The Rawness of Life and Healing

I am in the process of doing some deep, deep healing. Healing parts of myself long ago wounded, battered, bruised and abandoned. Parts that have been screaming through the dark into the light, demanding to be heard, demanding to be felt. Demanding to come back to life into the whole. 

In order to understand, I have to take you back to the beginning. Back to where the original sin occurred. 

Trigger warning, this is my own history as an SA survivor. As such, I fully understand how certain things can bring forth past trauma into present day. So I put this out there not as some overused cliche term, but as an actual warning. Some of this may be a bit graphic and disturbing. 

Source: Freepik

Until recently, I never discussed the details of this with anyone. Ever. 

I kept it all locked away inside, ashamed, afraid and hurt beyond what any words could ever describe. But I've realized, none of this was ever mine, and certainly not mine to own and carry with me anymore. It never should have been... And so now, I free my voice, I speak on this to release it, to heal my broken heart and soul, and to stand as an unwavering beacon and advocate for others who've gone through similar. 

After all, I'm not the wrong-doer here. I was an innocent child who had her whole entire world ripped open, torn away and set on fire at way too young of an age. 

My uncle did unspeakable, horrible, disgusting, sinful things to me. Things that still to this very day affect me, that at times I have to fight on a daily basis. It's why I hate being kissed on the top of my forehead - it's a trigger. It's why I hate tight necked shirts, because I was choked. It's why I can't stand being in tight spaces and held down, because I was brutally and forcefully restrained... It's why I can't stand and hate with a passion, with every fiber of my being almost any form of porn - because he shoved my face down, restraining me while doing sick unmentionables to me and made me watch it while spewing venom at me "that's what a woman does". 

Source: Freepik

I had no childhood. What should have been my childhood was a repetitive cycle of fiery hellacious imploding silence, breaking down everything good that could have been. I couldn't speak about it. I never felt safe enough to do so. My father's temper was volatile and explosive at best and I never knew how he was going to react to anything. Hell, I couldn't even vacuum "the right way" without him getting pissed and going off. And my mother, well, she was constantly working.... looking back on that, in some ways I think she was just as afraid as me, and even as I child I picked up on that so as a result I just felt more unsafe. So I continued to hide in silence.

My parents used to send my brothers, sister and me to our uncle's frequently so they could have their together time. It was one of these times that brought my uncles reign of terror over me to an end, the physical part of it anyways. My brothers and some of my cousins decided to sneak out to go to see a new movie. On the way, my brother was riding his bike and was hit by a car. He was injured pretty badly. So after that, my parents never let us stay with him again. The relief I felt, knowing I'd never have to be alone with him again, I can't even describe the feeling. Looking back, I regret my brother getting hurt in all of this...

Even with that piece of it ending, I still had so much to deal with. You see, my sister had also been doing things to me too. She had been for quite some time, even back when we were going over to stay with our uncle. I was still afraid to say anything. The fear had taken hold, firmly. I was painted into a corner, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Everywhere I was, there it was, like some creeping venomous demon waiting to lunge out from the dark. 

It went on like this for a long time, years. Until it didn't. I remember one night we had gone to bed as we had school the next day. My sister and I shared a room, we had bunk beds. My sister wanted to "do things", but I said no. A resounding, unyielding, baneful no. She tried to say that if I didn't do what she wanted that she would tell on me. And just like that, something inside me snapped. It exploded like a malicious wildfire and in that instant I gave zero fucks. I told her go ahead. Go for it. Do it! I dare you! As a matter of fact, here, let me do it for you! I turned and went to walk out the door and she backed down. I paused, then turned back around and let her know right there and then this would never happen again. Not EVER. And if she ever tried to force me, if she ever threatened me again, that she would face me on a whole other level that her or Satan himself would be able to handle. I was feral, and full of rage, and she knew it. 

It never happened again. In that moment I had reclaimed a piece of myself, and for a while, I was okay.

Source: Freepik

I went on living my life. Anyone that knew me (other than those who had violated me) would ever have had an inkling as to what had occurred, or what I was going through. No one knew that I started smoking. No one knew that I had started sneaking alcohol. No one knew that I began using any kind of drug I could get my hands on. No one knew the screaming death that was simmering within. 

Some will say they knew, that they had a feeling, etc... because fast forward to high school, I had a bit of a breakdown. I was a 14 year old freshman and my boyfriend broke up with me because my sister had didn't like him and threatened him. He had become everything for me... he was an escape from all the suffering and pain. So my world sort of crumbled. On top of that, one of my friends had just committed suicide and so... well, I did what a 14 year old overly traumatized person with no safe haven would do and I threatened to end it all. I almost followed through with it too. I was reported at school and of course my parents were brought into the mix. I had to see the school therapist and I was monitored. At that point I didn't trust anyone. Any thought or idea of trusting anybody with anything made me physically ill. So I didn't talk about past traumas. I blamed my reaction on my boyfriend breaking up with me and it being too much with recent circumstances. I pretended to be okay. I made it all go away, or at least made it look like it had all gone away. After so many years of hiding way too much trauma, I had become a professional at it, and so I was believed... because what else could a 14 year old little girl possibly have wrong? 

