At what age did you become a survivor?
At what age did you become a survivor?
- Thread starterMuldoon
- Start date
victor-victim
Registrant
20 and then again at 27 and then again at 31 and then again at 35 and then again at 42 and then again at 50. good times bad times. starting over gets easier every time.
Wow, a whole ton of people who posted here for years and years and then phased it out of their lives and stopped. That makes me happy to see that they could move on and no longer needed the resource.
I was violently abused age 8 by a playground / hall monitor at my school. I had vague and meaningless concepts of this from as of a few months later, but didn't feel anything and so chose to ignore it. Developed some pretty classic symptoms over the years but never put the puzzle together. Finally had full emotional / experiential recall at 34, sought help and started telling people for the first time.
Subsequently I have had to admit to myself that the "bully protection agreement" with major strings attached that I had with a "friend" from about 12-15 counted as abuse too. I never recognized it as such at the time since I sought out his protection and consented to his form of payment. This one is less traumatic than the event at 8 by countless orders of magnitude - more gross, creepy, and embarrassing. Funny thing, I can tell people about the violent event because its "not my fault" but I have never told anyone about the nonviolent years because I had made a deal for it. My therapist knows the gist of it but only here have I really let it out.
So I guess I became a survivor at 34 though its still an ongoing restoration process.
Matt
I was violently abused age 8 by a playground / hall monitor at my school. I had vague and meaningless concepts of this from as of a few months later, but didn't feel anything and so chose to ignore it. Developed some pretty classic symptoms over the years but never put the puzzle together. Finally had full emotional / experiential recall at 34, sought help and started telling people for the first time.
Subsequently I have had to admit to myself that the "bully protection agreement" with major strings attached that I had with a "friend" from about 12-15 counted as abuse too. I never recognized it as such at the time since I sought out his protection and consented to his form of payment. This one is less traumatic than the event at 8 by countless orders of magnitude - more gross, creepy, and embarrassing. Funny thing, I can tell people about the violent event because its "not my fault" but I have never told anyone about the nonviolent years because I had made a deal for it. My therapist knows the gist of it but only here have I really let it out.
So I guess I became a survivor at 34 though its still an ongoing restoration process.
Matt
BraveFalcon
Registrant
I first disclosed to a friend of mine at 18, so I guess that's when you could say I became a survivor. After that, I spent a year and a half in therapy and some healing took place. Since then I have not been in therapy and have just had to find little bits and pieces of healing when and where I can with progress coming slow, if at all. Peace,
Ken
Ken
[size:17pt]M[/size]y abuse started as soon as I turned thirteen. The molester was 15-16 and a serial abuser. He got caught for molesting mostly little girls. My mom confronted me about it - I think I was barely fourteen - and I admitted to her I was a victim, pleading with her not to let dad know my shame. And the result?
[size:17pt]N[/size]othing.
[size:17pt]A[/size]fter that, I was asked to still be his friend and keep him from the girls. But I told my mom - she knew! So why were they throwing me back to him?
[size:17pt]M[/size]y abuse continued for months - even years - at greater frequency and intensity after the day I became - by your definition - a "survivor".
[size:17pt]Y[/size]ears later as an adult, I confronted my mom and asked her why. Why did she let me go back to him if she heard me admit he was molesting me?
[size:17pt]A[/size]nd she didn't remember a thing. I just saw her turn ashen. "You were ... molested?," she asked.
[size:17pt]I[/size] think she completely blocked it out - her memory of my admission buried so deep she couldn't recall it - because (and I truly believe this) she couldn't bear the idea of it. The admission happened, though. No question. I was sitting on the basement barstool watching my little brown loafers kick at the air, staring at the orange and yellow shag rug because I couldn't look her in the face. I was crying. "Don't tell dad! PLEASE! Don't tell dad!" While staring at the very spot on the rug that I and so many others were shamed.
[size:17pt]M[/size]y mom didn't remember. And I just kept the shame and secrecy to myself.
[size:17pt]I[/size]t stayed buried until my dad died. Therapy, ostensibly for unrelenting grief tinged with despair and regret, uncovered the all the elaborate lies I had told myself of my own past. That was the first time I realized and truly admitted to myself that I was "molested". The scale of the mess was so huge I couldn't even fathom it - it was so much easier to go back into my constructs of fantasy about it all. But I did enough work to lay a foundation of so-called recovery, then shelved it to concentrate on a graduate professional degree for four years. So while I didn't fully scale that cliff - I bivouacked on it.
[size:17pt]T[/size]wo years after I graduated, I got an email from one of those girls. She wanted to thank me for "saving her" from him - a role I assumed quite frequently. She told me I was her hero - that her family may never have happened if I had not stepped in that day. And so I became a "survivor" again.
[size:17pt]I[/size]f you ever want to take this back to your reps, Tom Muldoon, and if they want me to place my hand on a bible and testify, you just PM me. Because I'll come out there and do just that. I swear.
[size:17pt]N[/size]othing.
[size:17pt]A[/size]fter that, I was asked to still be his friend and keep him from the girls. But I told my mom - she knew! So why were they throwing me back to him?
[size:17pt]M[/size]y abuse continued for months - even years - at greater frequency and intensity after the day I became - by your definition - a "survivor".
[size:17pt]Y[/size]ears later as an adult, I confronted my mom and asked her why. Why did she let me go back to him if she heard me admit he was molesting me?
[size:17pt]A[/size]nd she didn't remember a thing. I just saw her turn ashen. "You were ... molested?," she asked.
[size:17pt]I[/size] think she completely blocked it out - her memory of my admission buried so deep she couldn't recall it - because (and I truly believe this) she couldn't bear the idea of it. The admission happened, though. No question. I was sitting on the basement barstool watching my little brown loafers kick at the air, staring at the orange and yellow shag rug because I couldn't look her in the face. I was crying. "Don't tell dad! PLEASE! Don't tell dad!" While staring at the very spot on the rug that I and so many others were shamed.
[size:17pt]M[/size]y mom didn't remember. And I just kept the shame and secrecy to myself.
[size:17pt]I[/size]t stayed buried until my dad died. Therapy, ostensibly for unrelenting grief tinged with despair and regret, uncovered the all the elaborate lies I had told myself of my own past. That was the first time I realized and truly admitted to myself that I was "molested". The scale of the mess was so huge I couldn't even fathom it - it was so much easier to go back into my constructs of fantasy about it all. But I did enough work to lay a foundation of so-called recovery, then shelved it to concentrate on a graduate professional degree for four years. So while I didn't fully scale that cliff - I bivouacked on it.
[size:17pt]T[/size]wo years after I graduated, I got an email from one of those girls. She wanted to thank me for "saving her" from him - a role I assumed quite frequently. She told me I was her hero - that her family may never have happened if I had not stepped in that day. And so I became a "survivor" again.
[size:17pt]I[/size]f you ever want to take this back to your reps, Tom Muldoon, and if they want me to place my hand on a bible and testify, you just PM me. Because I'll come out there and do just that. I swear.
unhappycamper
Registrant
As some others have posted above, I became a survivor as soon as the CSA episode ended--the summer I turned 7 years old. That survival strategy collapsed 35 years later when I was 42, and I began Phase 2, with the therapies, pills, groups, etc. So far it has been another 19 years. Some things have gotten better, others not.
John
John