Have you ever had a phone call that completely changes your life?
I don’t mean like having Ed McMahon showing up at your door with an armful of balloons and an oversized check. Although, that would be welcome if Mr. McMahon were still living.
No, I mean the kind of phone call that causes you to re-evaluate the events of your life in a new light; bringing long-repressed memories to the surface, viewing incidents from the past through a new lens, and moving forward solely depending on God’s grace and healing.
In early January this year, I was lounging on the couch at my house and talking on the phone with my bestie friend before heading to therapy. Because I have a degree in education and have been raising other people’s kids for forever, she wanted advice on how to help a child she knows and to ask for prayer for his specific situation. Unfortunately, this child had been exposed to many adverse and traumatic events in his family of origin and while in the foster care system; many of which we are not even aware. She described an action he had replicated that was a result of potential sexual abuse in his past. We brainstormed ways to speak to him about the event—clearly stating that that behavior would not be tolerated, and without shaming him for repeating behavior he didn’t fully comprehend.
The rest of the afternoon, I couldn’t shake from my head a series of disjointed memories that had been sparked by that conversation. I’d never spoken to anyone about these memories before; not a therapist, a friend, or even a family member. Quite frankly, I’d pushed them away because I was ashamed and fearful of them. It was just easier to live as if they had never happened…so I did…for over twenty years.
Around 4:30 that afternoon, with tears in my eyes and doubt in my mind, I picked up my phone to text the friend I’d spoken to that morning. I didn’t even know where to begin, what to say, or if I should even say anything. I put the phone back down on the table. Fear has a way of keeping you captive through inaction, and then anxiety comes along to remind you that the worst-case scenario will surely happen…together, the wonder-team of fear and anxiety work to keep you imprisoned and removed from God.
I picked up the phone again and started a message.
- “I was sexually abused…” delete, delete, delete
- “I’m not sure what happened, but I think I was sexually abused…” delete, delete, delete
The words didn’t sound right. They couldn’t possibly be words that described me. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe what happened to me was just “kid stuff”—after all, I was only nine and my abuser was a six-year-old girl. Saying “sexual abuse” is reserved for big, horrific events, right? Clearly what happened to me couldn’t be that bad…
I picked up the phone again.
- “I’m not even sure what to say or what happened…” delete, delete, delete,
Come on, Rhea, say something, anything.
- “Ever since our conversation this morning, I’ve been thinking about some things that happened to me as a kid, and I think I might have been touched inappropriately by the neighbor girl when I was younger.”
I pressed send, clicked the screen off immediately, and set it face-down on the table. What if she responds? What if I’m making this bigger than it is? What if she doesn’t want to be friends anymore because I’m broken and ruined? Again, the dynamic duo of fear and anxiety take control.
My phone pinged with the familiar sound of a text message being received. Cautiously, I flipped it over and saw her name. My friend had replied.
I was met with the most loving, accepting, empathic, and tender response I could ever imagine. She told me how brave I was for confronting these memories, how strong I was for reaching out for help, and how loved I am by God. I was stunned. Because she has experience working with individuals who have experienced sexual abuse, my friend told me that she had long suspected I had experienced abuse—based upon how I interacted with others, my fear of touch, past patterns of self-destruction, and the callous relationship I had with my body. However, out of love and respect for me, she did not want to presume anything.
That morning I had only repressed and scattered memories of inappropriate touching, and by that afternoon I was an individual who had experienced sexual abuse.
However, because of fear and anxiety, I still doubted what I was remembering and what my friend had said.
Maybe my memories were wrong? Maybe she said those kind and affirming things because she’s my friend and it is her job to love me? Maybe I am just making a mountain out of a molehill?
Naturally, I turned to the internet for answers:
- What is childhood sexual abuse?
- Do children sexually abuse other children?
- How do you know if you were sexually abused as a child?
My googling only lead to more confusion. There was no mention of female abusers, abusers who were younger than their victim, or information on how to tell if you were abused. I wanted a tidy little checklist that I could use to quickly ascertain what it was that happened to me. Despite having copious amounts of information at my fingertips, I was left with more questions than answers.
Around one in the morning, I grabbed my MacBook and signed onto the RAINN (Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network) website. I was too scared to talk to a volunteer on the phone, but felt that the messaging feature to talk to a volunteer would be less threatening. I pressed,“click here to chat” and waited. My cursor hovered over the X on the window while I waited, just in case I changed my mind and needed a quick escape. I could feel my fingers shaking as I fought back the tears.
