Accepting and forgiving my worst experiences

Processing some decades old shame and guilt to heal old wounds

Content warning: this newsletter mentions abusive relationships, child pornography, suicide attempts, stalking, and rape. Please take care of yourself before and after reading it, or skip it altogether if reading about those subjects will do you more harm than good today.

I’ve started to write this newsletter a handful of times now and it hasn’t gone well. So I think instead of trying to explain myself first, I’m just going to jump in to describe the situation I need to come to terms with and hope that you will stick with me until the end.

The situation

When I was 18 I started dating someone who ended up being very bad for me. We got engaged at Christmas during my first year of university and moved in together the following May. The following February, while searching my computer for a file, I discovered he had been downloading child pornography on Sundays while I was at work and on Monday nights when I was in class.

This was in 200​6, which was before anyone could easily stream porn on the internet. You had to download files. The videos he downloaded had names like 8yearoldsex or 12yoblondeshower. I was in such shock when I first found the files that I opened them because they couldn’t be what they said they were, right? I just couldn’t believe that in my bedroom, my computer could have videos of adults having sex with children contaminating it, but that is exactly what was happening. The twelve year old in the shower looked so much like me at that age, which, if you’ve been reading this newsletter for a while, you may remember is the age I was raped. My brain could not piece this information together.

I should mention too, that around this time, the person who raped me moved into an apartment building down the street from us. He then got a job where my fiancé worked. My fiancé convinced his boss to fire my rapist as he, my fiancé, couldn’t work with him, my rapist. I was having almost daily panic attacks and nightmares, convinced this man would fulfil his vow to kill me. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that he showed up in both places, right? He was stalking me and it was terrifying. I tried to get a restraining order, but those are only for people you’ve lived with. In my scenario, I could try to get a peace bond, but I needed to know his address to start the process and I didn’t know what unit he lived in. I was stuck and terrified and I didn’t know what to do to protect myself.

And now I couldn’t understand what was happening because my fiancé was the only person in the world I trusted. And if he couldn't work with someone because that man had raped a 12 year old, why would he be watching videos of someone else raping children? It didn't make sense. Nothing in my world made sense to me at that time.

You might be wondering why I didn’t get help from any friends or family members when I was being stalked. I later realized, with a therapist who was very patient with me, that my fiancé had been isolating me for months - years even. I did still have friends, but he got upset when I spent time with them. He got upset when I wanted us to spend time with my family. He turned my panic attacks against me and convinced me no one but him could or would put up with all my baggage. No one else would ever love me because I was so annoying. I was, I believed, an unlovable loser who was incredibly lucky to have him and I couldn't risk losing him by being anything but dependent on him.

I confronted him when he got home from work and he comforted me. That’s an awful memory. I mean, it's all awful, but I hate that I let him comfort me. I hate that I needed him and thought I had no one else.

I did somehow, find a small strength within me and ended our relationship. I told him he needed therapy. I don’t remember his explanation for the pornography, but I was naïve enough, or still under the abused partner spell, or both to believe that he could change with therapy. I promised not to tell anyone why we broke up. He moved out and promised to get therapy. I wiped my computer clean of all evidence. I tried to be normal.

We kept in contact. He even got me a cat for my birthday the following month to keep me company. You will probably not be surprised to find out that he did not go to therapy. His parents were experiencing their own "will they or won’t they make it stick" separation and his home life was fraught. Somehow he ended up living with me again. I say somehow, because I still don’t understand why I let that happen. Whenever I think about this time of my life, I just…don’t understand. It’s so fucking embarrassing. I was smart with top grades in my classes. I had friends who liked me. I had parents who loved me. And I still invited a man who downloaded child pornography onto my computer back into my life. Back into my home. How could I do that? How could I think so little of myself? Why did I believe that the times he was loving towards me more than made up for the times he was awful?

I'm someone who is now trying to be gentle with herself always, but this knowledge makes it tough. I made some really, really shitty choices and it doesn't help that the explanation for them is I was being emotionally manipulated and abused. That really doesn't feel good. Plainly, it sucks. It's a terrible truth and I hate that it's true.

