The Second Wound Blog

Holding My Head High

If you are a survivor of abuse, an injustice was perpetrated on you. You did not deserve it, you did not contribute to it, and someone should have protected you. Not only are you justified in addressing your abuse, but it’s also the right thing to do for yourself – and the world. But…for many, your family members tell you, in words and actions, the opposite of these truths. People in your family don’t believe you, blame you, still fail to protect you, and/or want you to be quiet about the traumatic past that you’re working so hard to overcome. This dilemma is the reason I have begun to write my story: I have been living with hurtful family responses for over two decades.

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Second Chances

“If it weren’t for second chances, we’d all be alone.” -Gregory Alan Isakov
Listening to the song Second Chances in my earbuds today as I shoveled out from storm Stella, I noticed this line for the first time. I thought yeah, how true. We all mess up sometimes, especially with the people who mean the most to us. In fact, it’s one of the ways we learn, evolve, and also develop a better understanding for those times when OTHER people make mistakes that hurt or upset us. (Excepting, of course, domestic violence or other forms of abuse from which we need to protect ourselves.) With the people we love and care about, we generally give each other second chances. And sometimes third and fourth chances, on up. Hopefully, we communicate in healthy ways about what bothers us and work on these concerns together. At the same time, we learn to live with certain traits or behaviors that irk us; because on balance, it’s worth all the good stuff. If we’re being honest, our loved ones do the same for us. If they didn’t, if we didn’t…well, like Gregory says: we’d all be alone.
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She Asked Me Why

There is a survivor I know. Just a little, but enough to understand that she is sensitive, courageous and outspoken about what she has been through – and what she is still going through. Her candor is rare and powerful, and so is she. I’ll call this person Audrey – a name that means “noble strength.” Audrey was sexually abused as a child. Like so many of us, her innocence was stolen and her sense of self was shaken by the twisted actions of a person she should have been able to trust.

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The Second Wound: Healing from Sexual Abuse was Just the Beginning

As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, I will always have deep and lasting scars. But underneath, my wounds are healing. After decades of hard work in psychotherapy, a solid support system, and the unconditional love of my husband and children, I feel whole. I am okay. Better than that, I have created a life that fulfills and sustains me and brings many joys. There is more to my story though, and this part does not have a happy ending. It’s about my family of origin. For two decades, I tried to maintain relationships with family members while still remaining loyal to myself and honoring the truth about the abuse. Sadly, I have found this to be an impossible goal. Throughout this long struggle, I have felt ignored, shamed, blamed, ostracized and – ultimately, utterly betrayed.

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