When marginally icky things happen, I can easily respond with an "Everything's gonna be alright" attitude. However, when it's more of a bitter blow, my natural response is to panic, get angry, bawl my eyes out or blow my top. And, when I get angry, I like to give the silent treatment. Those who most often receive the silent treatment are my husband, God, and occasionally my children. I need them to know that I am angry, and I need to be silent....lest I say anything aloud that I will later regret.
I heard something today that was very wise.
"When I turn away from God in a difficult circumstance, it only becomes more difficult. But when I turn back to God, my difficult circumstance becomes easier."
This is so true; but I've often got to be reminded of this the hard way. I am stubborn and I get angry...and in those moments I refuse to talk to Him or listen to Him as He speaks to me. In doing so, I drag out my misery.
My wise friend also said... "Life is not meant to be hard. It's only as hard as we make it."
We all experience difficulty, and some of us experience gut-wrenching tragedy; but how we choose to respond to it really does impact how hard it is.
I praise God that I know Him and that He is in the business of graciously rescuing and carrying His beloved children. My friend left me with one final encouragement - pray. Pray regularly and preemptively that "when I am faced with difficulty, I will not forget who you are."
I meant for this post to be a reminder to not forget God, but I believe it relates to our spouses and children too. While I am giving the silent treatment to them, I am shutting them out. They are God's gifts to me. My husband is my partner that I am meant to journey all of life with. When I am hurt or angry, I pray that I will not lose sight of who my husband and children are; and that we will live in a way that honors God's perfect design for those relationships.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
Not destroyed
I never set out with the intention to write a certain kind of post on here - I just write what's on my mind and in my heart. Recently, without realizing it, I wrote several posts in a row that depict the really sad consequences of sexual abuse in my life. If there is someone else out there going through the same things I have (and I know there are!), I want them to know that they are not alone. And for those who have harmed a child, I want them to know just how far-reaching the devastation can be. The details are hard to read, but it is a cold hard truth that sexual abuse destroys relationships...and very possibly lives.
I have received the kindest, most compassionate, emails and comments from readers here, in response to those posts. So many expressing heartfelt sadness over the loss in my life. I am deeply touched by your heart and concerns toward me. Humbled to be so tenderly received. Thank you. I love the community of survivors.
I want you to know though, that I am not destroyed by what happened to me. I once was, but I am not anymore. It is indeed very sad at times. I think it always will be... But I am so very good.
I think it's only natural to grieve a loss. Much like a death of a close family member, I will always grieve the loss of family I loved but can no longer be in relationship with. However, it is truly for my benefit to not be in relationship with them.
I am happy. Honestly, I am way beyond happy. I never in my wildest dreams thought my life would turn out the way it has. Happily married. Mother of two. No chaos. At peace with my past. Finishing my college degree. Volunteering at church and in my community. Surrounded by countless loving friends who have become family. My life is incredibly full.
I have not been defeated. I am not defined by someone else's sin. I am not even defined by my own sin!
Praise God for the healing truths found in His Word, the Shelter From the Storm study and groups, trustworthy counselors, wisdom and support of other survivors and cherished friends, and of course my beloved husband and children. These incomprehensible gifts have changed my life!
I have received the kindest, most compassionate, emails and comments from readers here, in response to those posts. So many expressing heartfelt sadness over the loss in my life. I am deeply touched by your heart and concerns toward me. Humbled to be so tenderly received. Thank you. I love the community of survivors.
I want you to know though, that I am not destroyed by what happened to me. I once was, but I am not anymore. It is indeed very sad at times. I think it always will be... But I am so very good.
I think it's only natural to grieve a loss. Much like a death of a close family member, I will always grieve the loss of family I loved but can no longer be in relationship with. However, it is truly for my benefit to not be in relationship with them.
I am happy. Honestly, I am way beyond happy. I never in my wildest dreams thought my life would turn out the way it has. Happily married. Mother of two. No chaos. At peace with my past. Finishing my college degree. Volunteering at church and in my community. Surrounded by countless loving friends who have become family. My life is incredibly full.
I have not been defeated. I am not defined by someone else's sin. I am not even defined by my own sin!
Praise God for the healing truths found in His Word, the Shelter From the Storm study and groups, trustworthy counselors, wisdom and support of other survivors and cherished friends, and of course my beloved husband and children. These incomprehensible gifts have changed my life!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Loss
A friend request was waiting for me as I logged onto Facebook last night. Right away I clicked the "do not know this requestor, block future requests" button, as I didn't think I knew the person. After about a minute though, it donned on me... It was my adopted father's step brother. In my family we've never specified "adopted", "step" or "half" - we were all just FAMILY. Here I only do it so that readers can have a better chance at following my family tree with branches going in all directions.
