Never Still Applies

Today I want to respond to a comment that was left on this post. I certainly do not want to upset the visitor who left this comment because I appreciate comments, so I almost didn’t respond, but after thinking about this for several days, I decided that I need to (for own healing) address this comment. To my vistor in question, "I'm sorry if I misread your comment."

The comment: “I do want to argue against some of your post. You know better than I, probably, that 'never' and 'always' only work halfway with multis. And with someone who is multiple because of sexual abuse as a child, yes, a child alter shouldn't, in most cases, be allowed to have sex.

But sex is a healing activity, as well. Sometimes a child alter can find that sex is a fun game and not scary, and this is healing - if approached with a partner that is careful and caring.”

I agree that the word “never” and “always” only work halfway with those of us with DID; however, I stand by my original post that a child, even when that child resides in the body of an adult, should never be subjected to sex. Sex is not a fun game for a child and it is scary.

Many victims of child sexual abuse were abused by family members or trusted family friends.  Fathers, brothers, uncles, mothers, sisters, aunts, grandfathers, grandmothers, etc. – were the very ones who perpetrated the abuse. These trusted people used the love of a child to gain access to the child – to groom the child into silence. A father said, “I do this because I love you so much.”

A trusted family friend said, “This is our special secret,” or “You’re my favorite,” or "Do you want to play a fun game?"

And these words create confusion in the child. Sometimes the child’s body responds to the abuse in a way that makes the child feel pleasure which further confuses the child and make the child feel guilty for the actions of the perpetrator.

These so called “partners” of the abused child are "careful and caring" (in their own minds), yet the abuse is still there, it is still going on, and the damage to the child is still there – even if the perpetrator left no physical bruises or scars. The emotional damage will always be there. The child may heal after years of therapy, but often a trigger can bring it all to the surface again making them feel that there is no safe person they can trust.

I agree that sex can be a healing activity when approached with a caring, gentle partner. But the sex must be between two consenting adults.

I have seen the destruction in a person who as an adult was subjected to sex while a child alter was out. Any person who is in a sexual relationship with an adult survivor of child sexual abuse, should bloody well be adult enough to back off when a child alter is out. Otherwise we head down that slippery slope that perpetraters love so much. Their views on sex allow them to justify the abuse. They can say, "She wanted it. She came on to me," when all the child in question did was give them an innocent hug or sit on their lap. I really hate perpetraters, and I could seriously put a bullet in their heads (all of them) and feel no remorse.

I stand by my statement that children should never be subjected to sex – even when the child in question resides in an adult body.

St. Patricks Day - Independence Day for My Daughter

The following may be triggering for some. Proceed with caution.

On St. Patrick’s Day morning, in the year 2000, my little daughter came into my bedroom and said, “Mom, I need to talk to you.” Something about her tone and body language told me that this wasn’t a conversation that could take place with me putting my make-up on while I listened to the news. I walked over and turned off the television and sat down next to her. She said, “We watched a video at school about a girl whose uncle touched her in special ways, and our teacher said we should tell our parents if that ever happened to us. You told me I could tell you if anyone touched me in my private places and someone did, so I wanted to tell you.”


I felt at that moment like my brain was a tablecloth that had been shaken out and folded back up. The first words out of my mouth were, “Grandpa got to you.”

“No, not Grandpa; it was Dwayne. I didn’t want to tell you, but I knew I needed to. Can I still go to school today?”

I put my arms around her and pulled her close to me, pulled her into my lap and held her while I tried to wrap my brain around this information. I was both relieved and saddened that it wasn’t my dad that had done this awful thing - relieved that she had been safe from dad but saddened that another person had thrown his life away. I knew it was important for me to not ask too many questions and to refrain completely from leading questions. She didn’t need anymore junk in her head than what was there. I asked, “Where did he touch you?” She put her hand on her groin. “Over or under your clothing?” I asked.

“Under.”

I hugged her closer. I had to engage my brain. I couldn’t think clearly. I knew I couldn’t go to work and that until I figured this out, she would not be going to school. As I struggled to maintain a hysteria free demeanor, I called our friend and told her that Elizabeth would not be over that morning. She asked, “Is she sick?”

“No, but I can’t really talk about right now. Something has happened. I’ll call you and let you know when I can.” I answered.

I called work and told my co-worker that I wouldn’t be in. She asked, “Is everything okay?”

“No,” I said as my surface cracked and a ragged sob came out.

“What happened?”

“Someone hurt Elizabeth. I don’t know what to do.”

“Call your Bishop,” she replied. “Don’t worry about anything here. Call us if you need anything. We will keep you both in our prayers.”

I had to pull it back together. I felt like I could cry for a million years and the pain would still be there. I was shaking so badly. I called the Bishop. His sweet wife answered the phone and informed me that he was at work. “Do you know if he has any openings this Tuesday (I knew Tuesdays were the days he met with people from our ward)?” As I said this I wondered how we would survive until Tuesday.

“Let me give you his work number,” she said. I think she could hear the distress in my voice. I will always be thankful for her discreet handling of our trauma that day. She didn’t ask any questions, but somehow she knew that I needed to speak to her husband right then.

“Are you sure it’s okay if I call him at work?”

“Yes,” she answered.

When our Bishop answered his phone, he was greeted by a mother in full despair and near hysteria. I told him what Elizabeth had told me. He was a new Bishop and hadn’t dealt with this type of situation yet. He said, “Give me ten minutes. I will find out exactly what you need to do. Will you be okay for ten minutes?”

“Yes,” I sobbed.

