I don’t want to talk about being abused because of the way it makes me feel when I talk about it. But unless I do, I suffer. There are strange things that come out of my unconscious. Suppressed feelings. Things that come to my attention from weird accidents, body reactions that I can’t explain, numbness and inappropriate actions/behaviors/words that seem to come out of nowhere.
When I was younger, teens and twenties, I didn’t want people to know how damaged I was from what happened to me, so I hid it. Then as I grew older I thought, I should tell some of them, but not everybody I met. Just people I thought should know why I was acting like I did. Those people could benefit from explanation.
Now I tell people when I want them to know me, people who seem compassionate, loving, sensitive and genuinely interested in me.
The rest I tell through writing.
Through writing I also add to all the other voices of people who have been abused like me. Who are bravely telling their stories. Through writing and speaking publicly. As a collective we can start a movement to eradicate Childhood Sexual Abuse as a experience children have.
But the pain of losing my husband has brought up unresolved pain from CSA to the surface.
It makes me think of Rod Stewart singing
I can tell by your eyes that you’ve probably been cryin’ forever
And the stars in the sky don’t mean nothin’ to you, they’re a mirror
I don’t want to talk about it, how you broke my heart
If I stay here just a little bit longer
If I stay here, won’t you listen to my heart, whoa, my heart?
Now I am back to not wanting to talk about it,
But its still on my mind.
And it still poisons my life.