Beginning the Process 07.03.2021

Oh my God.

So here we go. Oh my God. Oh my God ; a phrase I was never allowed to say growing up, but that is taken as par for the course here in Uganda, even by seasoned Christians.

Why am I saying this phrase?

Because I’m about to embark (actually, I started an hour and a half ago) on the process of journeying towards healing. From CSA. For those who don’t know what that means or stands for, it’s this: Childhood Sexual Abuse.

As a survivor of CSA, I need healing. My God (He’s going to be addressed a lot during this post) , I have tried to start this journey so many times before. Twenty years ago this autumn is the first time I told anyone outside of myself and my abusers. The road to volume and confidence in speaking has been steep and torturous since then. I have bought, been given, found so many healing books since then. And today I have not a single one of them. Why? Because I have retreated from the pain of confrontation of thorny abuse time and again. I’ve donated some of the books to bookshops and stalls, still in pristine condition. Others I have buried within donations for charity shops. Others I have dipped into and shelved, challenged and unready for the work of healing found within their pages. And then, thankfully, several books were amongst the precious possessions stolen from our container, somewhere between/in Mombasa and Kampala.

Some of these books are:

1. The Courage to Heal Workbook
2. Life on the Seabed
3. Michael Rosen’s Sad Book
4. The Orchard on Fire (novel)
5. The Story of Holly and Ivy (this touches on my story with Ella; I missed my original copy and so bought one with the same cover design off eBay)
6. Moonfleet (not to do with abuse of this nature, but my favourite novel, and sadly, my grandfather’s named copy)
7. Life and Loss: Stories of … (I don’t remember the full title, but it was a collection of accounts and stories from women who had lost children)
8. Beyond the Tears – Lynn Tolson
9. Hope and Healing: survivors (don’t remember full title, but a book of survivors’ accounts of CSA)

There are many other books I no longer remember, but many on the topic of healing from the trauma of CSA. At different points I have hurled books across bedrooms (instability of location has become a pattern, leading to multiple dwelling places). I’ve slumped back into denial as being easier to deal with than the fresh hurt of honesty over events all others deny. I’ve felt unable to work through workbooks, despite being at a place (for a long time, now) of being able to say I was abused. I’ve had counsellors, many and various. I’ve had police interaction, incomplete and bewildering. I’ve had initials of diagnoses tagged together, longer than my 32-letter full name. I’ve had medications nauseating and powerful. I’ve had mental hospital stays. Admittedly, a slew in one year (2017), but interminable enough to feel decades-long.

Has any of this helped? Maybe.

Will this latest book help? Maybe.

Have I yet thrown it across the room? Yes. Because I disagreed with a definition of CSA that discounted my experience in one massive aspect.

Am I willing to read it further, to pursue the potent possibility of healing? Yes. I believe I am.

So on this cusp of International Women’s Day, I’d like to give this gift to myself: I believe you. It was CSA. That is CSA. Speak your truth, darlin, and let’s hope the books come back.