I would never want anyone reading this blog to believe that I think I am holier-than-thou, or do not understand how painful, dark and convoluted the healing journey can be, because I have been there. My healing journey was messy, though I tried to keep people believing I had it all together. The reality is that sexual and spiritual abuse had many outcomes in my life, most of them negative: drug and alcohol addictions; struggles with mental health; seeking validation through unsafe sex; suicide attempts; and a complete loss of faith. There were so many harmful outcomes of the abuses which impacted my life that I was required to work through.

Marijuana and alcohol allowed me to feel in control, and also had the benefit of allowing me to get out of my head. I was trapped in my thoughts a lot, constantly thinking about the abuses, trying desperately to make sense of them. Self-medicating allowed some temporary relief from overthinking and I liked the sensation. The relief was intoxicating, so I would chase that high, but I could never catch it, which led me to consume more until I could not face the day without one or both of those substances.

I struggled with a lack of self-esteem. I was deeply aware that I was incapable of protecting myself from harm, after all I had been unable to stop the sexual abuse or the tsunami of spiritual abuse and victim blaming that I experienced, which left me feeling helpless. I was filled with anger and resentment, but had no way to express them except through language, so I harmed with sarcasm and biting criticism of anyone or anything that made me feel threatened. I lacked trust in others, especially men, but particularly men who identified as Christian because I knew from personal experience how dangerously insincere and duplicitous they were.

Sexual abuse was my first sexual experience, and, unsurprisingly, it left me afraid of being overpowered and taken advantage of, again. In spite of my fear I sought men out for sex and allowed them to use my body for their gratification. I engaged in risky sexual behaviours desperate for validation, believing that my only worth was as a sex object. Though I would feel euphoric in the midst of sex, when it was over I would feel cheap, dirty and used; a worthless slut looking for an escape route.

I attempted suicide several times. Suicide, it seemed to me, was an easy way to escape the pain I lived with on a daily basis. I was never successful, though I tried three times to end my life. Suicide attempts were both an attempt at escaping the trauma, and a way of crying out for help. I was desperate to escape the past, but knew no way to accomplish that. Two of the times I attempted suicide I had to be hospitalized. Instead of providing me with freedom and relief, the result was always greater scrutiny and the temporary loss of freedom.

Christian men, the church leaders who sexually and spiritually abused me, shattered my faith and destroyed the illusion of sanctity which they had implanted. Church was no longer a safe place; I viewed religion as dangerous, and could no longer trust leaders. Though I tried to hold onto the concept of God I’d learned at church, I could never reconcile my experiences of sexual and spiritual abuse at the hands of “godly” men with the tenets of the Christian faith. I was left in a spiritual wilderness, and had to seek elsewhere to encounter divinity.

My path to healing was a long and convoluted one, and I carried the pain and trauma associated with the sexual and spiritual abuse for decades. I harmed myself and added to the trauma and pain I carried. Self-harm through drugs and alcohol, unsafe sex, suicide attempts and struggles with mental health did not end until I’d learned to love and respect myself. When I was finally able to love and respect myself, decades after experiencing the sexual and spiritual abuse, the negative behaviours stopped and fell away without much effort on my part. Loving myself was the key to my freedom in all areas of my life.

No one was ever capable of assisting me to love myself, it was something I needed to learn to do for myself and on my own. However, that would not have been possible were it not for a small handful of people who listened to me in the midst of my pain, acknowledged the harm that I’ve experienced, and journeyed with me through some of my darkest moments. They demonstrated to me that I was loveable and worthy of love, even when I couldn’t love myself. Their love, support and acceptance gave me the strength necessary to accomplish the hard work of healing.