The lies sexual abuse speaks to survivors...

"When I was raped, I felt powerless. I felt my value had been determined by someone else, someone who sent me the message that body was not my own, my choices were meaningless," she said. "It took years to recognize my personal worth was not tied to my assault, that the voices telling me I deserved this were phantoms, they were liars." ~Lena Dunham, Variety's Power of Women Luncheon, 2015.

I saw this quote and thought how apt it was.  That's really one of the most powerful weapons of sexual assault: the insidious means by which it can (erroneously) become the definition of a person and the measure of worth.

For a Christian, it is easy to say worth is tied to being a child of Christ.  But we live in a fallen world where lies obscure that truth.  And one of the best liars of all time is the weapon of sexual abuse.  In part, it is not merely because of the message the abuser "speaks" to the survivor, but also because of the message our society shouts.

In Googling about Lena Dunham's assault, I learned of the controversy from her/her publisher's dices to obscure the identity of the rapist.  In one article, I read this:

"As a rape victim you have a terrible, awful, traumatic responsibility to do everything in your power to get your attacker off the streets — if only to protect other women. It’s not fair, but it is the only right thing to do."

And I vomited.  

It bothers me how fragile certain topics are and the admonition of others.  My physical response bothers me.  But I do not share the opinion that survivors of rape have the responsibility to get their attackers off the streets.  That is the vocation of law enforcement and the justice system.  The only responsibility a survivor of rape has is to take care of herself/himself.  Period.  

That process might include a vigorous participation in the prosecution of an attacker or it might include becoming an advocate against sexual abuse or it simply might be learning to hear what is true and right and of good repute, rather than the lies that were spoken via the assault.

To me, the author's error is made most clear in the fourth word: "victim."  Again, one of the most helpful bits of The Courage to Heal is the authors' commitment to teaching that you are only a "victim" of sexual abuse if you die.  If you live through the abuse, then you are a survivor.

Words matter.  Labels matter.  You will treat yourself differently if you think of yourself as a survivor, rather than a victim.  The word "survivor" is imbued with perseverance, courage, and hope.  The word "victim" is filled with helplessness and hurt.  

It has been my experience, and that of others I know directly, that having a history of sexual abuse in your medical file leads to medical personnel treating you as a victim and leading to a mental diagnosis of stress, PTSD, hysteria, etc. first and physical problems overlooked.  The way you are treated reinforces the lie that you are not worth much, not worth proper care and treatment of your body, not worth the respect of your mind and spirit. The way you are treated reinforces the lie that your identity remains in the abuse.

One of the things I despair of is how society really doesn't want to hear and learn about the effects of sexual abuse.  The topic brings discomfort and, sometimes, dismissal.  The latter can be in the form of "it's time to move past that" or "such things would never happen _______ (in our neighborhood, school, church, etc.)."  I have noted, often, that we tell children what happened to them is not their fault and has no shame, but as adults shame or blame or some indefinable charge is laid simply because sexual abuse is not "appropriate" table talk.  "Leave that in the counselor's office." 

But The Courage to Heal teaches us that we need to understand the whys and wherefores of the survivors body, mind, and spirit.  We need to recognize the signs of struggle and of coping mechanisms that speak of help still needed.  We need to realize the lies of the abuse can linger years and years despite how hard one might try to leave them behind.

And that is okay.

Do not misunderstand me:  It is not okay that it can take years and years to understand the lie, to recognize the truth.  Surely we wish speedy healing for all survivors.  But healing is a process that is idiosyncratic and ineffable.  Would that it were we could celebrate each step forward in that process and forgive and encourage once more the survivor during each step backward.  In that regard, the length of time the healing takes is okay, be it months or years or decades.

"It's okay if you feel like you deserved what happened.  You did not, but your feelings are your feelings and not what is true about you.  It's okay if you think that you are worth less as a woman or man, a son or a daughter, a wife or a husband because changing thoughts learned from the lies of sexual abuse takes time.  And what you think about yourself does not change the truth of yourself.  Until you know that truth once more, I will speak it to you.  Christ ever speaks it to you.  The Holy Spirit is filling you with that truth through Word and Sacrament."

As a Christian, those are the words I long to hear, often and repeatedly.  For the lies I heard when I was being abused still linger in my ears.  I know they are lies, but it is difficult not to listen to them.

Silence...

