Don't Tell Your Mother!!!

Warning: some may find this content triggering and graphic as I explore the topic of sexual abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

It started out like any other day. The sun was beaming and it was a beautiful, sunny morning - the perfect day to get out of the house. After finishing our chores, my younger sister and I went over to our friend’s house for our usual play date. We weren’t allowed to play in the living room area, so we always remained in the confines of my friend’s room. Up to this point, we never had any problems while being there. I always felt loved. Always felt secure. Always felt understood. I always looked forward to those outings; looked forward to letting loose and being a kid - I looked forward to feeling safe at a home that was away from home. That day, we decided to play our favourite game - hide and seek. We hid under the bed, behind the curtains and any other hideable place we could find.

As I remember, we were playing, running around and laughing like any nine year old would while having fun. I can vaguely remember, but at a certain point, my friend's older brother came into the room and sat on the windowsill. We continued laughing and making a lot of noise, when I suddenly glanced over and noticed him. As I took a second look, I noticed he had removed his penis from his pants and had it hanging. Am I the only one seeing this? At the time, I didn’t know if anyone else did, but as a 9 year old, I didn't give it much thought. From what I remember, this wasn’t the first time he came to the room, but it certainly was the first time I noticed him.

As we continued running around the room, he called me over and asked me to “touch it”. Touch it? Well, there shouldn’t be any harm in that, right? I innocently went over, touched it, and quickly pulled my hand away. It seemed as if none of my friends noticed what he was doing. Did they? I don’t remember what happened afterward, but we continued innocently playing, as if there was not a predator lurking in the room. Initially, I thought it all was a joke because he would laugh afterward; however, it wasn’t a laughing matter, as that experience was the beginning of a traumatic cycle of grooming and abuse. As time progressed, he started promising to give me five cents to buy candy at the neighborhood store if I would touch him often and longer, which I did. During those times, I remember him saying, “don’t tell your mother or else she will beat you”, and I believed those words. I didn’t tell my mother. I didn’t tell anyone.

Time went on, and one night, his mother came over to our house - including him. This wasn’t out of the ordinary, as it was a ritual for his mom to visit, especially if my mom was cooking something special. That evening, as it grew darker outside and as our parents mingled in the moonlight, I remember him walking beside our house, when suddenly, he motioned for me to come with him. As I followed him, I remember feeling numb. I innocently followed, as I did not know what was going to transpire. As we got to the back of our house, he asked me to bend over and he tried to have sex with me. He told me it was fine, because he did the same thing with one of my friends. I complied. What I remember about that night was how painful it was, how hard he tried to penetrate me but couldn't. Having no luck, he walked away, leaving me there by myself. Leaving me lost, hurt and confused. Eventually, I rejoined my mom and the rest of our families, and he acted as if nothing had happened. This sexual abuse occured several times.

Over time, I felt anxious, fearful and tried to hide whenever I saw him. I never knew what he might try to do next. I also started having difficulty in school, couldn’t focus, and started having difficulty reading. Not only was I carrying this weight on my shoulders, but now I had to endure the taunts and teasing of my peers and family members as my performance started to plummet. My mother often asked me why I was acting so stupid, as most of my siblings did very well in school, except me. They were passing their exams, and finishing top 10 in their class, while I was failing and finishing last. On one occasion, I came 33rd out of 34 in my class, and when my mother got my report card, I received a beating. My siblings started making fun of me, and I was soon nicknamed “thirty-third”. Although I changed schools three times, it didn’t make a difference. I still had difficulty focusing. I was still failing my subjects. I was still hurting. I tried my best to study, but I continued to fail. One summer vacation, my mother had me take classes in hopes of raising my grades, but looking back, it was a waste of time. Nothing was registering in my mind. Nothing made sense. I tried my best to move on with my life.

Over time, I didn’t see him, until one day, I overheard my mother saying he had left the country. Left the country? Well, the country wasn’t the only thing he left behind. He also left behind a confused, angry little girl who didn’t understand why she had to be the one to endure such heartache and pain. Was he aware that his actions would have lasting effects on me as an adult? Was he feeling ashamed and remorseful for what he did? Was he even slightly concerned about my wellbeing? Despite my bout of anger, I felt a sudden relief. Knowing he was gone gave me a sudden burst of courage, and I eventually told my sister what had happened. I even told her maybe his mother found out what he had done, and decided to ship him away. I often wondered why he left, but I never knew why. Either way, he was gone. Never to hurt me again...

Never to hurt me again? I was wrong. Although I was not hurt by the same person, I was the victim of hurt from another man. One day, while I visited my friend, she and her sister tried to hold me down while her brother tried to have sex with me, but by the grace of God I was able to escape. To this day, I do not know how I escaped, but thankfully I was able to fight my way out, and looking back, I do believe God gave me the strength to fight them off. I don’t think I told anyone about this incident, and if I did, who would believe me?

