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.

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?

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

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.

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.

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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.

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

College...your future...within reach

Did you know that fewer than 50% of all high school aged foster children in the United States will graduate from high school?  And only 3% of those kids will graduate from college with their Bachelors Degree?

I was never in foster care, but I should have been.  I was abused and neglected from age 7 into adulthood, but no one did anything about it.  I remained in the family home, and did my best - on my own instincts - to get through school.  Never once did a grown-up encourage me to do my homework, study, apply myself, take the ACT, or apply for college or college financial aid.  I didn't ask for help at school because I was afraid I'd have to explain why I needed their help.  I also never wanted to stand out as an excellent student, because I didn't want to be noticed.  So, I gladly slipped through high school without a single college credit and report cards full of B's and C's - well below my abilities.  I never studied for the ACT and never even looked at my ACT results.  I applied only to the nearest community college where I dropped out with a not-so-stellar GPA. 

You see...  This is where I compare myself to a foster child.  I'd moved out of my mother's home after graduating from high school.  I was suddenly on my own - no support, no experience, no one giving me advice or encouraging me, but also no one abusing me (at least not physically).  I worked full time to pay the rent, and went to school full time.  I still longed for my family, so I kept in touch with them often.  My mother was constantly criticizing, insulting and blaming me for her rotten life.  Every phone call ended with her unkind words followed by her slamming the phone down.  I'd call again a day or so later for more of the same.  Between my jobs, my relationship with my family, and trying to wash my sorrows away in bars, I was distracted from my academics to say the least.

I applied for financial aid that first semester and did not qualify because I had to include my parents' income due to my "minor dependent" status on their income tax return.  Never mind that I was not dependent on them.  Today there are ways around this - exceptions can be made for abuse survivors, emancipated children, etc.  Even if the government turns down your request for aid, the school has discretion to appeal on your behalf if you have extenuating circumstances!  I don't know if these exceptions existed in the early 90's, but I do know that I would never have asked for them if they did.  I did not want people knowing what trash I was.  At least that's how I thought of me - trash.

Flash forward all these years and I know that the abuse was no reflection on me, but had everything to do with them.

I also now regret nearly every decision I made regarding my education.  I wish I would have studied harder.  I wish I would have asked for help.  I wish I would have had the courage and confidence to pay attention at those college fairs at my high school.  I wish I would have allowed myself to dream bigger and believe that dreams can come true.  I wish I would have known that my youth was only the beginning, and that my future was up to me. 

The sky is the limit, not our abuse.  Abuse survivors - and foster children - are capable of absolutely anything.  We are not limited by what someone else did to us.

I am writing this with my younger readers in mind.  Don't blow the immediate opportunities that you are offered to move beyond the tragic circumstances in your life.  Don't wait years for a do-over, when you've got the chance right now to right the wrongs.

I'm getting my academic do-over right now.  Going back to college, having to do some maintenance to my damaged GPA, balancing life as wife and mother with a full course load at college, marveling at the options you have in terms of financial aid that are no longer available to me.  I can't help but smile when I reflect back over my life and see how far I've come, but that doesn't stop me from praying that each of you younger girls will not follow my exact (time, energy and emotion wasting) path.  I pray for earlier healing and success for you!

Girl Thrive is an amazing organization created with teen girls in mind.  Dr. Patti has occasionally visited this blog and even sent me two free copies of her book Invisible Girls.  If you are a teen girl whose life has been shattered by incest, Dr. Patti is here for you.  If you cannot afford to buy her book, send me an email and I'll mail you one of my copies - victoryoversexualabuse@live.com.  But one of the greatest things that Girl Thrive provides is college scholarships to girls age 24 and under who are incest survivors.  Check out her website for more information!  There is a wonderful life awaiting each and every one of us.

"The thief's purpose is to steal and kill and destroy.  My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life."  John 10:10

Counseling with Mom

You might remember my mother asking me if I'd go to a counseling session with her last winter.  It took until mid-May for her to call again, this time with a scheduled appointment on the books.  Coincidentally, it fell on my son's last day of school and we had a conflict during the exact same time slot as the counseling session.  We rescheduled the conflicting appointment and put off end-of-school celebrations for a couple of hours so that I could go meet with my mother and her counselor.

For me, rearranging my schedule around this counseling session is what loving and honoring my mother looked like that day. While she has not "earned" this, God commands it...  Additionally, God has given me - and will continue to give me - far more than I deserve or could ever earn, so who I am to withhold that from my mother?

I was glad that we met with her counselor.  I knew that if she'd gone to meet with me and a counselor of my choosing that it would likely be counter-productive, scary for her, and would quite possibly do more harm than good.

Her counselor made me chuckle a little with her earthy, meditative Dharma style (as in Dharma & Greg), but she is also sharp, fair and committed to helping people get better.  She is not at all the counselor I'd have chosen, but I hope and pray that she has been hand-picked by God for my mother.

When the counselor turned to me and asked what I'd hoped to get out of my relationship with my mother, I honestly didn't know what to say.  In my childlike heart, I wanted to weep and say that all I ever wanted was a loving, care-giving mommy.  At the same time...  In my vast experience of having been there and done a relationship with her, I know that distance has really been best for me.  So long as she is so broken, confused, confusing, irresponsible, hurting, hurtful, blaming, neglecting and denying...it is best for me to keep a healthy distance.

