Just yesterday a friend pointed out to me that I’d commented to her about how violated ‘I feel’ but that it’s really important to acknowledge the fact that what happened to me is not just a feeling but a fact – I was violated – the truth.
As I’ve contemplated on that I’ve realised that admitting “I was violated” is a HUGE step for me.
It’s easier for me to focus on how shameful I feel about the violations than it is for me to actually say “I was violated”. It’s very painful to say those words. Why is it easier for me to speak about the feeling than it is to speak about the facts?
Part of the answer lies in the reality that I’ve always known the truth but have not had words to describe what happened to me. This is because as a child I had no vocabulary for the things that happened to and around me. Also I have no positive adult sexual experience to compare or to give me language to describe the things done to me as a child. My only adult sexual experience was being raped by someone I thought was a friend just months after being ejected from the abusive family home I’d been trapped in for nearly 20 years.
Typing those words – “the things done to me as a child” was incredibly painful and brought me out in a cold sweat because those words acknowledge the powerlessness I experienced. I can say “I was abused” but not experience any pain in speaking or writing those words. I suppose I’ve used those words many times in my life and have gotten used to using them. But also, and more importantly, those words do not adequately describe the reality of the horror of what I experienced.
The reality is I was serially violated by many abusers. (I do not know how many in total because some of the early abuse involving my grandparents took place in an environment which would now be referred to as a paedophile ring.) The context was witchcraft rituals which involved several people who were friends or acquaintances of my grandparents. I got hung up on those witchcraft rituals for a long time. But I’m now able to see those rituals as cover for what was essentially just a group of people misusing, abusing and violating children for their own satisfaction.
The incestuous abuse on top meant I was violated in many different ways over a 20 year period by every single member of my family. I was deliberately and systematically violated. I was violated not just in body but in mind and spirit too. My abusers did their level best to break my spirit. My abusers brainwashed me into ways of thinking that were self-destructive. I need to repeat for myself that I was deliberately and systematically violated in the most extreme and disgusting ways imaginable. THAT WAS WHAT WAS DONE TO ME.
Just typing the words “that was what was done to me” is very powerful because it turns the self-blame on its head and places the blame squarely on my abusers and off of me.
The actuality that I was so violated has totally messed my life up and I hate that fact in itself. In some ways I hate that even more than the physical and sexual acts that were committed against me as a person and against the body which I inhabit as human being.
Those violations were a means of controlling and manipulating me. I hate the way that my childhood was completely stolen from me and how deviant sexual behaviour was normalised from a very tiny age.
I hate the damage the multiple physical and sexual violations did to my life. I hate the damage every violation did to my gender identity, to my sexual identity and to my body itself. I hate the damage those violations did to my self-esteem, to my thought processes and to my belief system.
My abusers dehumanised and brutalised me to the point where there was no value upon my life at all. That put me in a position of being incapable of placing any value upon my own life or even upon my existence as a human being.
When I think back to my childhood I think of myself as being my abusers’ personal punch bag. I also think of myself being just a piece of meat worth nothing more than a speck of dirt by the side of the road, worth nothing more than the trash put out for the bin men to collect. Oh my word, the effect of that upon me is appalling.
The truth is when I was a child I was a human being with feelings and needs which were totally and systematically ignored and invalidated.
However, I never saw myself as a child who had feelings and needs. Nor have I been able to see myself in that way as an adult.
The horrible truth is I never ever actually saw or thought of myself as a human being. Nor as a human being that had been extremely violated. I just viewed myself as damaged goods, a blot on the landscape and a piece of meat.
But the truth is I am a human being whose basic needs were completely trashed and ignored. I am a human being who was horrifically violated. I am a human being who is now beginning to speak out about those violations in order to find healing.
Writing about it in such terms is bringing me out in a cold sweat and making me feel ill because I am realising the really horrible truth for the very first time.
The real truth is I did not deserve those violations. I was a defenceless innocent very tiny child when those violations began. There was nothing I could have done to have prevented them. I was not to blame. I was not a piece of meat or punch bag. Rather I was a little human being who was treated in totally inhuman ways.
I am not a piece of meat. I am not a punch bag. I am not trash. I am not a speck of dirt by the side of the road.
I am a human being who was treated in inhuman ways. I am a human being who deserved and deserves better.
By beginning to expose the truth I realise I’m beginning to say “I have value, what happened to me matters, really matters, what was done to me really damaged me but I did not actually deserve any of it in spite of all I was brainwashed to believe, what happened to me was not right. I did not deserve any of those violations nor could I have prevented them.”
I am a survivor of extremely severe ritualistic childhood abuse and sadistic systematic torture. Without God's intervention in my life I wouldn't be here - NOW is the time for me to tell MY story by speaking the TRUTH about MY life. I will be silenced no more! On this blog I share MY life, MY healing journey; helpful quotes/stuff I come across and MY thoughts along the way. The more I speak out the more liberated I am from the shame and trauma of the abuse. My broken wings are gradually being restored. This blog has helped me begin to get my voice back and documents the journey God is taking me on to heal me from the trauma and damage caused by that most appalling abuse.