A Purely Wrong Story: Escaping Sexual Shame, Exposing a Game-Changer, and Editing Your Life Story without Changing the Facts

By Laurel Burns

Life took your innocence, but shame is snatching everything that remains.

Maybe someone took your choice, or perhaps you regret the choices you made, but with dysfunctional sexual incidents on the rise, so are the numbers of women living with the shame incurred from these detrimental exp

• Language: English
• Publisher: Author Academy Elite
• Release date: Jan 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9798885832441

Laurel Burns

Though an introverted fan of comfy clothes, rainy days, and all things clean, award-winning author Laurel Burns unleashes a surprising proficiency for opposing shame. Her tenacity originates from a hard-fought victory over suffering and an insistence that her upper hand not go to waste. So she now works to redirect the narrative of sexual shame in women's private lives and the public realm because she is adamant that healing and transformation are possible for anyone suffering from any form of sexual shame. Sharing the insights she has gained through failure and success, Laurel hopes to spare one woman from the potential hazards and duration of this agonizing battle-you. When not taking a swing at shame, it's safe to guess that Laurel is cooking. However, now that her daughters are nearly grown, she might finally remember which way leads out of the kitchen. Perhaps. Until then, she relies on her favorite ingredients: coffee and music. Follow her on Instagram @laureljburns.

Book preview

A Purely Wrong Story

Escaping Sexual Shame, Exposing a Game-Changer, and Editing Your Life Story without Changing the Facts

Laurel Burns

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A Purely Wrong Story © 2023 by Laurel Burns. All rights reserved.

Published by Author Academy Elite

PO Box 43, Powell, OH 43065

www.AuthorAcademyElite.com

All rights reserved. This book contains material protected under international and federal copyright laws and treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without express written permission from the author.

Identifiers:

LCCN: 2023914232

ISBN: 979-8-88583-242-7 (paperback)

ISBN: 979-8-88583-243-4 (hardback)

ISBN: 979-8-88583-244-1 (ebook)

Available in paperback, hardback, e-book, and audiobook

Manuscript:

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

Scripture quotations marked MSG are taken from The Message, copyright © 1993, 2002, 2018 by Eugene H. Peterson. Used by permission of NavPress. All rights reserved. Represented by Tyndale House Publishers.

Scripture quotations marked (NLT) are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

Scripture Snippets:

All Scripture quotations are taken from The Message, copyright © 1993, 2002, 2018 by Eugene H. Peterson. Used by permission of NavPress. . All rights reserved. Represented by Tyndale House Publishers.

This book deals with sexual abuse. While the author has taken great lengths to deal with the subject matter compassionately and respectfully, it may be troubling for some readers. Discretion is advised. The information in this book is accurate and complete to the best of the author’s knowledge. Any advice or recommendations are without guarantee by the author or publisher. Neither the publisher nor the author shall be held liable or responsible for any loss or damage allegedly arising from any suggestion or information contained in this book.

Alyssa, Madison, and Faith, it is my joy to dedicate this book to you, but my most incredible honor and privilege is simply being your mom. You girls are my favorite parts in my life story, and I love each of you more with every passing day.

Table of Contents

Introduction

PART 1: THE BEGINNING CHAPTERS

1. Calling It – Calls for Understanding

2. Seeing It – Familiar Rather than Factual

PART 2: THE PLOT THICKENS

3. Flipping It – Ignite a Switch

4. Creating It – Ready, Aim, Good

5. Seeking It – Messy Starts Unfinished

6. Knowing It – Above the Noise

PART 3: THE REWRITE

7. Quitting It – There Is No Way Until There Is

8. Spreading It – The Plot Twist

Resources

Scripture Snippets

Hello, Conflict. Meet Plot Twist: Reflections for Digging In and Pressing On

Acknowledgments

Notes

About the Author

INTRODUCTION

As I entertained the idea of writing a book about shame from sexual experiences, a rare incident occurred in South Africa during a surfing competition. Mick Fanning, an Australian professional surfer, first felt a pull on his leg rope. He had been floating on his surfboard, awaiting his turn, when he spied the circling fin. Mick’s instinct immediately took over, and he swam as hard as he could in a frantic attempt to reach shore while still surveying the waters. A video captured the suspense as a shark surfaced behind Mick’s view and violently knocked him into the water. For a moment, it seemed that may be the end of Mick Fanning. Yet, since the attack happened during a surfing competition, nearby officials rushed to Mick’s rescue. Pulling him out of the water and into the safety of their boat, the officials found Mick shaken from the shark but, ultimately, unharmed.

