Lowcountry Survivor's Weblog

Archive for the ‘3. Beyond Recovery’ Category

Sometimes we are called upon to do the very things in Life that we would rather avoid the most. By saying “yes” to these deep emotional and spiritual impulses, we find that the very things that make us believe we are weak or defective, can become our greatest assets.

Many of us feel a deep call within ourselves to “put ourselves out there” to advocate for a particular issue that resonates within us. For those of us who were previous victims of abuse, whether experienced as an adult or as a child, our advocacy is part of our recovery from that abuse.

Over the years I have written many articles about child abuse, and child abuse recovery, many of which are highly regarded. When I write, I move forward. When I don’t, I feel like I slide backwards, because I am not giving voice to a part of myself that will cry out to be heard as long as I live, and as long as there is someone out there who still does not understand the repercussions of child abuse, or the process of child abuse recovery. Even though this voice inside us cries out to be heard, allowing this voice inside us is also sometimes very painful, and seeing the magnitude of denial in our society is daunting. I sometimes despair, not wanting to put effort into something where I may never see results. But giving up on this voice is an abandonment of my truest, most honest self. I will not do that!

For the second time in two years, I have met a local doctor who confided that he advises child abuse survivors that “They just have to get over it” …. “What are you going to do, let it ruin your life?”, he says. I was shocked that I would run into more than one doctor in the same town who thinks this way. Although his statements were not directed at me (I don’t believe he knows my history), I was very uncomfortable. I knew that although discussion of the subject would probably not be very productive, I also felt my silence would convey assent. I waited a while for an opening (and for my own insides to calm down), and gently responded, with an attitude of “waiting to see what would happen”. I pointed out that a person must be careful when dealing with someone struggling with their past, because we may not know where they are on their recovery path, on a spectrum between victim and survivor. He gave only cursory acknowledgment of this, moving quickly to his next point of conversation. His next point was an intellectual remark about percentages of molesters in churches, and why people shouldn’t worry about a particular church. He had no idea that both my wife and myself were abused by priests when we were children, and that safe clergy are extraordinarily important to us when choosing a church. I guess it never occurred to him that we might be child abuse survivors, or clergy abuse survivors. We are both. Ever since that day in his office, I have noticed a need to write about it within myself that I cannot ignore.

Twenty-four years ago, I stood at the brink of choosing recovery. I was drawn out of my protective shell of frozen emotion, self medication, and fear by the weight of the pain I carried, but also by folks who knew how to provide the safety required to draw me out of my self imposed prison. They were proper advocates of recovery. I know absolutely what works because my history reveals what works.

What Works

In order to respond effectively to the needs of adult child abuse survivors, a number of things must be present in order to be effective advocates:

1. An advocate should have a true understanding of child abuse and child abuse recovery. They should be well versed in the emotional nature of abuse and recovery, and understand the monumental task that some survivors face. A survivor may avoid dealing with the abuse that they suffered for most of their lives, because they are avoiding pain that they believe will be too much for them. For a survivor, understanding abuse does not heal them, although it provides a map of where they’ve been, and where they must go, but recovery is truly an emotional process. One must go through the pain to get to the other side of it.
2. An advocate must practice emotional availability without intellectual constraint. They need to be relaxed and present. We are not present if we are involved in complicated intellectual constructs. Language should be emotional rather than intellectual, simple, not complicated. Doing so shows the survivor that you may be a safe person to open up to. Trust is the most important component. All abuse is a breach of trust, and damages our ability to trust.
3. An advocate must have good boundaries. Knowing instinctively where to “tread lightly”, knowing how “close” to be (emotionally, sexually, physically) depending upon the relationship with the survivor is an absolute must, or the survivor will sense the lack of safety.
4. An advocate listens, never lecturing or explaining. The survivor is the expert of their injury, not the advocate. Gentle encouragement toward treatment can be helpful, but only if they are ready.
5. Mirroring is very important. Saying things like “I see you are very angry (or sad, or fearful, or ashamed)” work well.
6. Advocates should be careful with their questions; being willing to give up their controlling need to understand, and allow the survivor to tell his or her story at their own pace, in their own way. Relinquishing controlling behavior often provides a sense of safety to the survivor. Safety is the fertile soil in which trust blooms.
7. Being absolutely non-judgmental about how the survivor has responded to the abuse, where we think they are on their recovery journey, and the speed with which they recover. Response to abuse is individual. Parts of a person’s recovery and the length of time they take before confronting their abuse are individual, and are affected by the environment they are presently in, and the severity of the abuse. Also, recovery is not linear. As a survivor proceeds, they may “revisit” a particular theme or event, gradually gaining mastery, letting go of more pain or fear. This may happen over and over, and is not an indication of where they are in recovery. Recovery takes a long time, and is a process, not a destination. That’s why we shouldn’t judge.

