I'm a survivor of teen-on-child sexual abuse, and I'm very happy to say that it is very, very rear-view mirror. Things became absolute hell for me around the age of 16 (years after the abuse stopped), when I grew into my own young-adult sexuality, and the abuse came back to me vividly and powerfully. I could never, then, imagine how fuzzy and unimportant it would become; I haven't remembered clearly for some time now, and I don't need to. I got good help in my late teens and did a lot of hard, horrible work processing and accepting what happened to me and how I felt about it; I would not want to re-live that time for anything, but I'm extremely glad I did it, because I don't feel that that abuse has any effect on me as a person or on my sexuality. The things it's left me with, I think, are some personal awareness of what that hell feels like for anyone else in it, a lasting interest in healthy sexuality, consent, and recovery from abuse, and a commitment to doing my bit in trying to get everyone who might need and want it the right support, when they need it. The only thing that makes me sad is, it complicates and puts some distance in my relationship with a caring family member who is closely related to and remains close to the abuser; my family member was, as far as I understand, victimised too in other ways, and I consider my relationship with them another kind of victim of the abusive actions. Given that I feel pretty healed and no longer need anything (related to that abuse), I think my family member is in a more difficult position than I am: the abuser is no-one to me now, while I do not know how my family member lives with what they know one person they are close to did to someone else they care about (me) - they must acknowledge the situation because they never mention that person to me. I value my family member's commitment to knowing me, as surely it must take bravery to manage that kind of split reality without enforcing any kind of denial or "normality" on me. I accept the situation and I think we both do the best with it it's possible to do, but still, it's hard to find peace with that kind of result of someone else's abusive actions.
My first boyfriend repeatedly assaulted me early on, and then sporadically throughout the relationship, and ended by treating me badly - like I wasn't worth much as a person and was mostly a burden - for a really long time before finally leaving. It still hurts that someone I cared about a lot, who claimed to care about me and knew me well, could treat me so badly. I think maybe it's natural for something like that to go on hurting? I don't value that person's opinions or view of me the tiniest bit now, yet their behaviour and complete disregard for me still hurts. After the first few months of blur, pain, and utter "what the hell??!?", I started re-moulding pretty rapidly into the person I actually was, rather than the very reduced and monchrome version that had been his view. That felt great. I also reclaimed my sexuality by pursuing casual sex - I knew I liked sex, but at that point the only partnered sex I knew was sex with him, which felt crappy. My aim was to no longer remember what sex with him felt like, and, aim achieved! Obviously that's not the right route for everyone, but it felt good to me and really helped. Interestingly, a little after that, I stumbled across one of Heather's big casual sex surveys online, and filled it out, then looked at my answers; unsurprisingly, there were nearly all negatives about the sex in my relationship, and all positives about my casual sexual experiences (even the ones that were also a bit weird, or clumsy, or otherwise "imperfect"
). I was brought up to believe that sex was better (in any way you care to interpret that) in a committed, loving relationship; I already knew my own reality, but having it clearly laid out in front of me was a life-changer, and really helped me to see my relationship experiences for what they were and to move on. Honestly, I think it would be better if my feelings about that relationship took up less real estate in my head, but I don't know how to achieve that; I think I don't do well with injustice with absolutely no right of reply (never been allowed to see the guy since before he even said anything was wrong - not a good recipe, for me at least, to put it all in the past). I still want to see him, just to say "I think you are the pits, and you behaved abysmally, for no good reason, and there are no excuses. Piss off, goodbye and good riddance." I can't seem to stop wanting that, even if wanting it doesn't seem to do me any good.
It was always clear to me that my household could be a rough and scary place to grow up in, because of the state of my parent's relationship and where it left each of them. It's only fairly recently - a couple of years - that I realized many things done and said directly to me were abusive
to me, and very recently - like, an ongoing process at the moment - that I realise that I experienced severe emotional abuse. I think that recent and current figuring-outs don't qualify much as having distance, even though it happened a long time ago. Even just the full (or mostly-full?) realisation is helpful, though, because Of Course if you treat a young kid like that you wind up with a scared, uncertain, confused kid showing a bucket-load of PTSD symptoms, who doesn't have half the toolbox for transitioning to adolescence or adulthood. I mostly
felt that there was nothing intrinsically wrong with me, but it's so helpful to
know it, and to
know that there is no earthly reason or justification for treating any person like that, and doing it says everything about the person doing it and nothing about the person it's done to. In other words, I think I'm saying, in order to deal well with a problem, it's important to be dealing with the right problem: ie, "someone/s treated me very badly" and not "I am a problem". I tried treating "I am a problem" for a really long time, and got nowhere. Now I'm no longer doing that, I feel better about myself (the "getting nowhere even though you're Really trying" doesn't help with self-esteem, either - it loops back to "therefore, Clearly I am a problem"). I internalised "I am a/The problem" because I got told it so often and forcefully, and because some of the things I've struggled with because of the abuse would seem on the surface to be "I am the problem", and it's been hard to step away from. I think I'm very optimistic about treating "someone/s treated me very badly", because the education I have on abuse and abuse recovery, and my own experiences with different kinds of abuse and recovery, strongly suggest it's likely to be very successful.
(Oh, and yeah, pleeease can I have a different life history?
Bloomin' shitty people. Bah, maybe I'm nearly unstoppable now.)