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Katie Morgan, Life Coach/Author/RN
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The Fall-Out From Sex Abuse

10/17/2017

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I've already written about how I believe my ex-husband's sex addiction healed me in many ways, but I haven't really shared why I believe I chose a sex addict in the first place.

It generally doesn't "just happen."

In fact, while I was grieving the effects of my husband's sex addiction disclosure 20 years ago, I learned that a high percentage of people who choose sex addicts have been sexually abused.

That certainly rang true for me.

I'd known since I was 15 that I'd been sexually abused, and I was even fairly certain that I knew who my perpetrator was. I didn't have any memories of the abuse; I just knew that it was true, deep in my gut, for as long as I could remember.

But at that tender age, I also didn't think it was an issue to be concerned about. It happened; I knew it; and it was over. 

Nothing could have been further from the truth.

What I didn't know then, as a young teen, was that I should've done something more about it, like tell an adult. Or consult a professional. Or confront my perpetrator. Or even believe it was a monumental discovery that needed attention.

But I did none of these.

In fact, I successfully shoved the abuse so far down into my subconscious that thinking about it over the years felt like a fictional story I was trying to write.

Someone else's story, certainly not mine.

It wasn't until my life was impacted by sex-addiction when I was finally given permission to ask myself the tough questions: Had I really been sexually abused? And why had I chosen a sex addict as a mate?

I was grieving so heavily and so deeply about my broken marriage that I assumed I was killing two birds with one stone: healing the fall-out from my husband's infidelities, while dealing with that sex-abuse-thing that happened years ago.

How wrong I was.

Instead, the abuse had been driving my behaviors for decades since it had happened to me as a toddler. And the fall-out of being sexually exploited continued long after my ex-husband left our home.

I just didn't know it.

Looking back on the symptoms, it may have been obvious to the casual observer that something sinister had happened to me, but the effects from sex abuse were obvious to me only in hindsight, after I began healing as an adult.

As a child, I was an angry and lonely; I was fearful and anxious much of the time; I worried incessantly; and as a young writer, many of my poems spoke to my abuse in the form of ideas and themes far beyond the typical knowledge and maturity of a kid.

The dominant theme that fueled my behaviors and drove my decisions beginning when I was very young was that I have always felt like an outcast and an outsider.

I have rarely felt like I belong: to any groups, to my family, to my places of employment, or to the world.

As young as five years old, I sensed how different I was from  my family and I've rarely felt a part of our big, robust clan of ten. I knew they didn't act like me, think like me, nor have the same perspectives on the world as I did.

Trauma taught me that I was to stay in the background of my life, hidden, because I was just a "nobody," incapable of making a difference in my world.

Don't make a sound; don't have any needs; don't act up.

Staying quiet and hidden continue to paralyze me at times. I can still succumb to feeling small, vulnerable, and discarded, even as a powerful 54-year-old woman who has led a courageous and kick-ass life.

I've also had to learn to break free of debilitating fear. I was terrified of abduction, especially as a child, but even as a young adult I was still acutely aware of my surroundings at all times. 

One could call it "hypervigilance," an enhanced state of sensory sensitivity accompanied by an exaggerated intensity of behaviors whose purpose is to detect activity. It may bring about a state of increased anxiety which can cause exhaustion.

Yep, that was me for as long as I can remember. 

My take on the world has always been that it's out to get me, and that may have sometimes included you, too.

I have been afraid of your tone, your anger, and even your brilliance. Self-doubt often made me compare myself to you and others, and I rarely measured up.

In fact, oftentimes I was flailing inside while a barrage of self-criticizing chatter droned on in my head. Unworthiness was a typical theme, so I've had to be persistent about replacing it with uplifting and empowering thoughts and behaviors, instead.

In order to compensate for feeling less-than, I adopted perfectionism as a way to throw a blanket over the symptoms of abuse. If I could be a perfect Mom (oh, my poor children!), homemaker, wife, employee, and friend, I could tamp down feeling so broken.

But few people knew any of this about me.

Because as a child I learned to hide behind a veneer of "nice" and "happy" and I quickly learned that staying very busy would drown out any undercurrent of abuse.

I groomed myself into a free-spirited, independent, unconventional woman; I naturally and easily lead workshops; I am a prolific writer with a published book; I raised 3 kids alone for 20 years; I'm typically chosen as a leader at work; and I'm a powerful Mofo in life.

But that has never completely erased the nagging belief that I don't belong on this planet, I don't fit in, and I don't always feel as together as you may think I am.

I'm often surprised when people remember my name, or seek me out, because I'm more used to feeling invisible or ignored than I am used to feeling included.

Sex abuse also skewed my filters for intimacy and appropriate relating. Love was confused with sex, so I gravitated toward others whose need for sex was insatiable because my need to be loved was paramount.

Unraveling and rebuilding a sense of healthy intimacy has been challenging.

Fortunately, I've been able to overcome many of the challenges left in the wake of sex abuse because my personality has always demanded it. I have had a life-long drive to become someone more than my scared little self, and I am proud of how I've succeeded.