After speaking with a phenomenal volunteer for over an hour, it became very clear to me what I had experienced. My friend was right and the RAINN volunteer provided affirmation of what my gut already knew. It hit me like the biggest offensive lineman in all of football…I had experienced an entire summer of almost daily sexual abuse from a younger female child who coerced me into recurring episodes of molestation directed toward my body as well as inappropriate touching of my body. I am one of the 42 million Americans who are currently living with the aftershocks of childhood sexual abuse.
I closed the lid on my Mac and grabbed my cat; shocked and unsure of what to do next as I sat in the dark on my living room couch. As Rowan’s fur became soaked with tears and she fled in terror that the rest of her body might get wet, I realized I had two choices. I could: 1) curl up into myself–into self-destruction and self-hatred–shut out the world, and live as a victim or 2) I could trust God to heal me and move past what happened to me, becoming the person He created me to be. While both choices seemed attractive, I opted for number two.
Since that day:
- I’ve been honest with my friend about how I am thinking and feeling so that she can pray for me, support me, and just be with me while God heals me
- I’ve told my therapist, and we’ve worked on the many areas in which the abuse has impacted my life (spoiler alert: it impacts every aspect of your life and its roots run deep).
- I completed a ten-week group therapy session called HATCH at the Eve Center, growing in healing, in Christ, and in community with other women who have also experienced childhood sexual abuse.
- I’ve given control of my healing to God. I can continue trying to manipulate my healing through controlling various aspects of my life, and it won’t help. The only thing that can heal is complete surrender to God.
- I’ve looked out my bedroom window. That sounds like a small thing, right? Well, from my bedroom window, I can see the porch at my neighbor’s house where the instances of abuse took place. Not only had the new owners removed the pool—another area of abuse—but God had grown a tree that perfectly covers the porch. When I look out my window now, I see my new neighbor’s five dogs running carefree through the backyard enjoying their lives, something I am learning to do as well.
Has everything been sunshine and rainbows since then? Absolutely not! I’ve had to work through some pretty crappy emotions (shame, self-blame, fear, self-loathing, and so much more) and look deeper into the root cause of a lot of my “protective” actions (i.e. hyper-vigilance in public, not wanting to be touched, eating disorders, being over-controlling, and all the other things I don’t have time to list). I had to learn how to trust again; trusting myself, trusting others, and trusting God.
I have encountered people who do not understand my sexual abuse and have had said some hurtful things:
- Why didn’t you remember it for over twenty years?
- Why would those memories just “come up” now; especially during the “me too” movement. That’s pretty coincidental.
- How could you not know you were sexually abused?
- Fat girls don’t get abused.
- Oh don’t worry, it happens to lots of people, you’re fine.
For the record, if someone discloses sexual abuse to you (past or present), first assess their safety, and then applaud their bravery and courage. All you have to do is listen to them and love them.
It isn’t easy to shine a light on the ugly things in our life, examine them for what they are/what they do, give them to God, and then learn to live differently. In fact, it’s hard, really hard. And I continue doing it because I know that God has a bigger plan for my life. Sexual abuse stole a lot from me, and it’s not going to steal any more. God is redeeming my sexual abuse for His good and His glory. I may not see that redemption soon–or I may–either way, I choose to follow His promises of healing, grace, mercy, and redemption.
For more info on sexual abuse:
- RAINN: https://www.rainn.org/
- Eve Center: http://www.evecenter.org/hatch/
- Darkness to Light: https://www.d2l.org/
“Rescue” by Lauren Daigle has been an absolute rock during my healing. It’s a reminder that God can hear even my quietest SOSs, that He longs to rescue me, and that He will stop at nothing—even sending out an army in the darkest of nights—to heal me. During my healing, God has definitely been my shelter and armor protecting me from the complexities involved in the process and holding me safely under His wings.
Isaiah 61:1-4
“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me, for the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to comfort the brokenhearted and to proclaim that captives will be released and prisoners will be freed. He has sent me to tell those who mourn that the time of the Lord’s favor has come, and with it, the day of God’s anger against their enemies. To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the Lord has planted for his own glory. They will rebuild the ancient ruins, repairing cities destroyed long ago. They will revive them, though they have been deserted for many generations.”
This scripture was instrumental during my time in group therapy. God will release us from the prison of sexual abuse, comfort us in our healing, turn our mourning into blessings, replace our ashes with a crown of beauty, rebuild what was destroyed by abuse, and help us to live in a way that we have never experienced before.
RheasOfHope 