From Surviving to Healing
We didn't throw ourselves into the water, and we didn't create the danger. We were children who needed protection, guidance, and safety.
Whether our abuser was a family member, friend, or acquaintance, many of us who experienced childhood sexual abuse had people around us who saw our struggles but never asked questions or offered help. What began as an effort to survive eventually became the way we learned to live. Fear shaped our responses, often leaving us caught in patterns of fight, flight, or freeze.
Recently, I heard a friend, who is not a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, share a story about how his dad taught him to swim. His story stayed with me.
His father told him one morning at the breakfast table, “You are going to learn how to swim today.”
“I was excited,” my friend recalled. “Dad didn’t go into much detail, but I knew that once I learned to swim, I would be able to go to my neighbor’s house with my brother and swim.”
A few hours later, his dad came to his room and told him it was time. He wasn't sure where they were going, but he was excited. They walked out the back door, and while he assumed they were heading toward the car, his father led him toward a nearby pond.
He was confused but kept walking.
When they arrived, his dad placed his hands underneath his arms, looked at him, and said, “You are going to be fine, and I will be right here.”
Then his dad threw him into the water.
My friend came up gasping for air, his arms and legs flailing as he struggled to stay above the surface. He was frightened and desperately needed help, but his father remained on the bank, watching.
“I would never allow this to happen or do this to my children,” my friend explained, “but that is how I learned to swim. It was more common than you might think in our generation.”
As I listened, I began thinking about the experience of a boy who has been sexually abused and how this story could help illustrate the fear and confusion he experiences.
Imagine being a young boy whose father, or another trusted adult, tells him he is going to learn something new. There is excitement and anticipation because he trusts the person leading him. But suddenly, he finds himself in deep water, frightened and struggling to breathe.
He desperately tries to keep his head above the surface and make his way toward the bank. Yet somewhere beneath his fear, he holds on to the belief that the person standing nearby will help him.
Dad is here. He won't let me drown. He's teaching me something.
Now imagine another boy.
He is receiving attention from his father or another trusted person. Perhaps he has longed for that attention and feels special because someone is finally noticing him. But what initially feels like affection and connection becomes sexual abuse.
Something is wrong. I need to get away. I don't know what to do.
There is a devastating difference. The person who should have been protecting him has become the source of his fear. The very person he might have turned to for safety is now the one causing harm.
There is no safe person standing at the bank.
The person who should have been teaching us how to navigate the waters of life has become the danger in the water.
So we learn to survive. We freeze, become quiet, dissociate, and carry shame that was never ours to carry. We learn to anticipate danger, protect ourselves, and navigate relationships without knowing whom we can trust.
Years later, many of us are still swimming. We may no longer be experiencing the abuse, but the fear, shame, and survival patterns remain. We find ourselves struggling to understand why relationships feel unsafe, why trust comes so slowly, or why ordinary circumstances can leave us feeling overwhelmed.
When abuse happens within a trusted relationship, fear becomes deeply connected to the very people and experiences that should have offered safety. Over time, survival can become so familiar that it shapes how we understand ourselves, others, relationships, and even God.
Survival becomes our normal.
This is one reason healing can feel frightening. Healing invites us to examine our stories, understand the ways abuse has impacted us, and begin approaching life and relationships differently. But doing so challenges the patterns that once helped us survive.
Fear can pull us back toward what is familiar. We return to what we know because familiarity can feel safer than the unknown, even when what we know is painful.
Yet healing begins as we come to understand that what happened to us was not our fault. We didn't throw ourselves into the water, and we didn't create the danger. We were children who needed protection, guidance, and safety.
And we don't have to keep swimming alone.
God meets us in the water, in our stories, in our fears, and in the places where we are still struggling to breathe. Christ does not shame us for being afraid. He meets us in that fear and patiently leads us toward healing.
Healing is a journey of courage, and courage does not mean the absence of fear. Often, it means learning to move forward even while fear is present.
Perhaps the difference is not simply between having fear and being free from fear. Perhaps it is learning the difference between fear experienced in an unsafe relationship and fear that arises as we begin trusting someone who is safe.
There may be fear as we tell our stories, allow others to come close, establish healthy relationships, and begin believing that God truly is safe. These steps can feel unfamiliar because they challenge everything we learned while trying to survive.
But we are no longer alone in the water.
There is a shore. There are safe people. And there is a Savior.
God meets us in the midst of our stories and begins teaching us what it means to live in the security of His love. The water may still feel frightening at times. We may still experience moments when fear rises and we struggle to catch our breath. But those moments do not mean we are failing or that healing is beyond our reach.
We are learning that we do not have to navigate life through survival alone. We can begin to trust again, recognize safe relationships, and discover that fear does not have to define the rest of our lives.
And slowly, as healing takes root, we begin to discover what it feels like to breathe without gasping for air.
“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear…” 1 John 4:18 (NIV)