My dad was my abuser, and this uncle is his brother. My dad is a master manipulator and liar to the Nth degree. I don't know what he told his family - if anything - about his broken relationship with me. But my policy has always been to never put others in the middle. Never throw all of the dirty laundry on the family dinner table for everyone else's consumption, judgment, and involvement.
Instead, I've just gone away quietly. So quietly, and so far away, that I did not even recognize my uncle's name when I read it. I haven't heard from him in well over 20 years.
As I looked at his friends list, I saw faces and names I hadn't thought about since I was a kid. My father has four brothers and two sisters. I had four uncles and two aunts, cousins too, and grandparents... I loved them. They seemed to love me. They never laid a hand on me or said an unkind word in my presence. They were not your leave-it-to-beaver types - lots of dysfunction for sure, but they never touched me the way my dad did.
I don't have them in my life anymore, and I suspect that I never can again given what my father did. Their brother. Their son. In all likelihood, given the emotional condition of my family, I am guessing they would choose his side. Perhaps these thoughts only come from my woundedness, the feelings and very low expectations of a little girl whose abuse carried on for years despite the family members who did know and did nothing... Perhaps they would respond with loving kindness and righteous anger.
My uncle had to search for me on Facebook by name. I was on his mind. Did he look for me on his own, or did my father put him up to it? Having been sexually abused by my father makes me almost paranoid - second guessing the intentions of my uncle. His brother. I think I sort of lump all of them together.
As I thought about the extended family that so abruptly fell out of my life all those years ago, I laid on my bed and wept over the loss. So much loss.
My dad was my abuser, and this uncle is his brother. My dad is a master manipulator and liar to the Nth degree. I don't know what he told his family - if anything - about his broken relationship with me. But my policy has always been to never put others in the middle. Never throw all of the dirty laundry on the family dinner table for everyone else's consumption, judgment, and involvement.
Instead, I've just gone away quietly. So quietly, and so far away, that I did not even recognize my uncle's name when I read it. I haven't heard from him in well over 20 years.
As I looked at his friends list, I saw faces and names I hadn't thought about since I was a kid. My father has four brothers and two sisters. I had four uncles and two aunts, cousins too, and grandparents... I loved them. They seemed to love me. They never laid a hand on me or said an unkind word in my presence. They were not your leave-it-to-beaver types - lots of dysfunction for sure, but they never touched me the way my dad did.
I don't have them in my life anymore, and I suspect that I never can again given what my father did. Their brother. Their son. In all likelihood, given the emotional condition of my family, I am guessing they would choose his side. Perhaps these thoughts only come from my woundedness, the feelings and very low expectations of a little girl whose abuse carried on for years despite the family members who did know and did nothing... Perhaps they would respond with loving kindness and righteous anger.
My uncle had to search for me on Facebook by name. I was on his mind. Did he look for me on his own, or did my father put him up to it? Having been sexually abused by my father makes me almost paranoid - second guessing the intentions of my uncle. His brother. I think I sort of lump all of them together.
As I thought about the extended family that so abruptly fell out of my life all those years ago, I laid on my bed and wept over the loss. So much loss.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Where do we go from here?
Many people know that I recently celebrated Christmas with my birth family for the first time in ten years. A handful of friends have asked how it went, but I struggle with my response... Not sure what to say or how to say it. There are so many emotions, so many harsh realities, so many things wrong, and even one startling revelation. When I think about verbalizing our Christmas celebration, the story that comes to mind is not about that one night but about where everything stands. The words decorum and discretion fill my mind, as I ponder answering their questions completely... Reminding me that polite people want to hear how the evening went, but very few people want to hear where I think it might take us. I expect that people from relatively functional families will have their heads spinning as they hear the unsavory dynamics of my family. Every family has their issues, but issues like ours are kept quiet - they are still taboo dinner fodder. The issues faced by my family are made for Intervention or Celebrity Rehab or Dr. Phil - shows that people can watch and gasp at in private.
