Those bloggers I follow, and those who follow me, are primary people affected by 1. sex addiction 2. relationships that have been damaged by infidelity and 3. women in relationships with married men.
When I attend S-Anon meetings (like Al-Anon for those affected by sex addiction) they read something called “The S-Anon problem” which touches upon the many similarities of those attending the meetings. One of the things in the statement suggests that “many of us were sexually abused”.
I wonder how many of those who follow me and those I follow have had sexual abuse in their childhoods…I’m guessing more than a few. It’s probably not a coincidence then that we fall into one of those 3 categories.
Sex abuse of a child is unthinkable to someone who would never & could never look at a child in that way. But for someone who went through the confusing episode of being sexually abused before even hitting puberty, it doesn’t seem so far fetched.
Dylan Farrow’s accusations that her father Woody Allen molested her when she was a child seem preposterous to so many of his admirers. It doesn’t seem unrealistic to me – not in the least. I am not a fan of his work – I have always found it annoying and disturbing how often he played a version of himself in a relationship with a much younger woman…sometimes with a child. In “Manhattan” Allen plays a 42 year old man dating a 17 year old girl (Mariel Hemingway). Ummmm. Not right. Yet he is revered as genius. But I have gotten sidetracked.
I never told my family about my abuser. I didn’t want to cause my parents any pain so I kept it a secret for 15 years. When I was 26 I finally told one of my sisters what had happened. I told her I didn’t know the man, but I could tell he was familiar with my family. My sister tried to piece together who it could have been from my description. About a year later, my parents were visiting my sister and her husband. After breakfast one day my dad asked my sister if she remembered “Jeff, the school teacher who used to drive the truck for him in the summer”. My sister recollected his face and immediately knew that was the man I had described to her a year ago. My dad went on to say that he had been accused of sexually abusing some of his students but the charges were dropped when the girls didn’t want to testify. My father defended him, saying there was no way it could be true. My sister just kept washing the dishes with her back to my dad and tears in her eyes.
When my sister told me the story I asked her for the mans name. She never gave it to me. She didn’t want me to do anything stupid. But I already had. I had kept a secret that had in turn hurt countless little girls. A teacher. It sickens me but I have to forgive myself. An 11 year old doesn’t have the capacity to handle such things. But still, I am haunted by it.
Dylan Farrow is as brave as they come. She must have been so confused and scared and hurt but still she told her mom what her father had done to her. She was a fucking child and (if the allegations are true) her dad is a monster. Though the system failed in this case – Dylan did all she could – and she is STILL doing all she can.
So go ahead Hollywood and give him an award. You have certainly honored worse people. But Dylan Farrow, and the problem of sex abuse, will not go quietly into the night.