On April 19, 2012, Grey's Anatomy tackled the effects of child sexual abuse in "The Girl With No Name."  For a one hour drama, I believe that the writers did a solid job of showing the important of sexual abuse survivors to have supportive care that is built around their needs.  I also believe the writers were able to provide a few insights as to how the experience, thoughts, and needs of a sexual abuse surviver might not make sense or even fit with the experience, thoughts, and needs of the friends and family of a sexual abuse survivor.

For example, in this story, a young girl was kidnapped and held hostage for twelve years.  When she escaped and was rescued, her parents wanted nothing more than to touch her, hold her, be with her all the time.  But that was not what the now teenager sexual abuse victim needed.  First and foremost, she needed to learn that she had control of her body and her environment and so her wishes needed to be respected.  This was something the parents struggled mightily with because it was in direct conflict with their own desires and the calling of their vocation to protect and care for their daughter.  Sometimes, though, caring for someone does not look like what we might think it should.

One scene in particular resonated deeply with me.  It came after the young survivor had been tasked with getting her own food in the cafeteria, to practice interacting with others.  She tried several food stations (soup and pizza) before simply going over to the self-serve station.

Meredith:  Hey how are you feeling?  That was a big deal.
Holly:  Not really
Meredith: I don't know, braving that cafeteria line is pretty major even for those who haven't been—
Holly:  —kept in a basement for twelve years
Meredith: —who haven't been through what you have been through.
Holly:  Why do you do that?  Talk around it? The therapist and my parents.  What've I've been through is being kicked and raped and slapped and starved.  I mean, I get it.  But it was my life.  And I didn't get talk with him about my life with my parents, and now I don't get to talk anyone about about him.
Meredith:  But you can talk about him.
Holly:  No, I can't.  You'll think ... you won't get it.
Meredith:  Try me.
Holly:  He wasn't only bad.  Sometimes he was okay.  He'd let me go upstairs and ... we'd watch stuff together.  Movies.  And it was like it was normal.  And when I came back here I turned on the TV and there was this movie on that we watched together and I started to miss him.  And I know that's bad. And I must be sick and don't tell the shrink that I said anything 'cause she ... 'cause she's gonna ask me how I feel about it.  And I don't know.  All I know is that I should be happy that I am here and not there.  But sometimes I'm not.
Meredith:  That's okay.  However you feel is okay.

Ah, by now you have seen me write several times know how blessedly merciful it is to hear the word "okay."  Here it was a thing of beauty.  But what struck me is how the young survivor felt like she could not talk about her experiences, about her life.  She felt like her life is a life that no one wanted to hear.  And that is a truth.  It is very, very rare to encounter someone who is willing to hear about your life of abuse outside a counselor's office.

Think for a moment about what that communicates.

We tell young children that what happened to them is not their fault and is nothing to be ashamed of, but we tell adults that their experiences are burdensome and difficult for others to hear.  To speak of those things is too intimate, even inappropriate.  There really is shame and if shame, blame.

In another scene in the episode, the orthopedic surgeon is asking the young survivor about a fracture in her pelvis.  She wants to know how the injury occurred, I suppose, so that she can make a plan for the repair.  The surgeon asks the survivor if she fell or something.  At first, the survivor says that she doesn't know.  But then she mentions that it could have been when she had the baby a few years ago.  She thinks the baby died.  She doesn't know, but she couldn't walk for a long time afterward.  The survivor's parents are horrified, with her mother eventually fleeing the room.  The surgeon manages to control her reaction and agrees that is probably when the injury occurred.  The young survivor is puzzled at the reaction she sees.  She asks if she should not have said anything.  It is later on in the episode that the conversation about not being able to talk about her life occurs.  And it is something that should not be true but is.

If you go by statistics, where I live there are over 63,000 sexual abuse survivors.  Yet I have not been able to find a single sexual abuse support group, a single place where I could go and talk about my life without it being inappropriate or burdensome for others.  There is only one place in the city where sexual abuse counseling is free, and that place has such a revolving door of counselors that trying to seek help is daunting, if not really impossible.  It is not common to make a livable wage  offering free care for sexual abuse survivors.

The shootings in this country highlight the miserable state of mental health care.  America simply does not have enough mental health personnel, nor do we have enough coverage.  And what coverage and/or care there is: 1) is often limited, 2) can be cost prohibitive, 3) and is often too generalized to be effective.  Sexual abuse survivors need specific care that does not treat them as victims.  Again, not enough medical personnel are familiar with the effects of trauma on the brain and body, much less familiar with the effects of sexual abuse.  Would that it were The Courage to Heal were required study and trauma training required coursework for all emergency, medical, and mental health care personnel!