In an interview after the attack, Mick said, I was just waiting for teeth.¹

His memory resonated with me, for I have felt teeth before. As I aimlessly drifted—clueless—a hidden enemy circled, intimidated, and attacked me physically and emotionally. This enemy’s teeth sank in, leaving me wounded and bleeding for years.

Flailing against the currents of life, I grasped and kicked to no avail. Until, by the grace of God, a lifeboat arrived. It pulled my exhausted body from the waters into its solid protection and carried me to rescue.

I can see other girls and women still in the ocean of life. Some are leisurely bobbing, unaware of the infested waters. Others are exhausted from swimming and barely treading water.

I do not know your exact story, but I know that you are barely hanging on. You are caught in an enemy’s grip and tangled in circumstances that have plagued the earth since the beginning of time—an epidemic proportionate only to the vastness of the ocean.

I know you are out there.

You may be floating all alone, while no one else even notices. But I can see you. Now, try to imagine me as well. The faint glow of my rescue light precedes me. Slowly, my boat’s form becomes discernible. The light grows brighter. I am on my way. I have a life preserver to throw you, one that can bring you to the only true safety zone. Please don’t swim away. Please hear me out.

You assume you will have to imagine my voice as well. Yet you will recognize it when you hear it, for I will not speak my own words. Instead, I will speak for the One who sent me to:

Bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.

Isaiah 61:1b-3a

You have heard that voice deep down in your heart and mind, whispering, There’s a better way.

Please, grab hold.

PART 1

The Beginning Chapters

1

CALLING IT

If I asked you to define sex, what definition would you give? Without hesitation, I can say that as a child, I possessed a particularly negative view of sex. I would have described it as the gross act I saw on television or the reason my parents disappeared sometimes and left me alone. As I grew older, different vulgar occasions and sights further bombarded my senses and memories of sex.

I have come to realize that, as children, we lack the ability to control our surroundings. Our helplessness forces us to depend on the adults in our lives. Innocent and impressionable, we soak in the actions and experiences we encounter. Then, with the depths of our childhood wisdom, we try to unify our experiences in a way that logically connects all the pieces. Without knowing, we form our foundational beliefs about life and, specifically, our beliefs about sex.

I do not know where your thoughts or definition of sex might lean today. However, chances are, you, too, might have lacked high regard for the word. I did not have a family who would openly discuss sex—or even boys—with me. As a helpless child, I floundered to define what the world had thrust before me. Truth be told, it took me decades to wrestle with my definition as I went down some agonizing and lonely roads.

While not identical, we all bring life stories and experiences that can share a common thread, especially when considering detrimental sexual experiences. Even though the aftermaths of our experiences may not spin off in the same direction, prevailing tendencies often remain. Priceless understanding results if you find someone who has walked in your shoes. Someone who relates to the feelings you may have previously kept hidden. A relationship clicks, and you forge an immediate, unspoken bond. But profound, haunting loneliness will likely settle in if you cannot connect with someone else. I know because I spent most of my life in that state of loneliness. Yet, loneliness presents a dangerously fertile ground for the seed of shame to begin its rampant growth. Shame sneers, What has happened? What have you done? You have thrown your life away. Look at it—shattered and ruined. No one else comes close to being as bad as you. From now on, you’ll have to hide what you have chosen to do or hide what others have done to you. You can’t let anyone else know what has unraveled in your life because they could never understand. Accept it: You will never be the same as everyone else.

The only way to break hidden shame’s isolating feeling is through connection, and connection always begins with a story.

MY STORY

My story begins, oddly enough, on a high note with a friend. A best friend. And though the calendar indicates that decades have passed since this high point in my life, my heart can evoke the time’s powerful emotions with such ease that it’s liable to tell you my high note faded only yesterday.

