***TRIGGER WARNING: This article discusses sexual trauma and abuse to children and could be triggering***
Afraid To Go To School
At the beginning of third grade, our usually happy and confident son, William, became panic-stricken about going to school. This dramatic
change surprised and confused my husband and me, as William had always been an enthusiastic student.
Suddenly, weekday mornings were excruciating, with William crying and vomiting and begging us to let him stay home. His severe anxiety attacks when it was time to leave the house were bewildering and, frankly, terrifying. When I begged him to tell me what was wrong, he would only reply, “I don’t feel good,” through choked breaths and a river of tears.
William did not feel well, but he was not physically ill. We had no idea what was causing his intense emotional reactions. Our home life was happy and stable. William and his older sister were close. He enjoyed playing football and taking art lessons. We were lucky to have loving grandparents who lived nearby.
Our pediatrician recommended therapy with a child psychologist who diagnosed William with Separation Anxiety Disorder. The
psychologist noted my husband’s and my personal history of anxiety, and while it was never debilitating, he told us it tends to run in families. I was perplexed why our son would develop such extreme anxiety now after loving school for the past four years. Although the idea that William suffered from separation anxiety did not quite ring true, I put my trust in the professional’s opinion.
‘Plan A’ Brings Little Relief
Unfortunately, William’s symptoms grew worse as third grade continued. The school nurse called home once or twice weekly for
me to pick up our distressed child. Notably, the minute William got in the car and we headed home, he became more relaxed. William’s psychologist and the school social worker developed a plan for me to sit outside William’s classroom each morning to help him stay in school. He could take a short break every twenty minutes, but he rarely made it ten. It was not long before William was prescribed the benzodiazepine Ativan to help him get through the school day. Long weekends and vacation breaks brought some relief, but the anxiety attacks always began anew when it was time to return to school.
Despite therapy and medication, William’s self-confidence plummeted. He felt defeated at anything performance-related,
though by all measures, he was a capable child. He froze during tests, even when he studied for hours. William’s lack of confidence
was also evident outside of school. Small setbacks took on outsized importance and seemed like a matter of life and
death. He still had frequent nightmares and panic attacks. The only thing that brought him some solace was drawing on his big sketch pad.
Missed Clues and Misdirected Efforts
Later that year, William told me he was worried that something was wrong with his penis and allowed me to look. I saw nothing physically wrong, but he was so upset that I took him to the pediatrician. His doctor spoke to him privately and concluded his fears were the latest manifestation of his anxiety. William’s psychologist agreed with this opinion, and to our surprise, his comments about his genitalia were put aside.
By this time, I had read enough books on childhood anxiety to fill an entire bookcase. One book said that learning disabilities could
cause anxiety, so we arranged for William to have a psychoeducational evaluation. This assessment led to a diagnosis of Learning Disability, NOS (not otherwise specified). The school gave him extra time on exams and counseling with the school social worker. Things calmed down a bit, but his low self-esteem and tearful mornings persisted.
William continued with private therapy, taking a few months off during calm periods and returning whenever he faced an
overwhelming challenge. Transitions such as moving to middle school and high school were predictably difficult for him. William
responded by over-compensating in all areas of life. He gave everything 150% effort. If studying for a test required three hours,
he devoted ten. He excelled in school and athletics, but his achievements were accompanied by more stress than satisfaction.
Our Worst Fears Hit Home
While William was in college, our local newspaper reported on a civil lawsuit filed by five adult men who alleged sexual abuse by
their former physical education teacher more than twenty years earlier. To my husband’s and my horror, the alleged perpetrator was the same teacher our son had in elementary school. The teacher, now retired, had taken a special interest in our son. I remember William telling us with some pride that the teacher praised him and singled him out to stay after gym class to put away equipment. Now very suspicious, I asked William if the
teacher had ever touched him inappropriately. Although he denied it, I
remained on high alert.
After the newspaper article was published, William hit a rough patch. He quit the golf team sophomore year. During his junior year, he left an internship with no explanation. At a parents’ weekend senior year, I remarked how thin he looked. A roommate joked that William often binge-ate in the middle of the night. I asked William if he was ok, and he said, “Mom, I’m a teenage boy. I eat a lot.”
Meanwhile, several more men alleged sexual abuse by the same elementary school gym teacher. The City and Board of Education settled each lawsuit before going to trial. The teacher was never criminally charged because the statute of limitations had expired. With each new development, I asked our son if he had ever been abused, and he always said no.
After college, William moved back to our hometown to begin his career and continue therapy with his long-time psychologist. Unfortunately, his lack of confidence followed him into the workplace, and he left some coveted jobs because of the pressure. Early one morning, William called me and said, “Mom, I’m not doing well.” It was clear from his voice there was a problem and he asked me for help. When I arrived at his apartment, I found him on all fours, banging his head on the floor and crying, “The pain keeps coming; it won’t go away.” William agreed to go to the emergency room and stated he had secrets he no longer wanted to keep. As he lay on the hospital bed, he disclosed that he had bulimia and suicidal ideation. After several hours, the hospital released him with orders to attend an eating disorder clinic. From my research, I knew there was an association between eating disorders, suicidal ideation, and sexual abuse. I was convinced William was getting ready to reveal that his former teacher had abused him. We just had to wait.
Confronting and Accepting the Awful Truth
Two months later, William finally disclosed to his psychologist that his gym teacher sexually abused him in elementary school. It took nearly twenty years for him to share this terrible secret. Twenty years of anxiety attacks, nightmares, loss of confidence, and an
immeasurable amount of suffering. For many survivors of child sexual abuse, it takes much longer if the disclosure ever comes at
all. Sexually traumatized children are terrified to disclose because they often fear they are somehow complicit or even responsible. They may worry they will not be believed or will somehow get in trouble. Children also have no way of knowing that a system of justice exists, imperfect as it is, to prosecute offenders. As adults, it is our responsibility to safeguard them, recognize the warning signs, and provide healing when they are hurt or abused.
It is not William’s fault his parents, medical doctor, long-time psychologist, and school officials did not recognize what his
behavior was trying to tell us. The fact that our son’s suffering was misunderstood and unnecessarily prolonged is hard for me to accept. I feel a great deal of personal guilt and am angry with the professionals who missed all the signs in plain sight.
It has been a long, painful journey, but I am grateful our son survived this horror and regained a foothold in life. Trauma has a long shadow, but I am proud of William’s resilience. He works hard for his happiness and has developed meaningful relationships. Let us never stop trying to eliminate childhood sexual abuse by paying close attention, believing what children’s behaviors are telling us, and responding effectively when they occur.
Sarah Arnold is a former communications professional who is now a licensed clinical social worker.
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