserved and act snotty in a way that kept people away from me and made me feel protected.

Penny: I can relate to the tough girl mask, too. I am quiet and mild-mannered most of the time but I acted tough even when I was crying inside. I used to use a mask when I had to walk through the ghetto of Oakland everyday to my bus stop. I was totally freaked out inside but outside I was all tough girl.

Christina: Another role I played was a captive in a prison camp. I’d play that role even though I wasn’t even in a dangerous situation. One of the main times was when I was facing deadlines in my business. It was exhausting work but I knew if I pretended to be in a life threatening situation with cruel guards pointing guns at me, ready to shoot anyone who showed signs of weakness, I could go on.

Penny: Yes, anytime something came up that I didn’t think I could do—like giving a report in front of the class—I would imagine myself as someone else who was comfortable with public speaking and could do it well.

Bethany: I always felt a fake though. When people would say, “Oh, my God, you’re so strong,” I didn’t understand how anyone could say that when I felt like everything I was doing to be strong was a facade. That was very confusing.

Penny: I felt like I was falling apart on the inside even though I had the appearance of strength.

Bethany: Wearing the tough girl for so long made me think I was really her. I put myself in some bad situations because I thought I would be safe. I was unrealistic about my own safety because I had a false sense of security. I was actually more vulnerable because I made unwise decisions.

Penny: It got me into some scary situations, too. After doing it a few times, I thought I really could handle those things. One time, I got off work late and instead of waiting for a ride, I took the bus and had to walk through this bad part of town where all the drug dealers were out. When I got home they told me I was crazy.

Bethany: What I faced was very similar. I saw how much the facade did not protect me. It hurt me because people thought I was a bitch. I was so closed off and unapproachable. That’s the only way I knew to protect myself. It’s like what I did to try to protect myself from the sexual abuse.

Christina: I relate it to my abuse, too. The abuse told me I was powerless and the effects showed me how weak I was. The shame trained me to put myself down so it was hard to recognize the good, strong qualities I have. I had to see them outside of me.

Bethany: One day I realized how much of a facade I presented to the world and I cried because hardly anyone knew the real me. I was hiding myself. Now, I’m finding my own confidence and strength to stand up for myself. As I’ve internalized that part of me and sorted through the parts of tough girl that I want, such as her ability to fight back. I can still access those things, yet filter them my through wisdom and discernment.

Christina: I’m finding my confidence and strength, too. I realized that the roles I’ve “put on” aren’t really external; they are internal and something I “pull out”. I drew from a strength I didn’t know I had. I admired it elsewhere, yet I only connected with it because it was something I already owned. Maybe it was undeveloped or unrecognized, but it was mine. I wore it like a lie, but it’s really the truth—it felt fake, but it showed me a part of who I really am.

Penny: It’s so true what you say that all these things are part of us…they’re facets of ourselves. We have these inner strengths and this is the way that we’ve drawn on them when we’ve had to. If it wasn’t ours to begin with, we wouldn’t be able to use it. No matter how developed of an imagination we may have, we can’t actually turn ourselves into something that we’re not. Maybe someplace deep inside of me I am a good public speaker. Lol.

I remember one winter in South Dakota as a teenager coming upon a terrible car wreck. My friends and I were the first ones on the scene and none of us knew what to do. I was so scared but something inside me took over. I sent someone for help. Then, I headed for the overturned car on its top in the snowy ditch. On my way, I found a man lying tangled in the barbwire fence that the car had gone through. He had been thrown out and I could tell was hurt quite badly. I stopped, spoke to him, called for the others to bring a blanket for him and continued to the car. The car was on its roof and there was a man trapped behind the steering wheel. He was struggling and I told him not to move. After leaving a couple of friends there with orders to keep him talking, still and to not let him fall asleep, I went back to the man in the fence. I managed to get him untangled, to tie jackets and whatever I could get to stop the bleeding, piled anything I could on him to keep him warm and kept him awake until help finally came. The ambulance personnel actually asked if I had been trained in emergency response.

