Part 1 : From Fantasy to Freedom: Reclaiming Power After Childhood Sexual Abuse
Why I Escaped into Daydreams After Childhood Sexual Abuse
Introducing the Series
Many survivors of childhood sexual abuse carry invisible wounds that shape how they see themselves and how they move through the world. For some, those wounds lead to silence, for others, to striving, and for many of us, to dreams, not just ordinary dreams, but vivid daydreams of being rescued, saved, and loved beyond all doubt.
This three-part blog series explores a story some survivors may relate to. It's the story of:
Escaping into fantasy to survive
Seeking relationships that mirror old narratives
Reclaiming our power and rewriting the story as adults
This is my story, but it may echo pieces of your own. I hope it helps you feel less alone, and more hopeful about where your healing can lead.
The Fantasy That Carried Me
When I was a little girl, I spent most of my childhood with my head in the clouds, dreaming up worlds where I wasn’t alone. In these daydreams, a strong, loving man would sweep in and rescue me from the darkness. He’d protect me, fall in love with me, and carry me away to a place where I was safe, seen, and cherished. We would live happily ever after.
In those fantasies, I mattered. Someone wanted me. Someone saw the pain I couldn’t name, and loved me in spite of it—or maybe because of it. That imagined love became a kind of balm for wounds I didn’t know how to tend to.
In real life, I often felt disconnected from the people around me, like no one truly saw me or understood what I was going through. But in my daydreams, I was never alone. That world in my mind became a safe haven. It was vivid, comforting, and so much more real to me than the world outside. Looking back, I can see how much I needed those fantasies, not just to escape, but to survive.
Of course, many girls grow up dreaming of fairy-tale rescues, stories filled with brave princes, magical castles, and happily-ever-afters. But for me, the fantasy ran deeper. It wasn’t about romance or adventure. It was about survival. My daydreams weren’t just wishful thinking. They were lifelines. I wasn’t imagining ballgowns or glass slippers—I was imagining safety, protection, and unconditional love. In my mind, someone finally saw me, saved me, and made it all stop.
Now I know, that wasn’t just imagination. It was survival.
Why Daydreams Become a Lifeline After Abuse
When you experience abuse as a child, especially at the hands of someone who should have protected you, your brain looks for ways to cope. Daydreaming can become a place of escape. In fantasy, I had control. In fantasy, I could be saved.
I didn’t understand it at the time, but my fantasies were often centered on older men. It wasn’t until later in adulthood, in my forties, that I realized how connected this was to my history of abuse. The men who harmed me were adults, and in some deep, twisted way, my child-brain reimagined those same figures, not as threats, but as saviors.
It’s confusing, but it’s not uncommon.
Why Daydreaming Feels Like Safety, but Might Become a Trap
For many survivors, excessive daydreaming isn’t just imagination, it’s a trauma response.
What I experienced is now often referred to as maladaptive daydreaming. It wasn’t simply escapism—it was a lifeline. This kind of daydreaming is linked to dissociation, a symptom where the mind detaches from reality to protect itself from overwhelming emotional pain.
Here’s why this might happen:
Dissociation: Daydreaming becomes a shield, separating the mind from present-moment pain. It helps you disappear, without physically leaving.
Emotional Regulation: These imagined stories allowed me to feel seen, cared for, and safe when the real world didn’t offer those things.
Power and Control: In my fantasy, I was no longer a helpless child. I was someone worthy of protection. Someone who was loved.
Avoidance of Pain: Focusing on a future where I was rescued allowed me to avoid sitting with the unbearable truth of what had happened to me.
For a child living in fear or confusion, these daydreams serve a purpose. But over time, they can quietly take root. The fantasy becomes more than comfort—it becomes the story you live by, and for me, that story began to shape how I loved, who I trusted, and what I thought I needed in order to feel safe.
From Fantasy to Real Life: Choosing "Safety"
That childhood fantasy followed me into adulthood. I married an older man, an alpha male. Strong. Confident. Protective. I felt safe with him, at least on the surface.
I thought I had power in that relationship because I was with someone powerful. But the truth is, I lacked any true power within myself. I didn’t know how to advocate for my needs. I didn't know how to feel worthy without being rescued. I didn’t know how to stand on my own.
For a long time, I thought that’s just what love looked like.
The Shift: When I Realized I Didn't Need to Be Saved
The turning point came during my healing journey. Through therapy, deep reflection, and years of journaling, I began to ask new questions:
What if I didn’t need to be rescued?
What if I could care for myself?
What if love didn’t mean dependency—but partnership?
Walking away from my marriage was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But it was also the most powerful. I left a relationship where someone else “took care of me” and stepped into a life where I learned to take care of myself. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t instant. But it was honest.
And for the first time, it belonged to me.
Rewriting the Ending
Today, I’m in a relationship built on love, trust, and mutual respect. My partner is kind and supportive—and yes, he would love to rescue me if I let him. But I don’t need him to.
I make my own decisions. I live by my own values. I’ve learned how to care for the little girl I once was and the woman I am now.
The fantasy of being rescued has faded, not because love is no longer important, but because I’ve discovered something even more valuable:
The power to rescue myself.
Coming Up Next
In Part 2 of this series, I’ll explore how the “rescuer” fantasy can show up in adult relationships, and how it can keep us in dynamics that feel familiar, but not always healthy. We’ll look at:
How trauma bonding can feel like love
Why “protection” can sometimes mask control
And what it really means to feel safe in a relationship
Until then, I invite you to reflect:
What stories from your childhood still shape how you love, how you trust, or how you see yourself? Are those stories still serving you?
Want a safe space to share your story and connect with others on the same path? Join our peer-led Discord community, The Chrysalis, where healing begins in connection.