Violated As A Young Girl

As a young girl, I experienced a violation that shattered the illusion of security in a family-and-friends environment. This was a setting that, on the surface, appeared secure and trustworthy, but the reality was far from it. This experience planted the seeds of a lifetime of distrust, hypervigilance, and the creation of a false persona to shield myself.

When I was a young girl (under 10 years old), we lived on a farm in regional Victoria, Australia. One beautiful sunny day, our family visited some family friends for a delightful lunch on a neighbouring property. Our mothers were inseparable, and as for the couples, this foursome knew how to have a good time. They enjoyed a drink, and the men took charge of the BBQ. They would gather in the garden, their laughter echoing through the air.

Among us were three kids and three boys from our friend’s family. The eldest boy was my buddy – a year younger than me. Their youngest was just a baby. My family members, towering figures in comparison, were also present. The dynamics of our playtime were dictated by the eldest and the biggest, a fact that was accepted without question.

The lunch was long, and our parents wanted to kick on, keep drinking and have an adult talk, so they ushered all of us kids into the bunkroom to play while they partied.

An ‘Innocent’ Game

Among us were three kids and three boys from our friend’s family. The eldest boy was my buddy – a year younger than me. Their youngest was just a baby. My family members, towering figures in comparison, were also present. The dynamics of our playtime were dictated by the eldest and the biggest, a fact that was accepted without question.

The lunch was long, and our parents wanted to kick on, keep drinking and have an adult talk, so they ushered all of us kids into the bunkroom to play while they partied.

There were five of us in this bunkroom, aged thirteen or fourteen down to five. The baby was put in a different room—clearly, we were too boisterous. When the parents left, they suggested playing a game was a good idea. I was on the top bunk and only wanted to sleep, but the other kids jostled me and told me to pay attention.

I was the only girl in the group of five. I remember being cradled by one of them from behind,  with their hand on my shoulder in the adolescent, childlike way. In his shame, offering me comfort and support in a “Lord of the Flies” type scenario, as though we kids were a group led down a path through the forces of a powerful individual.

The leader of the gang suggested it would be fun to play a game of putting their fingers inside me. 

I can assure you that every person in that room knew that what was going on was wrong. But they couldn’t do anything about that because the influence of this character was too strong. Too influential. Too fearsome. What would be the ramifications if they didn’t do as he said? No one wanted to discover what would happen if they didn’t. So, they were complacent. They were all children.

I remember the burning sensation.

I remember the shame.

I remember the fear.

I remember no one was there who could stop what was happening or help me.

How Abuse Affected My Childhood

Following that incident, a new struggle emerged-bedwetting. Every night, without fail, I would wet the bed. This continued for years, necessitating a plastic cover to protect the mattress. The fear was so intense that I couldn’t bear to sleep alone in a dark room for years.

During this time, I found solace in an imaginary friend, Mr Noisy Norman. He became my confidant, my only true friend. We had a special place where I could escape with him. In a twist of fate, my mind buried this entire experience – until it didn’t. The memories resurfaced later in life, causing sudden jolts of remembrance.

Today, I’ve made significant progress. I can now sleep in the afternoon, even without someone I trust in the house, or without the TV on if I am by myself. This newfound independence and peace are testaments to the healing journey I’ve embarked on.

Through extensive work on regression and kinetic energy, I confronted the shame, horror, fear, anger, humiliation, and violation that had plagued me. Inner-child meditations allowed me to become my own empathetic witness, validating the little girl who had been so desperately needed. This exposure work was challenging, but it led me to acceptance and emotional freedom. It desensitised me and granted me peace, inner strength, and wisdom. Most importantly, it gifted me with self-trust. 

“It took me a fair amount of work with a psychologist to say the word abused. To admit and then face the fact that I had been abused was a hard, confronting and incredibly scary task. So, if you struggle with that, you are not alone; it takes practice, and then you can make room for it with acceptance.“

Fleur Elizabeth

#notyoursecretanymore