Before she and I can have a relationship, she needs to experience healing in her own life.  Without a degree of healing, she cannot possibly experience genuine, selfless, regret, remorse and repentance for the acts she committed out of her brokenness.  Without healing from her own pain, she will not be able to recognize or take responsibility for the pain she's inflicted upon others.

Since our meeting last week, I have discovered a renewed heart for my mother.  I witnessed first-hand last week some of the craziness of her mind, but I could also see that she is sincere in her desire to be better.  That is a first.

I have always told people that it's never too late to repair a relationship...but I never really thought it would happen for me.  We have a very long way to go, but I feel hopeful.

"As much as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone". Romans 12:18

"I want to punch them"

Out of the blue, my 6 1/2 year old son says, "Hey, Mom, do you ever want to talk to your dads?"  Having no idea where this came from or where it was headed, I gently answered, "No, not really."  He replied, "Really?  Never?  You never want to talk to your dads?  You never wonder what they're doing and want to talk to them?"  My husband was driving, so I was able to turn my head enough to make eye contact and explain again... 

"My first dad abandoned me when I was a baby.  I found him when I was 26 and spent a weekend with him at his mom's house.  After that weekend, I called him a lot, and sent mail and email and he never responded.  He didn't want anything to do with me.  He doesn't love me like a Daddy should, so I've had to move on with my life without him.  My second dad adopted me when I was really young, but he didn't treat me right.  He abused me terribly and touched my body in ways that no child should ever be touched...  I told my mom about it when I was eight years old, but she never made him stop.  The abuse lasted until I was old enough to make it stop myself at age 15 1/2, and then a judge told him when I was 16 that he couldn't see me anymore and he told me that I was freed from his abuse.  The touching hurt my body, but more than that, the way my mom and dads treated me hurt my feelings and my heart.  I carried that pain with me every single day until I was almost 30 years old, when God really started to help me feel better.  To this day, my mom and my second dad won't take responsibility for what they did, and sometimes my mother even says it was all my fault.  They don't love me the way a Mommy or Daddy should, so I don't really ever think about wanting to call them just to chat."

I was not teary-eyed or angry as I spoke...  I was calm, truthful and reassuring to him that these are things that his Mommy and Daddy would never, ever do.  When I stopped talking, he replied, "I want to punch them."

I had to turn away then, because my eyes were immediately filled with tears.  This was only the second time anyone ever expressed anger over what happened to me.  The first was my husband...  God really blessed me with my husband and sons.  They really know how to wrap their arms and hearts around me and love me into wholeness.

As I quietly cried, my husband jumped in and talked with our sons about forgiveness and surrendering everything - good and bad - to God.  Isn't it amazing how God provides, day in and day out?  He never leaves us or forsakes us.  He has, without question, provided my guys to me as a gift.  They help me to recover more every day.

"Dear friends, never take revenge. Leave that to the righteous anger of God. For the Scriptures say, "I will take revenge; I will pay them back," says the LORD." Romans 12:19

It is sad ... but God's got a plan

My feelings fluctuate as I grow, recover and get to know myself more deeply.  I am humbled by God's care and concern.  I am immensely grateful to be an ever-changing, ever-healing person.  I cannot put words to how it feels to know God's provision the way that I do.

But that does not always keep grief at bay.

For years my overwhelming feelings were anger, bitterness and rejection.  I felt grief for the first time four years ago.  It was freeing; comforting.  I was able to feel grief because I was finally able to see, believe and process the losses in my life.  Feeling grief involved recognizing that I was worthy.  That I deserved more than the treatment I received from my parents.

Ever since that day four years ago, grief  has been an occasional visitor.  It most often comes when I marvel at something that my children have that I did not.  You know - things as simple as childhood vacations or parents who volunteer in class.  My grief is generally a fleeting emotion, but there just the same.

Grief is visiting right now.

My teen years were spent formulating an escape plan.  I had to get out of my mother's abusive home the moment I graduated from high school.  For a few years, I bounced between living arrangements with friends, worked several part time jobs at once, and full time jobs at other times.  I went to college part time, and some semesters not at all.

I found myself completely unprepared to succeed in college.  I was unable to focus on my studies.  I lacked the self-esteem to be a motivated, self-starter.  Paying rent was my top priority and I knew nothing about grants or scholarships.  I didn't trust the idea of asking for help, as asking for help had failed me before.  I had the smarts for day-to-day survival, but did not know how to be an ambitious college student.

I left college with no degree.  It didn't matter to me at the time, but 16 years later it's a little crushing.

It didn't matter back then because all I wanted was to be a wife and mother.  I didn't care about a career.  If I'm being completely honest, I didn't think I had anything to offer professionally.  I knew I could be a good wife and mother - just do the opposite of my parents - but my image of myself said that I couldn't possibly contribute to anything professionally.  I was just trash.