Elizabeth and I cuddled and cried on the couch while we waited for his call. I made sure she knew that I loved her and that none of this was her fault. I also told her that I would never let him hurt her again. I still didn’t ask her any questions. I didn’t know what the extent of the abuse had been - I just knew from my own experience that I would do everything in my power to handle this situation the right way. I wanted her well. I didn’t want her to make the same mistakes I had made because of what had happened to her. Before this morning, I thought that living through my own abuse was the worst thing, but I was wrong. Knowing my daughter had been molested was the worst thing. I thought back to the night when I had come from seeing Grandma at the hospital. I had walked into Elizabeth’s room and felt thankful she was untouched by this horror, but I was wrong – even then she had already been abused, and I felt sick to the depths of my soul. I felt sorrow for her and sorrow for the young man whose choices had put us in this situation. He was my son’s best friend. He had eaten dinner more often at my house than at his own house. We had trusted him. He had kept my son safe when our home was burglarized. He was the same age as my son – even born during the same month. He had just turned twenty years old. Both he and my son were serving missions for our church. We had to get Dewayne out of the mission field before he hurt anyone else.

There may be some that say, “You shouldn’t have gotten so upset. You should have kept it together. I would have been less traumatic for her if you had stayed calm.”

To those I say, “You try looking into the face of your beautiful child who has just revealed to you that she has been molested and not weep. Even Jesus wept.”

To be continued.

Glory

“So Sunshine,” you ask, “What about sex. How does a person who has been sexually abused as a child deal with sex?” If you didn't ask, close your eyes, plug your ears, and chant, "La, la, la; I can't hear you," because  I'm going to tell you anyway.

Before I began having flashbacks of the sexual abuse, I loved sex. Like many survivors of childhood sexual abuse, I was a pregnant teenager, and had my first child when I was sixteen years old. Having sex made me feel powerful – like I was in control. I got to choose who I had sex with.

After I started having flashbacks, the thought of sex was completely repulsive to me. I was scared of sex. At the time, I was single, so there wasn’t anyone else to consider. Shortly after the remembering began, I met a man, fell in love with him, and apprehensively awaited my wedding night. I was a mother with children who was scared to have sex with my new husband. The only thing that got me through it was the fact that my sweet husband, on the way to the hotel said, “You know, you don’t have to have sex.” I felt that he was completely non-threatening. I decided then that no matter what my father and his friends had done to me, they were not going to take this part of my life away.

Because I felt safe with my husband, I was able to have a satisfying sex life with him. He has never triggered a flashback. However, sex was not the same as it was before the remembering.

After I went into counseling because I knew I had alters, I began to get to know my alters. At first there was me (the host), Cat, Laura, and Dot. I thought it was just us four. One day I could feel another part. She was depressed and self destructive. She wanted the system to die so that she could die. She was full of self hatred. I asked, “Who are you?” Her answer was a string of horrible names that Dad and his friends had given her. Because I couldn’t call her those names, I started calling her Angel – a name she also hated because she didn’t feel she was at all angelic. She was the part of my mind created to deal with sex. As a child, I must have felt that a teenager was old enough to do the things that were being done to me.

This is what she wrote in our journal over a year ago:
“I wanted to be dead for a long time. I hate what I have done in my life. I hate what has been done to me. I am angry that Dad and others made me think that sex was a way to control people. I have been silent for over ten years – ever since we learned the truth. I am fourteen years old. I have long straight dark hair and brown eyes. I am really thin. I hate how our body looks now. The host eats too much – probably because Cat and Laura are hungry all the time. I don’t get hungry.

I feel depressed almost all the time because I feel betrayed, used, and abused. My names before were slut, whore, stupid b****, f******  b****, c***, and dumb. I just wanted to die. I felt dead. Because I felt dead, the host named me Angel. She said that angels are dead people or spirits that help us. She said I was created to help her back when she was a little girl. I feel like I just tricked her into thinking that sex was okay, but I didn’t know until we remembered. Even though I was the one it happened to, Cat had all the fear, and until she spilled that fear, I thought sex was the only reason for living. Now I feel confused and tricked. I want to try to get better so that I don’t feel so awful all the time.”

After several weeks of talking with Angel, we agreed on the name Glory for her. She didn’t like Angel – she felt it was too wimpy of a name. As Glory healed she started to feel less mean towards herself and the other alters. She also refused to ever have sex again. She said, “I am only fourteen. I shouldn’t be having sex.” I was proud of her for setting healthy boundaries. She was impatient with our child alters, but has since healed and grown enough to tolerate and appreciate them now. She is even fond of them.

Because we hadn’t had access to Glory for so many years and like I said before, sex was not the same without her. A new alter – Grown up – stepped forward so that we can maintain an intimate relationship with our husband. Children should not have sex, but it is perfectly okay for grown ups to have sex. I’m glad to have a grown up in my system. :)

Partners of people with DID need to make sure to never initiate sex when a child alter is out; to do so causes the system to be re-abused. Likewise, a person with DID should never have sex when a child alter is out. We can’t always rely on our partners knowing when they are dealing with a child. Set and maintain healthy boundaries. Having safe places for our children alters is important because when a grown up needs to out, the children need to be sent to their own spaces. That is why I talked about creating safe places last time.

Because of my abuse, I need my husband to be clean shaven at all times. Beards are triggering for me. He is a sweetheart and shaves every single day. It is helpful that he in no way resembles any of the men who abused me. I am thankful for my wonderful husband. He truly is a treasure among men. He doesn’t take it personally if I am unable to be intimate. He is willing to love me – all of me – even when I am having an off day.