I just read How to heal after childhood sexual abuse by Jodi-Anne
I was not emotionally able to read all of the post. But I skimmed quite a bit and read in detail other parts. These are the parts that stood out to me.
Do your best to support yourself with kindness, love and friendship. Be the loving parent to yourself that you wished your parents were.
Inside you is the scared, wounded, confused child who went through the experience. He/she needs your love and support. They need to be talked to, listened to and reassured. They need to be helped to feel safe again and to trust that you, the Adult you, will look after them.
Because these events were so painful and confusing it is automatic to push the memories and feelings away when they surface, but suppressing them does not help. It just keeps them locked inside the body and the person numbed out from feeling fully.
Go easy with yourself. You don’t need to dig through your past trying to find clues about what did or didn’t happen. it will surface when it is meant to, when you are strong enough and ready to process it.
You can eat ice-cream together and do all that you missed out on. You can have fun and form a strong connection and feeling of safety, of being loved, accepted and safe.
Well considering all I have been through I am coping with life amazingly. My Therapist said that the things I have been through often produce meth addicts. Here I am mothering five children, holding down a mostly normal life. I know why. It is because I fight so hard. I have been fighting for my freedom with every ounce I had available, at least since the age of 12. But I did not see it. I did not face the sexual abuse until in my late 30’s. I know it took every ounce of fight I had inside of me to be strong enough to face it then.
This talk about support, and be kind, and talk to your inner child. I do not do that. I think I am still terrified of her, of what she has to tell me. Protect her, now I am great at that. Boy I have her boxed in and protected.
I did not go easy on myself for most of therapy, I dug and forced and did everything I could to speed up therapy and get on with life. Pushing. That is also what I do. I pushed my self through memory after memory trying to force a quick healing. All I could remember was extensive grooming and emotional control and manipulation by my dad.
Then it happened. A child was abducted behind my old house, a few blocks from my new house. Then the trauma became real. Then I faced the actual sexual abuse. Well only part of it, the part when I was 12. It would take a lot more securities, and safeties built around me till I faced the rapes at 7.
My respect for trauma memories grew, I stopped forcing myself through them.
I feel I have faced so much trauma memories, learned so much. I feel like it is time to move forward with what I have learned and not look back in that black hole of confusion for anything else to be remembered.
So. There she is. My inner child. Safely surrounded, protected, and strongly defended. But still, she is still not my friend. I sure am not going to eat ice cream with her. Once her and I took my kids out for slurpees and a trip to the mountains. That was before I was re-traumatized by my families back stabbing and controls, when I tried to report the abuses to the church. I have never frolicked with her since. I only frolicked with her for a short time before then.
Seriously, I am sacred of her. I have always been scared of my inner child. I never want to bring her close, because I never want to hear what she has to say.
My own children, I can get them therapy, and hear about their struggles. But my innerchild. No. She frightens me.
My therapist seemed to intuitively know there was some other trauma we needed to talk about. But I was very protective and did not want to talk about any deep memories, not any more. Then a few days later my subconscious brought back two memories. Memories my subconscious feels Fred needs to help me with.
One is big, and scary, and must be handled with great care. The other…. Well… Reading this article reminds me…. It is time for me to write about my near death experience.