Prayer for Survivors

Survivor Today Magazine

The first time in my adult life that I knew I would be okay came in church when I was nineteen years old. Haunted not only by the memories of abuse, but also the false assertions of several authority figures that “abused children grow up to abuse,” I was paralyzed emotionally. Though I had never had a desire to abuse children, I was terrified of the day that I would snap and turn into the monster they had predicted I would be.

I avoided non-related children assiduously, just in case. It didn’t matter that I’d never hurt a child nor wanted to do so. It didn’t matter that I was great with children and idolized by my baby siblings (who I fought hard to protect from the pedophile uncle who had abused me). The voices of a few misguided and very misinformed church leaders weighed heavily in my mind. I…

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