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Sexual Trauma, Porn & Shame: Questions Survivors Ask

Sexual Trauma, Porn & Shame: Questions Survivors Ask

by | Oct 23, 2025 | Questions Nobody Asks Out Loud Series

Let’s Talk About What Nobody Talks About: Porn, Shame, and the Search for Control

Part 2 of the “Questions Nobody Asks Out Loud” Series

 

Okay, deep breath. We’re going there.

This is the blog post you’re reading in incognito mode. The one you’ll probably close if someone walks into the room. The topic that makes even therapists squirm a little.

But here’s the thing: if we keep treating certain topics like they’re too shameful to discuss, shame wins. And shame is exactly what keeps you stuck, isolated, and convinced you’re the only one struggling with this.

So let’s talk about porn. And control. And why trauma survivors sometimes end up in a complicated relationship with sexuality that nobody prepared them for.

No judgment. No shame. Just honest conversation about the questions you’ve been too afraid to ask.

In This Post:

  • Why trauma survivors turn to porn when triggered or stressed
  • The difference between coping mechanism and addiction
  • Why you feel aroused by things that remind you of abuse
  • Whether healthy sexuality is possible after trauma
  • What to do when you can’t stop the cycle alone

The Questions Nobody Asks (But Everyone Wonders)

Question 1: “Why do I turn to porn when I’m triggered or stressed?”

Because your brain is trying to solve a problem, and it’s using the tools it has—even if those tools aren’t actually helping.

Here’s what’s happening: When you experienced sexual trauma, your brain got wired to associate sexuality with a confusing mix of powerlessness, fear, shame, and sometimes physical sensation. That’s a lot for a developing nervous system to process.

For some survivors, porn becomes a way to:

Reclaim control. During abuse, you had no control over what happened to your body. With porn, you control what you see, when you see it, when it starts, when it stops. You’re the one in charge. That feeling of control can be intoxicating when you’ve felt powerless.

Manage overwhelming emotions. Anxiety, shame, loneliness, anger—these feelings are intense and uncomfortable. Sexual arousal (even if it’s not connected to genuine desire) temporarily floods your system with different chemicals. It’s like hitting a reset button on your nervous system. Except it’s not actually resetting anything—it’s just distracting you.

Avoid real intimacy. Real intimacy requires vulnerability, and vulnerability feels dangerous when someone used your vulnerability to hurt you. Porn offers a simulation of sexuality without the terrifying risk of actually being seen by another person.

Process confusing feelings about sexuality. If your first introduction to sexuality was abuse, you might use porn to try to understand what “normal” sexuality looks like, or to figure out what you’re supposed to feel, or to explore feelings you’re ashamed to have.

“None of this makes you a bad person. It makes you a hurt person trying to cope with pain you were never supposed to carry.”

Understanding shame and control after sexual trauma - breaking free from cycles

Question 2: “But isn’t porn always bad? Doesn’t it make everything worse?”

This is where I’m going to give you a nuanced answer you won’t find in most places.

Porn itself isn’t the core problem—but it’s often not the solution either.

From a Biblical perspective, I believe sexuality is meant to be expressed in the context of committed relationship, intimacy, and genuine connection. Porn strips sexuality down to images on a screen, disconnected from relationship, often depicting dynamics that are exploitative or degrading. That’s not what our Creator intended.

But here’s what I also know: shame about using porn often does more damage than the porn itself.

When you’re already drowning in shame from abuse, adding another layer of “I’m disgusting for watching this” creates a shame spiral that makes everything worse. You feel bad, you turn to porn to numb the bad feeling, you feel worse because you used porn, so you use more porn to numb that feeling, and the cycle continues.

Breaking this cycle isn’t about shaming yourself into stopping. It’s about understanding what you’re really looking for and finding healthier ways to get it.

The question isn’t “Am I bad for using porn?” The question is: “What am I actually trying to get from this, and is it working?”

Key Insight:

Breaking the shame cycle requires understanding, not self-punishment.

The cycle: Feel bad → Use porn to cope → Feel worse about using porn → Use more porn to cope with that shame → Repeat

The breakthrough: Understand what you’re actually seeking → Find healthier ways to meet those needs → Break the pattern with compassion, not condemnation

Question 3: “What’s the difference between using porn as a coping mechanism and actual addiction?”

