It's never too late to begin the healing process from childhood sexual abuse. It's never too early to fall in love with the person God created you to be. Long ago someone made a choice to take away your innocence, but today that someone can't touch your freedom to heal.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Voices of Tamar’s Redemption: Christy’s Voice, Christy’s Journey (Part 4)

Tamar's Redemption Tuesdays
How We Hurt, How We Heal

Desperate, I wanted to trust people.

I searched for acceptance and love from anyone who was willing to give it to me. Internally, I traded my trust for a guarantee – that I would never be hurt again. I jumped into relationships with everything I had. I clung to them, relied on them, looking for some security. I wanted to feel safe.

Like a teeter-totter, I swayed between depending on others for what I needed and relying on myself.  I knew deep down I would get hurt, but I also knew not trusting anyone was impossible. So I remained skeptical, ready to step in to protect myself at any moment.

Marriage was a proving ground. Initially, the promised commitment felt safe. But it wasn’t long before it all started to fall a part.

All I knew of sex and love came from untrustworthy sources. Because of my abuse, sexuality was covered in a veil of shame. Still in denial about my abuse, marital intimacy became a struggle.

I finally felt the nudge to deal with my sexual abuse. Up until that point I was suffering in silence. But the infection inside of me had become contagious. It was infecting other people. The cure, I relented, would be to finally talk about it.

Counseling became an outlet, helping me to make sense of the abuse and find my voice. It was a long, arduous process. Like surgery, my counselor helped me open it up and dig around in there. Together we removed the parts that were unhealthy.

 Used with permission, Photography by Christy Mae, Copyright 2012
It hurt a lot at first. But slowly, I was stitched back up. Tenderly, we cared for the wound until eventually it is healed from the inside out.

I have a scar.

It’s not raw anymore. Most days I don’t even see it, forget about it. But remnants will always remain. Flare-ups will happen. It’s a part of my story.

I am a survivor. And I have finally learned to live that way.

For more of Christy's story see Part OnePart Two, Part Three

 Christy's blog

If you would like to encourage Christy or comment on her post and prefer not to respond anonymously on this blog, please feel free to email your comment to this secure address I will be glad to send your comment or question to Christy. Blessings to you, Carolyn

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