I was the quietest, shyest one of the bunch, but when faced with trauma, I was the only one able to respond. I have often thought about that and wondered why. It was truly like I became someone else….someone competent and able…two things I never saw myself as. So, yes, it makes sense that we do have these unplumbed, undeveloped strengths inside of us that we’ve been able to call upon when needed.

Christina: The more I looked back on the things I accomplished while I was playing a role, the more I saw evidence in my own life that I actually did have those qualities. It wasn’t a pioneer woman who accomplished those things in my life. It was me. I saw what I was capable of. They were very real qualities I had, yet hadn’t recognized, acknowledged, or developed. Once I did start to see that, it started to feel natural and real, like me. It didn’t feel fake anymore. I didn’t have to put on those roles, they weren’t separate from me anymore; they were parts of me.

Penny: As I’m getting to know myself, I’m realizing that I need my coping mechanisms less and less. I see myself more as someone who can deal with things head-on rather than someone that has to hide behind a mask to survive. As I become more self-aware some of these things sort of take care of themselves. Maybe it’s because I am seeing more of my inner strength as belonging to me and not something that I have to “pretend” or “put on.” The roles are indications of who we really are, so that helps us to get to know ourselves better.

Christina: Once we see ourselves for who we really are, we don’t have to live in fantasy. The reality is that we do have power to do something about the things that we’re intimidated by. We can improve our public speaking skills, we can take self defense courses, we can say no to dangerous situations, we can improve our social skills. We aren’t vulnerable and helpless anymore. Acknowledging the power we have gives us other options so we don’t have to rely on facades.

Related Posts:
How Can I “Be Myself” If I Don’t Know Who That Is?

The Real Problem With Being Fake

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.

Christina Enevoldsen

by Christina Enevoldsen

When I was a kid, The Wizard of OZ aired on television once a year. I didn’t know any families who didn’t anticipate this event. My family never missed it. We’d eat dinner early, make popcorn and enthusiastically settle in.

The Wizard of Oz is an enchanting story of a twelve-year-old Kansas farm girl, Dorothy Gale and her dog Toto. They are transported to the magical Land of Oz, where she sets out for the Emerald City to ask the Wizard of Oz to help her return home. On the way, she meets a Scarecrow, a Tin Man and a Cowardly Lion, who join her, hoping to receive what they lack themselves.

When the Wizard is unable to give any of them what they search for, they discover that everything they were looking for was already inside them. In the end, Glinda, The Good Witch of the North, tells Dorothy, “You don’t need to be helped any longer; you’ve always had the power….”

I’ve had my own Oz experience. Like Dorothy, I had a “Meek and Mild” image of myself that led me to seek out “The Great and Powerful” to make up for what I thought I lacked. I didn’t know the power I had and set out to find others who would share theirs with me—many of whom turned out to be abusers. My childhood sexual abuse taught me that I was at other’s mercy and that I was powerless to do anything to help myself. Dorothy’s Wizard claimed to be able to grant wishes, but first she had to appease him by very nearly giving up her life. I didn’t have to bring any wizard a witch’s broomstick, but I had to submit to degradation, humiliation, and control. In the end, my abusers couldn’t offer me what I was looking for anymore than Dorothy’s Wizard could.

Click Your Heels Together Three Times

I never had a witch tell me I had the power I needed all along, but I’ve realized a little at a time over many years that I really am capable of improving my own life in big and small ways.

Some time ago, I made plans with my friend to see a movie. She planned to pick me up at 3pm, but phoned at 1:30pm to say she was an hour ahead of schedule and that she’d pick me up in 30 minutes. She thought it would be fun to go shopping first. When she called I was just making something to eat and her schedule change meant I wouldn’t have time to eat before she arrived. I had something planned right after my outing with her, so lunch was my last chance to eat until the end of the day.