For those polite people who merely want to know about the evening... It was awkward, but nice. My mother was beaming, as she sat with her daughters and all of her grand kids for the first time ever. The cousins played together, just as I remember playing as a child with my cousins. The menu was simple, and the mood was relaxed. Conversations easily flowed as we discussed jobs, budding romances and mutual friends. I felt more connected to my sister and her kids than I had in many years. I enjoyed seeing the tiny boys that I loved so very much...that are now early teenagers. And I loved looking into the face of my niece and being reminded of the little sister that I once shared a bedroom and secrets about boys with.
There were also parts that were difficult for me. Seeing into my sister's life, and knowing some of the brokenness that holds her captive in challenging situations. Knowing that my nephews and niece have sad holes in their lives... My heart goes out to them - my sister, her kids, and my mom - and I yearn to make a difference in their lives. At the same time, I pull back to protect my own.
And I remember my extended family... Those who offered kind words of encouragement and spent time with me, yet made no move to help me in the ways that I really needed. To my knowledge, they never tried to give me a solid, loving home. I felt so abandoned. I frequently heard that my mother was doing "the best that she could". The older I got, the angrier that statement made me. My emotional response was to say that she failed miserably and could have done better. It wasn't until our family Christmas that those five words finally made sense to me. As my mother shared that she is bipolar, I understood that she actually had done the best she could without medication. In a new way, my heart goes out to my mother. I am grieved by all that she's lost to her mental illness. And by what it's cost my brother, sister and me. And my nephews and niece. And my children.
What do their futures hold? What is my role? How can I help? And how do I get convinced that helping them will not destroy me in the process?
For those polite people who merely want to know about the evening... It was awkward, but nice. My mother was beaming, as she sat with her daughters and all of her grand kids for the first time ever. The cousins played together, just as I remember playing as a child with my cousins. The menu was simple, and the mood was relaxed. Conversations easily flowed as we discussed jobs, budding romances and mutual friends. I felt more connected to my sister and her kids than I had in many years. I enjoyed seeing the tiny boys that I loved so very much...that are now early teenagers. And I loved looking into the face of my niece and being reminded of the little sister that I once shared a bedroom and secrets about boys with.
There were also parts that were difficult for me. Seeing into my sister's life, and knowing some of the brokenness that holds her captive in challenging situations. Knowing that my nephews and niece have sad holes in their lives... My heart goes out to them - my sister, her kids, and my mom - and I yearn to make a difference in their lives. At the same time, I pull back to protect my own.
And I remember my extended family... Those who offered kind words of encouragement and spent time with me, yet made no move to help me in the ways that I really needed. To my knowledge, they never tried to give me a solid, loving home. I felt so abandoned. I frequently heard that my mother was doing "the best that she could". The older I got, the angrier that statement made me. My emotional response was to say that she failed miserably and could have done better. It wasn't until our family Christmas that those five words finally made sense to me. As my mother shared that she is bipolar, I understood that she actually had done the best she could without medication. In a new way, my heart goes out to my mother. I am grieved by all that she's lost to her mental illness. And by what it's cost my brother, sister and me. And my nephews and niece. And my children.
What do their futures hold? What is my role? How can I help? And how do I get convinced that helping them will not destroy me in the process?
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Mental illness
As a young girl, I thought that my mother was very tired and very sickly. She would sleep from the moment she got home on Friday night and not get up again until time for work on Monday. Was she sick? Super tired? Avoiding me??
She missed a lot of my school functions, and even our church Christmas program every year. My dad would show up and explain that Mom was "not feeling well". Having her miss my functions made me cry in grade school, but by middle school I was used to it and didn't expect anyone to show up anymore.
When I was 8 or 9, I remember Dad saying that Mom needed to see a doctor. I'd suggested that he call my friend's dad (a general practitioner), and Dad replied with "Not that kind of doctor." He mumbled something about needing to see a doctor about her mind, her thoughts... I didn't understand. No one ever explained it to me.
When I was 19 - after watching her moods shift from deliriously happy to unable to get out of bed, and listening to her version of my childhood, her childhood, subsequent marriages, and our home life - it began to dawn on me that something was actually wrong with my mom. I figured it was one of three options - she was a sociopath, she was mentally ill, or she was just plain mean.
As I was wrapping a very typical "granny" gift for my mom from my boys last week, I remembered something I'd long ago stuffed away... When I was 14, my dad took my younger sister and me shopping for a gift for Mom. We picked out a Christmas sweatshirt and some leggings (it was the 80's). We LOVED it and thought Mom would too. She didn't. In fact, as we sat around the beautifully decorated Christmas tree opening gifts, she yelled at us. I can still hear her saying "Did you really think I would like this? When have you ever seen me wear something like this?" On December 26th she took us back to the store to return it and made us hand the cash over to her so she could buy her own gift. I was forever scarred by that... I never bought a gift for her again without a specific wish list.
