Our childhood experiences can shape us into who we become as adults. For survivors of childhood sexual abuse, these experiences can leave lasting scars that have far-reaching effects and consequences well into adult life. It can hinder the ability to form healthy, loving relationships. Feelings of shame and degradation can make it difficult for survivors to share their stories with partners, friends and family members, especially if they’ve faced rejection and disbelief previously. It can affect people physically and psychologically, spilling into careers and education. One in 20 women under the age of 18 has experienced some form of sexual abuse. Research shows that adults who have been through childhood sexual abuse are twice as likely to have subsequent re-victimisation in adulthood.
These experiences often result in ingrained behaviours and beliefs that shape ongoing patterns in the survivor’s life.
Victims of sexual abuse are very often taught early on that it is all their fault.
It never is.
My Story.
**Content Warning – talks about abuse which some people may find upsetting.**
I knew my abuser. Just like around 37% of other children.
I would walk along with my hand in his pocket. One day, after a certain amount of vigorous movements, he said to me: Thanks for tickling my willy.
After that day, I was never comfortable walking along with my hand in his pocket. I was often moved from bed to bed whilst my mum juggled keeping everyone in the house safe and tried to avoid arguments with him.
One night, when the violence took over, we all ended up in a refuge. I remember him trying to kick in the door and fleeing to a safe place in the middle of the night. Not that it mattered. He found our haven anyway. Seeing his van circling the block filled me with sheer terror and I hid in the toy cupboard in fear.
Mum tried to build a new life somewhere new. She let him back into our lives because it was better for us all to have the wider parental experience. It wasn’t her fault because my Mum was a victim, too.
We got told ‘it would be better this time’.
I was only 8 years old when he tried to kiss me. If I wanted to, I can still recall the feeling of his booze-soaked tongue pushing into my mouth; I can still smell his stale cigarette breath. I was filled with relief when someone called my name and I had a valid excuse to leave the room before anything more happened that day.
That was probably the first time I really learned that my body was not my own.
I tried to confide in a man – a good man whom I viewed as a grandad. He was appalled and shocked at my story. He tried to save me. My confession instigated a safeguarding investigation. I had to tell my tale to the headmaster. I felt awkward explaining it to him. I was embarrassed. I remember smiling to cover up the overwhelming urge to cry in front of him. Tears had never got me anything other than a smack or had simply been ignored in the past, so I knew that was pointless.
I told him my truth. But I was just a little girl and the abuser was a grown man.
It was my word against his. I was branded an attention seeker who’d simply made it all up.
After that, I knew that no one would ever believe me, so I stayed quiet.
When I was in my early teens, I found a job working in a busy pub. I waited at the tables and helped out in the kitchen. It had a football team.
Someone there liked to talk dirty to me and tell me all the things he’d like to do to me on his satin sheets that would make them messy. He didn’t do it in secret, either. The people standing around us would stand around and laugh at his words.
That taught me that being pretty meant that I was only good for one thing.
My first boyfriend taught me that I was never good enough for him; he could do better than someone like me. My choice meant nothing to him. One occasion, he showed me that if he wanted to, he could take sex even if I didn’t want it. Then after he’d pinned me down and penetrated me, he laughed at me and went for a wank in the shower. I was filled with conflicting emotions: sexual excitement, shame, and embarrassment.
It was reinforced then that my body did not belong to me. It was there only for the sexual gratification of others.
My next relationship started out better. He showed me that I was lovable, though that was quickly taken away. If I said no to sex, he’d wait until I was sleeping and do it anyway.
By the time I met my third partner, I was resigned to the idea that the only way to keep a man was to become a slave to his every need. I was only lovable by what I could do to make sure that he was happy, even if it made me feel worthless.
Childhood Sexual Trauma – the Reality
It doesn’t matter the level of sexual abuse or exploitation a child endures. It can have a huge impact on that child’s developing sense of worth, where and how they fit into the world around them. What can seem bizarre to a child who isn’t abused, can seem normal to a child subjected to abuse.
As children, we have no control over where we live. Choices are made for us. We are taught to trust adults. We lack the cognitive and emotional tools to process what is happening. This leads to a wide range of coping mechanisms that can become maladaptive in adulthood.
Breaking the Cycle of Childhood Sexual Abuse.
Survivors of childhood sexual trauma often carry forward into adulthood beliefs and behaviours learned during formative years. This is especially so when our emotional needs have not been sufficiently met. Principles and standards ingrained into us as children mean that we have been conditioned to prioritise the needs of others above our own to receive the affection and validation we so desperately seek.
This leads to a warped understanding of love and self-worth.
This mindset can make us vulnerable to manipulation and exploitation in abusive relationships. To us, self-sacrifice and subservience equals being loved.
Consequently, many victims of childhood sexual trauma become trapped in manipulative and toxic relationships that are difficult to break. When we have been told for years that our decisions and choices mean nothing, we learn not to assert our own needs or place boundaries for abusive behaviour.
Because no one ever listened to us in the first place.
Healing from childhood sexual abuse is a journey that requires time, patience, and the right support.
The amount we feel loved, safe, cared for and connected as children, greatly affects how we behave and believe in our worth as adults. How we see the world and operate.
But I’m here to tell you that you are worthy of love.
You can take what happened and turn it into lessons. You can truly take that shit and turn it into your strength.
It is within your power to decide what you do and don’t want out of life.
Your choices are valid.
You might have read that and a little voice inside snidely reminded you that it’s not worked in the past, so why would it now?
Every single one of us has shit that affects us. It’s how we choose to deal with it that makes a difference in how we move forward in life.
It’s finding the right support to deal with those traumas and learn how to live a wonderful life, despite the shit that happened in the past.
To turn it into our strength and not only survive but thrive.
And even when we feel like there is no hope or we have no choice. There is a way to find hope, make a choice and create our own happiness.
As a hypnotherapist and (student of) trauma-informed coaching, my goal is to provide a safe and supportive environment for survivors to explore their experiences and begin the process of transformation. Remember, behaviours learned as a means of keeping you safe can be changed. They do not define you any longer.
Recognising these is the first step towards making the changes you need to heal. With the right help, you can build a healthy, fulfilling life you deserve. You can establish nourishing friendships and relationships.
Life does get better.