After we hung up I got really angry. I’ve learned to pay attention to my feelings–when they start and where they come from– and I realized that I was angry because I felt powerless. I felt like I didn’t have a choice. In my mind, my friend was keeping me from eating. I challenged that thought. Did I have a choice? I realized I wasn’t being forced to follow her plan so I examined my options. I could eat first while she waited for me or I could just cancel if she didn’t want to wait. Once I realized that I had options, my anger went away. I was empowered.

I learned to listen to my thoughts and be alert to whiney expressions. As a childhood victim, I was at everyone else’s mercy and my only power was complaining. One day I was about to whine to my husband that he never spent any time with me, but I stopped myself. That sounded like an accusation, not the invitation that I intended. I was blaming him and placing all the responsibility for our relationship on him, as though I was powerless. In the past, whining didn’t accomplish anything other than drawing us further apart, which was the opposite effect I wanted. This time, as an empowered person, I said to my husband, “We haven’t spent any time together lately and I miss you. Are you free for dinner on Thursday?” I took responsibility for my feelings and my relationship and I had a date.

On another occasion, I remembered something I wrote in the eighth grade:
“I was passing by a bakery one Sunday afternoon,
The little cookies smiled with tempt but I couldn’t smile back
I was dieting to lose some weight and couldn’t give in now
I was almost to the corner when they caught me looking back
I had to eat their chocolate eyeballs out for torturing me like that.”

It struck me that I even felt pushed around by food. I personified it and made it more powerful than me. As long as I did, it ruled over me. Realizing how ridiculous my beliefs really were has broken its spell over me.

Pay No Attention to the Man Behind the Curtain

Though Dorothy imagined herself powerless, she found that she had power all along while the Great Oz portrayed himself as powerful, yet was an unsure, frightened man. That’s the way abusers are. The image they portray is just as much a facade as the terrifying image of a gigantic head, surrounded by flames and thunder. They hide behind the curtain of intimidation and manipulation, hoping we will yield the power they lack.

Knowing I’m empowered to take care of myself, to improve my life, and to be responsible has freed me of my need to be taken care of by others—especially those who are likely to exploit my neediness and cause me harm. My thinking no longer draws me to depend on abusers. I don’t feel locked into a certain position; I know I’m free to grow and develop to change my direction. I don’t feel imposed upon by other’s decisions; I speak my mind and express my needs. I’m no longer driven by circumstances; I’m an active participant in shaping my life. I’m on a power trip and I won’t be returning.

Related Posts:
The Fear of Being Re-victimized
Power Play: How to Recognize an Abuser
The Wolf in Shepherd’s Clothing: The “Benevolent” Abuser

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]

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.

Christina Enevoldsen

by Christina Enevoldsen

It was the first time in weeks since my husband and I had been on a date. Don held my hand and I rested my head on his chest while we waited in line for the planetarium show at Griffith Observatory.

The young couple a few feet in front of us caught my attention. The woman appeared to be about seven months pregnant and was struggling to reach the price sticker that her companion stuck on her upper back. The man with her seemed to delight in placing the sticker just out of her reach. Abuser. I immediately saw the scene play out in my head and cringed. They were both laughing, though she was noticeably frustrated. When the sticker fell off, he flicked her hair. She tried to smooth it out. He poked her in the stomach. She poked him back but he seized her arm and forced her to hit herself. When he let go, she grabbed his arms, but he easily broke free and gripped her wrists tightly enough to leave red marks. She gave up and he won.

It was easy to recognize the true motive behind the seemingly playful exchange. It was the same ‘game’ my ex-husband played. I’ve lived with abusers for most of my life and though I wouldn’t have called them abusers at the time, I’ve come to easily recognize the quest for power in everything they do.

My former spouse placed a high value on good food. Part of his image of a good wife meant being an excellent cook. I’m a good cook, though I didn’t know it when we were married. He convinced me I wasn’t very good. He pressured me into cooking, but he was constantly dissatisfied with what I made or how I made it. Sometimes, instead of eating what I made, he’d make something else. Other times, he’d take over the cooking as a ‘favor’ to me. He won no matter what. If I cooked, I lost because it wasn’t good enough. If he stepped in, I lost because I wasn’t a good wife.