One of the biggest factors of why sexual abuse is such a prevalent and persistent problem in our country is silence.  Survivors are taught to remain silent, taught and/or threatened.  Families keep their secrets.  Businesses and institutions cover up instances of sexual abuse to protect reputation and Even the church.  And if you think the problem lies solely or even primarily within the Catholic church, you are sorely mistaken.  It is everywhere.

But even when a person does speak out, does break the silence, the victim often learns to remain silent afterwards.  To not talk about his or her life, his or her experiences, freely or even with friends and family lest they become too burdensome to others.  To not talk about his or her life even with a pastor.

Silence is one of the devil's greatest weapons in felling the spiritual life of sexual abuse survivors.  At least, it is for me.  The reason I believe this is because silence protects and even propagates the lies he has woven in the sexual abuse survivor's life, through the abusers and those who have encouraged silence.

Sexual abuse teaches wrong lessons.  Those lessons are very, very difficult to unlearn ... to re-learn rightly.  With regard to faith, the thoughts that grow out of the experience of abuse, especially that at the hands of parents or others in authority, confuse and obscure the Gospel.  For a girl abused by her father, to try and talk about God the Father in such a way that does not trigger painful memories or emotions is difficult. Worthiness, shame, guilt, doubt, despair ... all and more make it difficult to remember what is true.  True about salvation.  True about sanctification. True about your body.

For someone struggling with emotions, or rather lack thereof, it is difficult to separate them from the call to fear and love and trust God.  What does that mean? This is not a question for a counselor, but for a pastor.  And one the answer of can and will help the sexual abuse survivor until and after she learns the psychological answers to help her understand her whys and wherefores.

In both, healing comes in understanding and in changing the lessons learned, changing the thoughts about them.  Sometimes, changing the thought starts with having a script to follow, to rehearse.

In the episode, one such script is the script of:  That's okay.  However you feel is okay.  It is okay not to have feelings. It is okay to have feelings.  It's okay not to know or understand what those feelings are.  Feelings are not facts.  Part of the learning is learning new facts, such as how fathers should be with their daughters and that daughters are not to blame for what happens.  Another fact is that rape is not sex.  Daughters do not have sex with their fathers.  Fathers rape their daughters.  An important distinction that can be arduous and painful to first grasp and then believe.  Learning new facts can be long and difficult.  So, having the script  That's okay.  However you feel is okay.  can help you get through the confusion, the struggles, the many steps backwards in the midst of those forward.

A script I was recently given is Jesus came for the dead.  You see, it is difficult to think about all that time of disassociation, of being numb and absent.  It is difficult to not only feel that you are dead inside, but to also fear you actually are dead inside.  That you have no love or fear or trust of any kind.

Jesus came for the dead.
Jesus came for the sick.
Jesus came for the lame.
Jesus came for the blind.
Jesus came for the weak.
Jesus came for the brokenhearted.

All of those things a surviver might possibly believe about herself as she struggles to heal are the very reasons Jesus came.  The very reasons He comes still.

It isn't helpful to tell a survivor she shouldn't feel guilty.  That she feels guilty is not even the most important problem.  The problem lies with ferreting out the whys and wherefores behind that guilt and teaching her how those thoughts and experiences belie the truth.  That is the work of mental health counseling.  But in the mean while the truth remains that Jesus comes even for the guilty and the ashamed and the unclean.  Jesus comes and forgives, forgives even the doubt, the struggle of faith that can lie beneath those emotions.

You feel dead inside?  Jesus came for the dead.  You think you might actually be dead inside?  Jesus came for the dead.  Jesus came for the helpless.  Jesus came for the hopeless.  Jesus came for all wounds.  Jesus came for all.

For the Christian sexual abuse survivor, spiritual care and support is equally important—if not more so—as psychological care and support.  Sexual abuse is the playground of our foe, who will leverage anything and everything to keep you ensnared in his lies.  Thus, it is vitally important that survivors are allowed to talk about their lives, to talk about the secrets and the fears and the shame so that those felling arrows of our foe can be extinguished by Christ crucified for us.

May the silence around sexual abuse that exists even in the church be soon shattered.


Lord, have mercy.  Christ, have mercy.  Lord, have mercy.