From the time I was 4 or 5 years old, I was beaten with an open hand on an almost daily basis. Later, I was punched, kicked, tackled, thrown down, and had things thrown at me. I was yanked by my arms until I thought my shoulders would dislocate. I was tied to chairs, beaten with metal vacuum cleaner pipes, and threatened with a butcher knife. When I was 9 or 10, my mother confided in a rage that she would kill me if she could get away with it. I was sexually abused by at least two men, one of them the parish priest. I witnessed my sisters being chased, screamed at, and beaten. The abuse that I suffered was extreme, but I am fortunate. I entered recovery at a time when we knew very little about how to help victims recover, yet here I am. If you are uncomfortable with what I have to say, then I am sorry, but I think that I have earned the right to be heard.

I am a survivor. I am grateful for all the help I have received. There are others like me. It took me 35 years to get to a doorway that led to recovery. I have been in the process of recovery for 24 years. I look inside myself, and I see the astounding amount of patience it has taken me to get to where I am. We survivors must call upon that same patience when dealing with those who offer no such patience towards us. Nevertheless, we must speak out until there is no one left who does not understand the journey of a child abuse survivor.

©2010 Ken Scully

When I read in The Dispatch, that October is National Domestic Violence Prevention Month, I wanted to write a column about Domestic Violence. When I write, I write from my heart, which means that I feel things intensely while I write. To do otherwise feels like a waste of time to me. So I approached my “task”, looking for my “entry point” into the issue. However, this time I felt stymied. I just felt sort of flat. What specifically should I write about? Then I read Margie Pizarro’s column in the October 16 issue of the Dispatch. I liked her column, she writes very honestly, and I like that. She mentioned the ancient adage “Spare the rod and spoil the child”.

I cringed inside myself, not from what Margie wrote, but from the misuse of that old adage that many adults use as an excuse for their own out of control behavior towards their children when they misbehave.   In families that experience domestic violence, if there are children, they are affected more than anyone else in the family.   If that violence is directed at a child and rationalized as “punishment”, it is still domestic violence, in fact worse than if directed towards a spouse.

Years ago I was taught two very important things about that Biblical quote.   Both are good examples of what that adage truly means.

Long before the printing press, in early Jewish households, families that were well off enough, had religious scrolls, perhaps a copy of the ten commandments, in a holder above the entranceway to their home.   The “rod” may have been a reference to this scroll in a tube above the doorway.   In that instance, “Spare the rod and spoil the child” might have been an admonition to teach our children to follow the ten commandments.   That makes a lot of sense!

Another explanation that was given to me had to do with a shepherd’s staff.   A good shepherd uses his staff to block any escaping sheep, steering them in the right direction, to keep them safe, and close at hand.   The sheep learn to follow his direction in time, trying to go off on their own less often.   They learn to trust and anticipate him.   He does not beat them with the rod out of his own frustration!   That would be a bad shepherd!

What I have learned is, that many adults confuse the difference between discipline and punishment.   The word “discipline” comes from the Latin root “disciplina” which means to teach, or to lead.   To discipline a child, is to make them a disciple!   A disciple is lead by example, and they want to be like the one they follow!   Discipline is not punishment!

• The purpose of discipline is to correct and promote positive moral and ethical development.
  The purpose of punishment is to inflict a penalty for an offense, to exact a “pay back” for wrongs.

• The focus of discipline is positive future behavior.
  The focus of punishment is past misdeeds.

• The attitude and emotional makeup of the one doing the disciplining is Love.
  The attitude and emotional makeup of the punisher is Anger, or worse, perhaps rage.

• The reaction of the one being disciplined will be security and trust, and a desire to emulate.
  The reaction of one being punished will be fear, guilt, hostility, or worse, perhaps terror, shame, and rage.

