By Patricia King ~ December 2025
If you are a survivor of sexual abuse, I want to speak to you heart-to-heart.
What happened to you mattered.
It wounded you.
And it was not your fault.
When someone exerts power over another person and uses it to harm, violate, or exploit, the responsibility rests entirelyon the one who abused that power. Not on your body. Not on your choices. Not on your silence. Not on how you survived.
Many survivors carry a quiet storm inside—pain, betrayal, shame, anger, confusion, guilt, grief, and self-blame. These emotions are not signs of weakness or spiritual failure. They are the language of a heart that was hurt.
And while these experiences are very real, they do not have to determine your future.
You are more than what was done to you.
You are not defined by your trauma.
You are deeply loved.
And your story is not over.
Healing is not about “getting over it.” It is about slowly, tenderly reclaiming what was taken—your sense of safety, your voice, your agency, your dignity, and your hope.
Below are five gentle, foundational steps toward healing. They are not demands. They are invitations.
Five First Steps Toward Healing and Recovery
1. Name the Truth: You Were Harmed, and It Was Not Your Fault
One of the most damaging effects of abuse is the internalization of blame. Survivors often ask:
- Why didn’t I stop it?
- Why didn’t I say no more forcefully?
- Why did I freeze?
- Why didn’t I tell someone sooner?
- Why did I set myself up for this?
These questions arise from trauma—not truth.
Abuse happens because someone chose to misuse power. Some survivors carry deep guilt because they experienced confusing or conflicting responses during the abuse—such as physical arousal, an orgasm, or moments where the relationship with the perpetrator felt emotionally bonded or was misinterpreted as love. These experiences can be deeply disorienting, but they do not mean you consented, wanted what happened, or are in any way responsible.
Any abuse of power exercised against you was wrong, harmful, and unjust—regardless of what your body or emotions may have experienced in the moment. Your responses—whether freezing, complying, dissociating, seeking connection, or remaining silent—were survival responses, not moral failures. They were the nervous system’s way of enduring what should never have happened.
Healing begins when you allow yourself to say, even if only in a whisper:
I was harmed. I did not cause this.
This truth is not an accusation—it is a foundation for healing and recovery. Truth is powerful!
A Survivor’s Story: Jane Doe – 1
For years, Jane Doe carried the weight of quiet questions that tormented her heart:
Why did I set myself up for this?
Why didn’t I say NO rather than just let him do what he did?
How could I have not understood what was going on?
After I realized what happened, why did I protect him rather than cover him?
Why did I still care about him and want to be close to him?
Jane had been abused by someone who held emotional and spiritual influence in her life. Outwardly, she appeared strong and capable, but inwardly she lived with constant self-blame. She believed that if she had been wiser, braver, or more discerning, the abuse would not have happened.
What confused her most—and filled her with shame—were the moments when her body responded in ways she did not understand. There were physical sensations she never wanted, moments when the perpetrator expressed care or affection that felt like love, and times when she complied simply to survive. For years, she interpreted these experiences as proof that she was somehow responsible.
It wasn’t until Jane began trauma-informed counseling that she encountered a truth she had never been allowed to name:
She had been harmed—and it was not her fault.
She learned that abuse happens because someone chooses to misuse power. She learned that the body can respond automatically under threat, without consent or desire. She learned that freezing, complying, dissociating, or staying silent are not moral failures—they are survival responses.
One day, after months of careful, supported healing work, Jane spoke words she had never allowed herself to say before. At first, they came quietly, almost trembling:
“I was abused, and I did not cause it.”
Those words did not accuse anyone in that moment. They did something far more important—they freed her from the lie of self-blame.
As Jane continued to speak the truth—sometimes aloud, sometimes through tears, sometimes in prayer—the grip of shame began to loosen. The questions that once condemned her no longer had the same power. The truth became a foundation beneath her feet rather than a weapon against her heart.
Jane’s healing did not happen all at once. But everything changed when she named the truth.
She was not responsible.
She was not complicit.
She was not to blame.
She was a survivor.
John 8:32 (NASB 1995)
Jesus said,“…and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.”
2. Allow Your Pain to Be Valid and Seen
Many survivors minimize their pain, especially if:
- The abuse happened long ago
- The abuser was a trusted or respected person
- Others dismissed or questioned their experience
- They learned to function “well” on the outside
But pain that is not acknowledged does not disappear—it buries itself deeper.
Your pain deserves attention. Your grief deserves space. Your anger deserves expression in safe and healthy ways.