Can You Hear Me?

Can You Hear Me?

Why did you choose to hurt me?  Did you ever stop to realize that the pressure of your touch would not leave when your hands left my body?  I can feel your fingers probing even now as I lie in bed wishing for sleep to overtake my mind.  I scrub and scrub until my skin is raw, but the dirt of your presence is with me still.

I am growing older, on the outside that is.  But somewhere deep inside is the young girl you first touched.  She is still crying because I have yet to learn how.  My tears soak only the present.  They scarcely touch the hurt you so deliberately chose to give to me.

Did you know then, or do you realize now, that your choice would whisper in my thoughts and linger in my actions long after you finished?  I am learning not to be a victim, but a victor.  Yet the battle I am fighting will always be a part of me, a part of the very definition of who I am.

I am learning to listen, to hear beneath the words of others who have been touched by someone like you.  We draw to one another and whisper of the lingering presence.  We talk of showers and nightmares and ordinary things we turn away from because.

Because.  Because a part of us stopped growing that day long ago when you made that choice.  One moment in time showed us the ugliness of life before we had been nurtured enough to bear its weight.  Those of us who survived, or are surviving still, from that choice you made learned, or are learning still, how to grow in spite of the crying child within.  But we will never forget those words, that touch, the pain of your actions.

I cry today for the ones who were crushed beneath that weight.  I ache to see the children who come within your grasp.  Do you know what you have done?  Do you see at all?  Will the word of just one child, nearly grown, pierce the wall you must have built around your heart?  

Can you hear me at all?

     

Why did you choose to hurt me? 

Did you ever stop to realize 

that the pressure of your touch 

would not leave when your hands left my body?  

I can feel your fingers probing 

even now as I lie in bed wishing 

for sleep to overtake my mind.  

I scrub and scrub until my skin is raw, 

but the dirt of your presence is with me still.

I am growing older, on the outside that is.  

But somewhere deep inside 

is the young girl you first touched.  

She is still crying 

because I have yet to learn how.  

My tears soak only the present.  

They scarcely touch the hurt 

you so deliberately chose to give to me.

Did you know then, or do you realize now, 

that your choice would whisper 

in my thoughts and linger in my actions 

long after you finished?  

I am learning not to be a victim, but a victor.  

Yet the battle I am fighting 

will always be a part of me, 

a part of the very definition of who I am.

I am learning to listen, to hear 

beneath the words of others 

who have been touched by someone like you.  

We draw to one another 

and whisper of the lingering presence.  

We talk of showers and nightmares

and ordinary things we turn away from 

because.

Because.  

Because a part of us stopped growing 

that day long ago when 

you made that choice.  

One moment in time showed us 

the ugliness of life before 

we had been nurtured enough 

to bear its weight.  

Those of us who survived, or are surviving still, 

from that choice you made 

learned, or are learning still, 

how to grow in spite of the crying child within.  

But we will never forget 

those words, that touch, 

the pain of your actions.

I cry today for the ones 

who were crushed beneath that weight. 

I ache to see the children 

who come within your grasp.  

Do you know what you have done? 

Do you see at all?  

Will the word of just one child 

nearly grown pierce 

the wall you must have built 

around your heart?  

Can you hear me at all?

     

Why did you choose 

to hurt me?

Did you ever stop 

to realize

that the pressure 

of your touch

would not leave 

when your hands 

left my body?

I can feel your fingers 

Probing even now 

as I lie in bed 

wishing for sleep 

to overtake my mind.

I scrub and scrub 

until my skin is raw,

but the dirt 

of your presence 

is with me still.

I am growing older, 

on the outside 

that is.

But somewhere 

deep inside

is the young girl 

you first touched.

She is still crying

because I have yet 

to learn how.

My tears soak 

only the present.

They scarcely 

touch the hurt

you so deliberately 

chose to give to me.

Did you know then, 

or do you realize now,

that your choice 

would whisper

in my thoughts 

and linger 

in my actions

long after you finished?

I am learning 

not to be a victim, 

but a victor.

Yet the battle 

I am fighting

will always be 

a part of me,

a part of 

the very definition 

of who I am.

I am learning 

to listen, 

to hear

beneath the words 

of others

who have been touched 

by someone like you.

We draw 

to one another

and whisper of 

the lingering presence.

We talk of showers 

and nightmares

and ordinary things 

we turn away from 

because.

