Survivors of Incest Anonymous
Coming Home Phone Line
for Adult Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse

Call  1.712.432.8808     
Access code 742247#

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by Liz

July 2013


     Once again I find myself having a flashback. I hold my breath when I hear this man speak. And I go into a “trance-like state.” It is very very familiar.

I am seven years of age. It started then. The abuse became much worse at age ten.

     It lasted until I was 43 years old. By the time I started having sex with my husband, it was so ingrained into my psyche that I believed it was the way I was born. This, to me, was normal, or it was my fault.

     As soon as a man took on a manipulative sexual tone, posture or even touched me in a certain way, I “clicked off.” “Clicking off” meant one of two things.


I would freeze ...totally. There was no ability to think or act. I became a puppet; every cell in my body, mind and heart turned into a puppet. The man had total control. My only safety mechanism was in freezing or “clicking off.” I disappeared. I totally disappeared.


The second behavior, which occurred mostly with my husband, was turning into a “doll.” I did not totally disappear. I was able to shut down my mind and go into a place of sensual pleasure. I was his “doll” and my pleasure came from doing whatever he wanted. This enabled all the rapes. It also enabled the acts of sodomy which tore my open.

The name I gave for this was/is “prostitute,” because that was exactly what it was.

Today I take no blame for any of it.

Both behaviors, #1 and #2, involve me disappearing. In fact, there is an even deeper effect: the real evil is that there is this little girl inside that craved it.

It began with my dad. He was drunk. I knew he was acting different compared with his usual personality. He was seeking me out. Of all four children, I was the only one he wanted.

The evil came with a price tag. The manipulative price was: I received his attention. More than anything (at age 7) I wanted attention, affection and love.

So sex and giving a man whatever he wanted (regardless of what I wanted) became synonymous with love.

Still, to this day, I feel that pull.