It was too close a call with everything almost coming out. I was still too afraid of the possible consequences if I revealed everything. So I buried it. I put it in a box and locked that box away inside another bigger box and kept burying it. I put it where no one could access it, ever. To the point where even in my own mind, it no longer existed. I went through all the motions and got through high school. The next few months that followed afterwards were a whirlwind of chaos. I lost my best friend, because I was so fucked up. I got with guys and had way to much sex, was constantly drinking, did more drugs than I care to think about, more guys, more drugs... absolute insanity. Until the day came when I decided to move away. 

Source: Freepik

You see, I had met someone. A good someone. I met my someone at my brothers wedding. We connected and it felt like magick. And it was. I cleaned my self up. I stopped with all the getting with toxic men, going out partying, drinking, and getting high. Over the next few months, we kept in contact. My pernicious nights turned into staying up all hours talking with Jack, getting to know each other and just being a part of each others lives however we could be. He was my god-send. Then one day, he asked me to move out with him. I said yes, without any hesitation. I didn't care that it was over 900 miles away, I loved him with every fiber of my being and it felt right - for so many reasons. My parents on the other hand, they sort of lost their shit. They tried to convince me that legally I couldn't do this, even though I was 18 and could do what I wanted. Then they did background checks on him, and tried to say that he was a murderer that had been to prison. Ummm, no, that was one of his distant uncles that he didn't even have contact with. When that didn't work, they threatened to send me to a mental institution. I laughed and said give it your best shot. The next day my Dad sat in his chair in the living room looking like he was having a stroke and my Mom stood there and said "Look what you're doing to your father... you should be ashamed." But I wasn't. So I moved away, and I started a whole new life. 

As you can imagine, my relationship was strained with my parents. For them, because of the fashion in which I moved. For me, it was so much deeper than that, and they had no clue. 

Jack and I eventually wound up getting married. My parent's did not come to my wedding. My Mom said to me "My parents weren't at my wedding. You don't need anyone there but you and Jack really. If it's true love, that's all that matters", and I remember thinking to myself so the fuck what? That's some sort of excuse for you skipping out on your kid? It bothered me, a lot. But, it joined the box of the abyss with all the other things I locked away.

Jack and I went on with our lives. We went to school prepping ourselves for our chosen career paths and then I got pregnant with our son. I stayed in school and completed my education. I started a career in IT and Jack as an electrician and then we had our daughter. Life went on!

Yes, over time I did open up and tell my hubby about things. I didn't tell him in detail everything that happened. I couldn't bring myself to talk in depth about it yet. 

However a few years later SOME of it did finally come out. My hubby and I had brought our kids out to see my family on vacation. It was just supposed to be family getting together and having fun. Some good ole fashioned family shenanigans. Certain conversations took a more serious turn and without even thinking about it, it just spilled out.... I was talking to my brother and for whatever reason it's like the faucet turned on and all the stuff about my sister came flooding out like a raging hurricane. 

Source: Freepik

I think it was because she was there, and my uncle wasn't. If he had been there, that too probably would have come to light. 

As you can imagine, the chaos that ensued was hell. Here I was, finally releasing the sins that were never my own to begin with, thinking finally, here is my healing. Instead what I experienced was my own family telling me that I had it wrong. It was all a bad dream. It never actually happened. That I needed to see a psychiatrist. Then when I revealed that I had been, I was told that the psychiatrist implanted false memories into my head. No matter what I said, it wasn't enough. It was all about turning it on me in some fashion or form because they couldn't handle the truth. My sister denied any of it ever happening. She said she didn't remember anything of the kind, and didn't know what I was talking about. My mother even tried to have a "meeting" with us to act as a mediator and "get it resolved." Resolved... like it was some shameful thing to hurry up and get rid of... like it was just garbage to be thrown in the trash.

I never backed down though. It was out. But the damage they did, with their accusatory stance, the contemptuous glances, and just the overall tone of how it was all approached.... it beyond disgusted me, and even more hurt me. So I distanced myself. And to tell you the truth, still do. That day, the very tiny little bit of faith and trust I had in them was shattered when they all but called me a liar. It was like I was that little girl again, pinned down, violated, and silenced. All the fear came back, and all the hate right with it. 

Source: FreePik

So I left. I went back home with my hubby and kids, and I went radio silent. I stayed that way for a very long time. 