As you can see, both parent and child fare better in discipline than in punishment.   Discipline cannot be commandeered by an out of control parent in order to vent their rage and frustration on their own,  powerless children.  Punishment can.   When it is, we make both more victims, and more perpetrators for a world that already has too many of both.

Beautiful. Warm. Safe. Womb-like. Purple, pink and ultraviolet currents and eddies. White Light pulling. Beckoning. Embracing. Pink Love Energy caressing. Soft liquid swaddling. Ever more urgent White Light tugging. A rod of White Light. Pure. Clean. Immaculate. Dim awareness of others. Connected. Calling. Beckoning.

Suddenly, a dream, an understanding, an experience of unprecedented import, clarity, and Power. Deepening colorful purple and violet liquid light texture. Two others bend in welcome and acceptance, peering down at him in his crib. He peers back, Awareness only. Well-being only. No judgment. No definitions. No words. No fears. No before. No after. Only Now. An ancient timeless, mythical, Nativity scene. Safety. Peace. Joy.

Suddenly (if there can be such a thing as “suddenly”) the scene erupts as if in explosion. Torn. Destroyed. Ruined. Gone. The Monster. No words to describe it. Only direct Being-shattering experience. Coiled for attack. Absolute certainty of victory and perverted amusement in its cold eyes. Ancient. Repulsive. Arrogant. Cold. Alien. If he had words to describe this alien being who had appeared uninvited, he would use descriptions like snake, cobra, cold blooded, evil, predator.

His whole experience is his imminent attack. “Knowledge” of the poisonous venom in its fangs, and the tension that shows its alien intentions. His entire Being is filled with Terror, and with themes of danger, flight, hiding, most of all, hiding. He takes a huge terror filled deep breath, and arrives back in his adult body, wracked with the most intense child-like terror, so intense, that it robs him of his usual intellectual capacity. Two Native Americans are with him, awake. The rest of the room is filled with the snoring of the shelter’s various temporary inhabitants. The man is behind him at his head, sitting on his cot. The woman at his feet. She smiles. Vestiges of the rod of white light persist, still tugging. He has a dim awareness that they have been chanting quietly.

“Who is it that you are?”, they chant quietly in unison. He tries to make sense of this, and cannot. “Who are you?” they softly ask, with import behind their words that made no sense to him. “Who are you?”, the elder male asks more insistently. An answer forms within him that he resists, but finds himself saying it, nevertheless. “I am Michael!” he answers, wondering why he is saying such a thing. “And we are Michael too!”, they chant in unison.

In Life, I notice that there is tension, and there is release. The tension builds and builds over time. The tension is need. Need for a change. Need for something to be created. Need for a fulfillment of some form. Need for action. Tension, tension, tension, tension. Then “Pow!”, the arrow flies to its intended target.

My life seems to operate this way.   Am I the bow? People tell me to be the Archer.   Am I the Archer, or the bow?

If I am the bow, who is this Invisible Archer, that wields the bow, applies tension to the string, then releases that tension to allow the arrow to fly to its intended destination. Who is the Archer?

I only find the Archer, and who He is, as I willingly allow myself to be the bow.

Morning

My Heart sings
At the Beauty of the Sunrise.
With great affection, He kisses my forehead
And says “Goodmorning, Son”.

My Heart sings
At the Beauty of the Clouds, white brush strokes
Upon the Canvas of the blue sky.
A touch, She says, “Goodmorning, Son”.

My heart sings
At the Beauty of the Melody of All the Voices of the Earth
They sing together, a chorus, The Beauty of the Earth.
A warm embrace, They say, “Goodmorning, Son”.

My Heart sings.
At the Beauty of My Life.
One part of Many parts.
One Life and many Lives, We sing
The Beauty of this Life.