I'm almost 36 now, married and raising two little boys...  I'm also trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up!  I want to do something I care about.  Work with abused children, or in child abuse prevention, or do fundraising for a worthwhile non-profit.  These jobs require a degree; a Masters in some cases.  So, my mind is completely overwhelmed with ideas of how to return to college.  I'm more than a little out of practice when it comes to the classroom!  And how do I fit college into my already busy life with two young children, volunteer work at school and church, a home to keep up and a husband that I want to spend time with?

As these thoughts have coursed through my brain over the last few months, I have fought back a few grief-filled tears.  Sexual abuse not only pierces a person's body, but their mind and heart as well.  Their life.  You wouldn't be reading this if you didn't already know that...  It's just so profoundly sad what childhood abuse can take away from a person.

I wouldn't change my life for anything...  If I wasn't a wreck as a young girl, I might have made drastically different decisions and ended up in a completely different place than where I'm at.  And I love where I'm at.  I love my husband and kids and pretty much everything about our lives.  I'm happy.

But, still, the suffering of children, young adults and grown men and women everywhere breaks my heart.  Sexual abuse has the power to collide with and destroy every aspect of a person's life.

As I ponder that fact, my mind goes to children around the world, waiting in foster care or orphanages for forever families to love and care for them.  These are children who have already been removed from their family's care, and often from their family's minds.  These children have the odds stacked against them.  They have every reason to struggle and fail as they move into adulthood; feeling abandoned, unloved and unworthy.  I pray for their healing and restoration.  I pray for loving families to intervene and give them their lives back.

It is not an overstatement to say that the losses caused by childhood abuse are profoundly sad.  They are.  But, I also know first hand that God is always present and in the middle of all things.  He loves every single one of us.  We were all made special and with a purpose.  And He provides hope and healing.

"Even though you planned evil against me, God planned good to come out of it. This was to keep many people alive, as he is doing now." Genesis 50:20

Read Genesis chapters 37-50 for more from God's word about a family's betrayal and God's perfect provision and plan.  Do you see any parallels between your life and Joseph's?  Do you see God's hand?

Fruitful Friday

"But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control." Galatians 5:22-23

When I started leading groups two years ago, a woman came by my house to pick up her workbook. My family was in the driveway, playing basketball... She parked in front of the house next door, so I walked over to meet her and give her her things. We chatted for a few minutes, and as she was about to leave, she looked back at me with tears in her eyes and said, "It gives me so much hope to watch your family playing so happily. I can't help imagining that this is waiting for me too."

I have often thought about her and how she'd found hope in merely catching a glimpse at what life has to offer through recovery. It makes me think of the "fruit" that knowing God (and his powerful healing and love) has produced in my life.

On Fridays, I want to rejoice with you - sharing with one another a snapshot of the fruit that we've experienced on this journey from victim to survivor.

This is what PEACE looks like to me today.

I am reminded of a picture taken at church camp 28+ years prior. That old picture was what peace looked like to me as a little girl... A week at camp. A week of love and carefree childish fun. A week - the only week a year - without the fear of sexual abuse. Today, I walk in the tall grass again, holding the hand of my precious son, knowing the indescribable peace that God has filled me with...everyday! I am removed from the fear of nighttime abuse and daily neglect and rejection. And my heart has been healed enough that I know true, year-round peace. God is so good!

Have you seen fruit in your journey? I would love to see it!! Write a post on your blog, linking back to this post, and leave a comment here with a link to your blog. I plan to figure out Mr. Linky between now and the next Fruitful Friday - until then, we'll have to use the comments to share.

Okay

After all these years of sharing with others about my abusive childhood, I am still a bit uneasy in my response to "I'm sorry." They (whoever I'm sharing with) are not apologizing, they are expressing sympathy and also affirming for me that I was not at fault. And that's the intent behind my saying "I'm sorry" when someone shares their pain with me.

But... What are we (survivors) to say in response? Do we shrug our shoulders and say, "Oh, I know... It's okay."? Surly not. It's not okay. I think my general response is to nod in agreement and thank them for their concern, compassion and encouragement.

As I've pondered this today, I've thought about what would prompt me to say anything close to "It's okay".

It is not okay for adults to abuse children. Not okay at all. Ever. Never.

What I would mean to say is that I am okay.

That... Because I felt so utterly alone and unloved for 28 years, I have a deep appreciation for the relationships I have with my husband and children. If I had never known lonely and broken, would I take for granted the love and happiness I have found in this family?

That... Because I have never known the unconditional love and acceptance of earthly parents, I have an inexplicable desire for my heavenly father. Would I want Him to this degree if I'd had wonderfully loving parents?

That... Because I grew up in a discouraging, neglectful home, I have a heart for children who remind me of me. Would I be this drawn to children in need if I'd have had it all as a child?

That... I went through the things I went through to help others get through what they're going through. Without my being a survivor of sexual abuse, would I be as passionate in ministry or have the ability to relate to others the way I can now?

That... God wastes nothing. He is so powerful and purposeful that He uses even the ugliest of human sins for good. He has done that in my life...

And that makes me okay. He makes me okay.

Finding my voice

Growing up in an abusive, neglectful, rejecting home taught me to fear others. Fear love. Fear relationships. Fear rejection.

Assume that they don't care so that when they, in fact, don't care, it won't matter. Much.

