I Didn’t Ask For It

I was discussing lies we believe as sexual abuse victims with some fellow survivors. I began to contemplate their stories and as such, was able to view my own in a different light. This is what my realization was: I was abused for over a year as I babysit for my abuser. At times I told him I didn’t feel right about what was happening and he always met it with “it’s your choice.” It would end but he would completely ignore me, reject me, make fun of me, and I was left feeling abandoned and alone until I went to him and initiated the sexual abuse to take place again. I was continually put in a position of emotional exploitation and neglect or sexual violation and I didn’t even realize it.
Shame and guilt don’t touch what I felt about myself coming out of that. I didn’t know the extent of my abuse for a long time, and felt deep sorrow because I literally asked for it.
I was a child. Created with a need to be kept safe, to know love, to feel affection and touch, to be acknowledged and validated. This man filled so many needs in me that I rationalized it to be worth it, despite how gross it made me feel and how wrong I felt it was. My survival was: he has to be safe because it’s too much for my young mind to believe he’s bringing me harm when I have such a trust in his love and safety that he’s convinced me of.
He bought me things, included me in family games, treated me like a daughter when others were around… even encouraging me to call him dad. And I did. I am not to blame. I didn’t ask for what he gave. I asked for love. I asked for safety. I asked for acceptance. I asked to be a part of something. I asked to matter.
I didn’t ask for the perversion, the alteration of what I longed for. I didn’t ask for the abuse.
I didn’t ask for it.
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