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Do you want to know what incest is? What it really is? No ...

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she says. "He was smart, kind, and helpful. Even though sexual abuse wasn't h<strong>is</strong><br />

specialty, he believed me, and he was able <strong>to</strong> l<strong>is</strong>ten <strong>to</strong> <strong>what</strong> I <strong>to</strong>ld him. We developed a<br />

partnership that gave me a lot of power."<br />

A year after starting therapy, Helen severed ties w<strong>it</strong>h her family, except for Paul. "I had<br />

<strong>to</strong> decide <strong>what</strong> was going <strong>to</strong> keep me sane and let me grow," she says. "I could have<br />

spent years working on how <strong>to</strong> deal w<strong>it</strong>h Mom and Dad, but I decided that I <strong>want</strong>ed <strong>to</strong><br />

get on w<strong>it</strong>h me, w<strong>it</strong>h my life. <strong>No</strong>t just in a self<strong>is</strong>h way. I <strong>want</strong>ed <strong>to</strong> make a life for myself<br />

and Chr<strong>is</strong>tine. I <strong>want</strong>ed the past <strong>to</strong> be the past. Some relationships are worth working <strong>to</strong><br />

preserve. Some aren't."<br />

After two years w<strong>it</strong>h her therap<strong>is</strong>t, Helen joined an <strong>incest</strong> survivors ' group and attended<br />

<strong>it</strong>s meetings regularly for more than two years. "Every now and then," she tells me, "I<br />

still go back e<strong>it</strong>her <strong>to</strong> group or <strong>to</strong> my old therap<strong>is</strong>t for tune-ups."<br />

"Six years ago I met a nice man, John, and pretty soon we talked about getting married.<br />

I went back <strong>to</strong> therapy then--<strong>it</strong> was the second time I'd gone back— because I <strong>want</strong>ed <strong>to</strong><br />

be clear about <strong>what</strong> I was doing, and why. I <strong>want</strong>ed <strong>to</strong> tell John <strong>what</strong> had happened <strong>to</strong><br />

me, and I <strong>want</strong>ed help doing <strong>it</strong>."<br />

There are no pho<strong>to</strong>graphs of Helen's parents <strong>to</strong> be seen in her house. "I have them in<br />

scrapbooks," she tells me, "for Chr<strong>is</strong>tine. I don't <strong>know</strong> if I'd keep them for myself."<br />

Instead, I see Helen's pho<strong>to</strong>graphs of Chr<strong>is</strong>tine and some of her second husband,<br />

John—"I got <strong>it</strong> right th<strong>is</strong> time," she tells me, "I married someone wonderful"—and of her<br />

friends. On the wall outside her office I see a pho<strong>to</strong>graph of Helen winning an award for<br />

her pictures, and another of her taken on a mountain climbing exped<strong>it</strong>ion. Her head <strong>is</strong><br />

thrown back and she <strong>is</strong> laughing.<br />

"I have my life now," Helen tells me. "My child <strong>is</strong> a wonderful, healthy, sunny <strong>you</strong>ng<br />

woman. I have a truly happy marriage. I have my work. I still have <strong>is</strong>sues—who doesn't?<br />

I don't <strong>know</strong> <strong>what</strong> I would have been like w<strong>it</strong>hout the <strong>incest</strong>, but now I'm pleased w<strong>it</strong>h<br />

myself and my life. I consider myself a survivor. I consider that I have recovered."<br />

Can anyone <strong>really</strong> recover<br />

Can anyone <strong>really</strong> recover from <strong>incest</strong>? Th<strong>is</strong> question <strong>is</strong> asked at workshops, in therapy,<br />

by victims and offenders. Th<strong>is</strong> <strong>is</strong> a question I asked myself. Can I heal?<br />

The answer <strong>is</strong> yes. W<strong>it</strong>h a lot of work and a lot of help. Most victims who don't get help<br />

find themselves afloat, aimless and desperate, tethered only <strong>to</strong> the secrets, the shame,<br />

and the self-hatred of the past. I have seen them lined up on Manhattan streets after<br />

midnight, 12 years old, naked from the wa<strong>is</strong>t down, selling themselves <strong>to</strong> carloads of<br />

men. They are our child whores. They are the fodder of organized prost<strong>it</strong>ution and<br />

pornography. They account for a huge percentage of the runaway, the vagrant, the<br />

criminal, and the despairing who live on our streets and clutter our subways and bus<br />

terminals when they are not filling our mental hosp<strong>it</strong>als.<br />

"Ten years ago I longed for a suspected brain tumor or cancer <strong>to</strong> relieve me of the<br />

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