That gave him power. I felt like a bad wife so whatever he did to me, I deserved it. In my eyes, he was tolerant of my inferior quality so I was lucky to have him.

I was terrorized by the way he handled our finances. I craved financial stability, but when I asked about our bills or bank account, he talked in circles. I felt stupid. He made major financial decisions without consulting me, yet dictated how I earned and spent money. When I refused to work for him, he shut down his lucrative business in retaliation. I was defeated and deflated, but blamed myself.

Being in a relationship with an abuser was extremely frustrating. It was like trying to figure out the rules to the game, but the rules kept changing. I knew our marriage had problems, but I thought I was the problem. No matter how hard I tried, it never helped.  I always felt like the loser.

In a healthy relationship, there is equality and mutual respect. Both people work for the benefit of each other. There’s a desire for communication, cooperation, participation, understanding, support and validation. When problems arise, they are solved together. Compromises are made. In a healthy relationship, nobody loses because neither party thinks in terms of winning or losing; it’s not a competition.

But you can’t have a healthy relationship with an abuser. Abusers must dominate. Everyone is either a superior or a subordinate; there are no equals. Abusers have no sense of personal power so they gain power by controlling others. Their personal worth is achieved by one-upmanship. If you try to assert your own power with an abuser, he will escalate until he wins.

The game you play with an abuser is really war. He may make light of things, “I was only joking,” or “You’re being too sensitive” but each move you make to explain yourself or question him is seen as an act of hostile aggression. The abuser thinks in terms of defending his territory. Attempts you make to understand the situation is a challenge to his power. He rarely shares his thoughts, feelings or plans and you don’t get the clarification you ask for because in the abuser’s eyes, that would make him vulnerable.

I know this about abusers now. Although my ex-husband was the most damaging abuser in my adulthood, he wasn’t the only one. I’ve had abusive friends, bosses, coworkers, teachers, and pastors. Abusers come in all packages, male and female, large and small. I’ve found them everywhere I go and they all seek power. But they won’t steal mine anymore.

Related Posts:
The Fear of Being Re-victimized
The Wolf in Shepherd’s Clothing: The “Benevolent” Abuser
Power Trip: How to Journey From Overpowered to Empowered

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]

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.

Christina Enevoldsen

by Christina Enevoldsen

“Steve Austin, astronaut. A man barely alive. Gentlemen, we can rebuild him. We have the technology. We have the capability to build the world’s first bionic man. Steve Austin will be that man. Better than he was before. Better, stronger, faster.” Oscar Goldman in the opening narration to the “The Six Million Dollar Man”

If you managed to miss this classic show from the ‘70s, it was about American astronaut and Air Force Colonel, Steve Austin. When Col. Austin suffered a nearly fatal plane crash, the United States government replaced his legs, right arm and eye with bionic parts that gave him super-human abilities.

I thought of Steve Austin today when a fellow survivor asked me the question, “When do all the effects of the horrible things we’ve lived through ever end?” It’s a tough question I’ve asked myself a time or two. I’ve been at this healing thing for years, yet I’m painfully aware of how far I still have to go.

That’s why I thought of The Six Million Dollar Man. He was so injured that he shouldn’t have survived. I feel that way about my childhood. As I look back and realize that to go through those horrifying experiences without anyone to turn to for safety or comfort seem too much for anyone, much less a child.  I survived, but my very being was mutilated.

Unlike Col. Austin, I didn’t have the government’s help to rebuild me. I’ve had to do that job myself. It’s probably cost less than six million dollars, though it’s taken its toll on my bank account, physical body and all of my relationships.

Even though Steve Austin is a fictional character, I wonder if he ever questioned why the government thought his life was worth that much money. That’s a big chunk of change to sink into one person. He may not have ever questioned the value of his restoration, but I sure have. In Steve’s case, he had to repay the government by capturing their enemies. I started out with that motivation too. I began my healing with the belief that my self-improvement was for the benefit of other people.  I’d be a better wife, mother, grandmother, and friend.  It was okay to start there, but my healing has taught me that I’m worth every penny, every moment, every drop of energy I invest in healing, even if it’s just for me. I’m worth it.

