Full Disclosure: Childhood Trauma & Sexual Abuse

To give a back-story of my reasoning for this disclosure, I am going through two specific kinds of ventures in life right now: 1.) I am researching higher education degree programs to attend to for a career path (essentially, my future), and 2.) I am venturing through the struggles of living with my father and oldest brother (essentially bringing up my past). Now, I am inevitably putting the two (my future and my past) together, and what has been the result? Psychology and Mental Health. There you have it.

So, while being in this cross-sectional state of research, I looked up the definition of sexual abuse, and I was led to this website through the American Psychological Association. It was entitled "Open Up! Writing About Trauma Reduces Stress, Aids Immunity." The article was basically saying that the more you disclose about your traumas, the more you heal from the traumatic symptoms-- like depression, anxiety and PTSD. This article was written in 2003, and since then, to my knowledge, this method of disclosure has been discredited by some psychologists, but only in terms as an effective talk therapy for healing. However, as a form of personal disclosure, such as journaling/blogging, this discredit does not apply. 

Therefore, I am going to test this theory. So, here we go. Full disclosure: Because my goal is to heal.

When I was six years old, I was molested by my twelve year old brother. All I remember was that he wanted to to try something new that he had learned (he was hitting puberty after all), and decided to use me to try and experiment with it. This was going to be my first experience with any kind of sexual encounter-- at the age of six. The thing is, I didn't even know what sex was at the time, and was too young to understand whether it was something I wanted to participate in or not.

About a year later when I was about 7 years old, my three siblings, cousin, and I were all at my Nana's house. I remember we were all upstairs in one of the bedrooms, when the same brother suggested we all play, "Truth or Dare." At some point in this game, he then dared my cousin, who was about 13 at the time, to "have sex" with me. I remember my brother literally picking me up to try and put me on top of my cousin, as if I were a play doll, all while my other two siblings watched. But by this time, I knew that I didn't like what he was trying to do, and I left the room. That night I went crying to my mother, and I told her what had happened. She was upset and called my aunt to inform her as well, and then continued to comfort me. The thing is, I don't think I disclosed everything, including the fact that it was my brother who was behind the whole "dare," and that he had tried it on me a year earlier. Therefore, no repercussions were made towards my brother at that time. All I knew was that what had happened wasn't right, because I felt violated. And what was important was that this time I had the courage to speak up and tell someone.

A year later, I was about 8 years old, and my brother would have this one friend over often, they were now 14 years old. You could say that I had developed a little crush on this friend of my brothers. One time he came over and somehow we ended upstairs alone together. My father and my other brother were outside in the garage, and I don't remember my oldest brother even being home at the time, which was strange because it was his friend who was over. He then led me to the downstairs bathroom to get into the bathtub, and then it became all too familiar of what was about to happen, again. But I knew better this time, and it was something that I knew I didn't like. It was then that I learned to say NO! right in that moment. He tried to convince me to stay, but I got out of that tub and got myself out of the situation. I had finally learned to say no, on my own, at eight years old.

About two years later, I was 10 years old. I was watching TV with the same old brother, he was now 16 years old. I was sitting on the floor close to the TV, and he was sitting behind me on the couch. He then asked me, "hey, do you wanna get it on?," while snickering. I told him that it wasn't funny because we both knew about what he had put me through previously. He laughed and said it was just a joke, but then asked again anyway. Furious, I ran upstairs, wrote my mother a note of exactly what had happened, and then ran down the street to these gravel banks where I would sometimes play. I waited until dusk to walk back home. By the time I got back, my mother had kicked my brother out of the house, and he went to live with my Nana. The molestations were over.

It wasn't until much later into my adulthood that I would tell all my immediate family members about everything that had happened to me. It was in fact freeing for me. I had disclosed to all but one person: confrontation with my brother. This sexual abuse had impacted me greatly, and I knew I was going to have to confront him at some point in my life, I just didn't know when. But when he came back to live with my father and I, the inevitable was likely to happen. So, of course, now that all the trauma has been resurfacing ten-fold within these past few weeks, confrontations have been made. 

Well, that's where I'm at with the whole process. We'll see if my symptoms of depression, anxiety and PTSD start to subside now.

UPDATE: To begin, my deliveries in confrontation at first had unfortunately been out of anger, and therefore my brother would deny any of my traumatic experiences ever happening. But to give an update, eventually, we successfully had a confrontation, a conversation, and genuine apologies were made. I feel so grateful to have worked out this trauma with my brother, it doesn't feel like trauma anymore. Let this be an example of the power of healing through personal disclosure, confrontation, constructive communication, and reconciliation. 

Here is the website to the article:

http://www.apa.org/research/action/writing.aspx