For the last several years I've suspected bipolar... She has a ton of personal issues to work through, but she is more than just troubled. Last week, my mom shared with me that she quit counseling in June and that she was diagnosed bipolar a long time ago. She's taken various antidepressants, but a doctor has never even offered her lithium. I thought lithium was the most effective way to stabilize the effects of bipolar?
She has seen dozens of counselors and doctors over the years, resulting in diagnoses of PTDS, anxiety, psychological shock, chemical imbalance, depression, and now bipolar. And every time she walks away from those treating her, and ultimately the meds too. She has made so much progress over the last couple of years. I hate to see her get swallowed up again by old thoughts and patterns that continue to chip away at what is left of fragile relationships, her job, her LIFE. When she is not overcome by the things that plague her, she is wonderful.
I heard the other day that children who are raised in volatile homes have higher incidence of mental illness, drug and alcohol use, depression, anxiety, and low academic achievement. Looking back over the generations in my family I see this pattern played out over and over again. It breaks my heart to look out at my extended family and see all of the children who were destroyed by ill parents, and in many cases have become ill themselves and are now caught in the cycle.
I pray for those effected by mental illness. It is far reaching, for generations and generations. I pray that we can rise above the circumstances in our childhoods when we have the opportunity, making wiser decisions than those who went before us, and knowing the hope and freedom there is in dealing with our struggles instead of being defined by them. I pray for comfort for those whose loved ones are slipping away, and for strength and wisdom as we try to help those who need it. For those who are in the grip of mental illness, I pray for a long enough pause in the turmoil that they will seek treatment and that their doctors would have the wisdom and know-how to treat them effectively. I pray for an end to the suffering caused by mental illness, and for restoration to become common among families impacted by these devastating diseases.
"May the Lord bless you and keep you." Numbers 6:24
She missed a lot of my school functions, and even our church Christmas program every year. My dad would show up and explain that Mom was "not feeling well". Having her miss my functions made me cry in grade school, but by middle school I was used to it and didn't expect anyone to show up anymore.
When I was 8 or 9, I remember Dad saying that Mom needed to see a doctor. I'd suggested that he call my friend's dad (a general practitioner), and Dad replied with "Not that kind of doctor." He mumbled something about needing to see a doctor about her mind, her thoughts... I didn't understand. No one ever explained it to me.
When I was 19 - after watching her moods shift from deliriously happy to unable to get out of bed, and listening to her version of my childhood, her childhood, subsequent marriages, and our home life - it began to dawn on me that something was actually wrong with my mom. I figured it was one of three options - she was a sociopath, she was mentally ill, or she was just plain mean.
As I was wrapping a very typical "granny" gift for my mom from my boys last week, I remembered something I'd long ago stuffed away... When I was 14, my dad took my younger sister and me shopping for a gift for Mom. We picked out a Christmas sweatshirt and some leggings (it was the 80's). We LOVED it and thought Mom would too. She didn't. In fact, as we sat around the beautifully decorated Christmas tree opening gifts, she yelled at us. I can still hear her saying "Did you really think I would like this? When have you ever seen me wear something like this?" On December 26th she took us back to the store to return it and made us hand the cash over to her so she could buy her own gift. I was forever scarred by that... I never bought a gift for her again without a specific wish list.
For the last several years I've suspected bipolar... She has a ton of personal issues to work through, but she is more than just troubled. Last week, my mom shared with me that she quit counseling in June and that she was diagnosed bipolar a long time ago. She's taken various antidepressants, but a doctor has never even offered her lithium. I thought lithium was the most effective way to stabilize the effects of bipolar?
She has seen dozens of counselors and doctors over the years, resulting in diagnoses of PTDS, anxiety, psychological shock, chemical imbalance, depression, and now bipolar. And every time she walks away from those treating her, and ultimately the meds too. She has made so much progress over the last couple of years. I hate to see her get swallowed up again by old thoughts and patterns that continue to chip away at what is left of fragile relationships, her job, her LIFE. When she is not overcome by the things that plague her, she is wonderful.
I heard the other day that children who are raised in volatile homes have higher incidence of mental illness, drug and alcohol use, depression, anxiety, and low academic achievement. Looking back over the generations in my family I see this pattern played out over and over again. It breaks my heart to look out at my extended family and see all of the children who were destroyed by ill parents, and in many cases have become ill themselves and are now caught in the cycle.