Back to the past. One night, he went out with an old friend who had recently moved back to our small town. They went to a bar and my fiancé - was he still my fiancé? We didn’t really talk about that and I wasn’t wearing my engagement ring anymore, but we were back together and discussing a future together - met a woman. He later told me he wanted us to have an open relationship and that it made sense because we were so young and we should give ourselves the freedom to have fun. I went along with that without even asking myself if it’s what I wanted. But by open relationship, he really meant he should be allowed to have sex with whomever he could, and I would be punished when I tried to do the same.

I learned, from him, that the woman had a little girl. A toddler. Up until that point, I had forcefully moved the memory of the child porn to the back of my head so I didn’t have to think about it. But after he came home from spending the night with her and told me her daughter had jumped into the bed with them, while he was naked in the bed, I couldn’t ignore my fear and disgust. I had to protect that little girl.

I found the woman's phone number in his wallet and called her. It was a mortifying conversation. “Yes, we did break up but then he moved back in and we are living as a couple. But more importantly, you must protect your daughter from him because the reason we broke up is he was downloading child pornography. No, I don’t have an explanation as to why I would get back together with him after discovering this”. Of course I sounded like a jealous, crazy ex-girlfriend. And of course he was able to convince her that that’s all I was.

He moved out again after that. I was filled with so much shame and I felt that I would be directly responsible for anything bad that happened to that little girl. If I was a good person, I wouldn’t have deleted the evidence and I would have been believed. I couldn’t handle that guilt and shame. I couldn’t handle being left by someone I was convinced was the only person who could ever love me. I couldn’t handle being stalked by a man who raped me and told me he’d kill me if I ever told the truth. I couldn’t handle my loneliness and not being able to explain all this to people who did love me. I couldn’t handle life. So I planned my suicide instead.

I’m not going to describe how I tried to die, but I did a lot of research and I will say it is a miracle I’m alive and not on dialysis. That's how the doctors reacted. After a few weeks in various hospital wards, including the awful psychiatric one in a basement, I was sent home to my parents.

My apartment, which was still our apartment, was sitting empty but we obviously still owed rent. I did not have the energy to deal with it, or try to find subletters, but I wasn’t going to let him not pay his share. As we were both back in our small town, living with our parents, we met up so he could give me cash. This time he manipulated me back into his life with his family dog. He said the dog missed me and wouldn’t I walk with them for her? So I did. And then I went back with him and ended up in his bed, convinced it would be different this time.

And it was different, because I had stopped getting and taking birth control pills when I tried to die so I ended up pregnant. I had just turned 23. I still wanted to finish my degree. I wanted the happy life I had dreamed of as a kid. I thought having a baby was how I would get to that life. Neither of us told our parents while we tried to figure out a plan. But I used the family computer to visit a pregnancy website and left it open. My dad saw the page. My parents were furious that I was pregnant, and insisted I terminate it. I told my fiancé, who admitted he didn’t trust himself with a child. He couldn’t promise he wouldn’t abuse his child and/or their friends and agreed that I shouldn’t have the baby. I once again, couldn’t believe what was happening to me. But I did get an abortion because I could not imagine a way where I could keep my child safe from him and it was finally sinking in that I needed to live my life without him in it. Even if he was my only shot at love, I’d rather have none at all than experience it with him.

I’m very glad I didn’t have a child with that man. But I’m also very sad that I never ended up having a child with someone else. I convinced myself that I was the one who couldn’t be trusted to be a parent. That wasn’t difficult messaging to absorb because it’s what basically everyone told me. “You’re a mess! You can’t be a mother!” And I believed that even when it was no longer true, right up until it was too late to prove it isn’t true.

The pregnancy happened in March. I had the abortion in May. I broke up with him for good shortly after the abortion.

In the summer, I found out he got back together with the woman with a daughter and now she was pregnant and keeping the baby. I felt sick. Because I doubted that he had also told her he didn’t trust himself around kids and once again, if I didn’t do anything, abuse would happen and it would be my fault.