However in doing so, it provided the safe haven that I needed. You see, if I couldn't count on any of them, I sure as fuck could count on me, and I did. I dove into me. I dove into my wounds. I dove into my spirituality. I began to embrace me as a whole like I never had before. This is where I really truly began to develop my craft, which has become an irreplaceable part of my life. It's a pillar for me now, empowering and healing.

So I speak. I release it all. And in doing so reclaim what was stolen. I reclaim all of me, my power, my sweet innocent inner child, the me who knew true love, the me who knew how to live completely freely. 

Everything about what the piece of shit uncle did eventually came to light....

After a couple years, a whole lot of shadow work, healing and just in general finding me, I began speaking to some of my family again. I was talking to my mother, and she had shared with me how she was uncomfortable with the bastard uncle babysitting his baby granddaughters. What she said raised the hairs on the back of my neck and set me on edge. I asked her what she meant and she revealed some of the stuff she had heard my cousin say (the mother of the babies) made her concerned... concerned for the wellbeing of the babies, because of past situations that occurred. I knew what she meant, and I said "Yeah, I know..." We made eye contact, and the look of horror that came over her face.... she knew. She said to me "Oh my god, not you too." My reaction to that was somewhat feral and I retorted back, "What the fuck do you mean, not me too?! Do you mean you knew this whole time?! What do you mean?!" She said no, she didn't, not until many years later when my cousin had revealed things she went through, but that even at that point she didn't know what had happened to me. If she did, things would have been a whole lot different....

Source: Freepik

I told her that I couldn't hold this shit in anymore, and that I needed to talk to Dad. Her response was less than desirable. She asked that she be the one to tell him, that it would come from her differently and so he would react differently. I'm not going to lie, that angered me. Because here we went again, her protecting him instead of thinking about what her own child needed first. I get it.... she didn't want chaos. She didn't want me to possibly give my Dad a heart attack, or for him to lose his shit and hurt someone, or any other of the million bad things things that could have happened. However, knowing that still doesn't stop the pain, or make it right. 

She said she told him, but I don't know if she actually ever did, or what exactly she did say if she said anything at all. 

And to tell you the truth, I really don't give a fuck anymore. Because no one gets the power to silence me now. Not my mother, not my father, not my sister, not anyone, anywhere, ever will stop me from speaking about whatever I need to. I held that shit in for way to many years and it became a toxic poison that broke me from the inside out and I'll never do that again. If that offends them, or anyone else, that's not my problem. This whole mindset of "shush don't talk about it", "it's shameful", "what happens in this house stays in this house" and every other gaslighting narcissistic bullshit perspective there is around this topic needs to end. It's toxic, and perpetuates the rape culture. 

Source: Freepik

Yeah, I said it. Deal with it.

If you silence someone that has experienced SA, you're part of the problem. I don't care if that statement makes you feel uncomfortable. I don't care if you know how to deal with it or not. Go educate yourself and find ways to be a support system. If you can't do that, then shut the hell up and let people do what they need to do to heal. Because the truth is, you can never fully understand what we go through, day in and day out, just to be able to survive. 

I told my husband I was in the process of writing this and he said "If that's what you need to do for you, do it. Fuck what anyone else thinks or says, even me. If you need this, do it." And that ladies and gentleman is what real, true support looks like. I don't think I've ever loved that man more in my life than in that moment. My best friend has also been a huge support for me through all this and more. We reconnected right before my wedding. I conjured up the nerve and called her, we spoke and I asked her to come to my wedding. And she did. That was almost 18 years ago, I know I wouldn't have gotten through this without her either. My two besties, my heart and soul, Jack and Jaime. 

So my sisters and brothers (and yes, men experience SA as well) there is healing on the other side. I know that I still have so much more to do, and that's okay. Writing this is a huge piece of that healing. Finally getting even just a piece of this hell out there, without hesitation, without shame, with zero fucks given about anyone else's perspective is the most freeing thing I've ever experienced. 

Source: Freepik

Yes, I've been crying relentlessly. I've had to stop at points because it got to be too much. Yes, I questioned myself and have done the dance of "what if" and the whole bit. But in the end, it's so fucking worth it. Why? Because it's another piece of the toxicity I get to release and then it no longer has a hold on me. And in that release, I heal and it opens up space for the things in life that truly belong.

If you have experienced SA, I highly encourage you to speak out. I know first hand how hard it is. I know every ounce of fear that is there, and why. But you don't deserve that. That fear, anxiety, shame and guilt aren't yours. Put it where it belongs and free yourself. And if no one supports you, I will. I will stand in your corner, I will root for you, and I will gladly and emphatically tell all those throwing shade your way to shut their traps. You will have support, I promise you. 

To all those who have experienced SA, remember, you're not a victim. This doesn't have to define you. You are still you, and worthy of anything and everything you want. 

Your magickal advocate, 
Witchology, LLC 💫✨️💜✨️💫