Scared silent...
Hi guys... this will probably prove to be a long-winded post, but it is something that has been upsetting me for a while now.
A good portion of my therapy over the years has been spent on dealing with my refusal to admit that my abuse happened because I could not remember much, if anything, about the sexual abuse. I could remember most of the physical abuse, I could remember my mother questioning or commenting on some of the symptoms I had as a kid, and I could realistically look at my symptoms of depression as a teenager, my suicide attempt at 17, my need to control everything, my excessive drinking, and my issues with sex and violent fantasy all as definate signs that "something" happened.
Ahhh... that elusive "something." It is "something" that no one seems to want to ask about or acknowledge. When I was 17, they put me on Prozac. The two times I was asked about the possible "something" I denied it. I wasn't lying... I really didn't remember and didn't believe that "something" happened. I was just depressed and suicidal.
Once I went to therapy as an adult, however, my symptoms were too difficult to ignore and we started to work with the few memories I had. But even then, I held onto the belief that "if I couldn't remember everything, then it didn't happen." Or rather, how could I say that something happened if I couldn't remember it?
And that is what I am posting this about today. I really believe, and I think many survivors do, that we will be doubted if we even DARE to admit that this happened out loud. We fear doubt by our families, our friends, our therapists, and society.
And can anyone blame us? We are SCARED SILENT everytime we see criticism of rape and abuse survivors (male and female) on television; the jokes made about male rape in prisons (and the sick assumption that it is part of the territory and punishment that criminals must endure); the complete and public disbelief of survivors that have told their story after years of silence. We hear people ask the same questions over and over:
"Why didn't they come forward sooner?"
"What are they looking to gain?"
"How come they didn't tell when it was happening?"
Add all of the media pressure to shut up about abuse to what many of us heard or felt from our families, and gee... is it any wonder why we don't say anything sooner? Is it any wonder why we repress these memories for years and years and years and years. And then DISBELIEVE OURSELVES once they surface?!?
We have been taught to distrust ourselves. Hell... why didn't we tell when it was happening? Why didn't we come forward sooner? What are we looking to gain? I am haunted by these questions every day.
And the answer is the same: I was SCARED SILENT from the time I was four years old. So basically, our abuser scared us into not telling, and then our families wanted to live in the denial so we didn't tell, and when we finally get old enough and the symptoms and memories get big enough to bring this shit up, society and the media tells us to shut up too.
The fear that people will either dismiss it or disbelieve it or hell, disown us, if we tell is so strong that I think many of us run around with a little courtroom in our heads where we are always on trial. We see the media portrayal of the difficulties of prosecuting rape and abuse cases all the time, whether real or fictional, and we apply that to ourselves, even if we never plan to prosecute our abusers!
In my head, I really do think I have this inner criminal defense attorney asking, "Sean, how can you say these things about your stepdad if you can't even remember EXACTLY what he did?" Or "Sean, you mean to tell me that you 'recovered' these memories in therapy? If this really happened, you would have remembered it from the beginning, don't you think?"
Maybe I'm being dramatic here, but that is really how it feels sometimes, even in therapy. What will happen if I say this out loud? What will happen if I even speculate about this flashback that I'm having?
I am angry that we have been taught to censor ourselves. I am angry that we have been convinced that we will not be believed if we tell. I am angry that we continue to perpetuate our silence out of fear of dismissal and disbelief from anyone in our lives.
I am angry that despite that I can write about this clearly and see it all for what it is, that I cannot stop myself from doubting my memories.
-Sean
A good portion of my therapy over the years has been spent on dealing with my refusal to admit that my abuse happened because I could not remember much, if anything, about the sexual abuse. I could remember most of the physical abuse, I could remember my mother questioning or commenting on some of the symptoms I had as a kid, and I could realistically look at my symptoms of depression as a teenager, my suicide attempt at 17, my need to control everything, my excessive drinking, and my issues with sex and violent fantasy all as definate signs that "something" happened.
Ahhh... that elusive "something." It is "something" that no one seems to want to ask about or acknowledge. When I was 17, they put me on Prozac. The two times I was asked about the possible "something" I denied it. I wasn't lying... I really didn't remember and didn't believe that "something" happened. I was just depressed and suicidal.
Once I went to therapy as an adult, however, my symptoms were too difficult to ignore and we started to work with the few memories I had. But even then, I held onto the belief that "if I couldn't remember everything, then it didn't happen." Or rather, how could I say that something happened if I couldn't remember it?
And that is what I am posting this about today. I really believe, and I think many survivors do, that we will be doubted if we even DARE to admit that this happened out loud. We fear doubt by our families, our friends, our therapists, and society.
And can anyone blame us? We are SCARED SILENT everytime we see criticism of rape and abuse survivors (male and female) on television; the jokes made about male rape in prisons (and the sick assumption that it is part of the territory and punishment that criminals must endure); the complete and public disbelief of survivors that have told their story after years of silence. We hear people ask the same questions over and over:
"Why didn't they come forward sooner?"
"What are they looking to gain?"
"How come they didn't tell when it was happening?"
Add all of the media pressure to shut up about abuse to what many of us heard or felt from our families, and gee... is it any wonder why we don't say anything sooner? Is it any wonder why we repress these memories for years and years and years and years. And then DISBELIEVE OURSELVES once they surface?!?
We have been taught to distrust ourselves. Hell... why didn't we tell when it was happening? Why didn't we come forward sooner? What are we looking to gain? I am haunted by these questions every day.
And the answer is the same: I was SCARED SILENT from the time I was four years old. So basically, our abuser scared us into not telling, and then our families wanted to live in the denial so we didn't tell, and when we finally get old enough and the symptoms and memories get big enough to bring this shit up, society and the media tells us to shut up too.
The fear that people will either dismiss it or disbelieve it or hell, disown us, if we tell is so strong that I think many of us run around with a little courtroom in our heads where we are always on trial. We see the media portrayal of the difficulties of prosecuting rape and abuse cases all the time, whether real or fictional, and we apply that to ourselves, even if we never plan to prosecute our abusers!
In my head, I really do think I have this inner criminal defense attorney asking, "Sean, how can you say these things about your stepdad if you can't even remember EXACTLY what he did?" Or "Sean, you mean to tell me that you 'recovered' these memories in therapy? If this really happened, you would have remembered it from the beginning, don't you think?"
Maybe I'm being dramatic here, but that is really how it feels sometimes, even in therapy. What will happen if I say this out loud? What will happen if I even speculate about this flashback that I'm having?
I am angry that we have been taught to censor ourselves. I am angry that we have been convinced that we will not be believed if we tell. I am angry that we continue to perpetuate our silence out of fear of dismissal and disbelief from anyone in our lives.
I am angry that despite that I can write about this clearly and see it all for what it is, that I cannot stop myself from doubting my memories.
-Sean