I was working at the university I attended and I had become friendly with the IT Manager for our department. I asked if it was possible to retrieve files that had been deleted a year earlier. He said it depends. Sometimes the full file can be retrieved. Sometimes only fragments. And sometimes, if a person defragments their computer regularly and it isn’t still in the recycling bin, it is permanently gone. He could see my distress and asked what I deleted. I told him. He told the Director of our department, a woman I’d never met before. I told her everything, including the fact that the woman had gone to that university and we had access to her address. Or at the very least her address while she had been a student. I was certain I would be fired for this.

Instead, she supported me. She called Children’s Services on my behalf. And the police. She made sure my manager understood I would be needing time off work to speak with the police about a confidential matter. The police took my statement and my computer. Unfortunately, I had been a defrag my computer enthusiast, and they did not find any child porn on it. That ended their investigation. I know Children’s Services made a visit to the woman's home, because my now for sure ex-fiancé called me 5 times in one day to find out “if I was trying to punish him” but I don’t think anything happened beyond a visit. I learned through Facebook they did get married and she gave birth to a boy the following March.

It’s been over​ 1​7 years since all that happened and I don’t know any outcomes of his life. I don’t know if they are still together. I don’t know where he lives. I don’t know if he had any more kids. I don’t know if he has abused any. Eight or so years ago he tried to befriend me on Facebook and Instagram, but thankfully I deleted those requests and I haven’t heard from him since. I’ve tried to put it behind me and move on and have been on-and-off successful with that. But I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t still haunt me on a regular basis.

My feelings about it

I am genuinely embarrassed that I stayed in that relationship for as long as I did and I’m embarrassed I went back to him again and again when part of me knew it was a bad idea. It’s hard to accept that I was manipulated so easily. I know embarrassment is a type of shame and I’m trying not to shame myself anymore. But at this point in time, I do still feel shame and I think it’s better to accept and acknowledge those feelings than pretend they don’t exist. Maybe it’s easier and more comfortable to feel partly responsible for being brainwashed than it is to admit I was helpless.

I’m sad that I thought so little of myself. I’m sad that I couldn’t believe people still liked me after I disclosed what I had been going through. I’m sad that I still have a voice in my head that says all my shame is true. That of course I can’t make a relationship last - it’s not them, it’s me. I’m the problem, it’s me, as Taylor Swift would say.

I am kind of in awe of myself. I like the person I’ve become. I am hopeful for a better future in spite of everything I’ve experienced. I do experience joy. I haven’t given up. I’m a person who is full of love and I inspire myself to keep trying. I don't want the main message to be that I'm resilient and inspiring because I do not want to say in any way that abuse is tolerable. I’d rather we try to stop people from abusing others than praise those for surviving abuse, but I'm glad I broke the illusion for myself we can multitask by both praising victims and working to stop people from being victimized. And well, if I can inspire anyone else you shatter the distortions of abuse that tell us we aren't worthy of dignity and respect, I'll accept that.

I’m also afraid that one day I’ll find out he did abuse children. I’m afraid he’ll learn I’ve written this and retaliate against me. I’m a tiny bit afraid that no one who reads this will want to talk with me again.

I hope that my (delayed) efforts were enough to nudge him towards good choices and he has not hurt a single person. That’s my eternal hope.

I’m angry. But over the years, my anger has mellowed out. Mostly I’m angry that I wasn’t an anomaly. Abuse still happens every day around the world. The vulnerable are so often trapped in dangerous relationships because we require individuals to prove their worth for financial freedom, rather than granting it to all with a universal basic income. I’m angry that most of us are kept too busy to do anything about the everyday indignities we and those around us are subjected to. Our culture (and governments) puts almost all of us in abusive/brainwashed relationships with ourselves by convincing us we’re only valuable if we produce wealth for the wealthy. I’m angry at the people who perpetuate those beliefs.

Could he ever earn my forgiveness?

No. What he did to me, in my opinion, is not forgivable because he will never be able to meet my need for safety. I will never trust him and therefore I will never feel safe around him, even if he only ever made safe and compassionate choices. I hope and pray I will never see him again.

