Reclaiming My Body from S.A. // Guest Goddess Sam Fisher
CONTENT WARNING: The following post describes a childhood trauma, childhood S.A. from the author’s life. She discusses the S.A. , how she was affected and the steps she took to overcome her trauma. The suggestions on healing are what helped the author and she shares them here in hopes that they may help another woman.
Reclaiming My Body from Sexual Assault
I was 5 when my childhood innocence was stripped of me, my body no longer mine. My sexuality woken long before I even knew that word existed.
“Shhhhhh, don’t tell anyone.” You know that familiar sentence many people get told when something is happening that probably shouldn’t be happening. I was a kid and I wanted to be a good girl, So I didn’t. It took me years to realize how confusing that message was. It took me years to uncover why it was so confusing. We’ll come back to that realization later, first there’s more to say.
His name was Mouse, real name Jerry. He was my dads best friend and he used to babysit us. I can see his face clearly in my mind, I can even remember the shape of his body. He was shaped like a creepy fucking mouse, disgusting, fat, short, small and creepy. And every once in a blue moon I catch a whiff of the cologne he wore and it sends me into shivers.
The body keeps the score.
The occurrences happened numerous times, It felt like years, but honestly one time is too many. Then one day he disappeared. I kept it a secret into my early teen years, when I finally had the courage to tell my dad.
Until March this year, it was a subject I lightly touched upon in my relationships, therapy, friendships. Shit I was married for 20+ years and never fully told my husband what had happened. I only told him I had been molested. It was never something I was ready to dive into.
Honestly, in many ways I didn’t really think I needed to heal from that experience. It didn’t send me into sexual shut down, I didn’t cringe at super sexual jokes. I was walking around thinking fuck yeah! I am barely scarred from this! I’m doing awesome!
Bullshit is what my body had to say about that story!
In March, I had a “simple” surgery on my foot to remove a cyst I had for 15 years. Seeing as though my profession is literally helping women heal their relationships to their bodies I should have known it would be more complicated than just a cyst removal. But no, another story of I’m good, this will be easy, I’ll be back to work in 2 weeks. The bump gone, fully healed and minimal scarring. Can you see where this is going?
From the moment of surgery check-in childhood memories were unlocked from the deep vault of my sub conscious, brought to the surface, screaming to be dealt with and healed. Suddenly again my body was no longer mine. In my post op the doctor couldn’t touch my foot without me sobbing and my whole body shaking uncontrollably. I let the tears flow and thank god the doctor paid attention to my body language. She didn’t need to know the details, she just knew this was a special case and we were going to treat my healing a little differently. We wrapped my foot back up and eventually she sent me home assuring me that every step of the way I could call her if I needed. I didn’t know she would be saving my life and helping me heal something stuck in my body for 38 years. She was an my angel.
I pulled into my garage, paralyzed in the car, sobbing, shaking and feeling the early onset of a panic attack. I felt so alone, I wished I had someone there who could fix me, help make me feel better. Thank god I have soooo many self soothing & processing tools I was able to talk myself through it and I suddenly became aware of what I needed to do next. I had the realization that nobody could fix this, It was my job to heal me.
I needed to take my power back. I needed to take my body back. I needed to heal, which meant I needed to talk about my experience of Childhood Sexual trauma. This would also mean remembering and talking about the details I had chosen to forget. Until March of this year I had never told a soul the details. That fucking man kept that power for most of my life and it was time for me to take it back. I knew this was not going to be easy but if I could do this I would heal generational trauma attached to sex and sexuality. This is just one task I was put on this earth to do, so here I went.
Part of my healing was sharing with a couple of my closest friends, and my therapist. But I felt It wasn’t enough. In order to fully heal I needed to tell a man and I knew exactly who it needed to be. His name is Prince (ironic right?) He is not my partner, but a man who has been a big part of my healing as a woman, post divorce, finding myself in adulthood and now my relationship to my body and sex. It was painful, hard, and sooooo fucking beautiful. I had planned to ask him if I could share the details but he asked before I could. He said “I’d be honored to hear the details if you would like to share them with me” It took a few minutes to decide where to start and he took the silence as a no, so he started to talk. But I also started to talk so he became silent. I told him about the touches, the memories, I told him about the words that were said. I told him the hardest part. Which just writing this churns my stomach inside out. I told him that every once in awhile if I let myself go there I can remember his face between my legs. He listened while I cried, let there be silence, he held me, not trying to fix it or take the pain away he let me release the pain that had been stuck for a lifetime. It was the most cathartic experience to tell the truth.
Here’s where the confused part comes in. How could something so wrong, shameful and disgusting feel so good? AND good lord does that feel shameful as fuck to say. But it’s the truth. Because there are two truths here. #1 this is wrong, no child especially should ever experience this AND #2 it felt good, it sent funny feelings in my p*ssy, sensations I didn’t know existed. The problem is we (sexual assault victims) are shamed all the fucking time. “Well she liked it, so how could it be rape?” “ It felt good so how could it be sexual assault?” These are the messages we have heard for decades which lets the Suspect go free and the victim held in purgatory feeling shame for something they had no control over.
Our bodies are wired for pleasure. The clitoris alone is made simply for pleasure, It has 8,000 nerve endings for heavens sake. We can’t decipher when something bad is happening to us we feel what we feel.
I took my power and my body back by telling my story, I continue to take it back as I continue to tell my story. Words have so much power and if the story stays in the body, the body will create dis-ease. The story will eventually come out if it hasn’t already. It’s not an easy process. Trust me, I feel you. But FUCK does it feel better on the other side. I know my healing isn’t finished, I don’t know what will wake the trauma back up again but I won’t hide any more. When I tell my story I help heal my mother, myself, my daughters, my grandmothers and every one who came before, I also heal those who will came after me. I help others heal in the knowing that they aren’t alone.
If you know this story, here is your personal invitation to take your power back, take your body back. Here are some suggestions as I share what I did for myself. Take what you like and add in your own flavor. These were practices I did at home and with that said I highly suggest also seeking out a professional to help you in the process. I am a trauma informed practitioner with years of training, experience and support.
Here goes:
I mindfully created my space, lighting a delicious candle, putting on my favorite sensual music that I know evoke emotions. I sat for a moment and concentrated on breathing, my hand on my heart. I grabbed my journal and began a letter to my body. A letter full of deep love, forgiveness (even though I couldn’t control the situation), declaration of how I will take care of myself differently, empowerment, and adornment. I let the words pour out onto the paper while the tears flowed. When that felt complete, I laid on the floor felt the rise & fall of my body and I let my hands lovingly rest on my body while I whispered words of love to her. I let myself be until the process felt complete.
As I said, this is my process, yours can be different. If I leave you with anything I hope its that you know you can do this, even if it feels impossible. Surround yourself with your people, the ones who won’t make you feel bad, gross or try to fix it. The ones who will listen and hold space for you to feel and release. Shit, you can feel free to message me. I’m here for all of it.
Thank you for reading this insanely vulnerable post. I am so grateful I was asked to be a part of this blog. Anjua is my soul sister who I am eternally grateful for.
Sending you so much healing and love,
Samantha
You can follow Sam on Instagram @Thesweetspotlife or check out her website for ways to be a part of her world thesweetspotlife.com.
Sam also appeared on The Electric Feminine Podcast. Episode: Erotic Mother