Good question. And honestly, the line can be blurry.

Coping mechanism means you’re using porn to manage difficult emotions, trauma responses, or stress—but you could stop if you really wanted to. It’s a choice (even if it doesn’t always feel like one).

Addiction means you’ve lost the ability to choose. You want to stop, you’ve tried to stop, but you keep going back even when it’s causing significant problems in your life—relationships falling apart, job performance suffering, legal consequences, financial issues.

Here’s how to tell the difference:

You might be coping (not addicted) if:

  • You can go days or weeks without it when life is stable
  • You use it primarily when triggered or stressed
  • You can stop when you want to, even if it’s hard
  • It’s not causing major life problems (yet)

You might be dealing with addiction if:

  • You’ve tried to stop multiple times and can’t
  • You’re spending hours daily that you can’t account for
  • You’re risking important relationships or your job
  • You feel completely powerless to stop
  • You’re escalating to more extreme content to get the same effect
  • You’re experiencing withdrawal symptoms when you try to stop

If you’re in the addiction category, you need more support than a blog post can offer—a therapist who specializes in both trauma and compulsive sexual behavior, possibly a support group, and definitely more intensive work.

If you’re in the coping category, there’s hope for developing healthier ways to manage what you’re feeling. That’s where tools like nervous system regulation, grounding techniques, and addressing the underlying trauma become essential.

Understanding shame and control after sexual trauma - breaking free from cycles

Question 4: “Why do I feel aroused by things that remind me of my abuse?”

Oh, this one. This is the question that makes people feel like they’re truly, deeply broken.

You’re not.

Here’s what’s happening: Your brain wired sexuality and trauma together because they happened at the same time. When your brain was developing its understanding of “sexuality,” abuse was part of that picture. So now, those neural pathways are connected in ways that feel disturbing and shameful.

This is called trauma bonding or traumatic arousal, and it’s a recognized phenomenon. It doesn’t mean you wanted the abuse. It doesn’t mean you liked it. It doesn’t mean you’re destined to repeat it.

It means your brain made connections during a formative time that now need to be gently rewired.

Some survivors find themselves aroused by:

  • Scenarios that involve powerlessness or coercion
  • Dynamics that mirror the abuse
  • Content that would have disturbed them before the trauma

And then they spiral into shame: “What’s wrong with me? Why would this turn me on? Does this mean I wanted it? Am I going to become an abuser?”

No. You’re experiencing a trauma response, not a character flaw.

“Arousal doesn’t equal desire. Your body can respond to stimuli even when your values, your heart, and your actual desires are saying something completely different.”

Healing this doesn’t mean shaming yourself into “thinking pure thoughts.” It means:

  • Understanding why these connections formed
  • Developing compassion for yourself instead of disgust
  • Working with a trauma-informed therapist or coach to slowly rewire these associations
  • Learning what healthy sexuality actually feels like (not what trauma taught you it was)

This is exactly the kind of thing I help clients work through in coaching—not by shaming them, but by helping them understand their nervous system and develop new, healthier patterns.

Want Deeper Understanding?

In Healing What Hides in the Shadows, you’ll find:

✓ How trauma rewires your relationship with sexuality
✓ Body-based practices for nervous system regulation
✓ Tools for separating trauma responses from authentic desire
✓ Private healing—no disclosure required

Get Your Copy →

Question 5: “Can I ever have a healthy relationship with sexuality after this?”

Yes.

Not easily. Not quickly. Not without doing the work. But yes.

I’m not going to lie to you and say it’s simple. Sexual trauma rewires how you relate to your body, to intimacy, to vulnerability, to pleasure. Healing that takes time.

But here’s what I’ve seen, both in my own journey and in working with survivors:

Healthy sexuality after trauma is possible when:

You’ve learned to feel safe in your own body again. (This is the foundation of everything—see Why Your Body Hasn’t Gotten the Memo That You’re Safe)

You’ve separated what trauma taught you about sex from what sex can actually be. Trauma taught you that sexuality is about power, violation, and shame. Healing teaches you it can be about connection, mutual pleasure, and safety.

