I Am Not Just a Statistic

Children who are sexually abused are:

• About 4 times more likely to develop symptoms of drug abuse

• About 4 times more likely to experience PTSD as adults

• About 3 times more likely to experience a major depressive episode as adults

  
  

These were the odds I was up against. In a way, these are odds I am still up against. Being a child victim of sexual assault doesn’t ever get to be a part of my story that is erased, and this specific trauma meant that I immediately had a lot working against me. As I grew and was exposed to more of the world and its brokenness, my eyes continued to be opened to the truths that were not stacked in my favor. 

Things began to click into place that no one should ever have to wrestle with. I don’t remember how it came up, or what officially slipped this bit of knowledge to me, but somehow I learned the ugly fact that many people who are perpetrators were also once victims themselves. Those thoughts and feelings that prompt someone to act upon the harming of another person, especially a child, don’t often just pop into the brain one day. The hurt leads to more hurt. 

This realization created a crisis for me. Knowing that statistic was paralyzing. I have always loved kids. Suddenly, I was terrified of myself. I didn’t know what kind of harm I was capable of inflicting, and no one told me the percentage of survivors who go on to raise healthy children or become advocates. I spiraled on the thought of the people who survived and never healed. My brain was so afraid that my fate was just to succumb to my abusive nature that didn’t even really exist. I believed that this false identity was a part of me now, and those terrible thoughts were bound to flare at any moment. What if I hurt a child the way I was hurt one day? 

Maybe this all sounds crazy, but when I started college, I planned to be an elementary special educator. I remember, before graduating high school, having an honest conversation with one of my beloved teachers about how terrified I was that I might hurt a child. I was afraid of myself. That teacher had to look me straight in the eyes and say, “Makaela. That isn’t you.” 

When my niece was first born, and I can’t remember what triggered this, but I remember ending up out in the parking lot during a church service, in tears, on the phone with my sister. I needed her to know that I would never, ever hurt her children in any way. My sister never accused me of any of that! She trusts me fully. She spent that phone call reassuring me that I’m one of the few people she trusts most in the world with her babies. Being a victim of sexual abuse, made me afraid of a lot of things, including myself. With the support of those who love me and several mental health professionals along the way, I’ve come very far.

The statistics will tell you that those who commit sexual violence often were once victims themselves. However, every number has a name. Every name has a story. Every story matters. I believe every story matters to God. My story matters. While the odds have never been stacked in my favor, I refuse to let my abuse be what defines anything about me. I am a survivor. I am an advocate. I am trustworthy. I am a safe space. 

In fact a HUGE part of what makes me who I am is my love for children and my passion for advocating for their safety. If you look for me at church, there’s a good chance you’ll find me holding a baby. I LOVE babies, and I love any opportunity I have to be a part of someone’s village. You have no idea what delight I found in purchasing, “The ABCs of Consent,” for my niece and reading them to her for the first time. There are few things more important to me than being a part of teaching her to stand up for and love herself. 

I know I won’t ever intentionally hurt a child in any way. That’s not who I am. It never will be who I am. I know this. But PTSD does really odd things to our brains, and this all makes me so grateful for the people I have around me that know me well, love me well, and speak truth about me when I struggle to remember it. 

There’s a chance that I will spend the rest of my life healing from the things that happened to me, and that’s why it is so deeply important to me to spend the rest of  my life fighting for the safety of our world’s most vulnerable. No one should grow up afraid of themselves. No one should grow up unable to trust adults. No one should grow up without a space to feel safe. No child should grow up having ever been physically harmed by an adult. I won’t stop fighting until that is the future we live in. If child abuse still exists, there is still work to be done. 

As CAP Month kicks off, this just felt like something important to speak. I would be honored if you would join me in wearing blue this month, specifically on Fridays, in support of Child Abuse Prevention in the United States. If you feel passionate about this stuff the way I do, check out your local Child Advocacy Center and start asking how you can help! No effort is too small. Every child matters. Every child deserves to be fought for. You can be a part of the fight. 

Would you join me? 

You are truly and deeply loved

If you’re interested in more statistics, this was my source: rainn.org/statistics/children-and-teens

If you’re interested in learning how you can support CAP month and the Isabella County Child Advocacy Center you can learn more here: isabellacac.org/child-abuse-prevention-month