Many of the ways survivors cope are rooted in denial of some fashion. It didn't happen. It wasn't that bad. It was the alcohol that made him do it. Some forget. Some pretend. Some make light of it.
Many of the ways survivors cope are rooted in distancing themselves from the abuse, from the world. They avoid feelings, people, intimacy.
Many of the ways survivors copy are rooted in the search for safety. That safety can be establishing strict control over some or all parts of their lives or the very opposite ... living in chaos. Because survivors of sexual abuse have had so many skewed lessons in their lives, who they trust may end up being the wrong people. Some may even seek safety in familiarity and end up with another abuser.
Many of the ways survivors cope are rooted in addiction or compulsions, in self-destructive behavior or harm. Opposite of avoiding intimacy, sexual addiction can be a way of numbing or negating what happened. Anorexia or binge eating fall into this category even as they can also be a way of controlling something ... anything. Being busy all the time or working all the time is a way to avoid the sexual abuse until the positive traits of productivity becomes negative as what you do ends up trapping yourself, binding yourself. Stealing is also a coping mechanism as it can create distance from what happened or it can provide a momentary thrill in a sea of numbness or both. This either or opposite effect can also occur in self-harm. Some cut themselves to feel something. Others cut themselves to drown out everything else and savor the myopic focus of one singular source of pain.
All of these coping mechanisms are good in that the one experiencing sexual abuse survived. But one cannot thrive as an alcoholic or drug addict, trapped by eating disorders or self-mutilization, numbing, denying, avoiding. That someone survived such an egregious perfidy committed against them—be it once or often—is a wonder. And it is no wonder that to survive sexual abuse thoughts and feelings, perspectives and relationships, love and trust are twisted and warped, skewed and turned upside down.
Facing what happened is hard. It is hard work. It is painful. It is confusing. It is devastating. It is chaos. And it often feels worse, feels as if it is not something that can be survived. You can lose employment and friends and family. You can lose your anchor, primarily because the anchors you dropped in the maelstrom of your life were ones that break loose instead of keeping you safe. And you can end up struggling with even more shame or guilt over what you did or didn't do.
The chaos that comes with allowing yourself to experience the full spectrum of feelings as you start to heal, to remember, to learn what is true is so very difficult to navigate without falling back into old coping mechanisms. But, as I noted earlier, while there is no condemnation for what has happened or what you still struggle with, Davis and Bass encourage sexual abuse survivors to strive to shed the strategies that no longer serve them and seek ones that do.
Were it up to me, having experienced emotions, I would still choose numbness. It is easier. It is safer. It makes sense.
However, that is not the best choice for me. I struggled to accept that I had PTSD and I mightily struggled to accept that my chronic neurological condition meant that anxiety was going to be a new permanent part of my life. Between the anxiety of facing the trauma of sexual abuse, the PTSD made worse by the trauma of the pit bull attack, and the cognitive deficits and anxiety of Dysautonomia, I sometimes despair of ever gaining ground in being able to feel without panic, without meltdowns, and without using coping mechanisms that no longer serve me well.
When it comes to navigating emotional storms, the list of choices and activities that serve me better is one I have built over time. My list is filled with things both external and internal. To me, the external is most helpful, and of the external, hearing the Living Word is most effective. When it comes to navigating emotional storms, having more options than less is better. Much better.
Here is my original list:
- Build a fire
- Light a candle
- Listen to music
- Play Monopoly
- Play Whirly Word
- Do one of the logic or cognitive apps
- Watch a TV show online
- Watch a DVD
- Call someone and ask them to read me a psalm
- Read aloud Part IV or V of the Large Catechism
- Free write about what I am feeling
- Work on a page from one of my adult coloring books (using colored pencils)
- Play the guitar
- Sing hymns
- Organize a drawer or a closet
- Putter in the yard
- Play with Amos
- Clean something
- Make a list (chores, things to accomplish, work goals, etc.)
- Complete a task that has been lingering
- Read a book
The ones that have helped the most are:
- Hearing the Living Word
- Hearing the Christian Book of Concord
- Lighting and sitting before fire (season restricted)
- Lighting a Paddywax Rose candle
- Using peppermint and lavender essential oils
- Listening to music really, really loud
- Holding a pinecone in my hand (helps me concentrate on only one sensation)
Notice that they are all things outside of myself at which I cannot fail and which engage one or more senses.
When I am really distraught, I prefer to do something physical (which is difficult since I am now disabled), the harder the work the better. I exhaust myself. But the physical I prefer is cleaning or organizing or working in the yard or a home improvement task/project or anything that has an end result which is a bonafide accomplishment.
Sometimes, I will stream a movie or a television show whilst I am doing something physical so that not a single moment can be filled with what I am thinking or feeling, so that I can hold the storm at bay. If I am struggling with exhaustion but still need to busy my body, I will play music to try and pull me along.
I still play Monopoly, word-based apps, and cognitive apps (logic puzzles, mazes, games, etc.). What I found with Monopoly was a lesson on being patient when it looks as if all is doomed. I found in playing that if I did not give up and stuck to my strategy, I could win even if I got to the point where my funds are nearly depleted and nearly every property is mortgaged save for a single set upon which I have built houses or hotels.
I have great difficultly now following sermons, movies, and television shows. I really need to have a written source to which I can refer whilst I am listening or watching. I simply cannot hold oral cumulative information in my mind in order to comprehend it. I also forget so much that I can re-watch an entire series and have great chunks of it be as if completely new. So, something I will do is plow through multiple episodes of a television series that has a long story arc, such as Babylon 5, Battlestar Galactica, or the many British shows that are longer than an hour and spread over two or three episodes, such as "Chapel Hill," "Line of Duty," or "The State Within."
