My Healing Journey

I have never shared the dark secrets of my past. Something, not sure what, is compelling me to put them down in writing. At the age of 15, I started having unwanted sexual encounters. The first experience, many would find somewhat harmless. First you should know, I always preferred hanging out with boys growing up. I went to a friend’s house one weekend, and there were only guy friends there. They all went in a room, and I was left in the living room alone. They then shouted my name asking me to join them. When I entered the room, they were watching porn. I had never watched porn and felt very uncomfortable, almost afraid. I tried to quickly leave the room but was held down. They grabbed my face, trying to keep me from looking down. After much pleading, they let go and I left. My next unwanted sexual interaction was with my boyfriend. I was 15 at this time as well. I went over to his house with a trusted friend. The only thing I remember was him locking me in his bathroom and trying to force my pants down. I yelled to my friend, to help, but he didn’t do anything. I held on to the top of my pants tightly and stiffened my legs. I don’t remember why he eventually let me go, but I am so thankful that was the worst of it. I reference these stories because they influenced the way I began to see myself. I met my high school sweetheart when I was 16. I fell head over heels for him quickly. I lost my virginity to him, I felt loved and safe. I was quite religious at the time; I attended church often. My boyfriend went to another church and asked me to start going to youth group with him. I felt out of place there, and not well liked. I soon met a pastor, who was very musically gifted. He played shows outside of church that we would go to. I remember him giving me intense stares every time I saw him. He heard that I could sing, and asked if I would be interested in singing on some of his songs. I was extremely flattered and took him up on his offer. After getting in a car accident, I started feeling very ill. My mom and I didn’t know what was wrong. I eventually saw I kidney specialist and found I had staph infection growing in my body. It was slowly killing me. I had surgery, was in the hospital for a few days and then went home. I had a catheter in me until I was released from the hospital. I was in too much pain to go upstairs where my room was, and so I slept downstairs in our living room. I remember my mom leaving to pick up my post-surgery medicines; my boyfriend was with me. He got on top of me, started kissing me and kept asking to have sex. I repeatedly told him no, that I was in pain. He kept asking, and against my will pulled down my underwear and put himself inside me. I remember the pain, anger, but at the same time telling myself, he’s your bf, it’s ok for him to do this. During this time, the pastor from my boyfriend’s church started calling me, daily. He would ask all kinds of questions, getting to know me well. I felt cared for, loving the attention I was receiving. It didn’t take long for him to tell me he had romantic feelings for me. I suppose at this point my defenses were down, my self-worth was low, and I was just excited that someone showed interest in me. I remember my heart sinking into my stomach and feeling so nauseated the first time he kissed me. He was in his 30s and I was 16, although he lied about his age, telling me he was in his mid-20s. I had no guidance from my parents. My dad was never around and my mom I would later find out, was dealing with serious mental health issues. He had a girlfriend, who just so happened to be the head pastor’s daughter. It felt so strange that he would be praying over me at church, and then would invite me over afterward and try to have sex. Half the time, he acted like I didn’t exist when he would see me at church; I was so confused. I knew this was not okay, but also loved that someone cared about me and wanted to be with me. I remember a specific time, I was at his house and his girlfriend showed up. She was knocking on the door loud and relentlessly. I asked him why he wouldn’t just answer, because being young and naïve, I didn’t realize how wrong and inappropriate it was that I was there. He ended up leaving through his back door, going through the underground garage, and pretended he was leaving. He told me to hide in the bathroom during all of this. I remember sitting on the bathroom floor with the light off for a long time. It was over an hour, and he hadn’t come back. I got up the courage, walked out the front door and drove away. I was still with my boyfriend at this time but didn’t view him the same after what he had done. I even told my parents what had happened after I had surgery, and all they said was, “that’s not cool”. I was allowed, even encouraged, to keep dating him. My mom had become very close to him. I accepted these men to stay in my life because I thought it was what I deserved; it seemed normal. This treatment represented my worth. After several years I came to the realization that I was miserable and ended contact with the pastor. He begged me to stay in his life, but I said no. I was no longer with my high school boyfriend but tried to remain friends. I began having panic attacks and became very depressed. No one knew the situations I had been in. I was sitting with my mom in her car one afternoon and had a complete breakdown. I told her everything that had transpired; she was undoubtably very upset. She debated going to the police but concluded that going back to the church and telling the head pastor was the best option. I brought evidence with me to show proof of the inappropriate relationship. I remember seeing the pastor’s anger, anger at me. Remember, his daughter was the girlfriend of the pastor who had abused me. He told me he would deal with the situation and stated, that I was not welcomed at his church anymore. He said that there were probably many things I did that led to this happening. I didn’t know it was possible to feel more broken than I already did, but after this, I was shattered into unrecognizable pieces. Within a few years of all this, my mental health was deteriorating, and I ended up being put on a psychiatric hold. I often had out of body experiences, looking at my life like a sad, predictable movie. I struggled with my mental health for years, not realizing where my issues stemmed from. I spent my early 20s drinking excessively, having sex with people I didn’t care about or hardly new. I look back at these years and don’t know who that person is. I had no self-respect and had a major anger issue. I would fight anyone who said something I thought was insulting. Even giving me the wrong look could send me into a rage. I didn’t care if it was a guy, girl, friend, or a stranger. Even though I have been with the same partner for 15 years and have been married almost 10, I still fight the demons from my past. It was not until a few years ago, I shared some of my past with my husband. Being told and looked at as if I brought the sexual abuse on myself has kept me silent. If other people think it, it must be true. I have had to learn what sexually healthy relationships are in my 30s because of not healing the trauma of my past. The truth that I have learned is, none of it was my fault. A grown man coercing a teenage girl into a sexual relationship is not my fault. Having someone force themselves onto me after saying no is not my fault. I am sad for the young women I was who thought she didn’t deserve better. I am sad that I had no parental figure looking out for me, keeping me safe. I have spent enough years mourning my past life. My journey to becoming a psychologist is helping me dissect my past in a constructive way. I can enter this field with the experience that many seeking help will relate to. I plan on teaching coping skills that I wasn’t taught until much later and that eventually saved me. I want to provide the safety and guidance that I so desperately needed growing up. Struggling with mental health does not define who we are. If taking medication will help you, take it. If talking to a friend or loved one will help you, talk to them. If you need crisis intervention, let them intervene. t’s never too late to change your perspective on life. Know your worth and never settle for less. Thank you for listening to my story.