April 26, 2019

Dear Drama Observers,

Below is a post from a couple of years ago (with some updates):


It would seem that we are witnessing a sea change of sorts where activities of sexual boundary-crossers are being exposed and collectively condemned. These predators are usually men, though there is the occasional story about some female teacher crossing sexual lines with one of her male students, for instance.

In so many of these cases, their activities had long been observable by anyone with eyes to see, but many observers chose to turn a blind eye and became passive bystanders, thus enabling the pretense. Or worse yet, some have engaged in institutional cover-up once news of the abuse came to light.

Over the last 30+ years, I’ve worked with countless survivors of sexual intrusions. Some of these violations occurred in childhood, some in adulthood. A defilement of this sort doesn’t just affect one’s body parts, it affects the self—something far more significant.

I’d like to make some observations about those on the receiving end of abuse. Below are three common conclusions drawn by those who’ve endured the personhood-violating experience of sexual defilement. I’ll be using feminine pronouns because the prevalence rate for female abuse is so much higher.

“It must be my fault.”

This is not an original theory—you’ve probably heard some version of it many times. When a child is abused, she naturally asks herself on some level, “Why is this bad thing happening to me?” One way to answer the question is to conclude it’s the grown-up’s fault. That’s accurate, but the implication of taking that stance becomes, “I’m a good little person living in a world controlled by a bad big person.” That’s a terrifying thought for a child.

To reduce the terror, she’ll opt to answer the question the other way—to conclude that it’s her fault. While a distortion of reality, it actually feels safer because she now inhabits a world controlled by a good big person with her being the bad one. What’s out there is good; the bad is in here, the thinking goes. The sense of control goes up and the scary feelings go down.

But from that point forward, she grows into an adult with a self-esteem constructed around a central negative core and becomes prone to thought distortions like:

  • If something goes wrong in a relationship, it must be me.
  • If people actually knew me, they’d reject me.
  • I don’t have what it takes to succeed at life.
  • No good person would ever want me, so I may as well settle for a bad person.
  • Etc., etc., etc.

This assumption-of-fault stance thus provides a short-term sense of control but leads to a long-term decimation of the self.

“I’d rather not think about it.” 

We all have ways of building mental compartments—emotional hazmat containers, if you will, that seal in the toxins to keep the rest of our lives uncontaminated. A person victimized by sexual violation(s) experiences toxic emotions that she seeks to avoid at all costs.

“If I think about it, I’ll feel it. So, I just need to figure out how to put it out of my mind and never think about it again.”

She takes the stance of Scarlett O’Hara: “I’ll think about that tomorrow.” But when tomorrow comes, she must defer to tomorrow once again.

But most people can only kick the can down the road for so long. Sooner or later, the container starts to leak and the previously avoided emotions seep into the current experience.

Sometimes, an up-close relationship like marriage is the catalyst. Or maybe it’s becoming a parent, where she’s now required to supply to a child what wasn’t supplied to her. Or maybe hearing someone else talk about their own experience of sexual violation pops the lid and the emotions can’t be sealed off any longer. They come flowing out now even though they originated back then.

“I better not reveal it.”

People who’ve never endured abuse will sometimes wonder, “Well, why didn’t she tell somebody?” Sounds easy enough, right? There are many reasons why a given individual may have chosen not to reveal an abuse situation, but I’ll mention three.

First, there’s the reason mentioned above. “If I tell someone, it will be out of the container, and then I’ll have to feel it. But I don’t want to feel it, so I’ll just keep it to myself.”

Second, if she reveals it, she may not be believed. And being disbelieved, in many ways, can feel worse than the abuse itself.

Sometimes, that abuser has gone on to become an upstanding citizen or a widely-respected person of notoriety. Nothing hurts worse than the sound of someone saying, “I’ve known so-and-so for X number of years, and he would never do something like that.” The not-so-subtle implication? The victim lied.

But the victim has observed and experienced first-hand what others haven’t. That is, the abuser is a two-faced poser. He’s a snake oil salesman. His public presentation is nothing like his private reality. And it’s beyond painful for the victim to see gullible followers buy the snake oil. One client put it this way:

My abuser was widely known and respected in the little Southern town where I grew up. People would constantly tell me how lucky I was to be related to such a wonderful man. It never occurred to me to tell anyone because, if I did, they’d believe him and not me.

Third, some victims choose not to reveal because they understand the probable nuclear fallout. Once this information comes to light, the abuse drama will likely occupy center-stage in the victim’s life for quite some time. Some have come to terms with that reality and are ready to make the choice, come what may.

Others choose not to reveal and, for them, that may be the wisest choice. Revealing the trauma may lead to healing or, in some cases, to further traumatization. It’s a judgment call determination that each individual has to make, and there’s validity for deciding either way.

Till next week.

6 replies
  1. Holley McCree
    Holley McCree says:

    I had plenty of instances of my own of sexual abuse. I was a social worker and a foster parent for 9 years. I can say I was highly suspicious of a female counselor my 17 yo foster son had but did not go to see the principal because I didn’t want to get her in trouble if I was wrong. Now I wish I had. I felt like I needed proof or something.

  2. Anonymous
    Anonymous says:

    I was abused, sexually and psychologically, by an “upstanding member” of the community. People in this community think the abuser is a wonderful person. I tried to come forward a bit, but the abuser spread around that I had mental health problems, and that I’m schizophrenic. Well, now I do have nectar health problems — I was diagnosed with CPTSD. I very much want to leave this community, because I have been ousted and labeled “crazy”. However, now I am too weak to do so.

  3. Adele
    Adele says:

    The effects of being sexually and emotionally abused can negatively impact victims for a lifetime. It is a serious crime and should be treated as such, even more so then it is. The punishment should fit the crime and take into consideration how difficult it is to understand and work through the abuse, how long it takes to repair some of the damage, and how many years of their lives the victims have lost being miserable, trying to cope. Sadly many people are never able to get professional help or move on from the abuse. Instead they lead unhappy, unfulfilling lives because they feel less deserving. They are sometimes unable to recognize or accept real love.

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