Because.

Because a part of us 

stopped growing

that day long ago 

when you made 

that choice.

One moment in time 

showed us

the ugliness of life before

we had been 

nurtured enough

to bear its weight.

Those of us 

who survived, 

or are surviving still,

from that choice you made

learned, 

or are learning still,

how to grow 

in spite of 

the crying child within.

But we will 

never forget

those words, 

that touch,

the pain 

of your actions.

I cry today 

for the ones

who were crushed 

beneath that weight.

I ache to see 

the children

who come within 

your grasp.

Do you know 

what you have done?

Do you see 

at all?

Will the word 

of just one child,

nearly grown,

pierce the wall 

you must have built

around your heart?

Can you hear me at all?

First Lesson on Emotions...

Writing about dissociation is hard for me.  In fact, it might very well be the epitome of bittersweet.  To know, to understand the whys and wherefores of yourself is an absolute blessing.  To have an answer.  To see something objectively and set outside of yourself.  To know you are not crazy and alone.  All of these are sweet.  But the bitter, the acrid lingering taste that you long to have gone yet accompanies the sweet is this slowly unfolding .... horror ... at just how much of your life for which you have not been present.

In a way, the day I started reading the book is the day I started living.

Life since then is still a struggle and still filled with many a times of dissociation, but it is a life for which I am, at least sometimes, present.  I realize I am fleeing and try to stop.  I fail and I fall into discouragement and despair.  I fail and try to at least not punish myself.  I sometimes succeed. I sometimes remain.

But remaining present is not an easy thing for a person who has also not learned to recognize or process emotions.  I will say I feel this or that, but the truth is I am most often completely unable to discern what it is that I am feeling.  So, I have fall back feelings to which I cling:  fear and shame and frustration.

When children are raised in a healthy environment, their emotions are respected. When they are sad, angry, or afraid, their parents or caretakers acknowledge their feelings, make room for safe expression, and offer comfort. Children raised in an emotionally supportive home are not talked out of their feelings or punished for them. Because of this, they learn that feelings are not dangerous. And their capacity to tolerate difficult feelings increases naturally as they grow up.

Abused children rarely have this kind of support. They cannot afford to feel the full extent of their terror, pain, shame, or rage; the agony would be devastating. They would not be able to do arithmetic with other second graders, for example, if they acknowledged the depth of their sorrow and desolation.

Because their innocent love and trust are betrayed, abused children learn that they cannot rely on their feelings. And the feelings they do express may be disregarded or mocked.

If the adults around them are out of control, they get the message that feelings lead to violence. Anger means beatings or furniture hurled across the room. (The Courage to Heal, Bass & Davis, pp. 6)


At my last job, there was a senior employee whose anger ruled the majority of her interaction.  The employee turnover in her department was approximately 300% the time I worked at that job.  No one wanted to be the one who had to work with her, so often my boss sent me in her place.  I would grow ill each time I had to face her.

Her anger was not confined to subordinates either.  Toward the end of my tenure, another senior employee came on board who would stand toe-to-toe with her.  The new employee's office was near mine, so I could hear the angry exchanges between the two.  One day, the row between them was so loud and so filled with anger that I found myself cowering beneath my desk without realizing what I was doing.  I was simply terrified by what I was hearing.

Anger frightens me.

I tense up.
I wait to be hurt.
I withdraw.

It is the one emotion I always recognize in others.  It is the one emotion that you cannot hide from me.  And it is an emotion that always sparks such a primal, instinctive, self-protective response in me.

I do not know how to handle anger in others.  I rarely am actually angry myself, for all anger frightens me.  I do grow frustrated and have been accused of being angry in that moment.  However, the truth is that I am upset because of the situation, of the inability to change or achieve something ... usually communication.  In counseling, I was told that part of healing would be learning that it is okay to be angry about what was done to me.  A part of me cannot fathom doing so.

Abused children often learn to block out their pain, because it is too devastating or because they do not want to give the abuser the satisfaction of seeing them cry. But since it is not possible to block out emotions selectively, they may simply stop feeling.

On the other hand, they may feel overwhelmed with feelings, flooded with fear, grief, shame, and rage. All too often, they suffer this distress alone, without a safe way to express their emotions and without consolation. 