Living like that left me in a constant state of disconnect from others. I was needy for a man's love... And knew I could get their attention with my body and a flirtatious laugh. But I was terrified of women. In a twisted way (that many of you will understand), my abuser (dad) showed an interest in me (albeit disgusting and criminal), it was my mother who so loudly rejected me.

I didn't have a genuine, completely vulnerable friendship until I was 30 years old.

At 30, I had a one year old child and was desperate for a friend. Play dates became times for my one friend and me to talk, and she openly shared her life and invited me to share mine. So, share I did. For the first time ever.

I could share with her about my life, but I could not talk about how I felt about her. That took a couple of years, actually.

Before I was able to tell my one friend how I felt about her, I experimented by expressing gratitude and admiration on safer subjects - our church staff. I'd send kind thank you notes via email, telling myself that if they did not respond it was likely only because they were busy. No reflection on me. To my surprise (and utter satisfaction and elation) they always responded with kind words in return. They did not reject me. I could express warm feelings for someone other than my husband and child and not get spit out!

After months and months of my sending nice emails to the church staff and receiving nice emails in return, I decided I wanted to let my friend know how much she meant to me. I sent her an email and two days later she wrote me back and said she was speechless... among other things. She did not say she was disgusted, for which I was incredibly happy.

From then on, I have never hesitated to send someone a note to tell them how much they mean to me, to thank them for something they did, or to encourage them through a difficult situation.

I have learned to not only love, but to express love and receive love. I have found that at my core I deeply love and care about people. I root for the underdog, fiercely defend what is right, and regularly seek to provide uplifting and encouraging feedback regarding people's work (be it motherhood, their job, ministry, etc).

In recent months, I have discovered the immense power of a little encouragement...

Six months ago, I sat through a sermon that was largely annoying for me. I listened to every word, but kept saying, "But what if....?" I was relating his message to the very real cancer scare we were in the middle of, asking what to do if your worry is not about material things but about the life or death of one's child? As his sermon neared the end, he answered my question. I realized that I was worrying because I didn't trust God's plan to be perfect. It was a moment that changed my heart in the middle of a gut-wrenching season of our lives. I wrote about it on my family blog as soon as I got home, which my pastor happened to read. He emailed me that night and told me that my post taught him something and was the tool God used to improve his message for the next day. (We go to church on Saturday nights, there were still four other services on Sunday.) My words - the words of a mere mom, a young woman with no Bible college or even Christian high school under her belt - spoke to a pastor's heart and served to improve his sermon. Something I said had a trickle-down effect on more than 5,000 people. Wow.

And just this week... A blogging mom wrote a post from the heart, and she received some pretty nasty criticism in response. I sent her an email, hoping to encourage and spur her on in her pursuit of being fully vulnerable, giving others a safe place to find encouragement and validation regarding struggles that are common to so many but not readily discussed. My email got her mind racing, and resulted in a beautiful blog post about living life in spite of our fears, acting out in obedience, and being vulnerable and authentic with our lives. I have heard that her blog receives 100,000 visitors each day! I cannot even wrap my mind around the idea that a short email from my heart to hers served to encourage a spectacular blog post that has been read by countless people around the world.

In no way do I think I'm responsible for either of these two situations. The pastor is a phenomenal teacher and the writer is incredibly talented. Both of them have received these talents through His gifting. God no doubt placed the sermon and the blog post on their hearts... but he also used me to put the tiniest bug in their ears.

I have a vivid memory from shortly after my 21st birthday. A woman (older than my mother) watched me squirm as someone handed me a gift. When we were sitting together in private, she gently took my hand and told me that I would need to learn how to accept a gift. She could not have been more right.

As a younger, completely broken woman... I was squeamish when presented gifts, speechless if someone expressed feelings for me, stiff if someone wanted to hug me, defensive if anyone said my parents had treated me poorly (even though they had), and completely frozen by the prospect of telling someone that I cared for them. In his perfect time, God healed all of that and gave me a voice.

I can't carry a tune in a bucket, but this is a voice I am forever grateful for!

"Every good and perfect gift is from above." James 1:17

If you lost your voice somewhere amidst the destruction of sexual abuse, I want to encourage you to take baby steps to get it back. Journal, blog, comment on this blog, talk with a counselor, get real with your spouse, make your first friend.

I'm amazed that my first friendship came about a just six short years ago... and jump started such a tremendous change in me. In that time, God has opened door after door, giving me places - each a little larger than the previous - to share my heart and use my voice. With God, I moved into a place where I was able to discover my heart, my needs, my longings. His purpose.

All too often, survivors of sexual abuse find that the abuse has stripped away everything that is good and righteous in this life. However, when we are intentional and seek godly support and wisdom in our recovery, we will find that He has so much more in store for us. It is true. God brings beauty from ashes... and He is the only one who can! When we trust him.

"To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the Lord has planted for his own glory." Isaiah 61:3

"So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you." Luke 11:9

Holiday intruder

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. An American holiday typically celebrated by gathering with one's extended family and feeling immensely thankful and joyful. At least that's what everyone says they are doing. And what I really wish I was doing...

The problem is that I get distracted by certain circumstances and allow them to suck part of the joy out of the gathering part of the day. The time when we're with extended family, but it's not mine.