A Survivor’s Story: Jane Doe -2
Allowing the Pain to Be Seen
Jane Doe had learned how to function well.
Years had passed since the abuse, and from the outside her life appeared stable. She worked faithfully, served others, showed up for family and church, and rarely spoke about the past. When memories surfaced, she often silenced them with a familiar refrain: It wasn’t that bad. Others have suffered far worse.
Jane frequently compared her story to those who had endured what she perceived as more horrific abuse. Because her experience did not look like theirs, she questioned whether she even had the right to still be hurting. She told herself she should be grateful, strong, and “over it” by now.
The person who abused her had been trusted and respected. When Jane had tentatively shared pieces of her story years earlier, some responded with disbelief or discomfort. Others suggested forgiveness and moving on. Over time, she learned that minimizing her pain felt safer than risking dismissal again.
So she buried it.
But pain that is buried does not disappear—it settles deeper. Though Jane appeared capable and strong, she lived with quiet sadness, sudden waves of anger, and moments of emotional numbness she could not fully explain. She felt ashamed for still hurting and confused about why something she believed was “not as serious” continued to affect her so deeply.
Healing began when someone finally gave her permission to stop comparing her pain or dismissing it because it happened so long ago.
In a safe, compassionate space, Jane was gently reminded that trauma is not measured by comparison or determined by how long ago the abuse happened. Pain is not invalidated because someone else suffered differently or because time had lapsed. What happened to her mattered—because it harmed her.
Slowly, she found the courage to speak words she had never allowed herself to say before:
“What I went through mattered. It hurt me.”
In that moment, something shifted.
Jane no longer minimized her grief or dismissed her anger. She allowed herself to acknowledge sorrow without qualifying it or explaining it away. She realized she did not need to relive every detail—or prove the severity of her experience—in order to honor the truth of her pain.
She was not weak for feeling deeply.
She was not exaggerating.
She was human.
As Jane allowed her pain to be seen—first by herself, then by safe others—it began to loosen its grip. Healing did not happen all at once, but it had begun. The weight she carried for years no longer had to be borne alone.
Her pain had a voice.
Her grief had a place.
And her healing had begun.
Healing does not require reliving everything at once. It begins by allowing yourself to say:
What I went through mattered. It hurt me.
You are not weak for feeling deeply. You are human.
3. Seek Safe Support—You Were Never Meant to Heal Alone
Sexual abuse isolates. Shame thrives in silence. Healing grows in safe connection.
This support may take the form of connecting with one or more of the following:
- A trauma-informed counselor or therapist
- A trusted friend who listens without trying to fix or explain
- A support group specifically for survivors
- A pastoral or spiritual leader trained in trauma-aware care
- A mature, faith-filled intercessor or seasoned minister experienced in soul healing and deliverance
- A medical professional, when there are physical or health-related impacts that require care
The key word is safe. You have the right to choose who knows your story. You have the right to set boundaries. You have the right to move at a pace that honors your healing.
At times, even those who love you deeply and genuinely want to see you healed may feel compelled to urge you to move more quickly through the recovery process. Well-meaning but uninformed individuals may encourage you to “move on,” to forgive before you are ready, or may unintentionally minimize what you experienced. While their intentions may be sincere, they are not equipped to guide you through this particular season of healing.
At the same time, healing does not mean remaining indefinitely anchored in the memory of the trauma. True support helps you process what happened without allowing it to define your identity or dictate your future. You need people around you who see you not only as someone who was harmed, but as a survivor—and an overcomer—who is moving toward freedom rather than living under the weight of victimhood.
A healthy support team holds this balance well: honoring your pain without trapping you in it, and walking with you toward restoration rather than leaving you stuck in the place of abuse. Healing does not flourish in pressure or isolation—it grows in the presence of patient, compassionate, faith-filled, and trauma-informed people who love you and honor both your story and your God-given future.
A Survivor’s Story: Jane Doe – 3
Finding Safe Support—One Step at a Time
Jane Doe did not find healing all at once.
For a long time, she carried her story alone. Though she longed for understanding, the thought of speaking openly felt overwhelming. She had learned to guard herself carefully—self-protection had become second nature. Silence felt safer than the risk of being misunderstood or retraumatized.
One day, a trusted friend gently suggested a small, private, faith-based online group for survivors of sexual abuse. Jane hesitated. The idea of joining a group—even anonymously—felt exposing. Still, something in her recognized the invitation as an opportunity, and she cautiously applied.
When she was approved for the group, Jane decided on one clear boundary for herself: I will just listen.