Often survivors find it difficult to:

• Recognize their feelings
• Differentiate between emotions
• Express feelings
• Calm down when they get upset

Many survivors feel:

• Disconnected, isolated, and alone.
• A pervasive sense of shame
• Just a few feelings, rather than a full range of emotions
• Out of control with their rage or other feelings
• Confused
• Dead inside

Many survivors:

• Are prone to depression or despair
• Struggle with anxiety or have panic attacks
• Alternate between overwhelming anxiety, fear, or rage and being numb and shut down
• Feel agitated and on alert
• Have frequent nightmares
• Are afraid of their emotions
• Worry about going crazy
• Rarely feel pleasure, relaxation, or joy (pp. 6-7)

Often counseling offices have them on the wall.  I used to stare at one each time I saw it, struggling to imagine what it would be like to know, to really know and understand how you are feeling.  And to feel without fear or guilt or shame.  So, I now have an emotions chart that I carry around with me.  I have many copies, in fact.  When emotions wash over me, I try to study it and figure out what best fits what I am feeling.  I remain rather clueless in this matter, but I make the effort because I hope.

A friend who is a counselor was talking with me about this, about my past, and noted that I lack emotional intelligence, as well as the difficulty allowing myself to feel and to identify what I am feeling.  By this she meant that I am not really able to identify emotions in others and the cues they give.  This can make social interaction difficult.  And this also means that while I struggle to trust others, I also struggle to know who is safe to trust.  That is part of how end up trusting the wrong person.

Again.
And again.
And again.

This, too, is common with children who are sexually abused, but revictimization is a topic I hope to address at a later point.  But I would note, now, that this is not about a flaw in the sexual abuse survivor or something that is voluntary.  It actually has more to do with how predators work and the effects of sexual abuse, the wrong lessons ingrained as a child.

The lies of the predator, the lies of sexual abuse, are insidiously specious.

The point about emotions, about feelings, is that they are intricately connected and confused by sexual abuse.  Survivors often struggle with both fleeing from them and facing them without truly understanding why.  Therefore it is important for them to have supportive folk about them who understand that feelings can be frightening and confusing, who allow them to have and express feelings, and who remind them that to feel and to struggle with feelings is okay. 


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me! 

A beginning...

The Courage to Heal ought to be required reading for all teachers.  All medical personnel.  All clergy.  All emergency personnel.  All mental health professionals.  All judicial system personnel.  All sexual abuse survivors.  All family and friends of survivors of sexual abuse. Well, truly everybody.  Period.

The Courage to Heal, written by Ellen Bass and Laura Davis, first published in 1988, twenty-five years ago, is an outstanding resource for everyone.    Why everyone?  Well, sexual abuse is everywhere.  It is in our homes, our schools, our companies, our parks, our restaurants, our churches, our community activities.  With reported rates of sexual abuse being 1 in 4 females and 1 in 7 males, odds are that someone in every community, store, church, business, school, and sports team has been sexually assaulted.  Yet our nation is plagued by silence on the matter.

Oh, the stories of sexual abuse have become increasing prevalent in the news, sadly.  Of late, sexual assaults by youth—and oft by youth in groups—are the ones reported.  Yet what happens to those who are assaulted is rarely discussed.

I believe that is why we could, in 2013, have a judge dismiss all but a tiny fraction of a rapist's sentence because he believed that the 14 year-old who was raped was complicit.  No matter that the law states that age of consent is 16.  No matter that the girl committed suicide because she could not bear the aftermath of the months of the teacher's abuse.  No matter.  That judge, clearly, is completely and utterly ignorant of the impact sexual abuse has on the survivor.  He failed in upholding the law, but he also failed in his duty to understand the extent of the crime.  There is a reason for the law he dismissed so easily.  An important reason.

Twenty-five years the information in The Courage to Heal has been available, and yet even mental health professionals are not always aware of the impact of sexual abuse or how to help survivors.  Twenty-five years and yet those who are in vocations of caring for others are rarely aware of the impact of sexual abuse or how to help survivors.  Twenty-five years and yet parents and family members are not always aware of the impact of sexual abuse or how to help survivors.  Twenty-five years.  That, in and of itself, is criminal to me.

We know the importance of and teach stop, drop, and roll.  We know the importance of and teach CPR.  We know the importance of and teach having a dedicated driver when drinking with friends. But we do not know about the impact of sexual abuse on the body, the mind, and the emotions or teach about it when every two minutes in America sexual abuse is taking place.  Right now as you are reading this. Right now in your community.

Every. Two. Minutes.