You’ve found ways to stay present instead of dissociating. Intimacy requires being in your body, not floating above it.

You’ve developed the ability to communicate needs and boundaries. And to trust that those boundaries will be respected.

You’ve addressed the shame. Not eliminated it entirely (we’re human), but taken away its power to control you.

From a faith perspective, I believe God’s design for sexuality is beautiful—mutual, honoring, intimate, safe. Trauma distorted that design. Healing is about reclaiming what was always meant to be life-giving, not life-taking.

Hope for healthy sexuality after sexual trauma - healing is possible for survivors

Question 6: “What do I do if I can’t stop the cycle on my own?”

First, there’s no shame in needing help. You didn’t create this problem—trauma did. And trying to heal trauma-related sexual struggles alone is like trying to perform surgery on yourself. Technically possible, but why would you?

Here’s what actually helps:

Work with a trauma-informed therapist. Not just any therapist—one who understands both sexual trauma and compulsive sexual behavior. They exist, and they won’t judge you.

Address the underlying trauma. You can’t heal the coping mechanism without healing what you’re coping with. The porn (or whatever behavior you’re struggling with) is the symptom, not the disease.

Learn nervous system regulation. When you can manage overwhelming emotions without needing to escape into sexuality, the compulsion loses its power. In Healing What Hides in the Shadows, I walk through specific body-based techniques for this.

Find healthy ways to meet the needs porn was meeting.

  • Control? Develop healthy boundaries in your life
  • Emotional management? Learn grounding and regulation skills
  • Avoiding intimacy? Work on building safe relationships
  • Connection? Build genuine community

Get support from someone who gets it. Whether that’s a support group, a coach who specializes in trauma recovery, or trusted friends who won’t shame you. Secrets keep you sick. Connection heals.

This is part of what I do in my coaching practice—helping survivors understand the “why” behind their behaviors and developing practical tools to create new patterns. Not through shame or willpower, but through understanding your nervous system and meeting your actual needs in healthier ways.

The Bottom Line

If you’re struggling with porn, with compulsive sexual behavior, with arousal that confuses and shames you—you’re not uniquely broken. You’re responding to trauma in a way that made sense to your survival brain, even if it’s not serving you now.

Healing doesn’t start with shame. It starts with understanding.

And understanding starts with being willing to ask the questions nobody else will talk about.

So here we are, talking about it.

“You’re not alone. You’re not too far gone. And yes, there is hope for something better than this cycle of shame and secrecy.”

Ready to Break the Cycle?

You don’t have to figure this out alone.

Read the Book
Healing What Hides in the Shadows addresses sexuality after trauma with compassion and practical tools.
Get the Book →

 Work With Me
One-on-one coaching for trauma survivors navigating sexuality, shame, and healing.
Learn About Coaching →

Stay Connected
Join the conversation about trauma, sexuality, and healing—without shame.
Subscribe →

Continue the Series:

← Part 1: The Questions You’re Afraid to Ask About Your Body – Arousal during abuse, body memories, dissociation, and feeling broken

→ Part 3: Identity After Trauma – Sexual orientation, gender confusion, and finding yourself again

 

Sexual Trauma and Your Body: The Questions Survivors Are Afraid to Ask

Sexual Trauma and Your Body: The Questions Survivors Are Afraid to Ask

by | Oct 20, 2025 | Questions Nobody Asks Out Loud Series

Part 1 of the “Questions Nobody Asks Out Loud” Series

There are questions about sexual trauma you Google at 2am. Questions you delete from your search history. Questions that make you feel like maybe you’re the only person twisted enough to even wonder about them.

Spoiler alert: you’re not.

As a coach who works with trauma survivors—and as someone who’s walked this road myself—I’ve heard them all. And I’m going to answer the ones nobody talks about, starting with the questions about your body that make you feel the most shame.

Because here’s the thing: your questions aren’t evidence that you’re broken. They’re evidence that you’re human, you’re hurting, and you’re trying to make sense of something that never should have happened.

In this post, I’m answering five questions that keep trauma survivors up at night—the ones you’re too ashamed to ask your therapist, too afraid to Google from your work computer, too convinced make you uniquely broken.