But I do hope he's become someone who is actively trying to redeem himself. I hope he wakes up every morning and vows to be respectful to all the people he comes across. I hope he promises not to sexually or emotionally assault or abuse anyone. I hope he makes good choices.

Do I deserve forgiveness?

In my new way of looking at apologies and forgiveness, what's important is respecting the boundaries of the people harmed and making sure their needs are met. I didn't meet my own need for respect while I was in that relationship. Or my need for kindness and love. I am sorry for that and now that I know better, I'm trying every day to do better. I am much better at standing up for my needs and advocating for my rights. I'm not perfect and it's a process.

I have spent dozens and dozens of hours with therapists to restore my own feelings of respect and to dismantle the brainwashing that convinced me I was a bad person. I am grateful for that. But I think one reason I haven’t been able to shake the shame is because I was discouraged from feeling any guilt. It’s been important for me to untangle them. I’m not a bad person. I’m not responsible for the actions of others. But by ignoring my guilt over ending up in an abusive relationship where I put myself last, I haven’t given myself the opportunity to say that I’ve learned that I value respect so much and I need respect in my relationships. It’s good that I felt guilt because I don’t want it to feel good when people treat me poorly. I want to know that my dignity is worth fighting for and that if I don’t stand up for myself, it could lead to me making choices I absolutely don’t want to make. I can trace back to the factors that lead me to believe I should stay with someone I wish I hadn’t, and I can accept those reasons with compassion for myself. I can tell myself that I made mistakes and making mistakes is part of the human experience. I can blame the person who treated me poorly, but I do think I need to forgive myself too. I need to acknowledge the guilt, show myself I’ve learned from my mistakes, and give myself forgiveness. I owe that to myself and I don’t think I’ve ever given it until now. I couldn’t do that when I conflated shame and guilt. I’m glad I can now.

I also denied my need to be imperfect and messy. I didn't let anyone see the truth of my life. Not everyone needs to know everything about me and it's possible I'm over correcting with too much information now. But I'm honouring my need to be openly imperfect by sharing my thoughts and feelings in this newsletter. And now I don't need to hold my breath, waiting to find out if my secrets will be spilled and distorted. The truth has set me free.

But what about the fact that I deleted evidence of dangerous behaviour? Do I need to apologise to others, and do I deserve their forgiveness? This one is tough for me to work through because I don't know the consequences of that decision. I've always imagined an alternate scenario where I called the police and they took my computer right away. They arrested my fiancé, he went to jail, and I lived my life happily ever after, the end. But that isn't realistic and I do owe myself realism. He wouldn't have been in jail forever. He might not even have been found guilty. He still might have met that woman at a bar. Or someone else. And all of his actions are his responsibility. Not mine. It is not reasonable for me to apologize for any abuse he might have committed after I learned that was a possibility. The "what if?" games are unfair to me, but I'm going to write through my thoughts about one of them anyway.

What if he did abuse his step-daughter or a friend of his son. And what if they learned about me, everything I described above, and blamed me for not protecting them. Should I take on that guilt?

If I do someday, receive an angry message from an abused child, I hope I would accept her anger. I know I wouldn’t deserve the lion’s share of it. Or any of it? But I also know that I would be a safer recipient of her anger and I think I could give her that. Whether it's reasonable or not, I would feel some guilt and I would feel that I owe her a safe target for her anger if she would want that. I think I could weave her anger into mine and direct it to our abuser, rather than absorbing it into my shame.

Overall, I was the victim of abuse rather than the perpetrator of abuse. Years of therapy has convinced me that’s true. Part of my healing process is to try to prevent abuse from taking hold by meeting my needs and by reminding myself (and others) that everyone deserves dignity and respect. Everyone deserves a safety net so we aren’t trapped in abusive relationships. Everyone deserves to have their needs, including their need for safety, respected.

Why am I sharing this now?

I have a few reasons for writing this week’s newsletter. The first is that it felt urgently necessary. As if I had to purge this poison from me. There are only so many times you can swallow vomit that must leave your body, you know? I think the entirety of this newsletter has been building to this moment.