Finally, in the past few months, I have started trying to cook new recipes. I started doing this because following directions is very difficult for me and because I have come to a point where I burn a lot of what I cook because I forget that I am actually cooking. By trying actual recipes, instead of merely throwing together a bite to eat, I have to concentrate really hard to ensure I do not leave out ingredients and that I follow all the steps. I avoid anything with yeast or kneading, because I simply cannot succeed in those recipes, but I have tried to find ones that I believe I can do and that are a challenge for me to complete. Of course, I also focus on what is tasty to me.
I no longer play the guitar because I cannot control my hands well. For the same reason, I no longer try to use the adult coloring books. I have forgotten almost all the hymns I learned and singing bothers my asthma, so I gave up that coping mechanism, too. I also no longer free write because I found that, for me, it heightened my anxiety, rather than soothed it.
So, to sum, other than the list of external coping mechanisms that are of the most help to me, the main internal ones (ones that depend upon me) are:
- Physical labor
- Playing apps that are cognitively challenging to me
- Chain-watching television shows with longer story arcs
- Cooking
There is one coping mechanism from my childhood that I still do when I am very overwhelmed and have no one to pour the Living Word into my ears: I stuff myself in small places. When I was little, I would stuff myself between the bed and the wall. When my patches and walls started crumbling down a few years ago, when I finally made the decision to heal (the first stage of healing about which I will write later), I would crawl into the back of my closet. There, I was surrounded by three walls and rather squishes. A counselor told me that to do so was rather intelligent of me because it was if someone was holding me close. To be honest, I have longed to try one of those weighted blankets that are often used with people on the autism spectrum, but they are rather expensive.
I will finish this by noting one other source of comfort. When I moved here coming up on three years ago, I was still grieving the loss of my first dog. When he died, my life was very confusing and getting worse. Having reading and adored James Harriott's books, I thought I would get a puppy right away. But so much was difficult the first few months after Kashi's death and then I was raped again. The day after was the first time I called a rape crisis center. I had had counseling before, but when it happened again something rose up within me and I wanted to scream to the entire world: I never want this to happen again. Why me? Why again????
From August until I moved in December, I spiraled into chaos as every coping mechanism that had been effective for at least getting through life began to fail. Great hurts and more difficulties came until the man who raped me showed up at my house. I was in limbo waiting on the closing here, but I called the movers and asked that they come the next day. They did. I started driving ... fleeing ... not knowing if I would have a place to stay when I arrived here two days later. I came to an empty house and lived into for 5 days before the trucks arrived on the 6th, but felt such relief being so far away from my former home and boss.
One of my chronic illnesses grew much worse right after moving, so I was ... occupied ... for a long time. And I was still crumbling into pieces, near drowning in The Emergency Stage. In February, I managed to think the thought that I wanted a puppy, when looking for a puppy, and my Good Shepherd gave me Amos on the 14th. For someone who has always dreaded and loathed Valentine's Day, I had to laugh at the timing.
Five months later, we were attacked by the pit bull. Amos was incredibly affectionate, being a Bichon Poo, but that ineffable violence changed him and me in such deep and profound ways. Amos' vet believe he will never recover, since despite working with him, he continues to have many, many fears and a very sad, very low threshold for startle response.
However, as I became more ill and still lost in trying to face my life and my past, Amos became more and more skilled at comforting me. In many ways, he acts more like a little person than a puppy (all dogs are puppies to me, but I should note his third birthday will be in December). On my regular blog, I noted his calm down techniques:
- Climbing atop my shoulders (he can get there without my help at times)
- Asking me to pick him up (he leaps completely off the ground repeatedly until you grab him)
- Climbing on my lap
- Surrounding himself with as many of his Babies as possible
So, even if I were not prone to hold on to him for comfort, he holds on to me. He puts his paws around my neck and tucks his head beneath my chin. He stuffs himself beside me in the lounge chair. He follows me everywhere. If not on my person, he holds part of me with his paw if sleeping near me. His favorite thing to do is have me hold him so that he can relax against my body, hang his head over my shoulder, and fall asleep. I cannot stand and do so for very long, but he always begs for me to hold him if I am up and about for any length of time.
All this is to say that I wrote about drawing a firm boundary of no touching me. I believe that my Creator understands my needs and thus gave me something that could give me all the physical comfort I crave even when I cannot bear for anyone to touch me.
I am not sure if I am clinging to Amos or he is clinging to me. So, I do not know where he fits on my list. But I will put the two main lists together now, as a final summary:
- Hearing the Living Word
- Hearing the Christian Book of Concord
- Lighting and sitting before fire (season restricted)
- Lighting a Paddywax Rose candle
- Using peppermint and lavender essential oils
- Listening to music really, really loud
- Holding a pinecone in my hand (helps me concentrate on only one sensation)
- Physical labor
- Playing apps that are cognitively challenging to me
- Chain-watching television shows with longer story arcs
- Cooking
- Stuffing myself in small spaces
- Clinging to my puppy dog Amos
Because I feel as if this topic is being truncated, I would like to note that, in another post, I will write about trying to work out calm down techniques in advance for situations I know will be difficult for me. This is something I started learning, in very large part, due to meeting and spending time with my friend Marie, who is brave and strong and rather open about communicating about the triggers for her anxiety. I am learning to think about my triggers, work out something that will comfort or help me during a difficult situation (such as any exam or procedure where I am partially or completely unclothed and/or will be touched), and then state what my helps are and use them when I am about to face that difficulty.
I am Yours, Lord. Save me!
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