Sexual Abuse: A Story of Survival

April is Abuse awareness month. If you have a story that you would like to share, please email me (Maura Byrne) at [email protected] for publication on our blog. Stories can be published anonymously.

The following story is written by Michele, a student at James Madison University. I would like to honor her for her courage, candor and faith in her sharing her story so that others can be inspired and healed. She is a remarkable woman.

I am a cradle Catholic. Growing up, Catholic to me meant going to church on Sunday with your family. Catholic was never something I identified with. However, sister and daughter were both identities that I cherished. Family was always important to me, we were close, and I never thought that would change. But there were a lot of things I never considered. I always imagined that my life would have minimal suffering and be filled with nothing but pure happiness. Unfortunately I learned very quickly that life doesn’t really work this way.

When I was 14, I was sexually molested by a family member.

I was robbed of my innocence.

My view of family was altered but more importantly how I viewed myself was skewed. Looking in the mirror was painful. The girl staring back at me was used, dirty and worthless. I couldn’t bare to look at her. I felt as though the second anyone looked at me… they knew. It was as if I had a sign on my forehead saying…worthless. I wasn’t worth having anything good or happy so I had no problem or hesitation from pulling away from everyone. What friends would want to be surrounded by me? Did my parents even wanted to claim me as their own?

Time went on, so did the feeling of worthlessness. As a junior in high school I let a man emotionally and physically abuse me. I honestly felt I deserved this. I wasn’t worth more. This was as good as it was going to get. Eventually he lost interest in me and moved on to other girls. This pain and suffering I had endured was never part of my plan; I again felt completely worthless. I was so mad at myself that I let myself get to the point where I was broken, used, dirty, unwanted and unworthy. I became angry. I wasn’t just angry about what happened, I was angry with God. I didn’t hold back from blaming Him for everything. He created everything, why not blame Him for it all? He gave me this life and look what it has come to… pain, suffering, scars…misery.

These trials and tribulations are things that no one should ever have to endure.

Mass was a waste of my time, I went to avoid the arguments with my parents. When I was at home, I knew my mother would bring up God, so I avoided home altogether…. She attended a ‘Mom’s group’ at our local parish, they studied the bible, books on the Saints, Father would come in and talk to them and so on. For some reason every time I was home and walked into a room she was in she would always, without fail, start rambling, “Oh, Michelle guess what we talked about in ‘Mom’s group’ this week, you’ll love it!” or “I heard this amazing story about the life of a Saint, you’d love her, let me tell you it!” She’d get so excited and I couldn’t run away fast enough. To me, my mother’s faith was a lot like Mother Mary and I wanted to distance myself as far as I could.

I originally wanted to go to college close to home but not anymore. I chose a college that was a couple of hours away from home. Going away to college seemed like a blessing. I was finally on my own. I lived as I pleased. I made friends within the first few days. They had a wide range of interests parties, alcohol, promiscuity etc. Slowly my life began to encompass the same things, drinking and partying. Unfortunately drinking did nothing but add to the pain and the heartache. Each time I picked up a cup, it was a cup of despair, and each sip was a sip of emptiness. As the partying increased, so did my worthlessness.

For some reason I was still going to mass every Sunday. The people at mass had something that I didn’t and I wanted it. They radiated peace, happiness and joy. They didn’t just keep it to themselves but they gave it to others. I wanted that type of life but I was still looking for it elsewhere.

At CCM, my sophomore year, after 11AM mass on Sunday, Fr. Joe Goldsmith, a seminarian at the time, made an open invitation to attend his bible study. By Thursday I found myself sitting in a comfy chair, surrounded by strangers, listening to a seminarian tell me about the Bible and how to interpret it. Nothing changed right away. Over a month later though when Father Joe shared John 3:16 and I saw a glimmer of hope, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him might not perish but have eternal life.” I read it again… and again… and then I replaced a few words, in the silence of my heart John 3:16 became “Michelle, I love you so much that I gave my only Son up for you so that you may have life in Heaven with Me, your Father.”

WOAH. God was actually saying I was worthy. I was worth the life of his only Son. It was more than I could ever imagine. This act of God was the single most selfless act of love by having his only Son die for me. With his body on the cross, we get to comprehend the feeling of hope and know forgiveness and realize our lives are worth living and worth saving.

That day, my eyes were opened.

For the first time in my life…I felt love from my heavenly Father. It felt as though for the first time in five years my restless heart had been calmed, I was finally at peace. My heart was filled with warmth it no longer ached. My scars were still there but they weren’t bleeding they were healed. I had spent years angry at God, years of sorrow, years of dwelling in a place of pain, despair, and anguish. And yet on God’s end… nothing changed. His love never left no matter how selfish I had become. He loved me even when I showed no appreciation for His sacrifice. I would push Him away and He would push harder back into my life. I wanted nothing more than to hide from Him, yet He found me. I lived a life displeasing to Him, yet He was still faithful. Because to Him, I’m worth it.

It was His words, not my actions that ignited a fire within me. It was that moment, that experience, that community where I came to see a desire to know God as a loving father, not a vicious tyrant who wanted to see me suffer. I started with confession, to purify my soul that had ached for five years. I then began practicing the sacraments regularly and attending bible study regularly. I took every chance I had to get to know God more and more because through Him I knew I could find healing and self-worth. God has blessed me with the best of girl friends that have taught me how I can live out my faith. He has put men in my life who are striving to be men of God, who want to lead, protect and provide for women. And He has blessed me with a great bible study with awesome ladies who are my accountability partners and hold me to a higher standard.

That being said, I’m not perfect. I still make mistakes. I still have pain and suffering. Though I may fail, God’s mercy never fails. And it’s true, God’s love conquers all, whether I feel worthy of it or not. With His mercy, His grace, and His community, He is going to keep providing love. It’s never ending.

I firmly believe that God did not want this life for me.

But He took the pain and suffering that I endured and created something beautiful. I speak to you today, not as the person I was but the person I am. I have mended my relationship with my family. God has transformed my heart. I no longer see myself as someone unworthy of love but as God’s princess.

Have you denied yourself of God’s love because you feel unworthy? When you can’t find words to describe how numb the pain makes you feel, turn to the cross. He knows.

P.S. You are enough.