"It Happened Only Once."

(This post from Cecil Murphey first appeared at 1in6.org.)

Occasionally a survivor of sexual assault says, "It happened only one time," as if that made the offense and agony less important.

To that, I answer, "It's not whether molestation happened one time or fifty times, you were still molested." Here's a good first question to ask: How did the abuse affect you?

I've talked with a few men who say they were abused and not damaged by the assault. That may be denial or their words may be true. Some individuals just don't hurt as easily or as deeply as others.

Regardless, many men who say it didn't happen a second time were so traumatized, they struggled with the same issues as those who reported abuse that went on for years.

We need to remind ourselves that our innocence was destroyed the first time someone assaulted us. And assault is the right word. We were defenseless children and someone usually bigger and older did something to us without our consent or our being old enough to know they were harming us.

There doesn't have to be a second or tenth time. The damage occurred and our innocence was shattered.

"How did the molestation change your life?" is a good second question. Most of us struggle with the issue of not being able to trust others. If a person we should have been able to trust betrayed us, how can we trust anyone else?

To heal from that abuse means we finally must take a risk. We have to trust someone enough to tell our story. The healing happens when we relate what happened to us and sense the listener understands. That exchange validates us and the healing process begins.

One time. Five hundred times. Ignore that, and focus on the hurt so the healing can take place.

"I Wore an Invisible Sign."

(This post from Cecil Murphey first appeared at 1in6.org.)

Lee Willis, a courageous survivor, told a sad tale of being abused by his father and later by day-care workers. They were only the first. Until he was 16, he was molested many times.

He wrote this (and I have his permission to quote it): "Once we're abused, it seems that we wear the mark for other perps to see." His comments make it clear that something happens when we're abused—something that preying individuals sense, even if family members or friends don't.

I gained insight on that recently while I was working on Stolen: The True Story of a Sex Trafficking Survivor, a book with Katariina Rosenblatt on human trafficking. Kat escaped from traffickers three times and now works with federal authorities to help other girls and boys, who are victimized as she was.

In relating the account of her first traffickers, Kat had been molested by her father and sexually abused by older children. She was recruited by a woman named Mary who befriended her.

Looking back, I now know she chose me even before she talked to me. I'm sure she spotted the longing in my eyes and the loneliness that I projected out of my hurts and agony. As I would learn later, when we're chosen, they watch us before they target us. They especially seek the lonely and abused children who display their vulnerability by the way they walk, their clothes, general demeanor, or the helplessness in their eyes. They sense their lack of family support or their susceptibility. Only later could I see that my own identity was fragile and distorted. Then I would realize she had chosen me because she knew I was defenseless and lonely.

So, yes, Lee, we were marked—and vigilant perps watched us and they knew. But as we heal, those markings disappear. They're replaced by our inner peace, self-assurance, and the knowledge that we're no longer "just survivors." We are overcoming the pain of our childhood. And most of all, we finally like ourselves.

Why Now?

(This post from Cec Murphey first appeared at 1in6.org.)

Recently, I read an in-progress master's thesis on male sexual abuse. The writer's research said that most men don't deal with their abuse until they're middle-aged—late 30s to early 50s. She provided no rationale, only the figures. Maybe that's well-known in therapeutic practice, but it was new to me.

Although a few children are able to ask for help while young, some of us (and perhaps that word should be many) aren't ready until we're hitting our middle years. I was one of those.

Men like me "forgot" about our experiences. That is, the trauma was so severe we couldn't face it and lived in denial until the truth resurfaced. The descriptive term is Post Trauma Stress Disorder (PTSD).

"But why did it surface now?" I asked myself that question many times during the first year of my struggle with the molestation. The easiest thing to say is that it happened when I was able to cope with the pain. I was secure enough as a person—that is, I liked myself well enough—that I was willing to risk the shame and embarrassment.

One day, without ever seeing a therapist or being in any encounter groups, the memories started to flow. I cried—the first real crying since I was 11 years old. The intense agony disrupted my work habits and my sleep for weeks. My wife and my best friend comforted me. Their love and kindness enabled me to move ahead.

But the question still haunted me: Why now? I've concluded that my unconscious, inner wisdom kept the information hidden from me. I had focused on my education, career, marriage, and fatherhood. By the time I was ready, our third and last child had left home.

I still can't give a definitive answer on the timing except that I know I was ready. Because I had dealt with the major traumas of living, I had grown comfortable with myself. And realizing the certainty of my wife's love and commitment helped me know that I could face anything and she would be with me.