During her first sessions, she remained quiet. Her camera was off. Her microphone stayed muted. She listened as others shared pieces of their stories—some similar to her own, others very different. She heard survivors speak openly about the help and support they had received from Christian counselors and prayer ministries who understood how abuse, when left unaddressed, can result in emotional trauma, physical infirmity, psychological impact, and relational discord.
Others shared honestly about medical conditions they were receiving care for—through both holistic approaches and modern medical treatment. What stood out to Jane was the absence of embarrassment or intimidation. Each person spoke freely, and each story was met with sensitivity, respect, and attentive listening.
Simply listening created a sense of safety for Jane. For the first time, she began to realize she was not alone—and that it was okay to reach out for help.
Some group members referenced books that had been meaningful in their healing journeys, while others mentioned upcoming seminars and resources that had supported their recovery. There was a strong emphasis on understanding the effects of trauma following abuse and on the importance of working with trauma-informed practitioners.
As Jane listened week after week, something within her began to shift.
She realized she was not alone.
She was not “too sensitive.”
She was not imagining the impact of what had happened to her.
What surprised her most was the tone of the group. There was no pressure to speak, no demand to forgive, no rush toward resolution. The facilitators were trained, the environment was safe, and each person was honored at their own pace. Healing was not forced—it was invited.
Over time, Jane found the courage to speak for the first time. Her voice trembled, but she was met with understanding, not judgment. Encouraged by the group, she eventually reached out for faith-based, trauma-informed counseling of her own. When physical symptoms surfaced, she sought medical support without shame.
Healing did not happen overnight—but it had begun.
What started with quiet listening became connection. What began with guarded observation grew into supported action. In safe community, Jane discovered that shame loses its power when it is no longer isolated.
She had found support that honored her boundaries, respected her pace, and helped her move forward.
Jane was never meant to heal alone—and neither are you.
4. Separate Your Identity From the Abuse
Abuse has a way of distorting identity. Survivors may feel:
- Broken
- Dirty
- Damaged
- Unlovable
- Defined by what happened
But abuse is something that happened to you, not something that is you.
You are not your trauma.
You are not your wounds.
You are not your worst memory.
You are a person of inherent worth, dignity, and value—unchanged by another person’s sin or violence. God is fully committed to you—to your healing, your breakthrough, and the fulfillment of His purpose and destiny for your life. He desires you to be whole, not broken; strengthened, not diminished; and joy-filled, not oppressed.
Recovery involves reclaiming the truth of who you are apart from the abuse. This journey may require time, gentleness, and patience—but it is completely possible. This is the work of God’s grace, and you are being lovingly held and carried through it.
A Survivor’s Story: Jane Doe-4`
Reclaiming Identity Beyond the Abuse
For a long time, Jane Doe believed the abuse had rewritten who she was.
Though she rarely spoke it aloud, she carried quiet labels inside—broken, damaged, unlovable. When she looked at her life, she did not see herself as a whole person who had been harmed; she saw herself as someone defined by what had happened. The abuse had become the lens through which she viewed her worth, her relationships, and even her faith.
Jane often thought, This is just who I am now.
Even as healing began in other areas, this belief lingered. She could talk about trauma, understand forgiveness, and seek support—yet still feel as though something essential had been lost forever. The memory of the abuse felt stitched into her identity, inseparable from her sense of self.
The shift came slowly.
Through prayer, counseling, and gentle pastoral guidance, Jane began to encounter a truth she had never fully allowed herself to embrace: the abuse was something that happened to her—it was not who she was. For the first time, she began to question the labels she had accepted as facts.
She started replacing them with truth.
She was not broken—she was wounded and healing.
She was not dirty—she had been violated.
She was not damaged beyond repair—she was being restored.
As Jane allowed God’s truth to speak louder than the trauma, her identity began to disentangle from the abuse. She discovered that her worth had never been altered by another person’s sin. Her dignity had not been erased. Her value had not diminished.
Slowly, Jane began to see herself as God saw her—not as a victim frozen in the past, but as a beloved daughter with a future.
She learned that recovery was not about erasing memory, but about reclaiming identity. It required time, patience, and gentleness—but it was possible. God was not in a hurry with her healing. He was faithful, steady, and present, carrying her through each step by His grace.
Jane was no longer defined by her worst memory.
She was being formed by truth.
She was being restored in love.
Her story was still unfolding—and it was marked not by abuse, but by redemption.
