The first time I was molested, was at the age of five. The second time, I was six years old. Both incidents were extremely traumatizing and frightening and each involved a different perpetrator. However, as a child, I thought that I was the perpetrator. I didn’t tell anyone because shameful acts are often hard to share, and like I said, I felt that I was at fault.
It wasn’t until my late twenties that I finally told a family member about it. However, the understanding and care that I expected now that I understood the acts from an adult perspective, just never came. Instead, it seemed as if I were being blamed for not exposing it when it first occurred. It left me feeling bruised and hurt all over again.
I’ve found that sometimes even when we’re brave enough to open up about something painful and let someone else into our brokenness, the response we’re expecting may never come. This can be really painful.
For some of us, it has been a tedious and agonizing process/journey to even reach a place where we feel safe enough to invite someone else into our past trauma. And the wound inflicted from a condemning or critical response to what we have shared can be even more devastating than the past hurt we suffered.
The truth is that a five or six year old victim of molestation neither deserved it or encouraged it and is more likely going to hide it rather than report it. The truth is, certain individuals are more vulnerable and more prone to being selected and preyed on by child molesters than others are. The truth is, I was a victim then, but refuse to continue to be a victim of what was done to me. I refuse to succumb to the condemning voices.
Today, one of the things I’ve learned to do is to, simply accept my truth.
My truth as it relates to my past, my character and my identity as a whole.
I am not responsible for whether or not someone else accepts or validates my truth.
No one gets to define me. Besides God, I alone know my thoughts, feelings, motives, intentions, and inner workings.
No one gets to define who I am.
I refuse to be discouraged by another person’s misconceived ideas of me and I refuse to be resentful because of it. In times past, I desired more than anything to be understood by others. I thought it necessary to defend and prove myself so that others would have a good perception of me. It caused me much agony when they misunderstood my motives, true character, and intentions.
Today, I find great comfort in knowing that God knows my truth. He knows everything there is to know about me. And yet He continues to love me for me, and is not scared off by my mess. Nor is He moved by the voice of the Accuser who brings accusations and wicked judgments against me – (Zechariah chapter 3). Others may choose to believe misconceptions about me, but God knows my truth.
I am in Christ Jesus and I am His. God approves of me and accepts me and calls me His beloved.
For me, that is enough.
Listen to Me, you who know righteousness, you people in whose heart is My law: Do not fear the reproach of men, nor be afraid of their insults….I, even I, am He who comforts you. Who are you that you should be afraid of a man who will die, and of the son of a man who will be like grass? But I am the LORD your God….The LORD of hosts is His name. And I have put My words in your mouth; I have covered you with the shadow of My hand, That I may plant the heavens, lay the foundations of the earth, and say to Zion, ‘You are My people.’ Isaiah 51: 7,12,15-16