Every man needs someone to trust—implicitly—whether it's a spouse, a friend, or a therapist. He needs that safety to divulge and know he'll be heard and not rejected.

Maybe that is the answer: Once we're ready, we can face our pain—even if we feel at times that we can't suffer any more.

Coded Words

(By Cecil Murphey)

I've lost count of the number of wives who've contacted me about their husbands' intense struggle over his childhood sexual abuse.

Here's one email (and I changed the name):

Just before we married, Jim said, "I was molested when I was six." That was all—no details and nothing about his response, or even who did it. It seemed unimportant, like saying he received only a "C" in eighth-grade math. Now, after 18 years of marriage, he's struggling with his abuse and he's become a man I don't know. He's in pain and I can't seem to help him. When I said something, he angrily reminded me that he had told me about the abuse.

Jim used the code words: "I was molested." I write code because he could have intended many different meanings. One is that he was testing her. He gave her a safe sentence and she didn't respond negatively. In fact, she apparently made no comment because she didn't hear it as a cry of pain, but only as a statement about his childhood. The code words protected him from having to say more and risk her disapproval of him.

Second, he might have been exploring and for the first time, mentioned his abuse. By receiving no positive feedback, he didn't feel secure about pursuing it.

Third, he might not have been prepared to face his trauma. If he had been ready, his words would surely have hinted at or expressed his inner battles. The fact that he waited 18 years would make me inclined to accept that reason.

When a man is ready to deal with the anguish of his abuse, he's usually ready to talk. When Jim spoke in code words and she didn't get his message, that may have said to him that she didn't really care, didn't want to know, or that it wasn't safe for him to say more.

If he intentionally used code words, he might have been thinking, If you got the hidden message you'll know what's inside me.

One survivor told me, "I guess I expected my wife to read my mind. When I mentioned it a few days after we married, she acted as if it were no big deal, so that's how I treated it." He went on to say that he pushed away the pain as long as he could.

I'm not blaming the wives, partners, friends, or parents for not understanding. Code words hide the reality. They also say that the person isn't ready for full disclosure. And for those who feel guilty for not having been a super sleuth, please remind yourself that you did not know. He didn't speak clearly enough for you to perceive his meaning.

There are two significant things you can do for him, whether after 18 or 38 years together: First, remind him that you love him and that hasn't changed.

Second, listen—uncritically. You're involved but it's his problem. Let your face and your reaction be the mirror he needs to see compassion for himself.

(This blog post first appeared at 1in6.org.)

Sorting It Out For Yourself

(This post, submitted by Jim Hopper, is from a page at www.1in6.org.)

How people define their own experiences, and the labels they give to them (or don't), are very important.

We're not interested in imposing labels, or even providing definitions. For our purposes, that's not necessary or helpful.

Instead, we're offering tools for thinking about childhood or teenage sexual experiences that may have caused or contributed to current problems.

For some of you, that's why you're here right now. You're trying to sort out, on your own terms:

· "What was that childhood (or adolescent) sexual experience really about?"

· "What effects has that experience had on me?"

· "Is that a reason why I'm struggling with _________?"

The question, "What was that sexual experience really about?" may be the most basic, and could take a while to sort out. It implies other questions, like:

· Was the other person in a position of power or authority over me?

· Was I manipulated into doing sexual things, or into believing I wanted to, even when I really didn't?

· Did sexual activity change what had been a positive relationship into one that involved secrecy and shame?

· Was the other person using me and not really considering my experience or my needs?

· Did the other person take advantage of vulnerabilities I had at the time – feeling isolated and lonely, feeling excited and curious but ignorant about sex?

These questions speak to possible exploitation, betrayal, and disregard for your well-being – experiences that can cause a variety of problems, right away and into adulthood.

No matter how old the other person was, if dominance, manipulation, exploitation, betrayal or disregard for your well-being were involved, the experiences(s) may have contributed to problems in your life now.

We are not pushing anyone to condemn or even to label the other person or people involved… Also, such experiences may have involved attention, affection and physical sensations that, at the time, you found pleasurable and in some way wanted (e.g., in a confused way mixed up with shame).

The point of trying to "sort things out," if you choose to do so, is to understand whether – and if so, why and how – the sexual experience(s) may have helped to cause some problems you have now (like problems with shame, anger, addiction, or depression).

We're providing resources for sorting out what makes sense to you, and for sorting out the options for dealing with your unique experiences and moving closer to the life you want.