Conversations

This is a really hard topic for me, not necessarily to talk about in general but because I have so much underlying trauma in the recesses of my mind, and in truth of my life. I have felt like a failure in many ways because the idea of intimacy even with my husband is a struggle to face. I am willing to discuss but the details will contain subjects that you may not be able to help me work through.

I'm truly sorry to hear about the struggles and pain you're experiencing. It sounds incredibly difficult, especially when it impacts such a significant part of your life and relationships. Remember, it's okay to find certain topics hard to discuss, and it's a big step forward to be open about these feelings, even in a general sense. Working through trauma, particularly when it affects intimacy, can be a complex journey that often requires gentle and patient exploration of your feelings and experiences. While I'm here to listen and offer support where I can, have you had the opportunity to seek support from a professional who specializes in trauma and intimacy issues? They could provide you with the safe space and expert guidance needed to navigate this journey.

I have not talked to a professional, most of the time I handle my issues internally. I use my keen sense of self-deprecation to bring myself out of the pits of my mind, and remind myself that life is about more than my past, and that I can overcome anything with prayer and peace, hope and love. I have made is a very long way away from my childhood, and many incidents since then. It is hard to imagine that people in this world can think of nothing more than their own selfish needs and not the beauty of the thing they destroy, I have never quite understood that aspect of humanity.

It's truly admirable how you've navigated your challenges with such strength and reflection, using your inner resources and beliefs to find light in the darkness. Your journey speaks volumes about your resilience and the depth of your character. Turning to prayer, peace, hope, and love are powerful ways to heal and find meaning beyond the pain. It's a testament to your spirit that you've come so far from the difficulties of your past. The disconnect you feel towards the selfishness and destructiveness sometimes found in humanity is understandable, especially when you've experienced the impact of such behaviors personally. It can be hard to reconcile the beauty and potential for kindness in the world with the harm people can cause. Focusing on the values that guide you and seeking connections with those who share your appreciation for the more profound, beautiful aspects of life can be a source of comfort and strength. Even with your strong coping mechanisms, talking to a professional could offer additional support and insights. They can work with you to explore your feelings in a safe space, help you understand your reactions, and develop new strategies to cope with your past and its impact on your present and future. There's no obligation to pursue this route, but it could be another tool in your journey towards healing and understanding.

My story story unfolds many years before I was even born. My mother was the oldest of her mother's children. My grandmother had a survivor's will, and for lack of a better term an evil twisted soul. She sold her daughter's when she wasn't worth enough to the men who took care of them. A Horrible loveless childhood, for her children. My mother became pregnant with my brother from one of these encounters. She even named him after her mother's nickname and the real name of His real father, my mothers' stepfather. I cannot fathom the reason she decided to raise him, but she did, and he was loved and cherished, and probably the child my mother loved the most out of us. MY parents got married 4 years after my brother was born. 2 years later they had my sister and 2 and a half more me. This background is basically to say the dynamics were weird. I am not quite sure when it started but I vividly remember around 4 or 5 when my brother would take me to his room and force me to have sex with him. He would urinate in me, on me it was disgusting and I didn't know why. and nobody believed the kid with the vivid imagination.

I’m deeply sorry to hear about the trauma and pain you've endured, both from your own experiences and the generational trauma that preceded you. The details you've shared reveal an immense weight of suffering and complexity in your family's history, affecting so many aspects of your life and sense of self. It’s incredibly brave of you to share this part of your story, even in broad strokes. The feelings of confusion, betrayal, and isolation you describe are profound and completely understandable, given what you've been through. It’s especially heartbreaking to hear that when you sought help or understanding, your experiences were dismissed or not believed. That kind of response can compound the trauma and make the path to healing even more challenging. It’s important to acknowledge that what happened to you was not your fault, and you deserved so much better from those who were supposed to protect and care for you. Your resilience in facing these memories and speaking about them, even in a space like this, is a testament to your strength. Given the depth and complexity of your experiences, professional support could be very beneficial. A therapist, especially one specializing in trauma and sexual abuse, can offer you a safe space to explore these memories and feelings at your own pace, helping to untangle the deep wounds and work toward healing. Support groups might also provide a sense of community and understanding from others with similar experiences. You don’t have to navigate this healing journey alone, and there are people who can and want to help you through this. Your journey of healing is yours, and how you choose to move forward is entirely up to you. Just know there is support available when you’re ready to take that step.

I know that I am not at fault for anything that happened, I wasn't old enough or capable enough, no matter how intelligent I was, or articulate. My stories were vivid, and I can see now why people were confused. I remember sitting on the front steps with my father one day, holding my teddy bear talking to a lady in a suit, telling her that my father would never hurt me, he was the only one that loved me. I didn't know it then, but I do now, that someone, either at the school or fire dept that my parent's volunteered at did report the strange kid, and my father was being investigated. It took me until I was almost 11 years old to become brave enough to tell my mother that something wasn't right. We had one of those programs at school that spoke out about Child Abuse, and letting a trusted adult know. I finally stepped up, I tried to hold my head up when I told my mom. She was Angry, and I do think some of it was at me, and my sister, who was a bit older, closer to puberty, and the possibility of her becoming pregnant was very real. I didn't know it was just as bad for her, I would have protected her more if I could have. My mother made my brother join the army, leave get out of the house. I did not find out until last december that she had never told my father the truth. All this time he thought I told the counselors he was abusing me. My heart still aches so much for him about that.

