Content note: This article discusses sexual violence and childhood abuse. It does so deliberately. If parts feel uncomfortable to read, that discomfort is central to the argument being made.
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The Sentences Survivors Remember
Over the years, I have repeatedly heard parents of abused children say:
“I don’t need to know the details.”
“It’s too painful to think about what actually happened.”
Partners of survivors say similar things:
“I don’t want to picture it.”
“Let’s not talk about the specifics.”
These statements are usually offered gently. They are often framed as protective — of the survivor, of the relationship, of the family. But for many survivors, they land very differently.
They are heard as:
I can’t bear to hear what you endured.
Your pain is too much for me.
You are alone with this.
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Silence Is Not Neutral
When someone discloses abuse or rape, they are not simply passing on information. They are asking for shared reality. They want another human being to know — truly know — what happened to them, so that the emotional response they receive matches the severity of their experience.
When loved ones refuse the details, the survivor is left in an impossible position:
• They are encouraged to speak — but only partially.
• They are believed — but only abstractly.
• They are supported — but at a distance.
This partial witnessing breeds shame. The survivor begins to feel that the full truth is not just painful, but unacceptable.
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“We Don’t Talk About It” Is Not for the Survivor
Families often adopt an unspoken rule: we don’t talk about it. This is usually justified as a way of “moving on” or “not reopening wounds.”
But this silence rarely serves the survivor.
Instead, it protects others from:
• Their own distress
• Their anger
• Their helplessness
• Their imagined responses
The survivor, meanwhile, remains alone with the details — the sights, sounds, sensations, and meanings — while everyone else carries a softened version.
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The Father Who Wants to Kill
It is common to hear fathers say:
“If someone did that to my daughter, I’d kill them.”
This reaction is often presented as evidence of love. In reality, it centres the father’s feelings — his rage, his imagined violence, his need to feel powerful.
What the survivor usually needs is something far harder:
A father who can sit still.
Who can listen.
Who can tolerate the details.
Who can bear the pain without turning it into action.
Violent fantasies meet the needs of the listener, not the survivor.
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Euphemism Breaks Empathy
Survivors learn quickly where the limits are.
There is a level of description that is permitted:
“Then he abused me.”
“Then he raped me.”
And a level that is not.
Once the details approach the full reality — the degradation, the betrayal, the fear, the confusion — the listener withdraws. Changes the subject. Says, “You don’t need to tell me that.”
At that moment, the survivor receives a powerful message:
This part of you must stay hidden.
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The Dangerous Intimacy of Untold Truth
When a survivor is prevented from fully disclosing, something disturbing happens. The only person who truly knows what occurred is the offender.
They share an unwanted, toxic intimacy:
• Two people know exactly what happened.
• One caused it.
• One is left alone with it.
Without full witnessing, the survivor remains psychologically tethered to the perpetrator — not by love or loyalty, but by secrecy.
This is a dreadful place to be left.
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“It’s Too Painful for Me” — And Why That Matters
When loved ones say they cannot hear the details because it is too painful, they are telling the truth. It is painful.
But survivors often hear something else:
If I tell you everything, I will hurt you.
My reality is dangerous to the people I love.
This belief fuels silence, self-blame, and isolation. It does not heal.
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What Survivors Actually Need
Survivors do not need their families to fix what happened. They need something much rarer:
• Someone who will listen without interruption
• Someone who will not rush to comfort themselves
• Someone who can sit with horror without turning away
• Someone whose empathy is congruent with the experience
This does not require expertise. It requires courage.
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If This Is Hard to Read
If reading this feels uncomfortable, imagine living it — and then being told that the details are too much for those you love.
Healing does not come from silence. It comes from being fully known and still met with care.
If you love someone who has survived abuse or rape, the most powerful thing you can offer is not protection from their story — but your willingness to hear it.
Des McVey – consultant nurse psychotherapist .