It’s like a part of me was trapped under a pile of shame rubble that kept growing. Last year I was told I didn’t need to apologize for who I am as an autistic person, and it was as if I was given permission to start throwing away the bricks of shame pinning me down. It was easier for me to believe I didn’t deserve that shame, which then lead to me hearing myself crying out for help. I finally figured out the way for me to rescue me. The answer wasn't to bury my past, but to embrace my guilt and lose my shame over it.

Other women sharing their stories helped give me strength too. Alice Munro’s daughter is an inspiration. Gisèle Pelicot is an inspiration. Blake Lively is an inspiration. I came to the conclusion that even if I end up punished from telling my story, I needed to add my voice to those saying abuse is not okay. Silencing abuse is not okay. Dismissing women as crazy or unlikable, and therefore unreliable, is not okay. We deserve safety and we deserve to be heard. I hope the consequence of me writing this out is to help move the needle towards a less shame-based culture.

Also, I want to be a writer of more than just this newsletter. I have stories and novels that I’ve started and abandoned because of this shame and incorrect belief that I’m not worth listening to. That I’m too annoying to subject the world to my ideas. That if I try to be a published writer, I’ll be rejected. That if I try to write anything to make the world better or safer, I’ll be dismissed. Or punished for trying. That my voice won’t matter and it isn’t worth trying. That if I did get published, my past would be exhumed and I would be punished and hated and shamed even further.

The Punisher in me I previously wrote about has been trying to protect me from future abuse. But I simply can’t stay small, hidden, or trapped any longer. There is a lot of ugliness in my past, but I am a precious being that reflects the good and bad of society back to the world. With this newsletter, I’m removing the grime I’ve allowed to grow on me for years and I’m polishing myself so I sparkle once again. This freedom is scary, but also exhilarating.

In my last post I said this felt like a wound that had been stitched up poorly and had rotting edges. I’ve now reopened the wound and cleaned it out by feeling all my feelings. But if I don’t stitch myself back up with care, I think I risk shame seeping back in and pulling me down again. Maybe it’s impossible to prevent all shame from reinfecting me forever, but I’m going to try by threading my needle with an honest, compassionate message to myself:

Hi Kate,

I’m so sorry for the experiences we had when we were younger. It’s awful that there are people in the world who will use our kindness against us and make us believe that we are the problem instead of the choices they made. It’s terrible our culture gives us so many shaming messages too that it became easy to believe we were bad and unlovable. We didn’t deserve any of the abuse we experienced from anyone and we aren’t responsible for it. We also aren’t responsible for the any potential further abuse they committed.

We will probably never know if any happened, so that will remain an open-ended question. We don’t need to hold on theoretical guilt. If we learn the worst-case scenario did happen, we have thought through a plan for how to handle it. We will use our compassion and the lessons learned from our life to apologize if necessary. We can set our plan down in a shelf in our heart; we don’t have to hold on to it at all times anymore.

We used to believe that feeling responsible for our actions and what we did and didn’t do was the same as being a bad person, but in fact, it’s the opposite. We did what we thought we needed to do for survival, which included choices we regret. That regret and guilt tells us we are a compassionate person who wants to do the right thing and now we know better. We have learned how to notice when our needs aren’t being met, which means we’re less likely to stay in abusive and manipulative relationships. We do what we can to provide safety for others. We learned a horrible lesson, but we did learn it. It’s time to leave behind the shame because it’s only keeping us tied down. We’re more likely to make an even bigger positive impact on others when we embrace ourself fully, which means all the mistakes and bad decisions we’ve made. It’s possible that by openly loving ourself, we will show others that they can love themselves too, imperfections and all.

It isn’t easy to live in this world full of, among other problems, rampant misogyny and ableism, but we are doing it. As hard as it sometimes is, it also feels satisfying to give a big “fuck you” to those in power who would rather we shut up and/or die. We’re still standing. I think we’re liked by the type of people we like, and disliked by those we dislike, and what could be better than that?

I’m proud we are who we are. Let’s keep taking up our rightful space in the world and being unapologetically us.

Love you always and forever,

Kate

Me at age 23. She deserved better, but did her best even then to find joy. I can’t believe, on top of everything else, I thought I was hideously ugly.