My life and incest
One of the most challenging parts of recovering memories of sexual assault is how they come back in fragments over a period of time. It's like a puzzle being put together, except you don't have the full image on the box. In my experience, the more I heal, the more pieces I have to make the whole picture.
As a therapist and counselor for decades, I know the statistics about sexual abuse. I know that it is rampant. In 93% of childhood sexual abuse cases, the child knows the abuser. That 70% of sexual abuse happens to children under 17. That 96% of the abusers are male. The younger the survivor, the more likely the abuser is a family member: father, grandfather, sibling, uncle, or cousin.
With a doctorate researching the impact of grief on physical health, I know that trauma is held in the body. I understand that the layers of wounding we repress or suppress are held in our bodies somewhere with real potential to manifest as disease.
As an expert in family cult recovery, I know that children expect to be loved by their parents, and when they aren't, the child always thinks it's their fault. The child learns to please no matter what, to feel validated, and not abandoned. I know that the trauma caused by abusive parents is a betrayal of the highest level, creating the exact conditions for the repression of memories and dissociation from the body.
As a survivor of child sexual abuse who has been working to heal for eight years, I am here to say that everything I mentioned above has been confirmed for me. And with the last few pieces of the puzzle of my story now firmly in place, it is time for me to share the whole truth.
This is a story about incest.
There were a lot of secrets in my family. Even as a child, I was expected to be the holder of secrets. There were also a lot of unanswered questions and conflicting stories about events that happened in my childhood and my parents' lives before I was born. Here is what I know NOW.
My mother gave birth to a baby in 1954. After learning my mother was pregnant (unmarried and 18), my grandmother sent her to a home for unwed mothers. My grandmother decided that the baby would be adopted. This occurred three years before I was born. Because of the shame that came with pregnancy out of wedlock, this was kept a secret, so much so that even my mother's siblings were uncertain of the exact details or if it was even true. I learned of the pregnancy when I was 18, the details after my aunt and grandmother argued. My mother never shared the details.
My mother was pregnant with me when she married the man who would raise me. I never knew my birth father, nor did I know who he was.
As a child, I was sexually abused, assaulted, and raped by my paternal grandfather, uncles, friends of my parents, and members of the Catholic Church. I was drugged and coerced. I was used in satanic ritual abuse, brainwashed, and mind-controlled from infancy through middle school. Incest is defined as sexual relations between people related to each other. It is not specific to consensual sex. Therefore, most of the childhood sexual abuse I suffered was incest. If a family member sexually abused you, it was incestual sexual abuse.
In July of 1975, when I turned 18, my mother alerted me that I was pregnant. I was already so disconnected from my body that I had no idea. I was not married, which at that time, still wasn't accepted as it is today. I was nearly five months pregnant and still menstruating. During this conversation, my mom warned me that many people would judge me for being pregnant, even in my own family. I thought she was talking about her experience being pregnant with me when she married the man who would raise me. But then she revealed that she had given birth to a son before me. Learning that I had a secret brother was an added shock to learning that I was pregnant. The father of the baby I carried chose not to be a part of my son's life.
Two years later, in 1977, my mom introduced me to M (who I now know is my half-brother) at my apartment. She confided in me that she believed M might be the son she gave up for adoption. She said she wasn't sure and asked me to keep her secret by introducing him as my boyfriend to the family. M knew this was how my mom would introduce him to the family. I did not know about their conversations before I met him. I asked my mother's sister and grandmother about a brother's possible existence. My aunt said the story didn't add up. My grandmother accused my mother of being mentally ill (she had been diagnosed with two mental illnesses), having a vivid imagination, and having a fantasy of having a son. So, the story ended in my mind as just another one of my mother's many stories in a long list. And I pushed another secret into my pocket to hold, blocked out the unanswered questions, and pretended to have a boyfriend. I pretended so well that I soon started falling for him, and he told me the same. And thus began the relationship between my half-brother and me.
My memory from childhood is sketchy, as it is for many children who have been sexually abused. Add in the drugging, prescription medicines, mind control, and dissociation. My memory continued to be sketchy until memories began surfacing in 2015. In the 70s and 80s, I raised my son while M and I lived together and built a life. I didn't hold specific memories unless they were of stories told repeatedly or through photos. Beginning in 1978, I began experiencing a variety of illnesses. It was one thing after another. With numerous infections, a few hospital stays, and so many doctor appointments, I began to lose count. Tests were constantly being run, and I was soon diagnosed with four autoimmune disorders, including Multiple Sclerosis and two chronic pain disorders. The number of prescription medications grew each month. By 2004-5, I was on nearly 40 oral and IV medications. I was drugged the majority of the time. And then came the realization that I needed medical insurance coverage. So in 2004, I married M. Yes, I married my half-brother. However, I would not acknowledge that as the truth for another 11-12 years.
I spent another decade being sick and near death. In 2014 I found Liana Shanti (HMI Nutrition) and began healing my body. As I detoxed layers and layers of toxins, I began to dream. These dreams were of my childhood, sexual abuse, and more, and most were shocking. Yet in my body, I knew everything I saw had happened. My body held everything. And that holding had manifested into a life-threatening disease. Remembering also caused a physical response in my body: I was freaking out. And I was healing.
It was during Liana Shanti's core wound program called Lifepath Manifesting in 2015 that I began to have dreams centered around my relationship with M. One of the dreams opened up the unanswered questions I had tucked away inside myself and set me on a journey to find the truth about whether M was my half-brother. It was confusing to make sense of the fragments of memories that came back to me. I was unsure what was true, false, or in between. I asked for the one thing that could give me clarity: a paternity test. It was undeniable proof. Now, I was, looking at my marriage, a relationship I had been in for 39 years, trying to come to terms with the fact that the life I had built with this man I loved was crumbling under many lies, secrets, and the shame of all shame: incest—that dirty word.
I had so many questions. How could my mother set this in motion? What would happen if people found out? If a part of me knew, why did I make this choice so long ago? Was it childhood sexual abuse that led to this? How do I justify this to anyone? To myself? What will I do with all this shame?
Once I learned the truth through the paternity test and his confession, I filed for divorce from M. That was in 2016. My life since then has been dedicated to healing the wounds of my soul and body. This is my life's work, to clear the shadows so that I may embody as much light as possible in this world. My inner healing is reflected in my outer world. I have experienced deep physical healing, releasing anger and grief, so I am no longer sick with autoimmune diseases.
My clients (and friends) have heard me often speak about healing being like an onion. We heal the way an onion peels, one layer at a time. The thickest layer of my healing thus far is the shame I've held onto because of this secret. So here I am, peeling it back. This is how I take accountability for my choices and release what I cannot control. This is how I make space for more light by speaking truth into the world. And I invite any who now feel the truth of their story beginning to rise to speak. Now is the time.
I would not be here today, living with joy, integrity, and unconditional love, if not for my Teacher, Liana Shanti. I am eternally grateful for your commitment to Jesus' teachings, guiding and supporting your students, and being the most authentic embodiment of LOVE.
Next blog posts:
How accountability, ownership, and self-forgiveness changed my life
Deleting the divorce, marriage, and timeline in the courts
It's time to call CSA what it really is: incestual abuse
How to clear shame
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