Spoiler: none of them do.

In This Post:

  • Why physical arousal during abuse is NOT consent
  • What body memories are and why they’re so powerful
  • Why dissociation happens during wanted intimacy
  • The truth about being “damaged goods” (you’re not)
  • Where to get help when you’re ready

The Questions Nobody Asks (But Everyone Wonders)

Question 1: “Is it normal that I felt physical pleasure during the abuse?”

Yes. And I need you to hear this: physical arousal is not consent. It’s not participation. It’s not proof you wanted it.

Your body has automatic responses—like your knee jerking when the doctor taps it, or your mouth watering when you smell food. Sexual arousal is the same kind of automatic response. It’s your nervous system doing what it’s designed to do when certain nerve endings are stimulated.

Abusers sometimes deliberately trigger arousal because it creates exactly this confusion and shame. They know it will make you less likely to tell, more likely to blame yourself, more convinced that somehow you’re complicit in your own violation.

But listen: arousal is a physiological response, not a moral choice. Your body responding doesn’t mean your soul agreed. It doesn’t make you guilty. It makes you human with a functioning nervous system that couldn’t tell the difference between wanted and unwanted touch in that moment.

“Arousal is a physiological response, not a moral choice. Your body responding doesn’t mean your soul agreed.”

The shame you feel about this? That belongs to the person who hurt you, not to you.

Understanding body responses to sexual trauma and abuse

Question 2: “Why Does Sexual Trauma Make Me Feel Nauseous During Intimacy?”

Because your body remembers what your mind might want to forget.

When someone violated you, your nervous system recorded every detail—not just what happened, but what it felt like in your body. The vulnerability of being touched. The powerlessness. The fear. All of that got stored as “DANGER.”

Now, even in safe situations with people you love and trust, your body might be screaming “ABORT MISSION” because intimacy triggers those old danger signals. Your nervous system can’t always tell the difference between then and now, wanted and unwanted, and safe and unsafe.

This shows up as:

  • Nausea or stomach pain
  • Headaches or muscle tension
  • Going numb or feeling disconnected
  • Panic attacks
  • Suddenly feeling angry or afraid
  • Your mind going completely blank

“This isn’t rejection of your partner. It’s your body trying to protect you from something that already happened.”

The good news? Your nervous system can learn new associations. It just takes time, patience, and often some specific nervous system work to teach your body that intimacy can be safe.

(This is exactly the kind of thing I work on with coaching clients—helping your body update its threat detection system.)

Read more: Why Your Body Hasn’t Gotten the Memo That You’re Safe

Question 3: “Can my body actually ‘remember’ trauma even if my mind doesn’t?”

Absolutely yes.

Dr. Bessel van der Kolk wrote an entire book about this called The Body Keeps the Score. Trauma memories don’t get stored the same way regular memories do. They get fragmented and scattered throughout your brain and body.

Your conscious mind might have no clear memory of what happened—especially if the trauma occurred when you were very young, or if your brain protected you by blocking it out. But your body? Your body kept the receipt.

This is why you might:

  • Feel inexplicably anxious in certain situations
  • Have physical pain with no medical explanation
  • React intensely to specific smells, sounds, or touches
  • Feel unsafe for “no reason”
  • Dissociate or disconnect from your body

These aren’t random. They’re your body’s way of saying, “Hey, something about this situation reminds me of danger, even if you don’t consciously remember why.”

And before you ask—yes, this is real. No, you’re not making it up. Your body doesn’t lie about this stuff.

Body memories and trauma recovery for sexual abuse survivors

Want to Go Deeper?

In Healing What Hides in the Shadows, I walk through:

✓ Comprehensive body-based healing practices
✓ Nervous system regulation techniques you can do privately
✓ Step-by-step tools for reclaiming your body after trauma
✓ No pressure to disclose your story to anyone

Get Your Copy →

Question 4: “Why do I dissociate during sex even though I WANT to be present?”

Because dissociation was your superpower during the abuse, and your brain hasn’t gotten the memo that you don’t need it anymore.

When trauma was happening and you couldn’t fight or flee, your brain did something brilliant: it helped you leave. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally. You went somewhere else. You floated near the ceiling. You imagined you were anywhere but in your body experiencing what was happening.

