Lyah! Lyah! Pants on Fyah!

Who I Am Make no mistake about it: incest is soul murder. Not only is the child’s body violated, but boundaries and trust are demolished. As a result of my own experience with this violation, I had to develop a special way of coping that I now recognize as a form of detachment, numbness, and victimization. This became my “normal.” I am not a therapist. However, as a child, I suffered at the hands of my perpetrator for over four years, and the effects of that sexual abuse would affect me and my loved ones for the next twenty years. I thought that my life was normal, but my pain and depression became so unbearable that I had to examine why I was suffering from such deep psychic pain. I had to examine why, despite my seeming success, there was so much soul torment in my life that resulted in poor choices, heartache, and pain. When I traced the roots of my pain, I discovered that I had all kinds of rage and resentment toward my perpetrator. And I knew that I had to address my psychic wounds if I expected to live the life that God intended for me. I was desperate to thrive—not just survive. Ironically—and this is key—I was raised in church. Forced to wear a mask, I had to protect myself and the reputation of the family name. The effects of living with dysfunction and the burden of keeping secrets was crazy-making to say the least. The mosaic of Christianity, dysfunction, and incest did nothing to build my self-esteem or faith in God. The pain of being counted among the “beloved,” yet being raped repeatedly by one of the beloved, was ironic. As a young girl, I had no idea how to navigate those dark, emotional waters. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be in the same heaven with the so-called “beloved.” My biggest concern with church was not only the hypocritical nature of the lives lived by the beloved but the inability to share one’s truth in a safe place. There was always talk about not fornicating and keeping one’s temple holy. And there was talk about forgiveness, yet human sexuality was never discussed—much less incest and childhood sexual abuse—ever! There were so many questions that needed to be answered. Where was God when I was being raped nightly by one of the beloved? Where was I to go if God could not protect me? The most horrific question was how could God forgive such a thing? And if He did forgive and I chose not to forgive, then who would actually stroll through those pearly gates? These were the crippling questions that my eleven-year-old self had to grapple with, which would cause me to experience immobilizing shame and guilt for years and years.

Hurting People Hurt People My journey to recovery started by acknowledging what happened and then recognizing the issues and the ripple effects of those issues. The hard work really began when I started to claim, sort out, grieve, and discard my own emotional baggage. I learned that hurting people hurt other people, albeit unintentionally. This was the key to redirecting my anger toward my perpetrator. No. It did not excuse or condone his actions. However, it created a space within which I could better focus on my own healing. Instead of focusing on retribution and hate, I was able to focus on recovery and healing so much so that I facilitated healing workshops for other survivors. I confess that I was surprised and saddened to discover that so many other women like myself from all walks of life were sexual-abuse survivors. I discovered through my many workshops that numerous women have experienced incest and childhood sexual abuse yet despite being “saved,” were living lives of quiet desperation. They were completely paralyzed and unable to live truly authentic lives. Like me, their efforts to live fulfilled lives were thwarted by dark memories, toxic shame, and the inability to share their stories in a safe place. How could they live authentic lives when the very (patriarchal) churches they attended did not provide a safe place or counseling for these and other taboo issues like domestic violence and rape. Some of these women have agreed to share their precious stories in this book. Some of the stories are longer than others. I urge you not to compare the horror in each story. Just recognize that pain is immeasurable, and in the case of incest and sexual abuse, God alone truly bottles up the tears of those who have been affected. Be aware that sexual abuse affects every family member, as the family unit is forced to adjust to the horror. The sisters or brothers who witness the act often suffer unimaginable psychic pain.

My primary goal for writing this book is to raise awareness about the devastating reality of childhood sexual abuse and its influence on adult survivors as well as to provide a roadmap for healing. I hope that as these pages unfold, you will gain a better understanding of the aftermath of incest and childhood sexual abuse and also learn how to address some of the lies that survivors are prone to believe. This book is written for the wounded inner child of every adult incest survivor who desperately needs to be heard, understood, and comforted. And as you read, note the desperation in each word as these precious souls (including myself) seem to cry out for the only things that matter: acceptance, redemption, and soulful love. I don’t care how old you are, the wounded inner child can manifest in negative ways unless your wounded self is acknowledged. Your wounded inner child needs someone somewhere to say: I hear you! I see you! That was a bad thing that happened! But that bad thing does not make you bad. You suffered a violation and you can recover! You are not alone!