Richard paced exuberantly about the room, as if he were pursuing a parade that was yet to be.   He looked and sounded like that British correspondent, with the same first name – Richard Quest.   You know, that boisterous and flamboyant, almost manic correspondent for CNN that all the other CNN anchors don’t quite know how to react to?   Teeth so big, that you just know they were made for smiling.   Even his own name describes him.   Quest.   Well, this Richard says to his family, “Let’s   go on a holiday!”   Grinning in amusement.   Eyes wide open.   His whole demeanor makes some folks laugh in amusement, other folks laugh in derision.   Still others just cringe, because they are in such unfamiliar territory.   “We’re going on vacation!” he sort of sings.   “A holiday!” he says, drawing out the words as if following a hidden melody that only he hears.   “And we’re all going to walk!” he says, as if it were the biggest, most pleasant, special present, that he had just opened for all to see.   He might as well have left a “steaming heap” in the middle of the living room floor, what with the looks he had just seen on their faces.

His family sat stunned.   They had become enamored with Richard’s exuberance.   After all, they were his family, and he part of theirs.   His daughter Paprika, and his son Chipotle were the first, however,  to jump on his “bandwagon”.   His wife, Charlotte had, at first hated the names he had chosen, but curiously, they had grown on her in each case, and they had been in agreement when it finally was time for them to make the choice.   It usually took her some time to make decisions, she didn’t just jump right in like Richard was used to doing.   The names had turned out to be descriptive of their unique spirits.   Paprika was gentle, with a reddish hue to her blond hair.   Her personality had a tentative quality about it, and her approach to life was a subtle touch rather than anything more aggressive.   Chipotle was much more “fiery” than his sister, but tempered.   He loved the outdoors, campfires, and storytelling.   Eagerness showed on Chipotle’s face.   Paprika looked tentative and slightly amused.   Charlotte looked like she had just accidently swallowed a frog.

“Where are we going, Dad?”, Chipotle asked excitedly.   “I…don’t….knowww…!”, he disclosed, drawing each word out, as if he were savoring each one and grinning the biggest grin you ever did see, as if it was the biggest, most funny joke he had ever heard.   “It’ll  be an a..d..v..en..t..u..r..e!”, he said, once again drawing out that last word.

“But Honey”, Charlotte said.   “We’re supposed to be adults.   We have responsibilities.   What will the neighbors think, when we trudge by their homes, dragging our belongings with us, like some homeless vagabonds?!”   “I know, Love!   Isn’t that great!   It’ll be one big hoot!”, he said.   Silence.   His smile disappeared for just a moment, and then was followed by a different one.   This one carried the look of someone who had just discovered something that made him happy.   “Alright, Love.   We’ll go out the back door, and we’ll travel light.   No neighbors.   We won’t look like vagabonds to anyone who sees us, we’ll look like we’re off to the park for a picnic, and decided to walk.”   Charlotte looked unconvinced, but she no longer looked like she had swallowed a frog.   “Now get your things together”, Richard said.   “And don’t forget to pack light!”   “It’s off into the U..k..n..o..w..n!!” he sang, as he went downstairs, to retrieve their gear.   “Yaaahooo!”, Chipotle whooped, as he went off to his room.   Charlotte and Paprika looked at each other.   Paprika had an amused look, her eyebrows drawn way up on her forehead.   Charlotte looked like she had finally digested that frog, bones and all.

Absolute internal honesty eventually brings us to a point where we realize that Awareness is the experience of Life, and of ourselves, our True Selves. That is a primary truth. Getting there may take a number of “processes”, especially the process of “Letting Go”, which includes the “Grief Process”, which itself includes the sub-process of “Forgiveness”, and another sub-process of Letting go of “Control” and “Fear”. Practicing absolute internal honesty is part of each of these processes, or “paths”. Awareness is a primary Truth. Beingness. Receptivity. Acceptance. Love. Joy. Awe. Wonder. Knowingness. Truth. Compassion. Non-resistant experience of What Is. The Now.

To share our individual experience of the Now, we need a contextual framework to communicate that individual, or individuated experience to “others”. Logic is that tool. It is only a tool we use, a sort of “machine”. It is only a tool that we use, to express Truth, but the “fuel” for this “engine”of logic must be unadulterated Awareness, not a limited, less than truthful version of it. Otherwise that engine will sputter, spewing noxious fumes to the environment through which it “travels”. Absolute internal honesty is one of the “filters” we may use, so that the engine runs more smoothly. When it runs smoothly, we see it for what it is, only a tool to communicate Awareness with others. Curiously, when logic sputters, and nearly stalls, we are blinded by our and others’ logic “machines”. With all the noxious, blinding smoky fumes, the poorly running “machines” can no longer be seen for what they are. An emotional “Smog” also does the same thing to us. So Logic is finite, and limited. It is only a tool. Our thinking is only a tool. It is Secondary. It is not who we are, although many identify with their thinking, or with the “Emotional Smog” rather than Awareness. Awareness is independent of the “object” in “Its” field of experience, in a way. Logic is secondary. Awareness is Primary.

