One of my most profound memories as a survivor of sexual abuse happened in my bodywork therapist’s office. He helped me through a memory where I was finally, for the first time, able to scream at the top of my lungs at one of my abusers. It was such a powerful moment because not only was I able to get angry, but I also got my voice back!
“My voice was stolen from me at a very young age by my father when he began to sexually abuse me. And I have spent half of my life trying to get it back.”
And at the same time, I was searching for my truth. My biggest fear as a survivor was that people would not believe me once I found it. But I made the decision to not worry about that. I had to believe me first, and I would face others later. As I began to work through the layers upon layers of painful emotions and memories with the most qualified and trusted trauma therapists, I began to learn my truth. And I believed it. I believed me!
And I started to tell others my story because I was done with secrets. I had a voice now, and I was going to use it!
And I wanted to tell my truth to my younger brother. Maybe it would explain why we drifted apart over the years. I don’t remember my childhood, but I know we played a lot together. I was very fond of him, and I still have a favourite picture of us standing together outside with our beloved cat, Minou. When he last knew me, I was living with a lot of pain that I tried so hard to mask. And even I didn’t know that. But I was different now. Though I had healed some of my trauma, I feared his reaction just the same. These secrets had been buried for a long time, and I was the first one in my family to reveal them.
My biggest fear came true. My brother chose not to believe me.
And somehow I knew it would do no good to tell him about the hours, days, weeks, months and years I lay on my bedroom floor and my bodywork therapist’s table, and even over the phone purging, reliving and grieving every single abusive violation that happened to me as a child in order to get to where I am today. One doesn’t make this shit up! But I knew he wouldn’t believe me, and he couldn’t. His response brought on the most incredible pain I could have ever imagined. I was absolutely crushed.
I knew deep down I had lost my brother forever, and I knew what I had to do in order to heal from my heartbreak. I had no choice but to grieve this incredibly painful loss. And I did. And I have never grieved so hard.
But this situation taught me how important it is to choose me. I now live by the motto of one of my therapists: “I only attract people into my life who love and accept me for who I am and are on the same path as me.” I still love my brother, but from afar. In grieving my brother’s loss, I healed our relationship. And in doing so, I was able to write this blog without shedding a tear.