This is called dissociation, and it literally saved your sanity.

The problem? Your brain learned this strategy so well that now it automatically deploys it whenever intimacy happens—even wanted, safe intimacy. The second things get vulnerable or intense, your brain goes, “Oh! I know this drill!” and checks you out of your body.

You’re not choosing this. You’re not broken. Your brain is still running an old protection program that it hasn’t updated yet.

Learning to stay present during intimacy is possible, but it’s gradual work. It requires:

  • Going slow (like, painfully slow)
  • Communicating with your partner about what’s happening
  • Grounding techniques to keep you in your body
  • Sometimes working with a trauma-informed therapist or coach who can help you rewire these automatic responses

In my coaching work, I help clients develop specific practices to gently train their nervous system to stay present during vulnerability. It’s not about forcing yourself to “get over it.” It’s about teaching your body that the rules have changed.

One client recently told me, “I finally understand why my body reacts this way. For the first time in 15 years, I don’t feel broken—I feel like I’m healing.”

Related reading: Trauma, Sleep, and the Body That Won’t Rest

Hope and healing after sexual trauma - resources for survivors

Question 5: “Does this make me damaged goods?”

No. Full stop. End of sentence.

But I know you don’t believe me yet, so let me say it differently:

What happened to you added chapters to your story. It didn’t define the whole book.

Yes, sexual trauma changes you. It reorganizes your nervous system. It affects how you see the world, how you relate to people, how you experience your own body. That’s real, and we’re not going to pretend it’s not.

But “changed” doesn’t mean “ruined.” “Affected” doesn’t mean “destroyed.”

I’ve worked with countless survivors who thought they were too broken for healthy relationships, good jobs, normal lives, genuine joy. And then I watched them heal. Not because they went back to who they were before (you can’t), but because they discovered who they could become after.

“You’re not damaged goods. You’re a person who survived something terrible and is still here, still trying, still hoping things can get better. And that? That’s not damaged. That’s strong as hell.”

You’re not damaged goods. You’re a person who survived something terrible and is still here, still trying, still hoping things can get better.

And that? That’s not damaged. That’s strong as hell.

Why These Questions Matter

Every time you ask a question you’re afraid to ask, you’re taking back a little piece of power. You’re refusing to let shame keep you isolated and confused.

These questions—about arousal, about body memories, about dissociation, about whether you’re too broken—they’re not signs of weakness. They’re signs you’re ready to stop suffering alone.

If you’re reading this and recognizing yourself in these questions about sexual trauma, I want you to know: healing is possible. You don’t have to stay stuck in confusion and shame. You don’t have to keep Googling at 2am wondering if you’re the only one.

Ready to Stop Googling at 2am?

If you’re recognizing yourself in these questions, you don’t have to figure this out alone.

Three ways I can help:

📖 Read the Book
Healing What Hides in the Shadows gives you comprehensive, body-based tools for private healing—no therapist required, no disclosure pressure.

Get the Book →

💬 Work With Me
One-on-one coaching for personalized support as you navigate these exact questions and develop tools for your specific situation.

Learn About Coaching →

📧 Stay Connected
Join my email list for more honest conversations about trauma, healing, and the questions nobody else is answering.

Subscribe →

Continue the Series:

→ Part 2: Let’s Talk About What Nobody Talks About—Porn, shame, and the search for control after trauma

→ Part 3: Identity After Trauma—Sexual orientation, gender questions, and finding yourself again

Related Posts:

One in three girls and one in six boys experience sexual abuse before age 18. Most never talk about these questions out loud. But they’re all thinking of them.

You’re not alone. Your questions deserve answers. And healing is possible.

Identity After Sexual Trauma: Finding Yourself Again

Identity After Sexual Trauma: Finding Yourself Again

by | Oct 6, 2025 | Questions Nobody Asks Out Loud Series

Identity After Trauma: When You’re Not Sure Who You Are Anymore

Part 3 of the “Questions Nobody Asks Out Loud” Series

Alright, let’s talk about the question that keeps you up at 3am, the one you’ve Googled a hundred times in different ways, hoping for an answer that makes sense.