I pray for those effected by mental illness. It is far reaching, for generations and generations. I pray that we can rise above the circumstances in our childhoods when we have the opportunity, making wiser decisions than those who went before us, and knowing the hope and freedom there is in dealing with our struggles instead of being defined by them. I pray for comfort for those whose loved ones are slipping away, and for strength and wisdom as we try to help those who need it. For those who are in the grip of mental illness, I pray for a long enough pause in the turmoil that they will seek treatment and that their doctors would have the wisdom and know-how to treat them effectively. I pray for an end to the suffering caused by mental illness, and for restoration to become common among families impacted by these devastating diseases.
"May the Lord bless you and keep you." Numbers 6:24
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
A family Christmas
Five years ago my mother invited us to Thanksgiving. I emailed one of my pastors as soon as I received the invitation, heart pounding, hands shaking, seeking his reassurance that I was not sinning if I turned down the offer. He didn't spoon-feed me the words I was looking for... Instead, he reminded me that God's natural design was for families to be together, but also affirmed that in no way would God want me to be abused. With our pastor's guidance, my husband and I established firm boundaries and a solid exit strategy should the Thanksgiving function turn bad. We were relieved to not need the exit plan.
However... That was the last time we spent a holiday together. Heck, that was the last time I was under the same roof as my mother and sister at the same time. In fact, I haven't even seen my sister in over four years.
I was keenly aware of my growth and healing when I came to my husband last night with this statement: "We stopped having holidays with my family because it was too upsetting for me - too painful and unhealthy. That rationale no longer exists, as I'm strong enough now to handle whatever happens and wise enough to know that their issues are not about me." As we talked, we settled on a very different way of spending Christmas this year.
We are having my mom, sister, nephews and niece over for a Christmas celebration tomorrow night. I know it's not Christmas Day, nor is it even Christmas Eve, but it's a start. My children have only met their four cousins twice - very briefly in passing - I cannot imagine them never knowing them. And, as disconnected and dysfunctional my mother is, she has shown tremendous commitment to getting well, and shows a sincere interest in being a better mother and grandmother. I know that this time together would mean the world to her.
Truthfully, I do not like my mother or sister very much, but these feelings I have about them are based on things that happened in the distant past, when my sister and I were young and didn't have a lot of life experience (maturity) under our belts. Of course my mother doesn't have that same excuse, but I believe that wounded people hurt people. I have grown so very much in the years since we were last together, and I'm eager to see if they have too. I have no idea where this meal will lead - if anywhere - but I look forward to seeing them and am praying for changed hearts and lives. It would, indeed, be a Christmas miracle if the overwhelming feeling in the room was love. I pray for love towards my birth family. Blessed, relationship changing, opportunity-giving love.
However... That was the last time we spent a holiday together. Heck, that was the last time I was under the same roof as my mother and sister at the same time. In fact, I haven't even seen my sister in over four years.
I was keenly aware of my growth and healing when I came to my husband last night with this statement: "We stopped having holidays with my family because it was too upsetting for me - too painful and unhealthy. That rationale no longer exists, as I'm strong enough now to handle whatever happens and wise enough to know that their issues are not about me." As we talked, we settled on a very different way of spending Christmas this year.
We are having my mom, sister, nephews and niece over for a Christmas celebration tomorrow night. I know it's not Christmas Day, nor is it even Christmas Eve, but it's a start. My children have only met their four cousins twice - very briefly in passing - I cannot imagine them never knowing them. And, as disconnected and dysfunctional my mother is, she has shown tremendous commitment to getting well, and shows a sincere interest in being a better mother and grandmother. I know that this time together would mean the world to her.
Truthfully, I do not like my mother or sister very much, but these feelings I have about them are based on things that happened in the distant past, when my sister and I were young and didn't have a lot of life experience (maturity) under our belts. Of course my mother doesn't have that same excuse, but I believe that wounded people hurt people. I have grown so very much in the years since we were last together, and I'm eager to see if they have too. I have no idea where this meal will lead - if anywhere - but I look forward to seeing them and am praying for changed hearts and lives. It would, indeed, be a Christmas miracle if the overwhelming feeling in the room was love. I pray for love towards my birth family. Blessed, relationship changing, opportunity-giving love.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
You've been remade!
