The Invisible Support: A Partner’s Journey with Survivorship

This blog is grounded in my lived experience of being in a long-term, heterosexual relationship. Troy and I have been married for 39 years, and this piece reflects the journey we have navigated together. It is not written with the intention to exclude anyone. No two survivor journeys are the same. Whether you are walking this path alone, with a partner, or alongside a community, your courage matters. No one must go through life feeling alone or unseen.

The Role of a Supportive Partner in Trauma Recovery

In the intricate journey of recovery and healing from trauma, the role of a supportive partner can often be the unsung melody in a survivor's symphony of healing. My journey, penned under the pseudonym Alice Perle in the memoir Resolve, is one such narrative, weaving the resilience of a survivor with the steadfast presence of my husband, Troy (also a pseudonym). Many readers of Resolve have remarked on Troy’s invaluable support throughout my path to healing and growth. This post is dedicated to exploring his perspective and contributions, presented during an event* where he and I took the spotlight to share our story.

Responding to Disclosure with Respect and Stability

Upon my disclosure, Troy’s initial reaction was both pivotal and empowering. We were in our 20s, and despite not possessing the awareness he now carries, he approached my disclosure with respect and acceptance, stating that it was an honour to be trusted with such significant information. He didn’t see the abuse as something to dramatically alter our daily life, but rather as a part of my history that required understanding and empathy.

Understanding Intimacy After Trauma

In the discussion about intimacy and whether the disclosure impacted how we moved forward, Troy candidly shared his early response in navigating the nuanced world of emotional and physical relationships with me. "When Alice disclosed to me, I just saw it as a fact, not as something I needed to take action on, or investigate with her or on her behalf," he expressed. "I just thought how brave she was to share this with me, something that she had been carrying silently. This thing, this wrong thing, happened to someone that I love and is part of my life."

He described life beyond disclosure as an ordinary routine filled with work, paying the bills and juggling family responsibilities, but with an awakening of sensitivity and a deeper understanding of what intimacy meant for both of us. It was a journey of learning, he recalled, a journey highlighted by his observation of my evolving understanding and reconstruction of personal boundaries.

It was early days, and I had a long way to go before I fully opened up about what had happened to me and began taking steps towards finding recovery.

A Partner’s Role in Sharing the Story

Troy’s support didn't stop at acknowledging my past. He encouraged my endeavours to be me in work, in life, as a parent, as an entrepreneur and a leader. In more recent times, he was there every step of the way once I shared with him that I was going to write my story, having once penned a vision to be a voice in the silent landscape of sibling sexual abuse.

Patiently and encouragingly, he witnessed me find my path forward, and backed me as I wrote the first words down on paper. He continued to support me as I wrote, researched, and healed for the next four years, through the dark times of recollection and bright times of finding what I could do about something now that I understood circumstances or myself  better. He didn’t read any of the drafts but once Resolve was published and I recorded the narration for the audiobook, he learned more about me than he may have ever known, hearing my (our) story unfold.

Resolve became a project that symbolises hope and speaks on all aspects of sibling sexual abuse, a subject too often brushed under society’s carpet. Troy’s backing was not just emotional; he stood by every editorial decision I made, including the strategic choice of a pseudonym.

"As far as the pen name, if anything did happen legally, I don't really care," Troy declared. "I’d put everything up, because I see this as probably one of the most important things in Alice’s life. I just need to stand by her, to let Alice go through all the layers she already has and is still navigating – it doesn’t end with writing a book! I’ll back her whatever she decides to do."

Intimacy Coaching: Reclaiming Voice, Body and Joy

This past May was our first time sitting side-by-side on a Zoom call with 20 other participants to speak candidly in a safe forum. Both of us answered questions raised by fellow survivors, parents of survivors, and professionals.

I also invited another important guest to that conversation: Alexandra Shield, the intimacy coach who helped me reclaim my voice, body, and personal joy through her program My Voice, My Body, My Pleasure. In Chapter 11 of Resolve, "The Gift of Self-Love — Forget the Old Programs of Pleasure", I shared how I reached out to Alexandra once I had the epiphany that having been sexualised as a child could impact my adult experience of intimacy. It was an incredibly vulnerable section to write in Resolve, but I knew in my heart that if I’d experienced this, then I’m not the only one.

Piecing that together was tough, and I raged at the idea that my brother had callously taken away my sacred right to feel safe and at ease in moments of intimacy. No one talks to you about this stuff! Yet Alexandra reminded me, "It hasn’t been taken away from you." That’s where our few months of work together began.

