I was 6, when my family was hosting a religious prayer. About a hundred people were invited. And in went on for almost a month. People would come and go. There was a priest, who would make me sit on his lap whoever he got the chance. One day, my parents were at work and I had just come home from school. I was about to go to my room when the priest came out and asked me to come to his room. He I got in there, he had me on his lap and he started touching me. All I knew I was I didn’t like it but if he was doing it than surely my parents knew and approved. So I let him. For weeks I would try avoiding coming home from school until it was crowded. But he would always find me and continue touching me. For the next 6 years I didn’t realize what he did was molesting. And I felt dirty and embarrassed. I should have done something to stop him.
Since I realized what had happened, I would try and replace those memories with other people. I would change boyfriends countless of times but no matter what I did I always remember. I feel ashamed of myself.
The second time I was violated was by …….. when he ask me to touch him. I didn’t want to but I felt pressured I couldn’t say anything cause a friend was near by and I didn’t want to cause a scene, even though all I wanted to do was ask them to help me.
The third time I felt used I was 13 by than. I knew the guy. We would fool around by kissing here and there. One of the times we were in a room, we kissed for a few minutes and I said I needed to go. Instead he stood by the door and asked if he could touch me and asked me if I would give him a blow job. I said no. while I kept repeating no, he forced his hands down my pants and had me touch him. I couldn’t scream or ask for help, simply cause I wasn’t suppose to be fooling around with him in the first place.
For the next few years I struggled with myself. I felt like I deserved it and somehow made them want me. I managed to convince myself that it was my doing. I would never dress up, always wearing shirts and shorts thrice my size but it never really helped.
I still feel sick to my stomach when I think about it. Why didn’t I ever fight back? I let myself bottle it up.
I struggle with myself each day. Am I fooling myself into believing it’s anything more than my fault?
I hope not. I started mediating a lot and working on my confidence, self respect and forgiving myself. I even learned self-defense.
Each day is a battle. One I don’t tend to give up.
I am mostly happy with myself.
My goal is to one day get the courage to not be ashamed of my past.
“Just because I am happy, does not mean that the day is perfect but that you have looked beyond its imperfections.”
— Survivor, age 16
Dear survivor,
There is nothing about what you’ve written here that is your fault. Not one thing. I know that self-blame can eat you up inside and I hope in time you come to see that there is nothing to blame yourself for. There is nothing to forgive yourself for, because you didn’t do anything wrong. In your post you asked why you didn’t fight back. Did you know that it is actually really common for survivors not to fight back? One of the main reasons for this is because your body goes into survival mode. If you think about the term “deer in headlights” it might make more sense. There are three responses to fear and trauma – fight, flight, and freeze. Some people fight back, some people run away, and some people freeze. Our bodies have no control over this. Often times we blame ourselves when we don’t fight back, but often the safest thing we can do is not fight. You did everything right and you have nothing to be ashamed of. Your trauma does not define who you are. You are so much more than what happened to you. You are a strong, resilient fighter, and you are very brave.