It is very easy for me to prattle off an extensive list of all the things I'm thankful for. Truly, God has blessed me in ways I never imagined possible. Ways that I can scarcely put words to. He has given me new life here on earth, a husband and children, wonderful friends, a church family, financial stability, a fantastic community in which to live... and eternal life. I am deeply blessed and deeply grateful.

But the loneliness that comes with not being with my extended family on Thanksgiving is a heavy burden. It has lessened over the years, but the anguish rears it's ugly head at some point every year. It hit today.

I stumbled upon this a little while ago...

"Talk to God about whatever may be pressuring you and then commit the entire matter into His hands...Acquaint Him with it; yes, even burden Him with it, and you will have put the concerns and cares of the matter behind you. From that point forward, exercise quiet, sweet diligence in your work, recognizing your dependence on Him to carry the matter for you. Commit your cares and yourself with them, as one burden, to your God."

-Streams in the Desert

I am alone right now - for the first time since 5:55am. I am headed upstairs for some quiet time with my Heavenly Father. Let's see how I do at committing my cares and myself to Him this Thanksgiving. Sometimes I hand things over to Him and then take them back.

I am going to leave you with Psalm 37:5, but I encourage you to get out your Bible and meditate on all of Psalm 37. That's where I'm headed right now!

"Commit everything you do to the Lord. Trust Him and He will help you." Psalm 37:5

Good night, friends. And may you be blessed this Thanksgiving and always.

Unit 6 Lesson 1, Letting Go of Shame and Guilt

It's been a while since I blogged a lesson. I have an hour or so before my son wakes up from his nap, so here goes...

Focal passage for this week: "There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." Romans 8:1

Memorize it, friends... You are not condemned or guilty. In Christ, there is freedom from the shame you carry! The shame and guilt that are not even yours in the first place!!

Every victim of sexual abuse needs to recover from the shame and the guilt that result from the experience. Shame is the feeling of humiliating disgrace of having been violated. Shame tells you that you are bad. Guilt is the feeling that you did something wrong. You may carry a false sense of guilt caused by the burden of knowing some great offense was committed and the belief that you must be responsible. In the process of recovery, victims must let go of the shame and recognize that both the responsibility and the guilt belong to the person who committed the offense.

Cathy described in a counseling session how ashamed she felt about her body. "It feels dirty. It is dirty! As soon as my Dad would get through with me, I would immediately take a shower, but I could still smell him, and I knew I had done something wrong. I felt bad. I felt guilty, as if someone were watching. I felt evil.

"Believe it or not, my pastor knew something wasn't right with me and my Dad. He turned us in. I mean, turned my Dad in. It stopped, but now it's ten years later and I still feel so much shame. I think I'll be okay and I'll get dressed up and ready to go out. Then suddenly a picture will flash in my mind of his sweaty body on top of mine, and I'll lose it. I'm totally devastated. I feel dirty and evil all over again. Sometimes I think that if I wouldn't have these flashbacks, I wouldn't feel so guilty. The truth is sometimes I feel ashamed for no reason. I feel guilty for just existing."

In your journal, describe the difference between guilt and shame.

Shame is about personhood. It is related to lie #2 in unit 3 - I must be a terrible person for him/her to do this to me! Guilt is about behavior. It is related to lie #1 in unit 3 - It is my fault! Remember John 8:32, "You will know the truth and the truth will set you free." You are not a terrible person and the abuse was not your fault. THE ABUSE IS NOT A REFLECTION ON YOU. IT IS A REFLECTION ON THE ABUSER.

Shame invades both the mind and the body.

First let's look at shame as it appears in the lives of victims. This very painful emotion invades both the mind and body of the victim. It is planted in guilt, nourished by memories and watered by secrecy. "I know you tell me," Cathy continues, "that now that I no longer keep everything inside, I will get better. But it's been a secret for so long, I'm afraid to tell! Listen to me. (She was starting to whisper.) I'll try to tell you everything I can remember, I promise... but not today." Later Cathy does go on to tell her story, again and then again. First she discloses it in individual sessions and then in a sexual abuse support group. For Cathy, and for every victim of sexual abuse, telling the story is one of the most important and necessary events in achieving recovery.

Just like Cathy, you may begin to talk in a whisper as you speak about your experience of abuse. Choosing to tell someone about your abuse is perhaps the most difficult challenge of the entire recovery process. Many of you have been threatened emotionally and physically that you are never to tell a word about what has happened.

Many victims have been shamed into believing that if they tell, terrible things would happen to them or to someone close to them, perhaps their mother or sister. They had to hear such things as, "Everyone will know this is your fault," "Everyone will be mad at you," or "Mother will leave if she finds out." The threatening statements that some survivors have been led to believe go on and on.

Compare your feeling about talking about your abuse with Cathy's feeling. Complete the sentence: "When I talk about it, I..."

whisper
talk faster
hug a pillow
close my eyes
curl up in a ball
other??

What were you told would happen if you shared your story? If you don't remember, describe how you feel about not remembering. What did you think would happen?