Her approach emphasised working at the pace of one’s own heart and nervous system, highlighting the need for a survivor to tread their healing path on their own terms. This was a concept Troy fully embraced. He understood that acts of recovery are gradual and deeply personal. It begins with a readiness for change in ourselves first.

Troy is about us being in this together, knowing that my work around intimacy was needed by me, for me, first. He put no pressure on me to be more than I could be in any moment. He listened to my words and witnessed the transformations, both subtle and pronounced, in my journey back to my body and joy.

Walking Beside a Survivor: Compassion Over Perfection

Walking beside me on the long path from disclosure to releasing Resolve, Troy became not just a supporter but a silent warrior for change. He has stood in fierce protection of our small family, including our three daughters and granddaughter, in solidarity against unspoken norms, and with unwavering faith in justice and healing.

This blog shares just snippets of his affirmations, but they resonate deeply within our lives and the lives of those who read or listen to our story. The grace with which Troy has handled this aspect of our lives reflects a larger societal hope: may spouses, partners, family, friends, and communities realise the profound impact of supportive presence. It is not about "knowing" what to do, but about being there. Being present.

To the Silent Warriors — In All Their Forms

This post honours the partners, spouses, companions, and loved ones who choose presence over perfection. Whether you’re in a heterosexual or same-sex relationship, a co-parent, life partner, close friend, or chosen family member, your support matters.

It also honours those who walk this path without a partner beside them. To the solo survivors, those who chose to walk alone, who never found or never wanted a partner, who have turned inward to find strength, self-compassion, and peace: you, too, are silent warriors. You remind us that healing is, at its core, an inside-out journey. You may not always know the “right” thing to say to yourself or to others. But your willingness to listen, to honour your boundaries, to keep showing up for yourself, that is powerful.

To everyone walking beside survivors of sibling sexual trauma or walking as one: thank you. Your quiet strength, your listening heart, and your commitment to growing through complexity are often unseen, but deeply felt.

May we all continue shaping a world where disclosure is met with dignity, where healing is embraced at one’s own pace, and where no one is forgotten, overlooked, or truly alone.

*The conversation originally took place as part of the Blue Borage Conversation Café series. Learn more at www.blueborage.com.au/conversation-cafe-and-events

Survivors Share Stories of Recovering Repressed Memories after Child Sexual Trauma

By Maria Socolof, 5WAVES Cofounder, Author of the memoir The Invisible Key: Unlocking the Mystery of My Chronic Pain and the website healingfromchronicpain.com.

This blog post has been adapted with permission from Maria’s Prologue to Mary Knight’s memoir, My Life NOW.

Click above to hear the firsthand accounts of others who experienced delayed recall of memories of child sexual abuse, on a YouTube playlist, a project of IncestAWARE under Mary and Maria's leadership.

Our stories may differ, but traumatization can occur from many varied underlying events. I had the pleasure of meeting Mary Knight in 2021 through the advocacy group Incest AWARE. After I enjoyed a successful twenty-two-year career as an environmental health scientist, my life’s focus shifted when I was forced to face a past trauma that resulted in debilitating chronic pain. Unable to continue my hard-earned career, I had to concentrate on healing and ultimately found myself compelled to tell my story. I had recently published my memoir and was ready and determined to continue speaking out on behalf of others who have suffered as a result of childhood sexual trauma.

During Incest AWARE’s inaugural meeting, survivor advocates shared about their past anti-incest work and what they hoped to accomplish in the future. It was then that I learned of Mary’s film projects. I was immediately intrigued, and later impressed when I had the privilege of viewing them.

As I continued to get to know Mary through her website and later from direct one-on-one conversations, I learned that our backstories are vastly different. Yet we formed a strong connection based on our shared healing experiences.

What is trauma?

Trauma is how an individual reacts to an unbearable situation. It affects each of us in our own unique way. The US’s Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration describes it in this way:

“Individual trauma results from an event, series of events, or set of circumstances that is experienced by an individual as physically or emotionally harmful or life threatening and that has lasting adverse effects on the individual’s functioning and physical, social, emotional, or spiritual well-being.”

What are the impacts of trauma?

In many ways contrasting Mary’s upbringing of being sex-trafficked by adult family members, I grew up in what would be considered a safe and loving environment under the guidance of my two devoted parents in our happy suburban home. Yet I was sexually violated on one occasion by my sibling, who had been sexually abused outside of the family. Not fully understanding the consequences of his actions, he passed his trauma on to me. The unfathomable assault on my body by my beloved and trusted sibling caused my protective brain to put this memory in the far recesses of my subconscious, where it stayed for thirty-two years.