I apologize for those who think this is too graphic; however, this is what I experienced at the hand ofpeople I knew. This is what many have experienced at the hand of a trusted friend, acquaintance or family member. These were family friends. These were people who sat in my living room on numerous occasions. These were peopleI trusted. It hurts me to know many people - maybe some of you reading this post - have been victims of sexual abuse. It hurts me to know that these sexual predators are often fathers, mothers, grandparents, uncles, aunts or cousins. They are often people we know and trust. They are often people who leave us confused and questioning life.

As I grew older, I wondered, why me? Why did this happen to me? Why was I robbed of my innocence, dignity and self esteem? Why was I robbed from having a normal life? Especially when my other siblings seemed to have everything working out for them, why was I the unlucky one? I tried my best to cope, but I only dug myself into a deeper pit. I started displaying negative and unhealthy behaviours, and I became very flirtatious with men. As a result, I never really knew what it was like to have healthy, platonic relationship with the opposite sex. Somehow in the back of my mind, I always thought they had ulterior motives. I always thought they would try to hurt me, so I put up a defence. My behaviour became reckless, and ironically, I started doing things for boys to notice me. I eventually got married, thinking that would solve all of my problems. Wrong. Marriage didn’t solve anything, instead, it did the complete opposite. It reopened my deepest wounds, hurts and fears that were not fully healed. There were occasions where I’d have flashbacks during intimacy with my husband, which usually resulted in conflict. He felt I was pushing him away.

Well, if marriage isn’t solving my problem, then having children certainly will, right? Wrong. My parenting style was also affected and tainted by my history of sexual abuse. I became extremely anxious and overprotective with my children, although I couldn’t understand the root of my anxiety. I seldom let them sleep over at friends' homes, and if they had to, I checked up on them frequently. I didn't want them to get hurt, but I was unaware that my overprotection was just as harmful to their development and well-being as the hurt I was trying to protect them from. Not only was I emotionally drained by the burden of trying to safeguard my children from every potential negative situation, I was also experiencing mental health deficits that often led to panic attacks. I was emotionally, physically and mentall drained, but fortunately, that all changed.

One day I was reading a book, entitled The Confession of a Pastor, where the author mentioned many people have a fear of sex. Genophobia. Genophobia is defined as the fear of sexual intercourse, and like most phobias, the main cause is exposure to severe trauma, especially sexual assault or abuse. Right then and there, the Spirit of God led me to speak to my husband, and ask him to pray for God to break the negative impact sexual abuse had on me, which he did. From that time onward I began to experience a huge change within my sexual relationship within my marriage. I’m so grateful for my husband, as he was extremely understanding, and willing to help me through that hurdle within our marriage. My pastor also played a vital role in my healing journey. With his help, I discovered being a victim of sexual abuse had several negative effects on my mental, spiritual and emotional wellbeing. I was very angry and resentful; I didn’t love myself, and I was bitter towards men. I suffered from low self- esteem and didn’t see myself as someone of worth. But thank God for rewriting my story. I’m grateful He placed me in a church community where I received the healing I so desperately needed.

Today, I can say with confidence and assurance that I’m doing much better. I am healed from the trauma of my past and the broken person I used to be. I am receiving therapy from a trusted therapist who has been a great asset in my journey. I even enrolled in online classes, which I am passing and excelling at! Even though there are things that trigger my memories, my therapist advised me to acknowledge that the abuse happened, but don’t dwell on it. One day, I sat down and wrote a letter to my abuser, letting him know how much he had ruined my life as a child, adolescent, adult, wife and mother. And although I never mailed it, I was able to release all the anger and rage I had stored up within me. I thank God, because the journey hasn’t been easy, but He is still working on me.

To those who take the liberty of judging someone before getting to know their story, I encourage you to get to know them, and find out why they act the way they do. There are many people who may have been sexually abused, who are having a difficult time dealing with these traumatic experiences. I had a former coworker who was sexually abused by his uncle, and after years of seeking help, he couldn't handle the pain, and ended his life. It deeply hurt me that I didn’t know about his struggles until his death, and I wished I could’ve been there for him. But I wasn’t. So instead of adding to their pain, be a listener. Be a comforter. Be a friend. I can assure you, many are suffering in silence, and living with the guilt and shame of their past. They are looking for someone to confide in and trust - I encourage you to be that person.

My friend, if you are a victim of sexual abuse or any abuse, please know it was not your fault. I encourage you to seek professional help and reach out to those who can help you discover freedom. Most importantly, God is here, ready and willing to heal and set you free from the pain of your past. All you have to do is call out to Him. He will hear and He will heal.