childhood ptsd
April is National Child Abuse Prevention and Sexual Assault Awareness month. To prevent abuse, we have to break through the stigma and shame, to talk about how the sexual abuse of children happens and how disturbingly common it is. It’s the way we will be able to stop a great health crisis, protect victims (instead of abusers) and advocate for justice.
PTSD from abuse affects many facets of a survivor's life. One place is in the workplace. PTSD can manifest itself in various symptoms, unreasonable reactions to situations that trigger memories, or interpersonal issues. Many of the impacts of PTSD are core to a person’s personality. For example, growing up I was told I was a shy girl and told to talk more. What they didn’t realize was that I wasn’t shy, I was traumatized. I was conditioned to be silent. When I was younger I spent hours in complete silence hiding. If I couldn’t be heard, I couldn’t be seen, then I couldn’t be hurt. The silence has carried over into adulthood is from early childhood trauma. PTSD is important to consider in the workplace because it can be something that can arise from childhood but also from adult traumatic experience or on the job (i.e. banker experiencing a robbery), and it is not something you can leave at the door at 9 a.m. and pick it back up again at 6 p.m.
I was talking with a colleague who had been in an abusive relationship in the past. She was laughing as she told me and another colleague about how her ex-partner never allowed her leave the house. She started to crack jokes about his jealous rages and how she wasn’t allowed to so much as set foot outside their door if he wasn’t with her, and she continued to make remarks in a comedic fashion, so we laughed along.
Suddenly her tone became serious for the first time since the conversation started, it lasted only for a few moments, but I will never forget the one sentence that she said without smiling: “I will die before I let that happen to me again.”
There was an article I’d once read about a rape victim in court. The rapist’s lawyer tried to discredit her by pointing out that she’d laughed while giving her testimony. She was eighteen years old on the witness stand, telling a judge and a room full of people about what had been done to her. She giggled because she was embarrassed about having to describe the graphic sex acts, and she nearly lost her case because of that.
I’ve known young female classmates who’ve laughed while telling me about older men who stole kisses from them. Female friends who made jokes out of stories about their partners screening their messages and forcing them to do things they didn’t want to do. I have known females who were molested and manipulated for years, who shake their heads and snicker at their own past selves. This one woman reenacted for me, complete with dramatic gestures and voice impersonations, how her ex-partner who was under a Temporary Restraining Order scaled the gate of her house with a weapon, and how she had locked herself in her bedroom and screamed and begged the police over the phone to come NOW. However by the end of the tale we both clutched our stomachs in mirth.
Just because they laugh doesn’t mean it isn’t real.
I too can laugh about horrible incidences from my past. I also sometimes wake in a cold sweat because I dreamed that I was back in that space. Laughing about trauma is an odd coping skill, but it is common because it may help people stay sane in the face of awful things. There is no right way to deal with trauma. We sometimes laugh to keep from crying. Laughter can be a therapy to provide relief, a defensive mechanism and often smiling or laughing when disclosing trauma can be an indicator of embarrassment and shame.
Journal excerpt: when a picture of your abuser shows up on your timeline
you do a double take,
like noticing shape-changing shadows of strangers
on an early morning train, you aren’t sure if you’re
tired and imagining things
or if that was the curve of a once-familiar face,
his smile, a Cheshire Cat grin,
his happiness, something to mock you,
the 5-minute heart attack passes like an avalanche,
rolling over so hectic and slow that it’s an eternity,
I was never warned when I was younger
that the healing process of some wounds
is worse than the initial hurt,
the blood
and scraped knees
confusion
by all logic should be the most horrific part,
but my eyes meet his and my body,
turned stone as if by Medusa,
my heart playing hopscotch with me
jumping at an inconvenient interval,
his actions, the sidewalk chalk I used as a child,
only my hands do not seem to be in control
of what is written on me,
you scroll down, only to move back up,
until now you convinced yourself he never existed,
so your eyes shift,
do not know which direction to look in,
you want to stare back again,
catch some meaning in this picture,
invalidate your own shakiness,
tell yourself ‘look at how many people love him,
it’s not possible that he meant this,
look at how good he is now,’
you try to quiet yourself again.
but you think,
what other girls are aching and scrolling
and quieting themselves?
who else doubts they have the right to be
avalanche and unmetered and shaky?
you scroll again.
you keep moving.
it’s the only thing you can do.