You Are More
Tenth Avenue North
There's a girl in the corner
With tear stains on her eyes
From the places she's wandered
And the shame she can't hide
She says, "How did I get here?
I'm not who I once was.
And I'm crippled by the fear
That I've fallen too far to love"
But don't you know who you are,
What's been done for you?
Yeah don't you know who you are?
You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.
Well she tries to believe it
That she's been given new life
But she can't shake the feeling
That it's not true tonight
She knows all the answers
And she's rehearsed all the lines
And so she'll try to do better
But then she's too weak to try
But don't you know who you are?
You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.
You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.
'Cause this is not about what you've done,
But what's been done for you.
This is not about where you've been,
But where your brokenness brings you to
This is not about what you feel,
But what He felt to forgive you,
And what He felt to make you loved.
You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.
You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.
You've been remade
You've been remade.
You've been remade.
You've been remade.
Tenth Avenue North
There's a girl in the corner
With tear stains on her eyes
From the places she's wandered
And the shame she can't hide
She says, "How did I get here?
I'm not who I once was.
And I'm crippled by the fear
That I've fallen too far to love"
But don't you know who you are,
What's been done for you?
Yeah don't you know who you are?
You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.
Well she tries to believe it
That she's been given new life
But she can't shake the feeling
That it's not true tonight
She knows all the answers
And she's rehearsed all the lines
And so she'll try to do better
But then she's too weak to try
But don't you know who you are?
You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.
You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.
'Cause this is not about what you've done,
But what's been done for you.
This is not about where you've been,
But where your brokenness brings you to
This is not about what you feel,
But what He felt to forgive you,
And what He felt to make you loved.
You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.
You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.
You've been remade
You've been remade.
You've been remade.
You've been remade.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Interview
I have been speaking and writing a lot about sexual abuse on the campus of the college I attend. I'm a non-traditional student in my later 30's, and I've found that I'm occasionally looked to as a mentor figure, especially by young survivors of childhood abuse.
An 18 year old student approached me last week about doing an interview for a project she is working on. She has to write a paper about "a local organization or place that people might like to visit". While she concedes that no one wants to visit a child abuse victims advocacy center, she feels that a tremendous service can be provided by talking about sexual abuse and those who are committed to preventing and responding to it. She is so awesome! She has courage, tenacity and composure beyond her years.
I am so honored to be a part of her paper, and I thank her for the opportunity to share...but even more, I thank her for standing in the gap for survivors of sexual abuse and doing her part to make this world a safer place for children.
Sexual abuse is so painful - so intimate - that it often isolates survivors from healthy relationships. Sexual abuse not only violates ones body, but their boundaries, sense of self, and ability to love and trust as well. All too often, the experience teaches survivors not to trust appropriately, and sets survivors up for a lifetime of excruciating isolation and secret keeping, interrupted by periods of blindly trusting all the wrong people. This cycle sets in motion a lifetime of repeated victimization.
I am a survivor of sexual abuse. Abused at the hands of my parents, overlooked and neglected by my entire extended family, I know all too well the pain and isolation accompanied by sexual abuse. For 29 years I accepted the blame and carried their secrets with me. It was only when I stood firmly on my own two feet, declared that their crime was indeed a crime and no reflection on me, that I was able to begin moving forward, healing, recovering from what had interrupted my life for far too long.
It is only through breaking the silence - discarding the false beliefs that I was dirty, unlovable trash - that I began taking my first steps into wholeness. Wholeness is delightful. I never dared dream life could look this way. I never believed I could truly be happy, loved, capable, confident, seen and known. I cannot keep the fact that recovery is possible a secret; therefore, I talk. I speak to student groups and women's groups, I lead support groups for survivors, I write a blog, my family chairs a fundraiser every year. I share the facts about sexual abuse, define it, put a face to it, encourage survivors to seek recovery, share tips for keeping children safe, and support organizations whose mission it is to eradicate and respond to child sexual abuse.
One of my favorite organizations is Sunflower House, serving Johnson and Wyandotte Counties, providing abuse prevention classes to adults and children, and meeting the needs of children and families currently processing through a case of child sexual abuse. Sunflower House provides an environment in which children undergo forensic interviews and medical exams on-site, rather than in police station interview rooms and doctor's offices. Doctors on-site are able to write prescriptions as needed, and Sunflower House provides gift cards to cover the expense of medications. Additionally, every child who comes through the door at Sunflower House is able to pick a gift out of the Bear Showcase as a pleasant surprise. As a young girl who went through "the system" 28 years ago, shuttling between two different police stations and a sterile, grown-up gynecologist's office as a fourth grader, and then again as a teenager, I cannot emphasize enough what a difference Sunflower House makes in this part of the journey. This serves to make an unbelievably difficult situation gentler.