I want to tell you a little about what I know about letting go.  When I first heard about this process, (and for me, it does seem to be a process), I was terrified by what I was told.  In retrospect, I see that fear was not really warranted, but certainly understandable.  I was told about this process, first in a 12 Step Group, flavored with its particular philosophy and agenda, later by various individuals who saw letting go through the lens of religion, native American teachings, new age teachings, probably even other ways that I don’t now recall.  Certain ways of seeing this process were less scary to me than others, but all of them attempted to describe something that is very real and natural.  I will attempt to tell you about letting go, without those prejudices, or diminishments, as much as I can.

This morning I went for my morning walk.  My morning walks are exercises in letting go, in relaxing into the NOW, into forgetting for a few brief moments, all the ways I can see myself; you might say that I’m taking off all the different “hats” I wear at various times.  I followed our dirt road out into a very open area.  On the way, different things would catch my attention – a squirrel here, a bird there, each vegetable area in my garden, a brief glimpse of blue sky and puffy cloud through the trees, the texture of the gravel under my feet, wild grapes hanging from the live oaks, each holding my attention for a moment each time, while I was still aware of the totality of this setting through which I walked.  I walked as slow as a little kid who had much shorter, weaker legs than I have.  I didn’t force that, it just came natural.  I quit thinking about all that was going on in my life, pulling my attention back gradually to just take in my surroundings.  Gradually I settled into the NOW.

I arrived at the field, where I usually “say” my morning prayers.  Displayed before me was a beautiful Robin’s egg blue sky, clean pure white puffy Cumulus clouds, that entirely wrapped the scene before me in every direction above.  Below that was a still well defined layer of fog, thick, textured, grey, and soft looking.  Below that I could see a denser landscape – an uncut summer hay field, horses staring back at me from a farm on the far side of the field, far off farmhouses, barns, fences, the entire landscape wrapped in tree lines of live oak.  Depending upon where my attention was, I could say that it was overcast, foggy, or clear with a few puffy clouds.  Each would be correct, but only a part of the reality that was true.  I experienced the whole scene without prejudice or dissection, just taking it in, seeing the beauty, feeling myself within that landscape, and experiencing a wonder that I cannot quite put into words .  For me, all that is part of the experience of letting go and entering the NOW. Along with my sense of wonder, was the knowledge, that the landscape before me represented the Truth about this Life we live.

One might say, “That’s beautiful!  It feels like what you say is true, but how could I live my life that way?  I have responsibilities!  I have a job, and a mortgage, and bills!  People will think I’m a loon!  I can’t do that!  I’m too screwed up!  I don’t have time!  People depend on me!  I wish I could do that, but I can’t!”

I have said all those things, and asked all those questions, and felt all those fears.  I was looking at a final destination, rather than a journey.  I saw it as something I had to do; something that I couldn’t do, rather than a process I was entering.  In truth, “not letting go”, is what we have done to ourselves throughout this Life; that is where “the doing” is.  “Letting go” is not about “doing”, although within the process, we may have lots to do.  It is more about accepting, awareness, absolute honesty (even about the layers of deception within ourselves that we and others put there), a process of grief for our losses (even the loss of how we have been seeing ourselves), and contact with others going through the same process.

I spent many years in group therapy.  I was looking for answers, looking for resolution, looking for a way to be “okay”.  I changed and healed more in that group, than I had in all my previous years of “one on one talk therapy”, or all the years of my own effort.  The two leaders set boundaries to help us feel safe, but they controlled nothing.  That environment helped some of us to practice “letting go”.  “Letting go” was necessary to get to our injuries in ways that were experiential rather than just intellectual.  Miraculous things seemed to happen on a regular basis.  By “letting go”, I was able to find a lot of resolution for my many injuries.  Others doing the same, helped me to let go.  My “letting go” helped others.  Our injuries as well as our indiscretions scream at us for attention, for resolution.  They grab and hold our awareness, and pull it from the NOW.  In my case, my “Caretaker” role (one of the many hats I wore), and my role as “The Black Sheep” in my family of origin, enshrouded my True Self.  Attending to those needs and dishonesties that were vowing for my attention, has allowed me to have a quieter internal environment.  It’s easier to let go now, after that practice.  I attempt to continue to do what I learned in my group. In a nutshell, I relax enough to let go of my need to understand, and follow my spirit.

