The following is a letter written from a male survivor of sexual abuse to another survivor. It discusses the ongoing ramifications of childhood sexual abuse in adulthood. While it is not the intention of Monument Ministries to be graphic or offensive, this letter may be triggering to some.
It is not uncommon for men and women dealing with ssa/ma/tx issues to also deal with the consequences of childhood sexual abuse. For those dealing with minor-attracted issues, it may be valuable to see the long-term consequences of childhood sexual abuse. The author of the original letter wishes to remain anonymous, but cited 2 Corinthians 1:3-11 as his motivation for sharing, in the hopes that the truth that has comforted him in his recovery may be of some comfort to others.
Please be sure that you are in a safe place, physically and mentally, before reading.
Used with permission. Some details have been changed to protect the identities of the innocent.
Hey [Redacted]
[I read what you wrote, about what you went through with your family. You are very brave to be able to share about some pretty tough stuff. I am so sorry to hear about what you went through. No one should have to deal with that. None of us should have to deal with the unwanted memories or thoughts, either.]
[When I read about those flashbacks, it was almost like you were talking out of my own diary, if I kept one. When I read how much you hated them, and how you felt guilty and dirty afterwards, I had to say something. I hope you will hear me out.]
TRIGGERS
I gotta chime in because I can’t count how many times I nearly killed myself over this. It is my biggest, most recurrent wound.
I was date-raped for 2 hours and in terms of my body’s reaction it was the most intense sexual experience I’d ever had in my life.
My perp was similar aged, but he set up circumstances to make me vulnerable while he stayed straight-headed, and as soon as I wasn’t all there he went right for the sex stuff.
And I’ve never felt anything so intense. It destroyed our relationship because I couldn’t look at him without remembering how good it felt, and how much I hated myself for feeling that. HATED myself. It would creep into my fantasies. I had sex dreams about it, and I would wake up, go to my bathroom, and want to kill myself. Because only the dirtiest person in the world would have that done to them and miss it, or want it.
That was the way I stabbed myself in the heart over and over for something I didn’t do. Didn’t ask for.
Man, if he had just freaking ASKED me I’d have probably done every thing he wanted. I loved that guy. But he wasn’t loving towards me.
That was 16. I was 30 or so when my shrink finally convinced me to deal with this.
Man, I wish I could throw myself between your heart and that knife of guilt you keep hitting yourself with. Because I have that same thought tied up in a corner of my mind. If I let it out… man… it can really kill me.
The other guys have really hit it, the truths that have set me free even if I still feel the wounds from time to time.
1] I am MADE to want sex. I’m made to want someone to want me. It’s supposed to feel good that someone wants me, when someone holds me, when someone looks at me like I’m made of solid gold. That equipment is made to be touched. Held. Prompted. It’s made to react. It’s supposed to feel good.
2] So when my perp gave me those things, it was HUMAN of me to feel good. And when my perp used those God-given, normal things about me to get what he wanted, he was using my humanity, not my flaw, to turn me into his toy.
3] My brain is set up to remember sex, to seek it out again. It is not built to sort out the bad from the good, it just knows “off” and “on”. So when it remembers stuff that I don’t want it to… it’s being human, too.
4] And I knew it was wrong, so there’s all that adrenaline, all that “hand-in-the-cookie-jar” feeling piled onto all the sex stuff… and it was too much for my teenage brain to deal with. It wasn’t meant to handle all that. So, it broke a little, scarred a little. Left an imprint like a boot-mark on my sex drive. He stomped on my private life, and I live with the boot mark.
But it’s his boot mark. It’s not mine. It is there because I’m human, not superman. And that’s ok. I was only ever meant to be human.
And he set me up, just like your family set you up. It sounds like they made sure that you knew about sex, that you were wrapped into their circle. And just like my perp, if they had used it for good, that would have been awesome. Just like my perp, the fact they took what they wanted, shame on them.
You’re just human. You’re just my hero.
Because you survived, like me.
You have the guts to talk about it. Like me.
And you’re willing to get help.
Which makes you way smarter than me.
Today you’re my hero.
So let’s be human together.
K?
Just human, hero.
We are not defined by our faults, or our wounds, but by the truth of Jesus Christ within us, which nothing can take away.
Photo by Noah Buscher on Unsplash
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