We Are Survivors 

This blog is dedicated to the tens of millions of adult survivors of child abuse and neglect who get up every day and try to work and function in a world that seems to not care about us.

Child Abuse Survivors' Voices - Part 7

More comments from survivors that have publicly shared their thoughts over the many years I have been writing We Are Survivors Blog

Survivor #25:  People think that hard times make one tougher. But, in reality, it is more like a severe burn. It doesn’t make one’s skin tougher, but rather more vulnerable and less able to heal. It is easy to fall into the pattern of not loving yourself since that is how you were trained.

Survivor #26:  Abuse is still such a taboo subject that most people don’t want to think about it. They don’t think they are affected by it, so they don’t give it a second thought. No one is going to listen. They never do.

Survivor #27:  Wow! What a concept. Teach parents how to raise their children. Teach them how to recognize signs of abuse or, better yet, signs of a potential predator. I can’t believe that no one could figure out what was happening to me. I went from being a healthy, happy eight-year-old to a nine-year-old that was sick all the time and had a world of other behavioral issues. There has to be something out there.

Survivor#28:  I thought I understood and was over my childhood sexual abuse. Not so. I drove home one evening and during the 30 minute commute, I cried like a little boy, clearing my tears with my shirt sleeve. What pain. I recalled that night in 1979 when I was seven-years-old. At night, he came to my bed and said, “Shh, don’t move. You will like this. You want this.” I thought, “What do I do? What is this?” Chills ran down my back. I began to shake. He went faster, stopped, then said, “Don’t tell anyone. They will be mad at you.” My distrust broke, the fear began, and the embarrassment was planted. My double life began. It continued for seven years. I can go on about my family’s dysfunction, but when I was 14, he was killed in a car accident. I felt nothing. Repressed feelings—wow. As a Hispanic man, I was trained to not show emotions, to be macho. Crying is for sissies and the weak. Well, I am still trying to define manhood, but I am in a better place.

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Child Abuse Survivors' Voices - Part 6
Male Child Abuse Survivors Survey
 

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