Sunflower House is making a remarkable difference in the fight to eradicate and respond to child sexual abuse. It is our honor to chair a fundraiser for them each year, and to spread the great news about their work.
An 18 year old student approached me last week about doing an interview for a project she is working on. She has to write a paper about "a local organization or place that people might like to visit". While she concedes that no one wants to visit a child abuse victims advocacy center, she feels that a tremendous service can be provided by talking about sexual abuse and those who are committed to preventing and responding to it. She is so awesome! She has courage, tenacity and composure beyond her years.
I am so honored to be a part of her paper, and I thank her for the opportunity to share...but even more, I thank her for standing in the gap for survivors of sexual abuse and doing her part to make this world a safer place for children.
************************************************
Sexual abuse is so painful - so intimate - that it often isolates survivors from healthy relationships. Sexual abuse not only violates ones body, but their boundaries, sense of self, and ability to love and trust as well. All too often, the experience teaches survivors not to trust appropriately, and sets survivors up for a lifetime of excruciating isolation and secret keeping, interrupted by periods of blindly trusting all the wrong people. This cycle sets in motion a lifetime of repeated victimization.
I am a survivor of sexual abuse. Abused at the hands of my parents, overlooked and neglected by my entire extended family, I know all too well the pain and isolation accompanied by sexual abuse. For 29 years I accepted the blame and carried their secrets with me. It was only when I stood firmly on my own two feet, declared that their crime was indeed a crime and no reflection on me, that I was able to begin moving forward, healing, recovering from what had interrupted my life for far too long.
It is only through breaking the silence - discarding the false beliefs that I was dirty, unlovable trash - that I began taking my first steps into wholeness. Wholeness is delightful. I never dared dream life could look this way. I never believed I could truly be happy, loved, capable, confident, seen and known. I cannot keep the fact that recovery is possible a secret; therefore, I talk. I speak to student groups and women's groups, I lead support groups for survivors, I write a blog, my family chairs a fundraiser every year. I share the facts about sexual abuse, define it, put a face to it, encourage survivors to seek recovery, share tips for keeping children safe, and support organizations whose mission it is to eradicate and respond to child sexual abuse.
One of my favorite organizations is Sunflower House, serving Johnson and Wyandotte Counties, providing abuse prevention classes to adults and children, and meeting the needs of children and families currently processing through a case of child sexual abuse. Sunflower House provides an environment in which children undergo forensic interviews and medical exams on-site, rather than in police station interview rooms and doctor's offices. Doctors on-site are able to write prescriptions as needed, and Sunflower House provides gift cards to cover the expense of medications. Additionally, every child who comes through the door at Sunflower House is able to pick a gift out of the Bear Showcase as a pleasant surprise. As a young girl who went through "the system" 28 years ago, shuttling between two different police stations and a sterile, grown-up gynecologist's office as a fourth grader, and then again as a teenager, I cannot emphasize enough what a difference Sunflower House makes in this part of the journey. This serves to make an unbelievably difficult situation gentler.
Sunflower House is making a remarkable difference in the fight to eradicate and respond to child sexual abuse. It is our honor to chair a fundraiser for them each year, and to spread the great news about their work.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Redemption
"Redemption is not only something that means we get to go to heaven, but something that He is passionate to carry out now, in specific life situations, to make things show His brand of beauty - in which a healed relationship or person can reflect more glory than one who never knew brokenness." -Kelly Minter, No Other Gods
Praying this for each of us today. For too many, the abuse has been far-reaching and forever scarring... Painful beyond what we can verbally express. Isolating. Lonely. Fracturing families. Robbing of us years and years of our lives... Through that deep brokenness, healed by God's even deeper-penetrating healing, love, acceptance and provision, may each of our lives reflect more glory than one who never knew brokenness.
Praying this for each of us today. For too many, the abuse has been far-reaching and forever scarring... Painful beyond what we can verbally express. Isolating. Lonely. Fracturing families. Robbing of us years and years of our lives... Through that deep brokenness, healed by God's even deeper-penetrating healing, love, acceptance and provision, may each of our lives reflect more glory than one who never knew brokenness.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Genesis 50:20
One trade off of returning to college this semester was that it wouldn't leave time for me to lead a sexual abuse recovery support group this fall. I didn't even have to think about the decision to lead or not to lead because it was so completely obvious that I wasn't being called to lead a group right now.