What is repressed memory, or dissociative amnesia?

Repressing a memory, clinically called dissociative amnesia, is rather common among trauma and sexual abuse survivors. In fact, research indicates that 32 percent of trauma survivors [1] and 42 percent of sexual abuse survivors [2] do not remember their trauma or abuse for a period of time, lasting anywhere from days to decades.

This is a natural coping method we use to mentally escape from the horror of a situation and is well recognized in neuroscience and trauma research. There are many conditions that might increase the likelihood that a survivor will not remember their abuse [3].These include being victimized at a young age; high frequency, duration, or severity of the abuse; having more than one perpetrator; being psychologically close, such as with a family member; lack of support, particularly from one’s mother, when disclosing the abuse; and a natural tendency for some people to dissociate. Even seemingly minor events can cause dissociative amnesia or have long-lasting effects. What causes us to not remember can vary significantly.

Not until I was forty-two years old, and prompted by a nightmare, did I recall that one of my brothers molested me when I was ten. I later learned that repressing the memory was a survival strategy. It allowed me to remove from my memory what I couldn’t fully process at the time. It allowed me to function in spite of an incomprehensible act. It allowed me to live under the same roof as someone who had violated my body—and my trust. It allowed me to keep my family together and to stay with my parents, who didn’t come to my rescue (to no fault of their own), but whom I depended on for survival.

I had made a cryptic attempt to tell my parents at the time, as evidenced by a note that my parents found in their attic thirty-three years after the fact. Without explaining what had happened, I asked my mother if I could sleep with her the night after it happened. This was not a common request from ten-year-old me, and since my mother didn’t know what had occurred, she rejected my subtle cry for help.

My young mind learned that my parents didn’t protect me. This, however, was in stark contrast to my consciously lived childhood of love and support from wonderful parents.

While my charmed life went on, my subconscious held a dark secret. The one-time violation, and what I perceived as my mother’s rejection, seem to have been enough for me to be traumatized and to push the memory far away for decades.

Experiencing recovered memories, or delayed recall

My mind-blowing recollection–a recovered memory–was ultimately corroborated by my brother who molested me. When I asked him point-blank about it, he immediately took full responsibility for what he did to me. I was immensely grateful for this acknowledgement, and yet I spent the next dozen-plus years working through my trauma via various bodywork and psychological therapies, as well as many self-care approaches. I dug into my mind and body to find deeply buried emotions that were holding me hostage and causing me chronic physical pain. Fear, anger, confusion, shame, unworthiness. Through all this work and countless hours of cathartic writing, I’m now able to tell my story. In doing so, I have learned that I am not alone in my suffering and that millions of others are living with the aftereffects of trauma, too.

Mary reminded me not to compare my abuse to hers and not to minimize what happened to me. Even if what I experienced seemed insignificant compared to the abuse she and others have suffered, I was still traumatized by something that my child-brain could not process, and I need to respect and honor that fact. That is how we heal.

Although Mary and I had quite different childhood experiences, we share many commonalities. We were both traumatized by family members, we both repressed our memories for years, we both have lived with debilitating chronic pain, and we both have undergone many types of therapies and tried numerous self-care approaches to further our healing. We both created websites detailing how we have healed, we both have penned our stories, and we both are driven toward advocacy work. As such, we are building awareness of the diversity of childhood sexual trauma, providing support to other survivors, and demonstrating that there is a path to healing.

1 Diana M. Elliott, “Traumatic Events: Prevalence and Delayed Recall in the General Population.” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 65, no. 5 (1997): 811 in Wolf and Nochajski, 2013.

2 Diana M. Elliott and John Briere, “Posttraumatic Stress Associated with Delayed Recall of Sexual Abuse: A General Population Study.” Journal of Traumatic Stress 8, no. 4 (1995): 629–647.

3 Molly R. Wolf and Thomas H. Nochajski, “Child Sexual Abuse Survivors with Dissociative Amnesia: What’s the Difference?” Journal of Child Sexual Abuse 22, no. 4 (2013): 462–480.

Power Dynamics & Patriarchy: The Words No One Wants to Talk About

Risa is a sibling sexual abuse (SSA) survivor, author, researcher, and activist. In 2000 she published the first (and still only) anthology of visual art and writings by SSA survivors, Not Child’s Play. The Second Edition came out in 2023. This blog was adapted from a conversation between Risa and Brandy, parent of SSA, cofounder of 5WAVES.org and author of siblingsexualtrauma.com.