“Am I gay/bi/straight/something else because of what happened to me? Or is this who I really am?”

“What if I want to transition… is that trauma talking, or is that actually me?”

“How do I know what’s real and what’s just… broken?”

These are the questions that sit in your chest like a stone. The ones you can barely form into words, even in your own mind. Because what if asking the question somehow confirms your worst fear—that you don’t actually know who you are?

Here’s what I want you to hear before we go any further: Trauma doesn’t create your identity. But it can absolutely confuse you about your identity.

And figuring out the difference? That’s some of the hardest, most important work you’ll ever do.

Let’s dive in.

In This Post:

  • Whether sexual abuse can change your sexual orientation
  • Gender identity questions after trauma
  • How to know what’s trauma response vs. authentic self
  • Why you need to heal your body before you can see clearly
  • The “trying on identities” phase and why it’s okay
  • Biblical perspective without shame or condemnation

The Questions Nobody Asks (But Everyone Wonders)

Question 1: “Am I gay/bi/queer because of the abuse? Did it make me this way?”

This is the question that haunts survivors. And the answer is both simpler and more complex than you might think.

No, childhood sexual abuse does not cause homosexuality or change your inherent sexual orientation.

But—and this is important—abuse can absolutely create confusion about your sexual orientation.

Here’s why:

Your first sexual experiences were traumatic. If abuse was your introduction to sexuality, your brain doesn’t have a clean reference point for what attraction, desire, or intimacy actually feel like. Everything got tangled up with fear, powerlessness, and survival.

The gender of your abuser matters in confusing ways. If you were abused by someone of the same gender, you might wonder: “Did that awaken something in me? Or did it traumatize me in ways that are now confusing my attractions?” If you were abused by someone of the opposite gender, you might find yourself repelled by that gender and more comfortable with the same gender—but is that authentic attraction or trauma avoidance?

Trauma can make you seek safety in unexpected places. Some survivors feel safer with the same gender because abuse came from the opposite gender. Some feel safer with the opposite gender because abuse came from the same gender. Safety and attraction can get confused when your nervous system is just trying to avoid more pain.

Shame distorts everything. If you grew up in an environment where being gay was considered sinful or wrong, and then abuse happened, your brain might latch onto “maybe I’m gay and that’s why this happened” as a twisted way of making sense of the senseless.

“The question isn’t whether trauma can create sexual orientation. The question is: can you see your authentic self clearly while trauma is still distorting the lens?”

Understanding sexual orientation confusion after childhood sexual trauma

Question 2: “What about gender identity? Can trauma make me trans or non-binary?”

Another deeply personal, incredibly complex question.

Trauma doesn’t create gender dysphoria. But trauma can make you want to escape your body—and that can look like gender dysphoria.

Let me explain the difference:

Authentic gender dysphoria is a persistent, long-term sense that your gender identity doesn’t match your biological sex. It’s about who you are at your core, separate from what happened to you.

Trauma-related body disconnection is desperately wanting to escape the body that was violated. It’s “I hate this body because of what happened to it” or “If I weren’t female/male, maybe I would have been safe.”

Here’s where it gets tricky: both can feel like “I don’t want to be in this body.” Both can lead to wanting to change or reject your body. But the root cause—and therefore the path to healing—is different.

Signs it might be trauma-related body rejection:

  • The feelings intensified after the abuse or after remembering the abuse
  • You specifically want to escape the gendered aspects of your body that were targeted in abuse
  • You fantasize about being the opposite gender primarily as a way to feel safe, not as a core identity
  • The distress lessens when you’re healing trauma and feeling safer in your body

Signs it might be authentic gender identity:

  • You’ve felt this way consistently since early childhood, before abuse occurred
  • The dysphoria isn’t primarily connected to feeling unsafe—it’s about feeling fundamentally misaligned
  • Even when you feel safe and healed from trauma, the gender incongruence remains
  • Exploring your gender identity brings relief and clarity, not just escape

Here’s the nuance nobody talks about: It’s possible for both to be true.

You could genuinely be trans or non-binary and have experienced trauma. Trauma doesn’t invalidate authentic gender identity. And having authentic gender dysphoria doesn’t mean you can skip healing your trauma.

