Headline
Message text
3 Things To Say When Someone Shares with You About Past Abuse (or other trauma)
Look--I write non-fiction sometimes, too. Is there anything this madwoman won't do?!
I felt particularly compelled to write this after a recent search for a new D/s thing. I was having brief chats and lightweight getting to know(ish) many different people, and for someone with my, um cough history, disclosing my experiences with CSA (childhood sexual abuse) started having to happen pretty frequently, and earlier on in conversation than I'm used to, due to the nature of the D/s thing I was looking for.
Sometimes, beautiful moments happen, and you meet someone who's been through some shit too, and sharing with them creates a wonderful, healing opportunity for them to also share their experiences. Many younger people have told me they don't know what to say, or how to react, when someone discloses something of their past of a particularly intense, brutal, or traumatic nature. They want to be there and be supportive, but don't know how, and are afraid of saying the wrong thing, oftentimes while struggling with the difficult feelings that come up when hearing someone went through something horrific. I, too, used to have this problem. Over the years, I've kind of gathered a pretty okay answer to this, I think. Here goes.
I believe there are essentially 3 things that a person needs to hear at some point in their life from another person about an abuse they endured:
1. I'm sorry that happened to you.
The abuse or trauma created isolation, often as a secret that was kept in fear and shame, and usually never received proper compassion and understanding. I can say this from many personal experiences feeling it myself: it is an incredibly freeing and validating moment the first time another human being feels sympathy or hurt for what you went through. I had struggled for so long with blaming myself, trying to rationalize or explain things away, thinking, "well, no one cares anyway, maybe I deserved it then" and other equally tragic things. The moment someone recognizes you are a human being that's valuable enough for another person to care that you were hurt (especially for childhood experiences) you feel like you finally matter as a person, at least, you can feel it just enough to hopefully open your eyes to the fact that yes, maybe you do deserve to feel safe, loved, happy, and valued. Because before that happens, you don't really know (the way you're never really sure you're attractive until the first time someone else tells you that you are.)
2. You didn't deserve it.
--and--
3. It wasn't your fault.
Again, until you hear it from someone else, sometimes you're not really sure. Before I discovered these clutch phrases in my self-help spiral during the pandemic, the thought that I didn't deserve it HAD NEVER OCCURRED TO ME. I was a full adult, and rationally minded, but because I was so young when it started it was all I knew, and so it was just normal to me. One of the biggest barriers to even allowing myself to recognize that I was abused, that it wasn't okay, was blaming myself--thinking I caused it, I asked for it, etc etc. That led to me believing I must have deserved it for being so bad, and well, I think it's not hard to see how that all sort of snowballs into paralyzing shame, self-blame, silence, fear, and lack of awareness.
Each of these three revelations came one at a time for me, spaced apart by months or years, and each one was a deeply felt, transformative experience that led to many tears of release and subsequent healing. It hurt at first, but, that was my ability to feel and have sympathy for myself returning to me after being locked away in shame and guilt for so long. That's when the healing was able to begin, and I began to see positive progress with things like my trauma processing and sexual functioning (more on that some other time.)
I started saying these three things to the people who disclosed their own experiences to me. I suppose sometimes people (usually men) can pick up on how accepting, non-judgmental, and caring I secretly am (don't tell nobody) and feel comfortable sharing with me surprisingly often--I respect these brave souls and am humbled and honored every time. I noticed that when I started having this response, it seemed to have a positive impact. And it isn't just useful for sexual abuse--all abuse, especially during childhood, I think could stand to be healed somewhat by such an interaction.
To illustrate the effect I've seen, I'll share a story. I was walking through the streets in a drug-heavy area, and a young man started walking with me attempting to holler. We were joined by another man, who was really on one, and he seemed like the type that could get violent without warning. He kept rambling about street stuff, then, he started mentioning some childhood traumas about being locked in his room, and about physical abuse. As soon as he said so, I wasted no time, and just looked into his eyes with empathy and said: "I'm sorry that happened to you, you didn't deserve it, and it's not your fault." All of a sudden, his head perked up and he immediately stopped walking next to me and wandered into an alcove, talking to himself now and in a more pleasant tone about something on the ground. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but, I swear, his shoulders looked just a little less heavy. I'm hoping it helped it, even just a little.
So, yeah, that's it, folks. Just passing on a little something I thought might be useful to another human being. That was lightweight draining to write, and I don't feel like being super long-winded today (thank goodness they say--silence, you!) Hopefully this will help at least one other person in the world.
You're not alone, and someone does care about you: me! :]
Love,
UltraViolet
You need to log in so that our AI can start recommending suitable works that you will definitely like.
There are no comments yet - be the first to add one!
Add new comment