After University, at age 21, I got my first career job with Probation Services working with juvenile delinquents (as they were called in 1980). Even though the kids were only three to seven years younger than me, I found working with youth to be extremely rewarding. That job was with a specialized unit, but it was eventually shut down and I was transferred to a regular probation office. I soon got bored and was looking for more of a challenge to meet the intensity of my previous position. So they offered me a caseload working with adolescent sex offenders. This was an interesting group, young people that were hurting others, so clearly because of various abuses they suffered in their own childhoods. Some told us so, others, we just knew. At one point we ran a two-year cognitive behavioral therapy group program, partnering with Child and Family Services, to help these youth manage their behavior.

We started that program when I was about 30 years old, in the early 1990s and a lot of work was being done at that time to define and explain victimization. As a part of that group we had the youth talk about their past experiences, helping them to understand where their behavior came from, including disclosures of their own victimization. In this group, there was a young boy, maybe age 13, who told us about his older male cousin and the things that had been done to him. As I’m telling this young boy that his experience is defined as sexual abuse, inside my own head, bells are going off. In the middle of this group session, my mind is blowing up as I realize that this youth was telling my own story. I was the victim of this same behavior by my own male cousin.

I was numb, but my mind was racing as this moment triggered a bombardment of memories. I hadn’t suppressed the memories, but rather had a different interpretation of the events. I don’t think I said another word throughout that session. At the end of it my co-facilitators asked if I was okay. I told them I wasn’t, because I just realized that I too had been sexually abused as a child. There was no doubt, a voice in my head was screaming “IT WAS SEXUAL ABUSE.”

It is a remarkable experience to suddenly have your whole life, up to that moment, reflected back at you with a new lens of awareness. It wouldn’t come all at once, but over time I would see how the abuse changed me and affected how I could trust others, my history of interpersonal relationships and how I avoided intimacy and showing affection to people I love. Hugs were extremely uncomfortable for me, even to this day.

When abuse is actually happening, children don’t necessarily have the capacity or language to understand what is going on. They don’t even know that it’s wrong. When my abuse happened in the 1960s, there were no words for it, and no one in society talked about it. When you can finally name it and understand how that abuse has damaged you, it’s only then that you can begin to heal and undo the damage. You can’t heal what you don’t know is injured.

That night, after the workshop, my co-workers and I went out for drinks and I talked and talked, telling my life story with a new understanding of what I had lived through.

Honestly, up until that point I believed that what my cousin had done to me was just boys being boys, that it was normal for older boys to teach younger boys about sex in this way. My abuse continued from when I was 9 to 14 years of age, and it ended when he attempted to touch me and I told him “we’re not doing this anymore.” I had outgrown him physically, and in retrospect, emotionally, and at that point, somehow, somewhere found the courage to stand up for myself.

Understanding myself in this new light, in my 30’s, was very powerful, but it was also difficult. I felt like I couldn’t do my work anymore, and I was afraid that I would lose my job. And I was in a difficult place in my marriage as well. My abuser was my cousin and so he was still in my life, and I continued to see him at family gatherings. For people going through something like this it’s hard to know where to turn for help. It was very stressful to see him interact with his child.

Part of my healing began with telling my wife. That didn’t go very well; she had no capacity, knowledge or point of reference to understand what I was going through at that time and as a child. All she saw, I think, was an angry, distant man. Shortly thereafter we separated, and then it was time to tell my immediate family.

Telling my family was difficult. As I told my story I could tell it was painful for them to hear it. But, I was believed! This was so important. Thinking about it now, having their support was no surprise. My parents are the type that their kids and grandkids can do no wrong. I realize now how critical that support was for my healing. It was no longer my issue, it was our issue. It was no longer me dealing with it, it was we, and as we moved forward it was US against the world. I can’t overstate how important it is to have a support group that surrounds you with care and love. Healing can’t happen in isolation, it requires truth and a support team.

Their belief in me gave me the courage to begin telling my extended family, but sadly, most of them didn’t believe me. A couple of uncles visited and asked me what I wanted to get out of this. I told them I wanted my abuser, my cousin, to get assessed so he could take responsibility for what he did, but also so he could get help. He wouldn’t agree to this and I lost my extended family as a result of my disclosure. They sided with my cousin, my abuser. And because he wouldn’t take the offer of an assessment, I had to follow through and take it to the next level to find justice.

My next step was to go to the police to press charges, and I told my story in front of a camera for evidence. The sergeant I worked with was very respectful and very compassionate. He confirmed that my experience was abuse and that my cousin would be charged.

When I left the police station that day, I felt free.

The opportunity to tell my story, my truth, even though it was 20 years after the fact, was so important. Having the behavior confirmed to be abuse was a validation that I needed. When I look back on my life, it all made sense now in a way that it hadn’t before. I realized that my thoughts, and the things I was afraid of were the result of being sexually abused. It made sense now that I had been damaged as opposed to being damaged. It wasn’t my fault that I was messed up! With this new found knowledge, I could finally begin to heal.

When the truth about abuse is told, then the healing process can begin. It’s messy though, and especially with my family, there have been plenty of ups and downs but they stuck with me. I didn’t lose my job, I continued to work. And my experience has made me a lot more compassionate with the kids and adults I’ve worked with. Three years later, I left Probation Services and started my own practice, working with individuals and families trying to cope with sexual abuse.

Looking back, I realize one of my main motivators in the work that I do is educating people. Today it might seem odd to some people that you have to explain what sexual abuse is, but the reality is it can happen in many ways and often from people that we trust. I want people to understand that when abuse happens, we need to be there for the victim, to hear them, to believe them.

Sexual abuse thrives in darkness of ignorance. When we don’t talk about, and don’t name it, we can’t stop it. As adults, it’s our responsibility to know what sexual abuse is, and to believe our children. It’s critical for their healing. Even if an adult tells you their story, take the time to listen and believe them. It’s unfathomable to me why someone would make something like this up, there is nothing to gain from identifying one’s own source of shame, unless it’s real.

I’ve been on my own path of healing for 30 years. As the Board Chair for Toba Centre for Children & Youth, I believe in our expanding mandate to provide wrap-around services for victims of child abuse and their families. I envision a new state-of-the-art education centre where we train social workers, police, hospital staff, and others. Through social media and other platforms, educating the public, and making it more comfortable and normal to have discussions about sexual abuse. It’s hard to talk about, but we have to do it. For me, this is a legacy project that will serve our community and provide safety, justice and healing for our children.

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