I remember during my “crazy days”, where I was most out of control, my friends and I would smoke pot, and listen to an improvisational comedy group called “Firesign Theater”.  We’d laugh like loons at their silly antics, and crazy sayings.  I’m sure most of us remember some of those episodes.  One saying that stuck in my mind, in an odd way was “Everything you know is wrong.”  Everything in our culture or society, praises “not letting go”.  We are expected by family and friends to “not let go”.  We praise control, and see “letting go” as giving up.  They are not the same.  Jesus said that we must lose our lives to gain them.  There is wisdom in those words, because the lives we have built, are based on “perceptions” that are not true.  Those “perceptions” are not perceptions at all, but constructs that have been taught to us.  They interfere with true perception, true awareness!  “Everything you know is wrong.”

You might say, “how can I do this “letting go thing”, when I am married?  My wife and I fight, and I don’t want to give up my marriage!”  I only have answers within my experience, which work for me.  I’m sure you will find those answers that work best for you.  However, let me tell you a story.  Sometimes my wife and I have difficulties.  We get lost in stuff that just isn’t true, despite our best efforts to remain honest and caring, and non-blaming.  Relationships are difficult.  We have had many ups and downs.  During the “down” times, I’m sure we have each wondered if it is worth it, and have despaired.  During the “up” times I’m sure we both don’t question whether it is worth it at all.  We both were abused terribly when we were young, so we have had significant issues, to say the least.  Recently, each time I have experienced one of those “down” times, I have felt some pretty intense feelings of despair, despite a part of me knowing that my experience of despair would pass.  I strove to see what we were doing, what each of our reactions was, what was really true, to the best of my ability to know, noticing anything petty or untrue within me about our difficulty.  I also saw I had NO ANSWERS, other than my  understanding of our interactions.  I did not know how to fix what was wrong.  I can change what I do, but not others.  Many options lay before me, but which one was the “correct” one?  So I prayed to choose the “right” way of handling the situation. To my surprise I received no answer.  Or so I thought.  Each time, I sat with my wife, relaxed, knew I had NO ANSWERS AND WOULD HAVE TO JUST WAIT AND SEE HOW IT ALL CAME OUT (perhaps it wouldn’t come out the way I might choose, and I had to be willing to allow that!).  I’d keep my attention on her, not on solutions, or my fears of finding none.  My mind would be a blank, until the words were there.  The most honest words.  The most honest feelings.  The most honest unpolluted awareness of us and our situation, because it was all there in the NOW.  It all was just there.  I don’t think I can find any words to really describe it.  It has “happened” many times.  It has developed over time from all the little things that I have done along the way, and also, because of all the things that have happened to me along the way as well.

I told a friend recently, that during the “hard times” we let go more, and during the “easy” times, we let go less.  Those of us that choose this path of “letting go” may recognize the truth of that.  I have noticed in me, that I do that, but I also notice that there are far more areas in my life that I do not control anymore, and am allowing more areas of my life that are like that.  I also see that sometimes we will suffer, when we DON’T let go.  Suffering is optional.

Not long ago I went to my appointment with a new health care professional. I felt wary and a little defensive because he was new, and I was put into a position of having to trust him. I have trouble with that. He seemed like a nice fellow, with a good sense of humor, and I gradually started to relax. When seeing a health care professional for the first time, I believe it is important for adult survivors to mention that they are child abuse survivors, if they feel that it is important to do so. I attempted to do that, to give him information that I believed was necessary. Survivors often have issues that are reflected in the complaints they take to professionals. Survivors often have issues with touch, with trust, and many have PTSD symptoms that masquerade as physical problems. Survivors often have problems such as depression and panic disorder. Survivors also may have difficulty instituting new habits or regimes, which might affect treatment by a health care professional. Also, because of the non-linear nature of recovery, one time they may be just fine, while another time they may need medication to get through a particularly difficult period, perhaps having panic attacks, severe depression or despair. We can be very different from time to time, although that lessens with the length of recovery.

