Guest entry: One reason abuse survivors don't tell their stories

One of my correspondents sent me the following reaction to yesterday's blog entry.  It moved me enough that I asked her permission to reprint it as a guest entry.  After consideration and with some softening edits, she agreed to let me share the following with you.  I am proud of her bravery.



Want to know another reason why we don't tell our story and try to hide what happened?

People look at you differently.

They treat you like you are dirty and unworthy. You are blamed for either having it happen in the first place or continuing to allow it to happen. Allow it to happen. How fucking sick is that thinking? I didn't allow my father to hurt me, molest me, beat me...I had no choice. I was a little girl. Was I going to leave home at the age of six? I did what i was supposed to do. I told anyone who would listen at the time. But, no one would listen. My own mother told me I made it up. My grandmother believed me but didn't do anything to him, yet she let me stay with her as much as possible. Everyone was afraid of him.

Being beaten was awful. Having things shoved up your vagina when you are six years old is horrible. Jacking your dad off when you are six years old is horrible. Being told no matter how much you tried you are hated is horrible. Thinking that sex was okay because he did it to me and I was an obedient little girl was horrible.

Being left with the scars and trauma for the rest of my life is horrible. Hearing the sound of a whip or belt cracking that causes me to have a panic attack is horrible.

Not being able to sleep with the lights off or extreme quiet or being in the dark sucks. Not being able to hear a voice raised without cowering sucks. Never feeling good enough or worthy to be loved sucks.

Thinking that I caused it, I did something wrong, I enticed him, I was too evil to be treated well, sucks.

I don't want you to ever stop talking about it. You do what I can't. I am too ashamed, too embarrassed, and too scarred to be normal, and I can't voice my pain.

You give it words. I give it terror. I wish I could feel worthy of anyone wanting me. I don't, no matter how much I try to convince myself I am.

It sucks. Thanks, Dad...and thanks for teaching my brother how to follow in your footsteps so that he could abuse me.



To this brave woman: By letting me print this, you did give it voice, and that voice might inspire and help others.  It certainly inspires me to keep fighting.

To everyone:  I'd like to say that this woman's story is the only one I've heard from my correspondents, but it's not.  I've heard so very many.

We must all fight the culture of secrecy that surrounds abuse and rape.