In my experience... My parents divorced 3 1/2 years after I told my mother of the abuse. She never believed me, but divorced my father because my "allegations" had destroyed the family. She took me to see a gynecologist when I was 11. The doctor confirmed a stretched hymen, but not a broken one (which would indicate intercourse, which had never happened). The doctor was unable to say for certain that I'd been sexually abused. Someone recommended counseling for me (I don't know who, but I was under the impression that it was court mandated). So I went for counseling at the county mental health office every week for the next year. After their divorce, my parents continued dating and my sister and I went to visit him often. I protested to my mother, but she insisted that I go on visits with him "to protect my sister". She still did not acknowledge that the abuse actually happened. She also told me that if I made any further "accusations" of abuse or told anyone about the unsupervised visits with my father, that the state would take me away and send me into foster care where I might be treated much worse. So, I went to counseling that year, and every year thereafter, and never once told of the ongoing abuse. I felt threatened into silence. Scared. Abandoned. Rejected. Helpless.

Back to the study guide... Talking about the abuse is difficult for all survivors. It may be more difficult for some than for others. Each survivor remembers as much as he or she needs to at each point along the recovery journey. Let God put each memory in its place and in its proper time. Remember to let yourself be "where you are". Seek to accept yourself as a person in process. You are growing and changing. Give yourself time. Comparing yourself in a negative way to others will hinder your recovery.

Assignment for the lesson:

Write your own paraphrase of Romans 8:1. What does this verse mean to you?

A gift?

This post is about something I have struggled a great deal with since Friday. Realistically, I know that this is not that big of a deal and that what I am experiencing is very common for people from all walks of life, but I have found shame and failure in it. Primarily because I took a firm stand (with hands on my hips and an angry red face) years ago that I would be nothing like my mother (whom I believe suffers from mental illness and unresolved issues).

So... I saw a doctor last Friday for tightening of the chest, difficulty breathing and dizziness. I've had these "episodes" a few times a month for the last couple of years, but they've always subsided after 30 seconds or so. I was never concerned about them... But in the last couple of weeks they have come much more regularly and an episode on Friday lasted for 15 minutes. To rule out anything serious, I went straight to the doctor. After a perfect EKG and chest x-ray, the doctor gently delivered the news that it's possible that I'm suffering from panic attacks. "They can run in families" she says.

I was immediately brought to a place of shame and failure when I heard those words. I managed to remain stoic in her office, but I was crumbling inside. I've been on a mission for good mental health since I was a child!

It was so confusing too. I can honestly say that I could not be happier and there isn't anything going on that I am worried, anxious or stressed about. Why these panic attacks? The doctor explained that they can come from nowhere and be for no apparent reason; that people who are not depressed or stressed can get them. This news makes me feel out of control, and I do not like that feeling one bit.

I don't really know what to make of it all. If you'd have asked me a month ago, I could have given you a list of a few major things that were on my mind - school starting, my three year old possibly having cancer, having two of my friends lose a child, adjusting to my husband's new work schedule... But I wasn't having increased "episodes" when all that was going on. That would at least make some sense!

So, when I got home from the doctor's office I read about Panic Attacks on the Mayo Clinic website. There I read that people who were sexually abused have a higher tendency to suffer from panic attacks. I was furious to read that they could be linked to the abuse I suffered as a child. How could he take this away from me too? It made me angry to think that, after all the progress I've made in my recovery, these panic attacks could have something to do with the abuse. (But, possibly not - I don't think we'll ever know.)

As I have processed this over the last several days, my anxiety over the whole thing has decreased a great deal. I understand that, if these are indeed panic attacks, it doesn't mean that I will spiral out of control. It doesn't mean I'm going to start making a decisions that devastate the lives of everyone around me. I am not a ticking time bomb.

And even as I sit here and type, I am wondering about something I read on another blog. JMom writes about the bags God packs for us... She says that "Some things bring groans and others bring grins... but all are gifts from a loving Father." Is this a gift? I really like that idea... I'm a silver-lining kind of girl (after I get past the shock and horror), so I'm wondering right now how this could be a gift. Off the top of my head - maybe being humbled by my plan not "succeeding" (perfect, unfailing, always-on-the-top-of-my-game mental status) will grow my understanding and compassion for people with mental illness. Maybe it will grow my compassion for my own mother and bring another layer of healing. The possibilities are endless, as He is God and I'm just me...

'"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD.' Isaiah 55:8

Rather than stay all bent out of shape over the situation, I am choosing to embrace this idea of it being a "gift from our Loving Father". I wonder how He'll use it.

Long time no talk (to Mom)

When I looked at the date of my last post, I about fell over. I wish I could blog here every day or so, but time is just not in my favor right now. My husband is still working very long days, at least six days a week, and the kids are out of school and keeping me running. I look forward to a slower pace and a return to a more desirable "normal"... and a return to this blog and my friends here!

I was talking with my oldest son the other day about his favorite family activities that stand out in his memory. So many of the things he spouted off were things I never experienced myself as a child. I am so very happy that my children have so much more than I did, but there's still that slight pang of sadness over my lost childhood. As I thought about that for a few minutes, I began to wonder when I'd last spoken with my mother. It was before my birthday, before Mother's Day, before my wedding anniversary (I don't even think she knows when that is)... Honestly, I think it was Christmas. And that was a terrible discussion; the call ended badly. As it sunk in that I haven't spoken with my mother in six months, I began to feel sad and even a little guilty for "not trying hard enough".

