Originally Published Oct 28, 2025
Even though I have written a book, Breathing the Night Out, to help me find peace, my healing journey will never end. I am deeply grateful for the consistent support I receive in one-on-one therapy with Pauline Nunn, Accredited Mental Health Social Worker and Compassionate Inquiry Practitioner. Through her guidance, I’ve come to better understand the human reactions that unfold when someone reveals they have been sexually assaulted. This is what I learned in yesterday’s session.
Interestingly, once I allowed Pauline’s wisdom to settle, I realised I had heard this before, but I wasn’t ready for the magic yet. Keep working towards healing; the magic is waiting for you.
When such a disclosure is made, especially to someone who loves the survivor, the first, primal response is often fear. The listener suddenly feels unsafe. If the predator is known to both parties, that sense of danger becomes even more intense.
Then comes guilt. The listener may feel they should have prevented it, that they somehow failed to protect the person they love. When the abuse was ongoing, that guilt can feel unbearable. It’s as if they’ve been dropped into a foreign jungle, with a wild tiger ready to pounce. In that moment, their instinct is not to comfort, but to survive.
In their desperation to feel safe again, they often have to make the victim different. They must find a way to believe this couldn’t happen to them, or in their world. So they unconsciously distance themselves, blaming, minimising, or altering the victim’s story. This isn’t malice; it’s a primitive survival strategy, rooted in ancient fear. They’re not thinking with their mature mind or open heart, but from a place of threat and shattered security.
With time, as awareness deepens, another wave often follows: remorse. They may wish they had immediately stepped into the role of protector and believer. If both parties stay stuck in this loop of their initial roles, fear and pain harden, and more distancing occurs. Healing together becomes even more difficult.
There is a way forward. It begins with education, understanding how and why child sexual violence happens, and what we can do to stop it. This is the path to deep, collective healing. Because we now know: silence is violence. Together, we heal.
And this is why I wrote my book. It is a 366-page olive branch, inviting the people I love, and those whom I may never meet, to come together and heal.
