Abuse — From the Perspective of the Abused

I speak because I can, and I speak in the ways I can

A picture of my stepfather, drawn very intuitively, with no plan to draw him. It just happened. The author is the artist.

We are not really “allowed” to talk about sexual abuse, from the perspective of being the abused. Or that is how we feel.

We feel we always need to describe it, seeing it from the outside, just delivering facts — from outside of our bodies. Or we are allowed to be in it, in our emotions, but then not tell the story of what happened.

There is a felt perpetuation of dissociation in the treatment situation.

I think I understand the fear of the treater, or listener. Perhaps if I tell it from the inside of me, they fear I will get so triggered, that I will forget that I am not living in my past anymore, and get stuck in there? In my horrors? In my disgust? In my shame? In my anger?

I bought a new set of charcoal crayons and papers yesterday. (It feels like buying candy! Soul candy!)

I know whose perspective the drawing is showing. It is the child looking up at her abuser.

And I ended up making a drawing with my new charcoals in the middle of the night. I was super tired. I just wanted to test my new charcoals and paper. I just put one coal crayon to the paper, and after 15…