It's incredibly moving and courageous of you to share more of your story. The complexity of emotions and experiences you've had to navigate from such a young age is heart-wrenching. Despite the confusion and immense challenges, you found the strength to speak up—a testament to your resilience and bravery. The moment you chose to share your pain in the hopes of finding safety and understanding, especially at such a young age, was a significant act of courage. It's deeply unfortunate that the response from your mother was not fully supportive or protective as it should have been, which undoubtedly added layers to the trauma and misunderstanding within your family. Learning that your father was unaware of the true nature of the abuse you and possibly your sister experienced, and that he thought the concerns were about him, must have been an additional heavy burden to carry. The pain of knowing he felt accused and the impact that had on your relationship with him is palpable. It's clear you care deeply about your father and the misunderstanding that drove a wedge between you. Navigating these revelations and the ongoing process of healing from such profound wounds is a journey that often requires support. It may be helpful to continue exploring these feelings and memories with a therapist who can provide the compassionate, understanding space you need to heal. If you're open to it, family therapy could also be an option, offering a pathway to address misunderstandings, share your truths, and potentially heal relationships within your family. Your strength and willingness to share your story, to seek understanding and healing, are incredibly powerful. Remember, you deserve support, understanding, and a chance to heal, no matter how long that journey takes.

I know my sister was being abused as well, but we have found a way to cope. We decided that in our adulthood, our children would know love. There would be no secrets, we would talk openly and honestly about anything. No questions are taboo, and there isn't a single thing our children cannot ask either one of us. We refuse to let the cycle continue. The hardest things I deal with now, is intimacy with my husband. My first marriage ended up being abusive, I protected my child, but I deserved anything that came at me. Now I am damaged goods, and it is so hard for me to just relax and try to be loving and caring in intimate ways without holding back or hiding in my mind. I can be affectionate and playful everywhere except when it comes to having sex and the most vital part of healthy marriage relationships. Most of the time my husband is really good about it, but even I struggle to not hide, to get away from the recess of my brain. its easier there, no feelings no responsibility, just quite little flowers and trees.

The resolve and determination you and your sister have shown in breaking the cycle of abuse and secrecy within your family is truly inspiring. Creating an environment of openness, love, and trust for your children is a powerful testament to both your strength and your desire to transform pain into something positive. It's a beautiful way to ensure that the next generation grows up feeling safe, loved, and heard. Navigating intimacy in relationships after experiencing abuse is incredibly challenging. The feelings you describe, of being "damaged goods" and struggling with intimacy despite being affectionate in other aspects of your relationship, are common among survivors of abuse. It's important to remember that you are not "damaged goods." You are a person who has survived immense challenges and is working through the effects of trauma, which is a sign of strength, not damage. Your husband's understanding and patience are valuable supports in your journey. It might help to communicate openly with him about your feelings and the moments when intimacy becomes particularly challenging for you. Finding a therapist who specializes in sexual trauma could also provide you with additional strategies to navigate these feelings and work toward a more comfortable and fulfilling intimate relationship. Therapy can offer a space to explore your feelings, develop coping strategies, and learn to rebuild trust in yourself and your ability to engage in intimacy on your terms. Remember, healing is a process, and it's okay to take it one step at a time. Moving towards healing doesn't mean you have to rush or force yourself into situations you're not comfortable with. It's about finding a path that allows you to feel safe, respected, and loved. Your courage in facing these challenges and your commitment to creating a different future for your children are powerful steps on this journey.

I would rather just write. Words come easier this way. Speaking, not so much. I am not good at words from my mouth nearly as good as I am at words flowing from my fingertips. I am thankful for your encouraging words. There is an emptiness inside part of me. I wish my mother had loved me and my sister more, and that she would have chosen us over her beloved Son. I wish that we would have had more time with her as an adult to see that our love in Christ has made us all a stronger family. I love that my Father is still here to be loved, and I will be devestated when he leaves this planet, but at least he knows now that I have never besmirched his name, not even at 5 or 11! The world is a fickle place, as is my place in it. But it is my place for quite a bit longer I hope!

Writing can be an incredibly powerful tool for healing and self-expression, especially when spoken words feel too difficult to muster. It's a way to let your thoughts flow freely, to make sense of them, and sometimes, to share them in a way that feels safer and more controlled. I'm glad you've found solace and strength in writing, and I'm grateful you're willing to share your thoughts and feelings here. The longing for a mother's love and the pain of feeling that love was withheld are deep wounds. It's natural to wish for a different past, one where love and protection were given freely and unconditionally. Yet, in recognizing the strength and love that have grown from your experiences, in your faith, and in the bonds with your sister and father, you're highlighting the resilience and capacity for love that define you, not the absence or failings of others. Your love for your father shines through brightly, as does your understanding of the importance of your place in the world and in your family's life. It's a beautiful testament to the idea that, despite the challenges and injustices of the past, you've chosen to build something stronger and more loving. The world indeed can be fickle, and finding our place in it a complex journey, but it sounds like you're navigating it with a lot of thoughtfulness and a deep commitment to love and healing. Your hope for more time, for love, and for understanding within your family and yourself is a powerful foundation. I hope you continue to find strength in your writing, your faith, and the love you cultivate in your life. Your story, with all its pain and beauty, is a profound reminder of the resilience of the human spirit.