Years ago, a patient came in.  A women in her late thirties.  Sort of tough-looking. Rugged almost.

As we talked, she told me about her father sexually molesting her multiple times as a child.  She was quietly tearful.  It happened mostly in his truck.  On what were supposed to be father-daughter outings.

In her second appointment, she looked at me somewhat hesitatingly.

“I have something else I need to tell you.”

I nodded.  “Okay.”

“He made me do things to my kid brother.  In front of him.”

She broke down.  She had never told anyone. Couldn’t believe she was telling me. We spent the rest of the session talking about the feelings she had carried around for years. Guilt, humiliation, rage.  I reminded her that she had been a child.

She cancelled her next appointment.  I called, concerned.  “Are you okay?  What’s going on?”

“I really feel better.” I answered that that was wonderful, but that we might need another session to talk about what she had told me. Process.

I was wrong.  The telling of her story and my reaction of empathy had been enough.  She came in, one last time, to tell me just that.  “I thought anyone I might tell would judge me.  Would think I was horrible. Now I know that’s not true.”

I don’t know if she ever confronted her father. If memory serves, he was no longer alive.

Not everyone is like her.  Many need more time to sift through their complex feelings of having been abused.  But what I am struck by over and over again is the immense courage it takes to speak.  Not just to someone like me. If the abuse is within the family, to speak out there.  If it was by a stranger or date rape, to report.

So many do not.  I am not judging.  In some ways, the choice to tell or not is at least a choice.   That was taken away when the molestation or rape occurred.

But what about children?  We want them to tell.  We want to protect them.  There are many reasons they don’t.  Fear, loyalty to family, dissociation (actually taking themselves out of the experience mentally). Shame.  Confusion.

We also have seen just this week how complicated “telling” can be.  Whether you believe Woody Allen or Dylan Farrow, it can come down to, “He said, she said.”  At times there is not enough evidence for the prosecution to go forward.  Children are occasionally manipulated by scheming, angry parents.

However, children learn most by watching adults do.  We have tried as a society to raise children’s awareness of being touched inappropriately.  But if we adults continue to not speak out about ourselves being sexually abused, then what are they really learning?

I am not a victim of sexual abuse.  I can only imagine, having worked with many, how hard that is.  Especially to confront it in a family and live out the effects of the telling.  And of course you risk nothing happening.  Not being believed.  Being ignored.  Being blamed.  All these things are what people fear.

The telling has to be about you.  That you are ready.  You have detached from the potential negative reaction that you might get.  It’s more important to tell.  To find your voice.

You will not be victimized again.  By the past or the present.

There can be healing.  That’s the good news.   It’s hard.  If between victim and perpetrator, or anyone who knew of the abuse and did nothing, it takes brutal honesty.  A regaining of trust.  Sometimes, like for the woman above, it is a solo journey.

But it can be done.

All it takes… is telling.

This post may bring up issues for you that you would like to personally speak about with a therapist. If you need information about that or anything else about this post, you can e-mail Dr. Rutherford at askdrmargaret@NestAche.com. All communication will remain confidential. 

Jingle and jazz singer, clinical psychologist, community volunteer, actor, children’s choir director and recent writer/blogger–all of these are passions that have been part of Margaret Rutherford’s life. Add Mom, Wife, Daughter, Sister and Friend to the list, and you understand what is important to her. She coined the term “NestAche” when her only son left for college in fall 2012, and she began writing about her experiences at Nestache.com.  Now living in Fayetteville, Arkansas, she continues with her private practice, works in community theater and is learning more and more about the world of blogging! Connect with her on Facebook or Twitter.