Consent wheel and art by Risa Shaw, 2024.

Risa: Like many others, I grew up in a household where power was gendered. I lived in a world where boys and men were valued more than girls and women. That’s still the world we live in. Context is so important; the abuse didn’t happen in a vacuum. 

In the 1980’s I told my family what my brother had done to me. Over the years it became clear to me that neither my mother nor my step-mother felt they could offer me support on anything other than an individual level, and neither one of them could hold my brother accountable for what he did. They felt bad (and I think a lot of shame and guilt), and were pretty paralyzed. 

I grew up being taught, implicitly and explicitly, that girls and women stayed quiet. Some of this was about “knowing your place” and some was about “keeping the family intact.” We did that with silence and acquiescence, always at our own expense. Years later my mother broke her own silence and told me – and this was the first time she told anyone – that she and two other girl cousins had been sexually abused by a male cousin in her childhood. 

Patriarchy is so baked into our daily lives that many people don’t see the harm and consequences of it. We are taught not to think about how we are steeped in patriarchy. In my home, the males were in charge, their needs came first, and their perspectives were correct. I think the abuse had a lot to do with my brother believing that his behavior was okay and knowing he could get away with it, and most anything he chose to do. The boy in our family learned he was entitled to what he wanted, including taking and doing what he wanted with his sisters. My dad told me he could not conceive of his own behavior contributing at all to the abuse; that was supposed to absolve him of not having kept his children safe. That patriarchal attitude goes back a long way, and it’s not just in my family.

Brandy: The influence of patriarchy isn’t simple. Boys are abused too, and sisters also abuse their siblings. And, there’s no denying that the vast majority of siblings responsible for the harm are brothers, and the majority of siblings they harm are sisters. Although it is only one of many factors involved with sibling sexual abuse, and every individual situation is different, I don’t think the phenomenon of sibling sexual abuse can be fully understood without looking through the lens of patriarchy and misogyny. 

Patriarchy may look different in today’s younger generations than it did when older generations of survivors were growing up. In Western cultures in particular, it is less blatant. But it still persists under the surface. We may not advertise separately for “Men Wanted” and “Ladies Wanted” any more, but traditionally female jobs still pay far less than equivalent jobs that were filled by men in the past. Sexualized and violent portrayals of girls and women have been part of patriarchy in many times and places. Now sexualized violence proliferates online; a 2020 survey of internet pornography found that 97% of the commonly-depicted physical violence is directed at females, with no indication of negative reactions or consequences. 

Risa: Yes, it is not simple, and gender roles and power dynamics harm everyone involved. Growing up I had no awareness of body safety or sexual abuse in general; we didn't talk about consent or power dynamics. I’ve made a point to have relationships and conversations with my nieces and nephews, to help them recognize and realize their own agency, so we can break this intergenerational cycle. I think the fact that they know about the abuse in my generation and we talk about it, means that the cycle has been broken in my family.

Brandy: I agree, it’s so important to talk with children, to allow curiosity and openness on both sides. This is true even for those who are sure there is no history of abuse in their family, or who do not feel patriarchy is a factor in their lives.

It’s important to guard against anyone feeling absent from the conversation about sibling sexual abuse. Discussions about the role of misogyny and patriarchy in sibling sexual abuse must be framed to include male survivors and those whose trauma arose from a sister’s actions. We need to ask questions such as, where do the power differentials show up when male siblings are victimized and when female siblings harm? We must also recognize that gender-based roles and power differences are a dominant reality in many families, cultures, and generations. So we need to include all these possibilities when strategizing and messaging to prevent and heal from sibling sexual abuse.

Risa: I invite you, the reader, to join us in thinking about how unequal power dynamics set the stage, encourage, or give permission for certain people (due to gender, birth order, race, able-bodiedness, etc.) to take advantage of and harm others. No matter what you call it, what happens when one person gets to do things others are “not supposed to do”? Does your family, culture, community, and/or institution allow greater agency for some than for others? Have you been taught to value some people over others, implicitly or explicitly? Join us in thinking and talking about how we can have conversation on these issues that harm everyone, including those who have been given (sometimes quite literally) the upper hand. Join us so we all can take action to prevent further harm and continue to heal from the trauma of sibling sexual abuse that so many have experienced.