Then my Public Speaking class started.
My teacher slips life lessons into his lectures every single day - most of them themed along the fact that how we talk often conveys "where we've been in life". Where we've lived, how we've lived, what we've lived through, level of education, financial status...the list goes on. The lessons are always accompanied with indirect encouragement and the God's honest truth that not one of us is limited by whatever difficulty we are facing. I marvel at his heart for these young people and his uncanny ability (and willingness) to meet them where they are at in order to help them get to where they want to go. So many of these kids have high aspirations that can easily become dwarfed by the challenges they are facing.
I knew from day one that I wanted to give a speech or two on something related to sexual abuse. As I have been watching my teacher in class, I have diligently tried to piece together my first speech. He has asked for volunteers to go first for the past two classes, and not a single hand has been raised. After class the other day I went to talk with him about the difficulty I was having narrowing down the information and my heart to a single 5-7 minute speech. Then he asked me to do something that still has my head spinning...
He wants to give me 10-15 minutes per speech, and he has asked me to give every speech this semester on the topic of sexual abuse.
I can hardly believe it!
I have mulled over my first speech quite a bit and have decided that rather than jump in with a bunch of abuse prevention information (for an informative speech), I would start by sharing my story. Pinch me. I get to talk with them about my own experience with poverty, a broken home, an absent birth father, a sexually abusive adopted father, a neglectful mother, feeling orphaned at 18, dropping out of college due to overwhelming loneliness and confusion, utter helplessness and paralyzing insecurity, underage and reckless drinking, destroyed relationships, and countless other unwise decisions that I regret to this day --- all as a result of unaddressed brokenness. And I get to share the healing that takes place in a solid, loving relationship, with unwavering sobriety and careful attention to other unhealthy coping mechanisms, an unimaginable community of friends, and an honorable heavenly father who fills every hole left behind by not-so-honorable earthly beings. The purpose of this speech is to persuade them to address past hurts sooner rather than later, saving precious time and allowing life to be restored to them.
Seriously? I get to do this? In a college classroom? And after that, I get to talk about ways to keep kids safe!
God is good. All the time.
"You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives." Genesis 50:20
Then my Public Speaking class started.
My teacher slips life lessons into his lectures every single day - most of them themed along the fact that how we talk often conveys "where we've been in life". Where we've lived, how we've lived, what we've lived through, level of education, financial status...the list goes on. The lessons are always accompanied with indirect encouragement and the God's honest truth that not one of us is limited by whatever difficulty we are facing. I marvel at his heart for these young people and his uncanny ability (and willingness) to meet them where they are at in order to help them get to where they want to go. So many of these kids have high aspirations that can easily become dwarfed by the challenges they are facing.
I knew from day one that I wanted to give a speech or two on something related to sexual abuse. As I have been watching my teacher in class, I have diligently tried to piece together my first speech. He has asked for volunteers to go first for the past two classes, and not a single hand has been raised. After class the other day I went to talk with him about the difficulty I was having narrowing down the information and my heart to a single 5-7 minute speech. Then he asked me to do something that still has my head spinning...
He wants to give me 10-15 minutes per speech, and he has asked me to give every speech this semester on the topic of sexual abuse.
I can hardly believe it!
I have mulled over my first speech quite a bit and have decided that rather than jump in with a bunch of abuse prevention information (for an informative speech), I would start by sharing my story. Pinch me. I get to talk with them about my own experience with poverty, a broken home, an absent birth father, a sexually abusive adopted father, a neglectful mother, feeling orphaned at 18, dropping out of college due to overwhelming loneliness and confusion, utter helplessness and paralyzing insecurity, underage and reckless drinking, destroyed relationships, and countless other unwise decisions that I regret to this day --- all as a result of unaddressed brokenness. And I get to share the healing that takes place in a solid, loving relationship, with unwavering sobriety and careful attention to other unhealthy coping mechanisms, an unimaginable community of friends, and an honorable heavenly father who fills every hole left behind by not-so-honorable earthly beings. The purpose of this speech is to persuade them to address past hurts sooner rather than later, saving precious time and allowing life to be restored to them.
Seriously? I get to do this? In a college classroom? And after that, I get to talk about ways to keep kids safe!
God is good. All the time.
"You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives." Genesis 50:20
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)