One night I woke up in pure terror, disoriented and confused after I had dislocated my jaw from screaming in my dream. My husband had to rush me to the emergency room in the middle of the night to get my jaw put back together. It was at 19 years old that I spoke up for the first time. It would be another year before I told my family. I will never stop talking about it because I no longer wear the blanket of shame- I realised that it was never mine to wear. That blanket belonged to the abusers and to them alone.

I was 8 years old the first time it happened, and would go on until my early teens. Back then I didn’t have the words to explain or describe, nor the mental maturity to comprehend what had been happening to me.

There are three things I remember clearly that he abuser said to me…and it is often the modus operandi of abusers. The first was the abuser told me that what happened was my fault because “I like too much attention” and he decided to show me what getting attention feels like. The second was he saying that no one was going to believe me if I spoke up because no one liked me anyway.  Speaking up, he said, would take the his affection away from me. Lastly, he promised that he would physically hurt my siblings and I and that it would be my fault. For years I blamed myself for the abuse, believing that it was my fault that a grown man had found a child sexually attractive.

I believed then that it was my fault that I wanted to be loved and be someone’s favourite child. I believed that it was my fault that I didn’t see the signs, and I piled on the blame. I wore shame like a warm blanket and felt like my childhood was taken away. In many ways it was. What I had experienced was something that took my innocence away and placed a deep sense of never truly belonging anywhere. 

It was a loneliness that words could never explain. I began to live my life like a mannequin behind a window of a clothing store, my feelings hidden so deeply that I would punish myself for wanting to be loved. I would punish myself for feeling pain and punish myself for feeling joy. God forbid that I allow to feel and be vulnerable.

Vulnerability became my biggest enemy- and abusers and bad people love to and easily prey on vulnerable people. I felt dirty and unworthy of love. For many years I walked around and believed that I was intellectually stupid because I thought that only stupid children get abused. I hated who I was and what I was becoming.

I felt like I had been trapped in an evil and  terrifying forest that I did not create. A forest created by moment(s) of pleasure for the abuser but a lifetime of pain for the abused. My life was one of debilitating fear and anxiety- filled with a deep sense of shame and anger that was killing me softly inside. There was a deep desire and need to be fully seen, loved and accepted.

I used to have regular nightmares and they grew progressively worse over the years. 

One night I woke up in pure terror, disoriented and confused after I had dislocated my jaw from screaming in my dream. My husband had to rush me to the emergency room in the middle of the night to get my jaw put back together. It was only at 19 years old that I had spoken up for the first time. It would be another year (at 20) before I told my family. I will never stop talking about it because I no longer wear the blanket of shame and I realised that it was never mine to wear. That blanket belonged to the abusers and to them alone.

There would come a day when I woke up to this truth (after numerous counselling sessions) and making a decision that I would no longer be a victim, and refusing to remain one. My freedom came when I brought light to the darkness that was engulfing me. I chose my freedom by forgiving my sexual abusers. I wanted to be and to feel alive. I had to let go of the anger, the pain, the shame and remove myself from the shopping window and join the shoppers. I learnt to forgive myself too and I took responsibility for my responses and behaviours.

A terrible thing had happened to me which should have never happened- to me or to any child. However, I had to choose between life and death. It is easier to choose death- to stay angry, to blame everyone else and to dish out toxic behaviour.  The path to life is way more difficult. It’s difficult to forgive. It is difficult to love, to be vulnerable, to be joyful, to be thankful, and to take responsibility. It is difficult to become alive again because there are no guarantees that you will not be hurt again.

The path of “choosing life” is bloody and messy. Jesus is not afraid of the blood and the mess…I mean have you seen what he did on the cross!! I am glad that I chose life. My entire life is a miracle, and God has restored all the years the locusts had eaten.

I now know that I am seen by him. I am valuable. I am accepted. I am forgiven. I have a purpose. I am my own favourite person. I am deeply loved by a perfectly imperfect husband. I am blessed with three exceptional little people that call me mommy. Above all, I have peace that transcends all understanding.

To GOD be the GLORY! If you are a victim and you are grappling with your dragons and the dungeons of despair write me and we can pray together. He is able and willing…

I am a formidable ally and I have a very sharp sword, an amazing God and together we will slay those pesky creatures.

Let’s support one another. #NoWomanAlone.