When trauma is triggered…..
Dr Gabor Mate is quoted to have said that when trauma gets triggered, you don’t act your age, you act the age when the wound was created. This resonated deeply with my experience. There was a recurrence of the abuse I witnessed as a child again when I was twenty-five years old and decades afterwards, I blamed myself and failed to recognize that it was abuse at all. Having read and listened to podcasts by Dr Mate, I began to realise that something very interesting was happening which explained so much about how I coped with my experience.
At the age of twenty-five I suffered a silent abuse, that lasted beyond a year, and one that I buried as far into my subconscious as I was able. Decades later, in therapy, I described a quiet acceptance, a surrender to the abuse, believing that this equated to consent, thus blaming myself. My therapist helped me to understand that submit/comply is most certainly not consent and that in fact, it is the most common response for trauma victims in sexual assault.
When I read the quote above, I realised too that my reaction, response to the abuse, was triggered by my five- and six-year-old self. That young girl knew how to keep quiet and do as she was told. She was reminded by adults that if she did not do as she was told, Mummy would go away again. My nervous system didn’t notify me that I was switching to a younger version of myself. It is all automatic. While there is still so much healing to do, I have made progress in letting go of the shame that surrounded this experience.
No wonder I kept quiet, made no fuss, allowed the abuse to continue, accepting it as fate. It wasn’t a conscious twenty-five-year-old decision. My nervous system rehearsed the mechanisms that kept me safe at the age of five and six. Which worked of course because I am still here now. Many a time, those who I have confided in ask why I allowed the routine to continue, to have this person in my life. For so long I had been unable to answer this, or to explain? Until now.
It wasn’t that I wanted the abuse to continue. Quite the opposite. But I didn’t have the emotional or mental capacity to create safety or boundaries for myself. Rather, my nervous system was taught that creating safety means keeping silent, being obedient, challenging nothing, accepting. So, I manufactured a version of this person and my life to suit a narrative of normalcy. For more than two decades after, I kept this narrative as my safety net.
Until my therapist started to encourage me to talk to six-year-old Grace, and to start peeling back the layers. I had started talking to her, three years before I finally disclosed my abuse to my family. I had already started the painful healing. But again, silently. It was as though little Grace wasn’t going to give her coping mechanisms up without a fight. But I recognized that it was ok to have a voice. I was allowed to report this abuse, to stand up for myself, and to surrender the shame that was never mine.
Of course, when I reported this all to the police, a female detective, the conversation was very different from that of therapy. It was brutal, focused on the intimate details of what I experienced. There was no emotion, no consideration of what my nervous system was doing, or the psychology behind implied and actual consent. In the end, the issue of consent was the reason the CPS could not take the report further. My only consolation was that, for little Grace, I stood up and made sure my voice was heard.
As I listened to the news, which, over the last few weeks has been dominated by the Prince Andrew accusations as well as the Grooming gangs, I experienced a relapse in my anxiety, having to engage again in therapy more frequently. I resonate so deeply with these girls who have surrendered their part in reporting because they don’t feel heard or believed. The suicide of one of the alleged victims of Prince Andrew also haunts me. I know what it feels like to not being believed and for abuse to go unaccounted for. It is almost worse than the actual abuse. I must use the word alleged when discussing what is on the news because of legal reasons. He has not been formally charged or found guilty.
Only 4% of women report assault falsely. 96% are genuine. I have been categorized as that 4%. So, while I am burdened with this insult, this label of being a fantasist, liar, I also live every day with the painful memory of the abuse that did, indeed happen. The paradox. Being told I am a liar, while in my heart and mind, having to heal from the experience that according to those I thought I could trust, never happened.
I want to reach out to any woman (or man) who may have been assaulted, abused, or experienced trauma, and let you know, I believe you. It takes great strength and courage to report historical abuse, due to the shame we often build around it, the fear of not being believed, the risk of being blamed, the judgements. I showed courage and did the best that I could; reported the abuse, told my therapist, and eventually my family. Now as I continue to grow and heal, I move forward and hope to finally let the past dissolve, leaving space for hope and renewal.