The former astronaut’s rebuilding was relatively fast. He had surgery and a short rehabilitation and training and POOF, he was fixed. My process is taking a little longer. I’m not fully operational, but I’m far from the wreck of a life that I was. I’m no super-hero, but with my restoration so far, I feel more whole and self-aware than most people I know who haven’t been through trauma. I think staring death in the face has allowed me to fully live. I don’t have bionic vision, but I do see things with better clarity—not just suffering of others, but solutions to the suffering. I don’t have bionic limbs, but my healing has made me see how strong I really am. I don’t care how long this process takes. I’m committed to finish. I’m already better than I was before. Better, stronger, faster.

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]

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.

Windows and doors, set. Beep Beep, Beep Beep. Motion detectors, set. Beep Beep, Beep Beep. Alarms set. Beep Beep. Beep Beep. My husband had an alarm system put into our home and I have to say, it helps me feel safe. He is ill and getting weaker and his thoughts were for me. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to protect me physically if someone were to break in and wanted to make sure I could sleep at night. It does give me a sense of security knowing that if someone were to walk through the garage or jiggle the windows and doors an ear ringing alarm would sound and the police would immediately be called.

I started to think how wonderful it would have been to have an alarm in me when I was a child being sexually touched by family and friends and as an adult being raped and beaten by my ex husband. To have an alarm go off and the police called every time I was touched forcibly, sexually, physically and emotionally would have been worth every penny. Instead of being at the hands of my abusers, they would immediately be under arrest with validation by the police. I wouldn’t have to justify their touches to others and I wouldn’t be afraid to testify against them because the alarm and the police would be my witnesses. All the fears of exposure would be gone and, in a way, I think I would be a martyr or maybe even a hero.

As we all know, it isn’t that simple. I couldn’t stop my abuse as a child and didn’t stop it as an adult. The windows and doors to my soul were open and my abusers walked in and took what ever they wanted. Like thieves in the night they took the best of me. As they took what they wanted, they also left physical as well as emotional scars. Trampling on and scattering my self being. Trust was thrown in a corner, self-esteem was thrown aside, love was stomped on and boundaries were tossed out the window. My heart and my soul looked like a crime scene. I could have called the police to come and take fingerprints and give them a description of my abusers, but the damage was already done. An unrecognizable person, battered and bruised, scarred for life.

After many years and a new awareness for my own safety, I started to clean up the mess my abusers left behind. I put my soul, my heart and my physical body back together. But now, I rebuilt them with supernatural strength and an alarm system built to my specifications. Boundaries are being put back together with super glue, self-esteem with unbreakable thread, love is covered with a shield and trust is clamped with rivets of steel. My personal alarm system. The more pieces of my soul that I find and put back together, the more my alarm system covers. It’s a personal guarantee that the windows and doors to my soul are covered with bullet proof glass and laser-beam motion detectors. I can see out and others can see in, but I have a sign on my forehead now that reads, “ Beware! Alarm System Built by Patty – Covered Head to Toe, Inside and Out.”

Patty Hite is one of five facilitators of Overcoming Sexual Abuse. A survivor of emotional, physical and sexual abuse, Patty has been tenaciously pursuing her healing for over thirty years. She’s a passionate advocate for all survivors and dedicates her life to inspiring emotional wholeness in others. As a former victim of spousal abuse, she’s delighted to find true love with her husband of ­­­­five years. She’s blessed with four children and six grandchildren.

[read Patty'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.

There I was, twenty-four years old and I’d never had a vaginal exam. I don’t like being touched in the first place, let alone being poked and prodded in my sacred areas. I had avoided the pap smear for years.

Going to the doctor should be simple, right? I mean, all I had to do was book an appointment and go! Women do this all the time. But it wasn’t so easy.