The demons that still occasionally show up serve to remind me how sex abuse fractured my childhood and set me on a course of pain, fear, and missing out on feeling like a worthy member of the planet, but as an adult, I also know these are just symptoms of abuse.

I can change my perspective, challenge the negative chatter, and expect a different outcome.

I've also been able to fully forgive my perpetrator, which is a miracle since he died long before I even began my healing journey. My story with him is complete; my forgiveness added a whole new layer of meaning to my path toward healing.

I feel safe, and the world is beautiful and friendly. 

And because I've been diligent in my pursuit toward healing, I lead a meaningful life full of adventure, joy, confidence, and a sense of pride for all I've survived.

You can, too.

Be courageous. Tell your story. And lean into healing.

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When Love Shows Up Unexpectedly

10/4/2016

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I was recounting a story to a friend over dinner last night when I was surprisingly overcome by tears. Had I not been in a restaurant, I may have gone full-tilt into sobbing.

But let me explain...

When my life exploded twenty years ago, I was thrown into a familiar position of having to take care of everything on my own. While it was sad and difficult to contemplate losing my marriage and possibly my family, I was already adept at pulling up my boot straps and summoning myself forward, alone.

But this time, I didn't have to. And last night's emotional response to my own story brought up overwhelming feelings of gratitude for the love I received way back when I needed it most.

Especially unexpected love. 

It was just hours after my life-as-I-knew-it crumbled when my younger brother-in-law called to inform me of his flight information for the following day. He was on his way to my house.

Puzzled, I asked why. "Because you need me," he answered, confidently.

"I do?" was the only question I knew to ask. After all, I couldn't fathom asking anyone to fly several states away, while taking time off from work and their lives, to come to my aid.

This was my life that caved, so it was my job to pick up the pieces, wasn't it?

But this time, it wasn't.

In fact, when my brother-in-law arrived, he immediately got my then-husband out of the house (when I could not) and cooked, took care of my three kiddos under five, and kept an eye on me. He was taking over where his brother had bailed, all because he knew I needed it.

A week later when he had to leave, I was once again overwhelmed to learn that his older brother and partner were already en route, driving several states away to pick up where his sibling had left off. They, too, stayed another week as I began to slowly come out of my fog.

While the story may have been sad and difficult at one time in my life, it's also an old story, so I can usually tell it without any emotion.

But love, when it shows up unexpectedly, is timeless.

And the love that showed up twenty years ago left me stunned. Retelling it today often stirs tears of slap-happy, I-can't-believe-they-did-that gratitude.

I was blessed to have had those men carrying me when I could not hold it together on my own. And I was grateful that my soon-to-be ex-family didn't know the meaning of "ex". Instead, they chose to do the right thing.

They did for me what I could not do for myself. But more importantly, they did it when I didn't even know I needed it.

I never did lose them; in fact, I just returned from a weekend with two of them. They have become my forever family--the brother and partner of my ex-husband (whom I no longer have much contact with), and I am grateful for them, still.

Getting choked-up over love that remains bountiful two decades later is beautiful, overwhelming, and powerful.

Who are you grateful for, and how has love unexpectedly touched you?



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This Wasn't My First Rodeo

9/26/2016

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I spent years after my divorce attending self-help workshops where my thoughts, beliefs and habits were blown wide open in just a weekend. I felt so at-home in the rooms with others like me that I continued attending the workshops as a volunteer for several years. 

As a member of 12-step, I'd also spent many years walking my talk. I was happy, fulfilled, and trusted that my world was perfectly imperfect.

I was convinced that I was living by magic when my childhood sweetie re-entered my life and I eventually made plans to move cross-country with my 3 kids to be with him.

Then in no time at all, my perfectly imperfect life all went to hell. My relationship was a struggle, he dismissed all I'd learned and loved as "silly," and I began to believe him.

I gave away my books, quit my recovery program, and spent many days in tears. Where had my happy and fulfilling life slipped away to?

The harsh truth was that I had not fully trusted my reality, so I tapped into his, instead. And in doing so, I began to slowly lose it all again: my serenity, my recovery, and my spirituality--hallmark symptoms of co-dependency.

It took many years to recover myself from underneath another addict. I was stunned at how quickly I'd fallen, and appalled with myself because I knew better.

How could I have done this again?

Fast forward several years later. I just returned from another powerfully, life-changing workshop and I was reminded how much I love my Tribe of Weirdos who strive to become the best version of themselves.

I have recovered more of myself, but this wasn't my first rodeo. I know that searching for what stirs my soul is healing. I had it once, lost it, then searched again. But making sure I hang onto whatever it is that makes me feels alive is key.

What about you?

Where have you been losing your soul, your Mojo, or yourself as you dismiss who you really are? It's never too late to reclaim yourself and your life.

Follow what leads you, make joy your goal, and listen to your small but steady voice that keeps calling you Home.

Then never, ever let it go.


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    Author

    After being raised in the mid-west, I migrated south for high school (with a year in Brazil) and college, and ventured west for a long marriage (and later, divorce)...and eventually landed in the northwest--my real home. Sigh. 

    I am a Teacher, Healer, Single Mother, Nurse, Coach, Columnist, Artist, Author, Traveler, Motivator...eager to share myself with you. 

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