I come from an abusive childhood. What types of abuses? Enough to place me into categories with hybrid conditions stemming from both physical and sexual abuse. I’ve worked my way away from the stereotypical path that most “victims” are expected to take. It has been a long and difficult path but a rewarding one. I read into my own behaviour to be able to understand myself and distinguish between voices that are led by my trauma and voices that are truly my own.
This does not mean that I do not understand what “home” entails. And it does not mean I need the world to pity my story. I’d rather not. This also does not mean that my parents were any less of parents for not knowing and protecting me from the trauma. My family, an amazing one and probably the reason I have felt motivated to lead a better life. But it is a part of my story that I’m learning is hidden and buried down by many. We need to normalize trauma and talk about what we go through to break cycles.
When young children face traumatic experiences throughout their childhood, they often grow up needing a type of love that understands to treat them, in moments, as they were at that age – at that same age where they were not allowed to be children, when they could not be their age. Expect this when you are loving an adult who has experienced childhood trauma. Recognize the moments they retreat, retract and fold inward. Expect them to have moments where they want to run to a familiar corner, and hide their face between their chest and knees. Know that, in these moments, you will need to coo them out, make them feel cradled. Because they either did not get hugged enough when they were little or somebody they trusted did a little too much.
Removing Stigma of Sexual Abuse
Statistics go to say that 1 in 2 females and 1 in 4 males have experienced sexual abuse but have not reported it. But not reporting benefits abusers, predators and rapists. The main reason cases go unreported by victims: stigma.
Educate children to recognize signs of abuse. Often parent’s don’t have sex education conversations with their children at a young age, and so children are unaware when inappropriate boundaries are being crossed. For example, teaching kids scientific body part names is a sexual abuse prevention strategy. Kids who don’t know how to name their sexual body parts or see their body parts as shameful due to stigma are much less likely to report inappropriate touching. Knowledge=Power.
One of my favourite novel as a pre-teen was The Kite Runner. It was emotionally moving and probably the only novel that was read in schools that discussed the abuse of power and childhood sexual abuse.
Learn to recognize erratic behaviour in children. Maybe a child spends unusual amount of time crying, runs away frequently, has strange reactions to things other children don’t mind, or are oddly violent. It is often dismissed with “Oh that child is a crybaby”, “they’re just really sensitive” or “they’re looking for attention, ignore them.” But often, the real reasons go beyond that. An important step to putting a stop to child abuse is to notice when a child is suffering in the first place.
Understand underlying cultural differences in stigma. It’s not the same repercussions for everyone when reporting and talking about it. In many cultures, including the South Asian community, incidents of sexual abuse are rarely revealed to authorities due to family honour. As part of this code of honour, virginity before marriage is held sacred and so when young girls are victims of rape and sexual abuse, it is often swept under the rug by families. Victims are forbidden to speak out and if they chose to do so are threatened to be removed from family, sending the indirect messaging that they are the problem.
I commend the immense courage shown by Jagmeet Singh in sharing his story through his memoir, ‘Love and Courage’. As a political figure from a patriarchal culture who is a person of colour (POC) to write about his experiences with childhood sexual abuse, racism and father’s alcoholism...is what real community leadership looks like. Sexual abuse within the South Asian community is rife. It gets hidden away, hushed up & ignored. This is such a powerful, brave disclosure by Jagmeet. Consider how you can use your platform to have a voice for those who’s price of speaking out is greater than yours.
Get support. If you are a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, this article has informative strategies to support you in dealing with related stigma. For us to be able to safely tell our stories and be advocates, we need to first take care of ourselves and ensure we are in a space of peace and healing. Telling your story can bring up emotions, flashbacks and even reactions from audience that are not what you are expecting.
Story telling. Be vulnerable and courageous with your story when you’re ready to tell it. As with most issues, sexual abuse prevalence swiftly follows and amplify lines of existing societal inequities making those from vulnerable communities (poor, LGBTQ2S+, women, children, etc) at a greater risk of consequences including greater emotional, physical and psychological trauma. Seek ways to support these communities and hear their stories. Here’s a few brave, powerful advocates and stories:
Tarana Burke and Brene Brown on Being Seen and Heard (podcast) - If there is ONE media source you listen to on evolving the conversation around how race and sexual violence intersect. It is THIS. At the 27 minute mark is when they really start to get into the conversation and this is the point that I encourage you to listen from.
journal excerpt:
I just keep seeing this little girl rocking herself in the corner of the room, with her head buried in her knees as they scream.
“It’s not my fault, it’s not my fault.”
She whispers between hiccups from trying to silence her crying.
“It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault.”
I whisper, still, to myself.
