Sexual abuse

My "encounters" or "conversations" with my inner child have not yet been able to put an end to my ongoing internal dialogue on the subject of sexual abuse. Have I really assumed a resounding 'yes' to childhood sexual abuse? Almost two months ago I wrote:

I took part in some activities for 8th March in Sevilla with friends and our collective Disidencias del Sur and our banner "We too are feminism: trans, queers, nonbinaries". I started with lunch in the Alameda de Hércules. There was a good atmosphere when I arrived, with music and people dancing.

I continue with my visualisations or meetings with my inner child on a daily basis. It is important to me to maintain regular contact, so that they don't feel abandoned again.

“I’ve been lied to and abused. Time to try to heal
Cut me loose, cut me loose
Let me get hurt. Let me feel.
Cut my bound hands free and point me toward the real

(...)

Now ever since I was a little child I have felt this same old fear
That I alone will freeze while the world proceeds, I’ll be forever stuck right here
But I can’t live the old way, that way nearly left me dead”

Yesterday I wrote about my process with my inner child, and this process continues. Unfortunately, it is a very painful process, with a lot of fear and a lot of pain, and I can't do it without crying. Yesterday, before going to bed, I had to stop the meditation, as very painful images of my inner child came to me - new images, related to the topic of sexual abuse - which I prefer not to mention here yet, as it is not at all clear to me what relation to reality these images have. Just thinking about these images now gives me a knot in my stomach and I have to cry.

Writing about my inner child, whom I only found a little more than a week ago, is not easy. Just looking at my inner child, sitting on the floor in a corner, knees as close to the body as possible, arms covering their heads and covering their ears and eyes, makes me ache, my stomach tightens, I feel all the fear and pain of my little inner child, and I often have to cry, as I do now.

Where is there room for so much pain and so much fear in such a little child? Where do this pain and fear come from?

They want you dead
In their shitty world
Where it only matters to produce and consume
Where your emotions and illusions they have no space for
They want you dead

They want you dead
Because you don't produce, because you don't consume
Because you do care about your emotions
Because you want to tend to your trauma, to the wounds you carry from their shit
They want you dead

“What makes a girl start a fire in the hall
Leave a lipstick scrawl on the bathroom mirror?
(…)

What makes a man take a hammer in his hand
Shatter every last window of the company store
At 3 AM with the furies back again?
Now it's him against them in a personal war”

Ezra Furman: Trauma (lyrics, video)