I'm sharing this with you because I know this is an all-too-common experience for those of us who are estranged from abusive family members. It is natural - God-designed - that we would desire relationships with our families. What is not natural - not God-designed - is for family members to abuse children and for those children to grow up having to protect themselves from the very people who are supposed to love and protect them.

I do not imagine that I will ever "get over" the estrangement from my family. I will always miss the idea of them. I even miss them to a certain degree. However, one thing that I am NOT is guilty! That is Satan trying to lure me into something that is not true. I am not guilty. I am the innocent survivor of sexual abuse who has been left with no choice but to distance myself and my family to ensure our physical and emotional safety. It is sad that I only talk to my mother by phone a few times a year, and possibly see her once or twice a year. It is sad that as my children get older, they have more questions and put more of the pieces together. They are beginning to realize that my mother is not a safe person for us to be around. Part of me wants to shield my mother from this realization, but that is not my job. My job is, in fact, to do just the opposite. My job is to shield my children from dangerous situations, and that requires informing them that being alone with my mother could be dangerous. This absolutely was not God's design; rather it was my parents' decisions that led us here. As I tread these waters, I lean on Him to lead the way. As each question pops out of my children's mouths, God provides the words for me to answer them. As I mourn the loss of my earthly mother, I am deeply touched and grateful for the perfect and unending love of my Heavenly Father. I praise God for the salvation and restoration found only in Him.

Unit 4 Lesson 4, From Death to Life

Survivors of sexual abuse suffer a mental and emotional death as a result of the abuse. God created you to live in a wholeness of body and soul. Sexual abuse severely damages that ability. Your first need is to have your mind and emotions restored to life and health.

Now that you have started your restoration from sexual abuse, you can understand the biblical pattern of restoration. One of the Hebrew words for restoration means "to live" or to "be restored to life". Restoration from the abuse means to live, perhaps for the first time in your life!

In 2 Kings chapter 4, a Shunamite woman befriended the prophet Elisha, and she and her husband built a room for the prophet of God in their home. Elisha, wanting to do something to thank the woman, prayed that she would conceive a son. The Shunamite woman gave birth to a son the following year. Later in chapter 4, the son (a grown man) died, but God restored him to life. This story vividly demonstrates the principle of restoration. God gives life and even when circumstances cause death, God can restore life. Only God can do this!

God will restore

Sexual abuse causes its own kind of death. Your next step is to begin to risk and to believe that God will restore the life that has been stolen from you. The Shunamite woman appeared again in 2 Kings chapter 8... She had lost all her land holdings due to a famine. She appealed to the king, who had just learned from Elisha's servant that this is the woman whose son had been restored to life. The king then appointed an officer whom he commanded, "Restore all that was hers and all the produce of the field from the day that she left the land even until now" (2 Kings 8:6).

Through the king, God restored what the Shunamite woman had lost. Our caring God is in the restoration business! As you continue to pray, learn, and grow, God can restore you to a life of meaning, purpose and joy. Begin your appeal to the King, Jesus Christ, and allow Him to restore your life.

In your journal, list your dreams and desires that have died because of sexual abuse.

You might have written something along the lines of, "a sense of innocence, the ability to trust again, spontaneity"...

When I did this exercise a year ago, I wrote: "To have a close-knit family. For my kids to have loving relatives. To be able to trust family." As I think about those answers today, I realize that those are actually things I have to contribute to in order to realize them. My "close-knit family/loving relatives" consist of my in-laws (which I chose when I chose my husband) and our friends... And "to be able to trust family" goes back to my choices again -- have I chosen trustworthy people? In order to have these things restored to me, I had to make wise choices and I had to be willing to take a risk on them. I have done both of these things -- and I am overwhelmed by the way these dreams and desires have come true.

One thing that I did not write down as a lost dream or desire a year ago, but today recognize as one is.... I always wanted to be "acceptable" and "well-liked". I certainly wasn't around my house, so I assumed that I wasn't anywhere else either. In the last several months, God has really shown me that that is not true at all! As I have shared before, I have been reconnected with long-lost friends from my childhood and teen years... The memories they are sharing with me are completely repairing the image I have of myself from those days. I am still amazed at how this is even possible - but God is using these old friends to show me that I was never unacceptable or outcast by them.

Do you think the Shunamite woman ever asked "Why me?" or, "If only things could have been different"? Describe any thoughts like these that you may have had, including the circumstances when they occurred.

Your responses may indicate that you are beginning to let yourself feel some grief and loss about the consequences of the abuse. That is good recovery work! Keep it up.

In your journal write your feelings about the losses you have suffered due to sexual abuse.

Isaiah 42:16, "I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them."

God can be trusted, my friends. I continue to pray for you daily.

A renewed youth

I am in the process of putting my life's story into a book and in the last few days, I have been feeling like I need to write as fast as humanly possible... The reason? My memories are changing.