5. The Power of Forgiveness in Healing
The fifth step is different from the previous ones. It is an action step, taken only when you are ready, that invites you to walk through a gateway into deeper healing. In many ways, the first four steps are like preparation for surgery—x-rays taken, blood work completed, the patient gowned and carefully prepared. The fifth step invites you into the operating room of grace, where the Great Physician, with gentle hands and perfect wisdom, begins the careful work of restoring what was broken by abuse.
I share this from a very personal place—not as someone who understands all that you have experienced, and not as someone who has all the answers for your journey, but simply as a fellow survivor. I experienced sexual abuse and rape, and for a long time afterward, I struggled with emotional instability, depression, and rage. While I had survived the abuse itself, I was still living under the weight of its effects—and the anger that lingered.
Healing began to shift when, after I came to know the Lord, He gently invited me to forgive my abusers. In that same tender process, He also led me to release misplaced blame toward myself—not because I was responsible for what happened, but because trauma had distorted how I saw my own story. In choosing forgiveness, my soul experienced its first true wave of release. It was unmistakable and profoundly freeing.
There were other layers involved in my healing journey, but forgiveness was the doorway. Before that moment, I was locked into the ongoing effects of the abuse; afterward, I had stepped onto a path toward freedom.
Forgiveness plays a vital role in healing, though it is often one of the most misunderstood and emotionally charged aspects of recovery. Many survivors say, “I will never forgive them—I refuse to let them off the hook.” That response is deeply understandable. It reflects the pain, anger, and outrage that arise from injustice, violation, and abuse of power. Acknowledging those emotions is not wrong—it is often necessary.
However, while anger may be a natural response to abuse, I discovered that unforgiveness can become a barrier to healing if it is allowed to take root and remain.
Forgiveness is not about excusing what was done. It is not denial. It is not minimizing harm. And it is certainly not about releasing the abuser from accountability. God is a God of justice. Those who abuse power will be held accountable—whether in this life or ultimately by facing God Himself. Forgiveness does not interfere with justice.
Rather, forgiveness is about removing the abuser’s hook from you.
Though unforgiveness can, sadly, tether the heart to the abuse or the abuser, forgiveness becomes one of the sacred ways God releases you from their lingering and tormenting influence and enables your soul to be restored.
Often, forgiveness begins as a determined choice rather than a feeling—and at times, it can be deeply soul-wrenching. When you are ready, the Lord is with you, offering strength, guidance, and support as you make that choice.
For me, forgiveness was not a one-time act. Whenever thoughts or feelings of anger, bitterness, or judgment surfaced, I chose forgiveness again and again. Each choice mattered. Over time, the tormenting memories that were once accompanied by anger and bitterness lost their power—the memories remained, but the pain no longer lived in them. The act of forgiveness opened a pathway for healing through His grace.
He walks patiently with us through every step of forgiving and reclaiming what was taken. You are not alone—He understands your struggle and your pain, and He is gentle, compassionate, and patient with your process.
I discovered that you do not need to feel forgiveness to choose it. Feelings often follow later. At first, forgiveness may need to be chosen over and over, especially when memories resurface or pain reemerges.
God honors the choice of forgiveness, even when it is imperfect or tender. Over time, as you walk that path with patience and grace toward yourself, the grip of unforgiveness loosens. The emotional weight begins to lift. The intrusive thoughts lose their power. Healing deepens.
Remember this: when you choose forgiveness, you have forgiven—regardless of what you may feel in that moment. Each time you choose forgiveness again, as thoughts, memories, or emotions resurface, you keep the pathway toward healing open. Be gentle and patient with yourself as God, over time, brings forth the beautiful fruit of that continued choice.
Forgiveness is not the destination of healing, but it is one of the first sacred action steps we take as the Lord embraces us and walks with us toward wholeness.
A WORD OF HOPE FOR THE ABUSED
Believe That Healing Is Possible—Even If You Can’t Feel It Yet
Hope often feels inaccessible in the early stages of healing. That’s okay. Sometimes the bravest step is simply believing:
My story is not over.
Healing does not mean forgetting.
It does not mean pretending it didn’t matter.
It does not mean rushing forgiveness.
It means that pain no longer gets the final word.
Even small steps—seeking help, setting a boundary, speaking truth, choosing rest—are acts of courage. They matter more than you may realize.
You are not alone.
You are not to blame.
You are worthy of care and healing.
You are deeply valued.
And what happened to you does not determine who you are or where your life can go.
Recovery is not linear, and setbacks do not mean failure. Be gentle with yourself. You survived something that never should have happened—and survival itself is evidence of strength.
Your healing matters. Your voice matters. You matter.