Critical Insight:

You cannot make permanent identity decisions from a traumatized nervous system.

When your body is stuck in survival mode, everything looks like a threat—including your own body. Healing your relationship with your body has to come before you can see clearly who you actually are underneath the trauma.

This doesn’t mean “wait forever” or “suppress your identity.” It means: do the trauma work while you explore, not instead of exploring.

Gender identity and trauma - understanding yourself after childhood sexual abuse

Question 3: “How do I know what’s really me versus what trauma made me believe?”

This is the million-dollar question. And I wish I could give you a simple test, but identity work is rarely simple.

Here’s what I can tell you:

Trauma responses are characterized by:

  • Fear (this keeps me safe)
  • Avoidance (this helps me escape what hurt me)
  • Confusion (I genuinely don’t know what I want or feel)
  • Reactivity (this is the opposite of what hurt me, so it must be right)
  • Instability (my sense of identity shifts dramatically based on who I’m with or how I’m feeling)

Authentic identity is characterized by:

  • Consistency (this has been true about me across time and context)
  • Peace (when I honor this about myself, I feel more whole, not less)
  • Clarity (this makes sense of my life in a way that feels true, not forced)
  • Internal alignment (this isn’t about pleasing others or protecting myself—it’s just… me)

Here’s the process I recommend:

Step 1: Heal your relationship with your body first.

You can’t know who you are if you’re dissociated from your body or actively at war with it. Work on feeling safe in your body. Learn nervous system regulation. Address the trauma that’s making your body feel like enemy territory.

(This is exactly what I walk through in Healing What Hides in the Shadows and in my coaching work—reclaiming your body before trying to make big identity decisions.)

Step 2: Give yourself permission to explore without committing.

You’re allowed to try on different identities, different labels, different expressions of yourself. This isn’t lying or being fake—it’s learning. Some things will feel right. Some won’t. That’s information.

Step 3: Notice what brings peace versus what brings relief.

Relief is temporary. “If I just do this, the pain will stop.” Peace is deep. “This aligns with who I am, even if it’s hard.”

Step 4: Work with a trauma-informed therapist or coach.

Someone who understands both trauma and LGBTQ+ issues. Someone who won’t push you toward or away from any particular identity, but will help you sort through what’s yours and what’s trauma’s.

Step 5: Take your time.

You don’t have to decide today. You don’t have to announce anything. You don’t have to make permanent changes right now. Healing takes time. Clarity takes time. Give yourself that gift.

Want to Go Deeper?

In Healing What Hides in the Shadows, you’ll find:

  • Body-based practices for reconnecting with yourself
  • Nervous system tools to create safety within
  • Guidance on separating trauma from authentic identity
  • No pressure to have it all figured out

Get Your Copy

Biblical perspective on identity after sexual trauma - grace and truth for survivors

Question 4: “What does the Bible say about all this? Am I sinning by questioning my identity?”

If you come from a faith background, this question probably weighs on you heavily. So let me offer some perspective rooted in grace and truth.

First: You are not sinning by having questions.

Wrestling with your identity after trauma isn’t rebellion. It’s not lack of faith. It’s not evidence that you’re far from God. It’s evidence that you’re human and you’re hurting and you’re trying to make sense of something devastating.

God doesn’t condemn you for asking hard questions. He’s big enough to handle your confusion.

Second: Healing your body is not optional—it’s stewardship.

Your body is God’s creation. Trauma violated that creation. Healing your relationship with your body—learning to feel safe in it, to honor it, to listen to it—is part of stewarding what God gave you.

You can’t honor God with a body you’re dissociated from or actively trying to escape.

Third: Identity questions don’t disqualify you from God’s love.

Whether you’re questioning your sexual orientation, your gender identity, or anything else about yourself—God’s love for you hasn’t changed. You are still His. You are still worthy. You are still seen and known.

The enemy wants you to believe that your questions make you unredeemable. That’s a lie straight from hell.

Fourth: The “wait and see” approach is wise, not weak.

If you’re not sure what’s trauma and what’s authentic identity, it’s okay to say: “I don’t know yet. I’m going to heal first, then reevaluate.”

That’s not suppressing yourself. That’s wisdom. That’s giving yourself the gift of clarity before making permanent decisions.

