Stories are written by people who don’t necessarily work or study in fields related to sexology. They convey emotions, perceptions, and subjective perspectives. Opinions voiced in the stories are those of their authors, and in no way represent the position of Les 3 sex*.

Ce témoignage est aussi disponible en français [➦].

Translated by Gabrielle Baillargeon-Michaud.

***Trigger warning : The content of this story may trigger distress in some people. Resources are provided at the end of text.***

I went to pick her up from the waiting room. She had only four delicate years of life on this planet. She was tiny, exceptionally small for her age, so different from my own child who was just a bit older. I smiled at her and offered my hand to her mother, saying, “Hello, you must be Mrs. X, the mother of the beautiful little girl beside you?” The little girl’s shy smile already suggested the beginning of a promising connection. I was eager to get to know her and, despite everything, looked forward to hearing her recount her story.

Her story, needless to say, was horrific and harrowing to hear.

A few months earlier, her mother had caught her playing strange games with her doll. Games involving sexual themes that would immediately make any sensible parent feel extremely uneasy.

The mother had frozen.

Unaware that she was being watched, the little girl continued her games, using words that had the effect of taking her mother’s breath away. It was like a gust of wind hitting one’s face, making it impossible to breathe.

After an investigation, the police had determined that a sexual assault had occurred. 

Large male hands had expressed their twisted desires on this small being and had committed intrusive, degrading, and destructive sexual acts, leaving a festering, messy, and terrible wound on her body.

Now, I needed to earn this little person’s trust and have her tell me, in her childish words, the unspeakable.

Our initial interactions were simple. I spoke about myself. I asked her about her activities. This is how I discovered that Monsieur Craquepoutte from the show “Toc Toc Toc” brought her much laughter, and above all, that she loved her cat “Miaou”!

She had these intrusive flashes that she was incapable of understanding. At times, she would even perform inappropriate sexual acts on her younger brother, without knowing why. Although she refused to talk about the man who had hurt her, she was able to describe to me in detail the acts she had suffered. Every night, she woke up in terror, and had to find a way to go back to sleep, even if her mother couldn’t manage to comfort her. Only four short years of life, and yet so much suffering!

Her healing journey was fraught with numerous challenges, vile memories she faced daily, which she believed were glued to her soul, and prematurely learned adult realities.

But, like many other children, she demonstrated immense courage and heartrending trust. The pride I felt for her exploded. Her openness and transparency allowed her to embrace the offered help and to make rapid progress in therapy.

But then it happened again.

I embodied a vacuum cleaner.

Instead of merely serving as a conduit, allowing her trauma to pass through so she could finally be free of it, I became a storage space. Bravely, kiddo freed herself from her trauma week by week. Meanwhile, I unwittingly collected the impacts of her trauma in my body, in my mind, and in my everyday life, week after week. This man, whom I did not know and who had failed to control his demonic impulses, haunted my dreams.

I thought about him during the day.

I wondered how I would feel if such an atrocity had happened to my child.

I saw him everywhere.

He had a thousand faces.

He had a thousand physiques.

He had a thousand ways to blend in, so skilled was he at manipulating and charming those around him.

He could be anyone.

The mailman! The grocery store packer! The mechanic! The gym teacher! A friend’s father! My neighbour! My own father!? Good grief…

I had to force myself to do something. I had to learn to let the images come and go. They came to me when the little girl told me about the sexual assaults she’d suffered, but rather than turn them into an animated scenario, I had to learn to let them dissolve into nothingness.

My creativity was harming me. My creativity was betraying me. The creativity I wished to use differently was outpacing me.

One day, my studies, my experiences, the opportunities that came my way, pushed me to work with children. One day, I decided I wanted to devote my professional life to this. Yet, some days, I would rather become a florist, an antique dealer, a grocer, an artist, or many other things…

Every day, however, I choose to continue on this same path.

Every day, I choose to work for these children who have endured terrible acts, toxic to their bodies and souls.

Every day, I am thankful to Life for the opportunity to learn so much.

The respect, admiration, and love I hold for them motivate me to keep going with what I started and what I believe in.

My comfort and satisfaction come from my confidence in being able to help them. Even if my contribution is merely a drop in the ocean, I have long since accepted being that drop in the ocean in the lives of the children on my earthly path.

Kiddo was improving steadily. She had implemented the suggested strategies. She had felt the benefits of confiding, and of identifying her emotions and thoughts. I had done everything in my power to prevent her from being overwhelmed by a whirlwind of feelings she could not articulate or understand.

I had done my utmost to help her stop thinking that she was responsible for the sexual assaults she had suffered. I had done my utmost to restore her preoccupations to those of a four-year-old child.

Kiddo and I were at our last meeting. She understood that we could no longer meet and talk. From the tender age of four, she understood that she would have to continue her healing journey on her own. She grasped the essence but was quite unable to express all her gratitude. So, she did it with all the authenticity that only little ones can muster. That day, she approached me gently, looked me straight in the eyes, reached out her little hand to my cheek, and softly caressed it while saying:

“You are my love, you are my friend,” and she wrapped her little arms full of thanks around my neck.

At that precise moment, I realized the incredible luck and extraordinary privilege I had been given every time a child allowed me to enter their world. This gratitude had to now nourish, guide, and enhance the help I would provide to the next little humans I would meet.

Since this kiddo, I have seen many other children, and she was always with me. However, one day, to protect myself, I stopped. Now, I teach others what I know, and she is still with me.

I teach my faith in their abilities. I teach my faith in humanity. I teach professionals to love these little humans as much as I do, those who need the help of adults.

I hope that everyone recognizes their immense courage. I hope that no one ever turns a blind eye to what these children have experienced. I hope that kiddo is doing well. She is still and always will be with me.

I thank Life for giving me the ability to listen to children who have been sexually abused and to do my best to help them.

I gratefully accept the opportunity to be a drop of water in the ocean of their existence.

Available Resources
Free Sexual Violence Helpline

• Everywhere in Québec : 1 888 933-9007
• Region of Montreal : 514 933-9007

Tel-jeunes : 1 800-263-2266

Help and resources on sexual assault
Organizations that help victims of sexual assault
Montreal Sexual Assault Centre
Quebec Coalition of Sexual Assault Help Centers