He smiled and said to me something to the effect that “I tell people that they have to stop thinking about it” (the child abuse). “All they have to do is stop thinking about it”. Without ever having met me before, and without knowing anything about me except from my medical chart, he proceeded to tell me, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you might be using the abuse as a crutch.” “Some people use it as a crutch, telling everyone they meet that they were abused”.

I immediately felt exposed and awkward. I had a very hard time wrapping my mind around his uncalled for comments. Unsolicited advice is disrespectful. Interjecting oneself into such a very personal, private area of a person’s life without being invited to do so is extraordinarily tactless and hurtful. It shows a lack of empathy and understanding.

I thought ,”would you say that to a woman who was raped, if she was having difficulty recovering from the PTSD that follows the rape?” I also thought about those who, as adults were hurt in war, and suffer from PTSD and have difficulty recovering from that experience. I knew that it was not ok to say something similar to them. How much more are children hurt than adults! Often the trauma in their young lives happens not just once, but hundreds of times, sometimes more than that. They have neither the skills, nor the understanding, nor the training, nor the stamina that adults might have. The effects are more devastating, and more difficult to recover from, some lasting a lifetime. Often their recovery does not start the next day, but decades later. The fact that survivors are now adults makes no difference, other than the fact that we have more skills and resources. I knew it was not ok to say what he said to me. My anger rose, and kept me from “shrinking” (becoming “less than”).

I handled this experience surprisingly well. Of course I did. I have 22 years of “training” through various therapies, have read as many books as some “experts”, and have practiced what I have learned through my recovery since I was 35. I am 57 this year. I struggled with the fear, shame, and finally the anger I was feeling. I felt exposed and vulnerable. I struggled with the dissociation that threatened to overwhelm me. I took some calming breaths for a few extremely uncomfortable seconds. My response was simple. I said calmly, “I don’t do that. You needed to know because you’re the doctor”. His response was something like, “We’re all the same as everyone else”, as if that was some lesson he was delivering to me. I felt my anger rise again, and felt like I was in a “power struggle”. I breathed again to give me time to react the way I wanted to. I assumed he didn’t mean it in a negative way. We all have equal value in God’s eyes, and we should in each other’s as well. But in a very real sense, some survivors have experiences far beyond what others experience. They have experiences that can teach others about things that can literally change the world we live in. I am more in some areas, and less in others. That has to do with skills, experiences, but not value. I saw that I knew that, and that he didn’t seem to know that. I said, “yes we are”, holding back the rest of what I knew.

I did not “get into it” much further with him. I was surprised and somewhat confused that he didn’t know why that information might be useful, or for that matter necessary. Perhaps he believed that the type of abuse I experienced does not exist, or since I seemed rational, it could not have been severe. He could not have been more wrong.

Many of us have a lack of understanding about the effects that child abuse has on adult survivors. Many of us have a lack of understanding of what “recovery” looks like for an adult survivor. Many of us have no idea of all that a survivor might have to deal with on a daily basis in their recovery, (and inside themselves). Many of us believe that when someone says they are a survivor, that they surely couldn’t be standing intact in front of them if their abuse was severe. Many of us do not understand that recovery is a journey. It is not a destination. Recovery is remarkably personal, and depends on our makeup, gifts and the type and severity of the abuse. Some journey farther than others, some have suffered more than others. There is no abuse that cannot be recovered from. Sometimes survivors “circle” an event or theme of abuse until they are ready to resolve it -sometimes even years. All survivors are looking for resolution, even if it looks like they are not moving forward! Who are we to judge what a survivor’s recovery should look like? Who are we to tell them that we know when it is time for them?