I have written veiled things on my blog.  I have posted veiled things on Facebook, when I have been on there.  I have posted articles of sexual assaults to show how it happens everywhere and posted articles and videos to show its impact.  Yet there is rarely ever any engagement on the topic and, going by site statistics, those posts are rarely read.

My friend, while recently trying to help me through a bad spell, talked to me about the subject of bodies with regard to receiving the gifts of Christ.  While I cannot remember, due to my compromised brain, what  she said, my first thought was Oh, how I wish someone, anyone, had said that to me years and years and years ago!  My second was that I want to write specifically about the impact of sexual abuse rather than hiding my thoughts beneath and between lots of other words.

Nearly two weeks have passed and each time I set out to start writing, a panic attack set in.  I am weak. I am frightened.  And I am most decidedly not brave.  Yet still I want to write.

I thought about writing specifically on my personal blog, but I want to write in such a way so that if ever anyone wanted to learn something about sexual abuse an its impact, then that information via my experience and my reading of The Courage to Heal would be labeled and navigable.  So, I am going to write here.  If for none else then for me.  So, while I may cross post entries, this is where I will be writing the things I wish to say, the things I wish others will learn to that those like me might have a better chance at healing sooner rather than later.

Since picking up this book, I have come far, but I have much, much further to go.  The things I have learned in counseling, I have to re-learn daily.  The truth that has broken through the lies has to be re-told daily.  For the lies persist.

I want to finish by including the first part of the chapter Effects: Recognizing The Damage:

The long-term effects of sexual abuse can be so pervasive that it's sometimes hard to pinpoint exactly how the abuse affect you.  I can permeate everything: your sense of self, intimate relationships, sexuality, parenting, work, even your saint.  As one survivor explained:

"It's like those pictures I remember from Highlights for Children magazine. T he bicycle was hidden in a tree, a banana was growing from someone's ear, and all the people were upside-down.  The caption underneath said, 'What's wrong with this picture?' But so many things were disturbed and out of place, it was often easier to say, 'What's right with this picture!'"

Many survivors have ben too busy surviving to notice the ways they were hurt by the abuse.  But you cannot heal until you acknowledge the impact of the abuse.

Because sexual abuse is just one of many factors that shaped your development, it isn't always possible to isolate its effects from the other influences on your life.  If you have trouble trusting people, is it because you were molested when you were nine, because your mother was an alcoholic, or because you were left alone for hours every day as a small child?  It's the interplay of hundreds of factors that make us who we are today.

The way abuse was handled when you were a child has a lot to do with its subsequent impact.  If a child's disclosure is met with compassion and effective intervention, the healing begins immediately.  But if no one noticed or responded to your pain, you were left feeling abandoned and alone.  If you were blamed, were not believed, or suffered further trauma, the damage was compounded.  And the ways you oped with the abuse may have created further problems.

...

The effects of child abuse can be devastating, but they do not have to be permanent. (The Courage to Heal, Bass and Davis, pp. 3-4)

The effects of child abuse can be devastating, but they do not have to be permanent.
The effects of child abuse can be devastating, but they do not have to be permanent.
The effects of child abuse can be devastating, but they do not have to be permanent.

In thinking about what my friend said about our bodies being how we receive the gifts of Christ, what I believe is important for others to understand is that receiving the sweet, sweet Gospel can be painful and/or difficult for those who have been sexually abused.  That doesn't have to make sense to you.  I hope to help in that area.  But, if nothing else, I hope that you might learn that a child of God might long for the healing of the Living Word and the Lord's Supper and yet flee from it at the same time.  And in learning such you might accept such.  And in accepting such you might help that child of God on his or her journey of healing.

I want to write about topics that still terrify me, that still shame me, because, in my experience, people view sexual abuse as a mental health problem, rather than a whole person problem.  They overlook its effects on the body and on the spirit ... and especially on faith.

I would like to finish by noting that the young girl I mentioned above is a sexual abuse victim.  Bass and Davis are very specific and very careful to delineate between who is a victim and who is a survivor.  If you have died as a consequence of sexual abuse, you are a victim.  Everyone else is a survivor.  If you are alive, you are a survivor, no matter where you with regard to healing.  You are alive.  You are a survivor.  To see someone as a victim, to treat her or him as such, can hurt that person further.  To view yourself as such, can obstruct your own healing.  That is lesson Number One.

I ... I am a survivor.


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!