My intellect and emotions were at war. One was telling me to face this – that I was worrying over nothing. The other had me struck with this overwhelming fear that I would never have kids. I imagined the doctor sitting me down after the procedure and telling me the bad news. “Bethany, I’m sorry to say this, but your female organs have been damaged beyond repair. There is nothing we can do.” Deep down I believed that the sexual abuse had caused irreversible damage. My uterus was thrust somewhere above the heart, my ovaries had been twisted together into an unrecognizable ball of matter, and the walls of my vagina were scared beyond recognition.

I dealt with a lot of the pain from the abuse and thought I was out of the woods, but it made me realize that my abuser had given me a fear that was still affecting my life in a very big way. I can heal from the emotional scars, but the physical effects can not be undone.

It sent me through a variety of emotions. There was this possibility that my father’s selfishness could have stolen something so valuable to me – my ability to have children. I applaud people who have the desire to adopt children, but my desire is to be pregnant and give birth to my children. I have pictured for years exactly what it would be like to have children of my own and was distraught at the idea that the invasive abuse could have prevented my dream from coming true.

Although I was relieved to have a clean bill of health, I was disturbed by how affected I was emotionally by the fear. It forced me to examine the other affects the abuse had on my life and realize, I had more healing to do.

Sometimes the thing you’re most afraid of is the thing you most need to do. It was a daunting task, but without overcoming that doctors visit I could have never overcome many of the other issues I have faced. What is it that you’re afraid of facing?

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.

[read Bethany'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.

Christina Enevoldsen

by Christina Enevoldsen

If a friend or family member tells you he or she was sexually abused, please consider the importance of your role in the healing process. Disbelief or disinterest from loved ones can intensify or prolong trauma from abuse. It is emotionally overwhelming when someone you love and trust doesn’t believe you or doesn’t care that something devastating has happened to you. Please note that this list is for adult survivors of sexual abuse. If a child discloses abuse to you, it is your responsibility to report it.

Survivors of abuse have a variety to reactions to the abuse. There is no right or wrong way for them to respond. They may cry and become depressed or become numb and push their feelings aside.

1. Let the survivor speak as much or as little as they feel comfortable with. Do not press for details and don’t try to change the subject until they are ready to move on.
2. Don’t invalidate their experience by sharing something from your own life that you think is similar. You may think you are communicating that you understand their pain, but don’t assume that you know how they feel.
3. Never question their experience. Assure them that you believe them and avoid questions like, “Are you sure?” Sometimes, you may know their abuser and view them as a good person, but “good people” can do bad things. You may also have conflicting allegiances if their abuser is your child or mate. It’s hard to believe someone they love could commit such a monstrous act, but the survivor was not at fault and needs your support.
4. Be careful in what emotions you express. Of course you are human and you are going to feel sad, confused or angry. However, you do not want the survivor to think you are angry with them or that they have to take care of you. Make sure you have a support system so you are taking care of yourself.
5. Ask what physical contact they would like. After being violated by touch, survivors may feel repulsed by touch or may want it.
6. Often a survivor knows their perpetrator. It may be a family member or close friend. Because there may be mixed emotions on the survivor’s part be careful not to condemn the person. Condemn their behavior, but leave the rest alone. It is an emotional process the survivor will have to go through in sorting out their feelings.
7. Do not make promises about the perpetrator going to jail. There are statutes of limitations to consider, the court process can be lengthy and you cannot control the outcome.
8. Don’t view the survivor as damaged. Sexual abuse carries a great deal of shame and they already feel different from others. Be sensitive to the wounded places, but see the difference between who they are and what has happened to them.
9. It is important to allow the survivor to have control over the situation. It is their decision if they want to go to counseling or contact the police. They have already lost control through the abuse and they need to regain it through healing in their own way at their own pace.
10. The survivor’s emotions may appear to be a roller coaster at times. There may be sadness one day, anger the next and avoidance after that. Do not assume that because they are not crying that they are not bothered by the abuse or that they are over it. A survivor may feel they are weak if they cry or are avoiding their emotions because they are not ready to feel the pain of the experience.
11. Educate yourself so you know what to expect. Do your own research on sexual abuse, the results and the healing process.
12. Don’t ask how long the process will take. They don’t know. They experienced a loss and need to be allowed to grieve. Allow them to grieve without trying to fix them. Don’t try to make them laugh when they’re sad.
13. Don’t say, “Just forgive him and let it go.” Or “Why try to dig up the past?” They aren’t trying to dig up the past just for your sympathy or attention. This is a life changing event and it can have serious consequences if it is not thoroughly dealt with. They can’t forget this. They need to face the pain so they can leave it there and move toward a better future.

