In the aftermath of abuse, the most important thing a victim can receive is support. That, more than anything, is key to how well the person will recover from what happened to them. True enough, the abuse will always be a part of them. But with the aid and support of people who believe what happened, and who know that it wasn't the victim's fault, a person can heal tremendously. Oftentimes, the sooner the victim receives help, the more quickly they can deal with their experience. Loving family, competent therapists, encouraging religious community, and effective law enforcement (where applicable) can all contribute to the process of healing.
Unfortunately, disbelief is the rule rather than the exception, when victims tell their stories. This is especially true in families in which one or more family members are the perpetrators. To such families, the truth is a dangerous threat. Should one of the members come forward and blow the whistle, then the perpetrator would be revealed, and his or her acts disclosed to the world. So, too, would the inaction of any family member who knew of the abuse and did not move to prevent it. It is far more desirable for an abuser to keep things secret, or blame them on the victim.
Consequently, many victims find no support whatsoever from their families, either because their families are the abusers, or because their relatives just don't know how to deal with the information they've learned. To discover that your next-door neighbor has forced your child to perform oral sex on him is a hard revelation to believe, especially if that neighbor has always been friendly and pleasant. It is far easier to believe that the child dreamed it, or is making it up, or is somehow sick and delusional, or is just trying to get attention.
But the victim who is left to come to grips with their experience on their own, without support, is truly a person set adrift. This is particularly true if they are a young person, as happened to me.
I was not believed when I first revealed that I had been assaulted. To the contrary, I was locked away in my house, my movements limited, my contacts with people restricted, as if I were the offender. I was treated as if I had no right to feel angry or frustrated by the treatment I received; and eventually became convinced that I was to blame. It took me several years to realize that I was not to blame, that I really had been violated, and that my anger at being restricted was perfectly justified.
In addition, when I spoke about being emotionally abused, I was not supported then, either. Instead, I was threatened with further abuse. I heard the all-too-familiar phrases, "Just get over it!" and "Snap out of it!" And I was left to deal with the repercussions on my own.
I can honestly say, that had I been provided with someone who could actually listen to me, who would not have judged or threatened me, I would likely be much further along in my recovery than I am now. The feeling of being disbelieved is incredibly disheartening. I repeatedly received the message that what I had to say was not worth hearing, and that I was not believed. I learned that I was not going to receive any kind of help; indeed, I was sometimes punished when I asked for it. I learned that asking for help was a waste of time, that I had no hope, and no one would support or believe in me. I also learned that telling my story brought further humiliation and abuse.
Ironically, I did receive therapy a few times as a teen and into college, beginning when I was 13 or so and expressed suicidal feelings. But I also received a lot of pressure to quit therapy, and so it never really helped. Furthermore, my family didn't seem really willing or able to look at themselves as part of the problem -- it was easier to act as if it were all just me. I also got the sense that the more times I asked for therapy, the more frustrated my family became with me that it hadn't "stuck" previously; because by the time I was 18 and suicidal, and begging for help, the first tactic that was used on me was the "Things Can't Be That Bad, Just Deal With What Life Gives You" lecture. I did eventually get some therapy then, but still got a lot of pressure to stop. The general message was, "Go as long as you need to, but when are you going to be done?"
Consequently, I was left to deal with the aftermath of being abused largely on my own. I didn't have the slightest idea what I was doing, either; so for the most part, at least while I was younger, I screwed it up. But it was the best I knew how to do. And I certainly wasn't getting any constructive suggestions on how to do better. To the contrary, I was still being abused, even after the alcoholism subsided. And for years, I was told (directly or indirectly) that there was something wrong with me, and I struggled to figure out what it was.
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