Survivors' Voices: The First Person I Told

This month’s topic came from the suggestion of one survivor, who was reflecting on his own experience of telling his story for the first time. So, I asked the In Spirit and Truth Survivor Voices Panel: Who was the first person you told about your abuse, and how did they respond?

As you’ll see in the answers below, some survivors were met with compassion, while others were faced with disbelief, indifference, or even continued abuse. I hope you will read with an open heart and reflect on how you might respond if someone chose to share their story with you.

I am sharing the first half of responses below. I will share more answers in Part 2 next week.

If you have experienced sexual abuse in the Catholic Church, I would be honored to include your perspective in this “Survivors’ Voices” series. You can find more information and express your interest here.

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Who was the first person you told about your abuse, and how did they respond?

• I kept my secret until 2006, when I told my wife my story of childhood sexual abuse. I consider this moment to be my primary act of recovery. We had been married over 12 years at that time and I had never told her or anyone my story. I didn’t want to introduce such a sick and depraved story like that into our marriage. Initially, I thought she would think differently of me, as her husband, as a provider, as a father to our children. Exhausted from the inner struggle, I decided to finally tell her. With tears streaming down my face, hands shaking and heart pounding, I told her. Yet, Kathy didn’t think differently of me. She responded to me with compassion, love, and understanding. To be able to share my story, which I had kept secret for over 30 years, and still feel safe and loved, was such a profound experience. I believe God’s grace was among us.

• The first person I ever told was an uncle. He was hugging me in the way that the priest did. When I told him to stop, he wanted to know what else the priest did to me. Unfortunately at 10 years old, I did tell him. His reaction was to imitate what the priest had done. I never told another person for years.

• I told my mom about six years after it happened. I didn't mean to, really, but #MeToo was in the news, and I was getting really upset, and it just kind of burst out of me when she asked why. She told me it was the most normal thing in the world to be disappointed by men I trusted. I try not to think about what she must have been through to say something that insane in response to my disclosure.

• The first time I told someone was in 2016. I had not made a plan to tell. For a couple months I had been having awful flashbacks about another abuse situation, and I was also struggling with depression. A friend helped me connect with a military chaplain. (I knew that he was leaving for his next assignment in two months. That helped. He would never see me again if I did say anything.) For two weeks before our meeting I begged God to help me not to say anything I should not. I still was pretty sure that I should not talk about these things.
  When we met, I could not speak fluently. My mind was completely overwhelmed trying to fight away the voice that said “Tell him." He started praying aloud, and eventually I just blurted out, “I don’t know why I have to tell you this, but I was also messed with by a priest." Things got very awkward quickly. He told me we had to meet with someone else. He had a female friend (a therapist) that he wanted us to meet with. I was horrified about involving another person and resisted, but he sort of took over the situation and called his friend who lives some three hours away.
  Two weeks later she drove up to meet with us. He had been absolutely right. My history was such that I could not have told my story with only one person present. I distrusted women as much as I distrusted men (and priests in particular). Having two people present actually was the safe environment I needed to get the main pieces of my story out in the open for the first time.

• I decided to tell when I was about eight years old. I wasn't able to until decades later, when emotion and shaking eventually brought clearer memory then words. I told a priest. A tumultuous healing journey which included telling church leaders, trusting church leaders with my healing, and learning from church leaders followed. There were compassionate responses and deception. When things got shaky, those I trusted shut off communication. That led to a downslide back into shame, confusion, disorientation, sickness, and eventually to health, to trusting myself, to speaking about the reality of abuse and the possibility of a much healthier way forward.

• Since I was taking grad classes, I had to tell my two instructors within the week after it happened since it would impact my participation. Their responses were very compassionate, in terms of allowing me to attend and participate as possible. Only about a month later, I tried reporting to the archdiocese; they were very gruff and demanded I tell them the name and details before they would even consider giving me the time of day. In addition they informed me that they "need(ed) to investigate to see what my role was in the affair.”

• My therapist told me I had been sexually abused. I raised my arms with the touchdown sign while saying, "I knew it. I knew all along I wasn't gay. Now I can put this behind me." After a few moments of silence, my therapist informed me that this was just the beginning of my journey inward. I was intrigued and willing to do the hard work... for the next 20 years with the same therapist. I was in rehab when I told my family during family group. They have supported me every step of the way. That's priceless.

• I first told representatives of the Archdiocese via email. At first I was met with no response. Subsequently follow up was via phone; their response was insensitive and minimized what happened in every way possible. This made me honestly feel like it did not matter to them.

• “I believe you” were the first words off the lips of the Mother Superior at the convent where I had been. She knew the priest who abused me well, so I was worried she wouldn’t believe me. Her words were an immediate balm to my heart.

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I am grateful to the women and men who chose to share their experiences in this way, and I look forward to offering you more stories from the Survivor Voices Panel next week.

Let’s pray together that all victims of sexual abuse will be met with support and compassion when they choose to share their stories.

Peace,
Sara

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