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]

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.

My brother’s first memory was the adventure of crawling underneath the fence in our backyard to play with the neighbor’s dogs. I envy him. My first memory was of getting raped. I remember laying on the kitchen table with my open diaper covered in blood — an image that constantly repeats itself in my head. I was about nine months old at the time and my dad was scurrying around in panic trying to fix what he had done to me. After that horrendous experience my memories completely stopped.

My recollection picked up again at the age of four when I remember my dad pushing his penis against my genitals. He would ask if he could go inside as to imply that I had some sort of choice in the matter. The pain of him entering my vagina was too painful that I would cry until he stopped. This was an almost daily occurrence.

Then, life consisted of ample ‘father-daughter time.’ Whether by taking me to an empty parking lot or the open desert he went to great lengths to ensure no one would find out what he was doing to me. Most nights I would hear the jiggling of the doorknob into my room. Quietly, he made his way around to my bed and uncovered my body as I lay there with my heart nearly beating out of my chest. He took every opportunity he had as a time to indulge in his sick addiction.

Oftentimes, my father would suddenly pack my brother and me in the car and drive us to the nearest park in an effort to get a quick fix. My brother was let out of the car and told to go play while I was forced to straddle daddy’s lap. He constantly neglected my brother to focus inappropriate attention on me. Knowing my mom wasn’t too fond of the great outdoors, my dad planned frequent camping trips for just him and the kids. When my brother went off to play in the woods, I got molested. What seemed like the innocent fun of a camping trip was really just an excuse to get mom out of the picture. These were common occurrences until I was about twelve, when the abuse suddenly stopped.

When I was sixteen he used my parent’s temporary separation as another opportunity to get me alone. We were both sitting on his bed having a conversation about the troubled marriage. That’s when he just went at me, grabbing my breast. I was so shocked it was happening again that I froze up. Meanwhile he began the fondling. While paralyzed with fear he started kissing me. I’ll never forget the way his breath smelt of coffee and rotten teeth. All I could think was, “Make it stop! Make it stop!” But just like in any bad dream my cries for help were never heard.

Telling someone about the abuse was not an option. My life was unstable enough without being the cause of my parents’ divorce. When I was nineteen and my parent finally separated for good I wasn’t afraid to tell my secret anymore. I pulled my mom aside and told her what my dad had done to me all those years. My voice was finally heard. By this time it was too late to change the past, but not too late to change my future. When I decided to report my dad to the authorities I then made my voice known publicly.

A few weeks ago, I met with a friend I’ve had since second grade. After I told her what my dad did to me, she was shocked that she knew me while that was going on and had no idea. When I think about the much better her childhood was, I’m tempted to think it’s not fair. She didn’t have to suffer the way I did then or have to deal with the affects of abuse now. But I don’t have any control over what happened to me in the past. I was my father’s victim for long enough. I’m taking control of my future and I refuse to be defined by the past I did not choose.

I’m choosing a new path and while that path is filled with obstacles and residue, I’m finding that they are no match for the woman I’ve become. The very thing that tried to kill and silence me made me see that I can endure and thrive in spite of them. I’ve survived the worst. The journey has just started, but I’m determined to follow the healing path to the end.

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.

Does this resonate with you? Please join in by leaving your thoughts and feelings about this in the comments.