Fifth: God’s design for sexuality and identity is real—and so is trauma’s impact.

I believe God created us male and female, with sexuality designed for marriage between man and woman. I also believe trauma can deeply distort how we experience our bodies, our gender, and our sexuality.

Both things can be true. And navigating the tension between them requires grace, time, and support—not shame.

“You don’t have to choose between being honest about your struggle and being faithful to God. He invites you to bring all of it—the questions, the confusion, the pain—into His presence.”

Question 5: “What if I’m ‘trying on’ different identities? Does that make me fake?”

No. It makes you wise.

Here’s what most people won’t tell you: figuring out your identity after trauma is like trying to see your reflection in a shattered mirror. The pieces are all there, but they don’t form a coherent picture yet.

So you pick up pieces. You try them on. You see what fits.

Some survivors try on different identities to:

  • Feel safer (maybe being seen as masculine/feminine/androgynous protects me)
  • Belong somewhere (maybe this community will accept me)
  • Understand themselves (maybe this label explains what I’m feeling)
  • Escape shame (maybe if I’m this instead of that, I won’t feel so dirty)

And here’s what’s true: Some of what you try on will fit. Some won’t. That’s not failure—that’s discovery.

You might identify as bisexual for a while and later realize you’re actually straight, but trauma made intimacy with men feel unsafe. That’s not being fake—that’s healing.

You might explore non-binary identity and realize that what you really needed was permission to reject rigid gender roles that felt constraining after abuse. That’s not being fake—that’s growth.

You might come out as gay, then later realize you were trying to escape relationships with the gender that hurt you. Or you might come out as gay and realize this was always true, and abuse just confused you about it. Both are valid journeys.

The point isn’t to get it right immediately. The point is to give yourself grace while you figure it out.

Hope and healing - discovering authentic identity after childhood sexual trauma

Question 6: “Will I ever actually know who I am?”

Yes. But not from where you’re standing right now.

Right now, you’re looking at yourself through a lens that trauma smudged, cracked, and distorted. You’re trying to see clearly through fog.

Here’s what happens as you heal:

The fog lifts. As you do trauma work, regulate your nervous system, and feel safer in your body, the confusion starts to clear. What felt overwhelming and impossible to sort through starts to make sense.

Your authentic self emerges. Underneath the survival strategies, the shame, the fear, the confusion—there’s a you that was always there. Healing doesn’t create you. It reveals you.

Peace replaces panic. When you finally land on what’s true about you—whether that’s your sexual orientation, gender identity, or any other aspect of yourself—it won’t feel like you’re white-knuckling a decision. It’ll feel like coming home.

You stop asking permission. Healed identity doesn’t need external validation to exist. You know who you are, and you trust that knowing—even if others don’t understand it.

This doesn’t happen overnight. It takes time. It takes patience with yourself. It takes doing the hard work of trauma recovery so you can see clearly.

But I promise you—the clarity is worth the wait.

The Bottom Line

If you’re questioning your sexual orientation after trauma, that’s normal.

If you’re questioning your gender identity after trauma, that’s normal.

If you’re confused about who you really are versus who trauma made you believe you are, that’s normal.

None of this makes you broken. It makes you someone trying to find themselves after something terrible tried to erase you.

“Trauma doesn’t create your identity. But it can make you forget who you were before it happened—and that means healing has to come before clarity can.”

You’re allowed to take your time. You’re allowed to not know yet. You’re allowed to explore without committing. You’re allowed to change your mind as you heal.

And you’re allowed to trust that underneath all the confusion, there’s a you that’s real, that’s whole, that’s waiting to be discovered.

Ready to Find Yourself Again?

You don’t have to navigate this alone.

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Read the Full Series:

Part 1: The Questions You’re Afraid to Ask About Your Body – Arousal, body memories, dissociation, and feeling broken

Part 2: Let’s Talk About Porn, Shame, and Control – Why trauma survivors struggle with sexuality

Related Posts:

One in three girls and one in six boys experience sexual abuse before age 18. Many question their identity afterward. But confusion doesn’t mean you’re broken—it means you’re healing.

Your questions are valid. Your journey is yours. And clarity is possible.