Another misconception is that if only a survivor changed his or her thinking, then they could get past the trauma. Although how we think, and what we think about, does play a large role in our daily attitudes, thinking mostly is not where we were hurt, and might be described as being in an “outer layer” of our being. Our emotional nature, and our acceptance of how we are, who we are, and where we are on our journey, is what are most damaged. Survivors are always looking for resolution. When they are focused on the past, they are doing so because they have not found resolution, and are looking for their own personal resolution, not someone else’s! Often our thinking reflects what we are feeling, even if we do not know that. Many Survivors have “frozen feelings”, meaning that they cannot get in touch with their deepest wounds. It takes sustained focus on the past to get to these feelings. Unless we go through the pain, feel it and share it, we will not get to the other side of it. It will sit in us festering, looking for expression in our daily lives, rather than describing the events of the past. In this way, the past contaminates the present. Although our outer thinking may influence our outer feeling, it does not affect those feelings near the core of us. In fact, much of our thinking is driven by feelings from our center. Some call this “primacy of emotion”. In my experience, no amount of thinking or not thinking will heal the wounds of the past. Discovering the frozen feelings from our pasts, giving voice to them, fully feeling them, having empathy for how vulnerable we were, and how tenacious – these are the things that lead us into the journey of recovery – no matter how long it takes us!

I stand before you in a process of recovery, even though I started that recovery 22 years ago. I stand before you relatively intact, although at one time I was completely crippled. I stand before you imperfectly healed. I stand before you not as victim, but as survivor, there is a difference. I stand before you sometimes with a cauldron of feelings that threaten to overwhelm me, feelings that most would recoil from, yet I do not fall apart, nor do I deny or avoid them. I am a survivor, and I am responsible for my own recovery. No one can do it for me, although I have invited God into the process of my recovery. I am proud that I am a survivor, because it embraces all of my past, not just the “acceptable parts”. I stand before you, and I tell you that I am both more and less, not the same as those who have not been abused. I am less in those areas that still interfere with what I want to do, and I am more, because I have experiences that can teach all of us how to behave with each other, so that no one gets hurt like I was. I stand before you so that you may hear my voice. I use my voice so that others may know it is ok to do so also. I use my voice so that others may start their journey of recovery. I use my voice to bring empathy into areas where we have none. I stand before you as a survivor, and it is a badge of courage and accomplishment, not some sort of excuse or crutch to gain sympathy.

Gary Tool’s Column Terribly Wrong in last week’s Community Times Dispatch got me thinking. Two people can witness the same event, and each may see it in a totally different way. Native Americans say that each of us sees from a different place on the Medicine Wheel. I like that imagery. I agree. We each experience life through the lens of our histories, training, strengths, weaknesses, and most of all, our fears.

Now, I saw the same commercial that the good Reverend saw, yet we each saw two different things. The commercial in question is the one where a little boy shakes a bottle of soda and accidentally sprays his momma, who then joins in with the sprayer from the kitchen sink.

The good Reverend sees this scene as an example of a dysfunctional family behavior, and as an example of the devil using technology to destroy folks. Now, I don’t want to get into a tug of war over which one of us is right. I do not disagree that evil operates in this world, as well as Good. I do not disagree that folks watch too much TV to their own detriment. Nor do I disagree with the good Reverend’s prescription for better living. However, we did see that same commercial with different eyes.

As the 2 liter bottle explodes a plume of soda towards his momma, shock and surprise are very apparent on the child’s face. My imagination tells me that he is waiting for the axe to fall’. He knows “he is in trouble now”! As my attention turns towards his momma, I see a look of shock and disbelief on her face. I expect anger next. In fact, I don’t just expect anger; I expect rage, because of my own personal history. But I’m surprised. Her look of shock gradually melts, and is replaced by amusement, as she reaches for the sprayer from the kitchen sink. As she sprays him back, her amusement blooms into full blown childlike glee. His expression of shock and fear is abandoned to one of total playful glee as well. There is no screaming, no tears, no bruises, nor any childhood trauma. There is no adult, anger driven over-reaction that we see so much in our violent society. There is no shaming. There are just two souls, letting go to their playful spirits. How wonderful!

Now, in my imagination, after all is done, his momma talks to him, and tells him not to shake soda bottles, because even though they had fun this time, next time he would be in trouble. (After all, it is a commercial about paper towels, and whether we know it or not, we have been using our imaginations all along!)

What I saw in this commercial, was far more functional than what I experienced as a child. I saw real connection between the child and his momma. I saw two souls, who felt safe enough to let go, and really have fun. Granted, we don’t see the lesson “don’t shake the bottle”, but I believe, we see an even more important lesson, despite any evil influences that may or may not be involved.