I attended small private schools throughout my schooling, and because of the smaller class sizes, I experienced few friends. Yet, with time, I was able to form one close bond with a girl classmate. Her friendship became everything to me. Every weekend, my friend and I were inseparable. We spent the night at each other’s house, went out, or talked on the phone. Even her parents made a mark on my life; they treated me like a daughter and allowed me to join their family vacations.

Sometimes I had to pinch myself, but this was how it was for years of my middle and high school life. I finally had someone in my life who noticed me. I finally had someone who knew me and cared about me. I felt loved, and I could not have been happier. My life had morphed into a blissful dream.

Until. Until one day, a switch went off, and my friend shut me out. She stopped talking to me. Stopped calling. Stopped even making eye contact. We had resolved a few arguments in our friendship before, so at first, I figured things would blow over. But the silence continued for several days. I wrote a long, heartfelt letter to her, apologizing for whatever I did to upset her to this extent. She responded with a short note saying, Thank you for the letter. Nevertheless, we were never friends again, and I have yet to solve the mystery of why my dear friend cut off our friendship.

Though I was baffled by the whys of my loss, I was well acquainted with the hows. How I never felt more alone. How I now had no one to talk to or call. No one to hang out with. From nowhere, a barreling train of despair had plowed into me and derailed my happy life. My world came to a screeching halt. Hours and days passed, filled with my sobbing prayers, Please, God, help me. Help me not to feel so alone!

So my countless prayers appeared answered when he walked into my life. He seemed to be the only person to acknowledge my existence. He came around to hang out or called to talk on the phone at night. Either way, laughter always ensued. We shared similar interests and personalities. I met his family. Forget admiration—I idolized him. Intelligent and athletic, he was the perfect fit for the void in my world, and he grew to be my new best friend.

I never really dated in high school. We can blame it on the small private school again, shall we? Although, I didn’t have a fear of interacting with guys. In fact, I had always enjoyed having guy friends for as long as I could remember. In my experience, guys just operated on a more easygoing and less dramatic level than my girl friends. So this new guy did not count as my first guy friend, yet he was only that—a guy friend. Sure, others would have considered him good-looking, but I was not interested in him for his looks. To me, we bonded for genuine reasons. And without involving romantic feelings, our friendship didn’t have to grapple with any interference or complications.

Or so I thought.

He had come over to my house. Nothing unusual. But, at some point, he shifted the conversation and began to talk about sex—not a regular topic of discussion for us. He asked me if I was a virgin. Yes, of course, I answered. To my relief, he dropped the awkward subject, and the otherwise ordinary night continued until, without warning, he leaned over to kiss me! I pulled away, taken aback and confused. He tried to convince me that friends often kiss, but he could not persuade me. Although I attempted to avoid his repeated advances, it did not deter him.

I do not know if you have ever had an out-of-body experience. Who knows if that accurately explains what I felt that night? Perhaps shock alone had seized me and caused me to feel removed from the situation and paralyzed to escape it. Yet, before I knew it, I was naked. Naked. With a boy. Who was also naked. Not normal.

His advances intensified beyond my strength, and I didn’t know how to respond. I have often thought, Why didn’t I scream? But, at the time, the idea of being found naked by my parents made that option seem impossible. With his weight on top of me, pain jarred me out of any possible out-of-body, disconnected state. Though I struggled to free myself and push away the pain, my efforts proved futile.

Culture had trained me to correlate sex with desire and pleasure, but neither of those feelings was present in my experience. So without any other point of reference, no light bulb turned on in my mind, and I was oblivious to the physical act that had taken place. Neither did my innocence understand why my sheets had blood spots, but I concluded that, if nothing else, it supplied evidence to confirm the pain.

He got up from the bed and dressed to leave. Then, as if sensing my confusion, he asked, So, are you a virgin anymore? But he didn’t bother to wait for a reply.

Instead, chuckling, he walked out of my room and left.

I was left reeling in my bed. That is what just happened?

But here I was. Naked.

And lonelier than ever before.

MY DEDUCTIONS

And so it began. Another plummet, you could say, but this nose-dive would leave behind catastrophic damage far