by Caden Ceirdris

When I was twelve, I watched the sexually graphic teen film, “Kids” with my siblings. I remember being surprised when my sister described what happened in the end scene as rape. That it was rape to have sex with someone who was passed out, asleep.

It seems obvious, but in some unconscious part of my mind, I winced. What had been done to me might have been wrong too. Perhaps I also deserved boundaries, both legal and personal over my own body, at least equal to what my sister was willing to give a fictional girl. Yet there was no one in my life at that point who would have even suggested that, let alone validated my experience; I was trained to passively accept whatever my family did to me, and was condescended to when it came to my emotions.

I wasn’t asleep when my older brother sexually abused me, and as I’ve had to face the reality of my past, I came to realize that the rest of the family wasn’t either. They were conscious, they knew what was happening. Often only thin walls separated them from the abuse, but they built up greater walls in their minds to avoid my …

by Christina Enevoldsen My lifetime of abuse gave me the feeling of being the constant target of a nameless, faceless bully. Unable to conceal my terror or prevent whimpers from escaping, every sign of protest fed his lust for more suffering. He was never satisfied; the more he saw the pain he inflicted, the greater [...]

by Christina Enevoldsen I didn’t actually plan to confront my dad. I didn’t think it would do me any good. This is what I wrote a few years ago: “My dad has displayed his selfishness for as long as I’ve known him.  I’m not under some delusion that he’ll suddenly develop a conscience and confess [...]

by Patty Hite Everything I did was for my husband.  Any ideas or suggestions on my part would end in Bill physically or emotionally abusing me.  I always felt my life depended on making a perfect meal.  When he didn’t like it, he would knock me out of my chair and force me to eat [...]

by Christina Enevoldsen Yesterday was my 46th birthday. Birthdays prompt me to reflect on my life—where I’ve come from and where I am now. Some of those thoughts included the woman who gave birth to me. My mother walked out of my life a few years ago and adamantly denies that my father sexually abused [...]

by Christina Enevoldsen When I was ten, I wet my pants in school. We were taking a very long test and our instructions were to remain silent at our seats. No talking, no asking questions, no moving around. Since that ruled out raising my hand to ask to go to the bathroom, and I wasn’t [...]

by Christina Enevoldsen When I used to talk about my childhood sexual abuse, I heard familiar accusations: “You just want attention” or “Nobody likes a crybaby.” As I poured out the same story again and again to my friends, I felt guilty for wasting their time. I believed that there was a rule that I [...]

by Gordon DeLand I have been silenced, me and my trouble. I first silenced myself in shame, not even knowing exactly why, but somehow… it was wrong, what had just happened. And I knew it. I looked for a friend but got something else. The trust I had put in him had been violated, shattered. [...]

by Christina Enevoldsen I’ve loved horror films since I was a child. Even though I wasn’t allowed to see them, something about those stories resonated with me and I managed to watch them anyway. Through them, I was able to express what I couldn’t even acknowledge to myself, the terror of a childhood haunted by [...]

by Penny Smith Sometimes in the healing process it feels like I’m not making much progress. Then something will happen that helps me see just how far I’ve come. That was the case recently during a run-in with some abusive people. They tried to dump a lot on me—criticisms and false accusations. In the past, [...]