Social networking sites like Facebook and My Space are all the rage. Many of my friends are out there and they talk about it all the time. I was tempted, but I knew there were two reasons I did not want to go there. #1 - A part of me was afraid that no one from my past would even remember me and I'd feel rejected. But I know the truth - I know that I was never invisible and that my memories of the past were horribly clouded by my pained perspective. #2 - In the past I struggled with an overwhelming desire to reject people I was in relationship with before they could reject me. Deep down, when considering these social networking sites, I would think, "But, if I reconnect with an old boyfriend, will that tempt me to ditch my husband if I'm mad at him?" The honest truth is that I can never say that would never happen, but my husband and I take careful measures to ensure that our relationship is what it should be. The bottom line - I was choosing not to participate in this social networking stuff out of fear. As I thought about it, I decided that I wanted to make a conscious decision this time to overcome my fears.

God has honored that... I was blessed right away with renewed relationships with several people from my early childhood and teen years. Some I haven't seen in over twenty years. They have said the nicest things to me and have shared some of the most pleasant memories with me. I had forgotten so much of what they remembered. As I talk with them, they are reconstructing my past - giving me a fresh and pure perspective of innocence, joy, and youth. Those gaps in time that I do not remember at all are being filled now with bike races, days at the pool, slumber parties, birthday parties, Girl Scouts, crushes, camp and homemade pizza. As I discussed this with my friend today, I'd expressed my excitement over getting to finally experience this stuff. It was then that she said, "I'll bet you experienced it then too but just had too much going on at home to keep the fun memories fresh in your mind." I know that she is right. I did experience fun things as a child, but the pain of the abuse quickly diminished the good stuff. But the opposite is happening today... I am remembering all the good stuff and the bad memories are diminishing. It is a crazy, wonderful, amazing thing.

This is the third time I have gone through Shelter From the Storm in the last year. When I started leading groups a year ago I had a pretty good handle on things. However, I do not think I would be discovering this much profound healing if it wasn't for the study and the continued recovery efforts that I am making everyday. I want to encourage you to keep taking your journey into recovery. It is amazing the way God has been faithful to his word; "Who redeems your life from the pit; Who crowns you with lovingkindness and compassion; Who satisfies your years with good things, So that your youth is renewed like the eagle." Psalm 103:4-5

I feel an urgency to write this book quickly. I fear that the youth I want to write about will be all but forgotten before I know it. But my story needs to be shared. I want to share it in its entirety so that other survivors will know that they are not alone. God has laid it on my heart to write it, so I know He will allow the memories, feelings and emotions to be real long enough for me to accomplish His work. But it is coming quickly.. a completely renewed youth.

Unit 3 lesson 3, Consequences of False Beliefs

The false beliefs that we have bought into drive much of our behaviors and attitudes. As I read this lesson for the first time last year, I had one ah-ha moment after another. I learned a great deal about myself and my thought patterns. I hope and pray that you will too.

The false beliefs that we've discussed in lessons 1 and 2 lead to low self-worth, guilt and undeserved responsibility for the abuse. Most often, abuse survivors look to family members to fix the brokenness - especially when our abuser was a family member. Survivors try to resolve the beliefs and feelings through various behaviors such as care-taking, people-pleasing and continued conflict. Any of this sound familiar?

Before I go further with this, I want to focus on how a survivor looks to family members to fix the brokenness. I was stuck in this pattern for a very long time. I longed for my mother to love me. I wanted so badly for her to finally take my side and throw her protective, unconditionally loving arms around me. I wanted to hear the words, "You are right. He abused you and I neglected you and ignored the abuse. I believe you and will do everything in my power now to nurture and protect you. I love you. You are special and so very important to me." I thought that if my mother said those words, that it would change everything. It would make me whole again to know that my mother believed me, cared about me, and loved me as a mother should. As I have talked with other survivors, I've learned that most of us have these deep longings for family relationships. And many of us put ourselves in situations that continue to be hurtful, sometimes even abusive, in hopes that the relationship will one day be loving and healing (only to be hurt more while we wait). As I discussed this with a counselor last year, I commented that it was almost "sick" for survivors to do this to themselves... But the counselor reminded me that WE are not the ones who are sick for having these longings. It is our abusers that are sick. It is our dysfunctional family members who are in the wrong. Our desire to have loving relationships with our families is completely natural and God's design; however, it is sometimes just not possible. God did not design families to be broken, but all too often that is the state of affairs in this world we live in. And the "sins of the father" continue to be paid for by the children.

Low self-esteem

One way to think about self-esteem is to replace the word "esteem" with "respect". So, SELF-RESPECT it is. Think about your life. Do you treat yourself with respect? Do you demand that others respect you? If the answer is "no", you likely suffer from low self-esteem. For me - the lack of self-respect led to a relationship with an abusive boyfriend. I believed I was utterly unlovable and didn't deserve anything better. Other ways that one can disrespect themselves include promiscuity (and other sexual behavior), drug/alcohol abuse, self-harming, etc. Many victims believe that they do not deserve respect. You might feel dirty, used up, or damaged. These feelings prevent you from protecting yourself, and you wind up being abused again and again. Having self-esteem provides the ability to acknowledge both our strengths and weaknesses and to see ourselves as people with value and meaning. Another way I've heard it is "God esteem". To view ourselves as God views us.

Frequently, victims of sexual abuse struggle with body image issues. They look into the mirror and see an image that they hate. For some, they hate a specific part of their body - a part that was frequently abused. As a young child, I hated my femininity. I prayed that God would change me into a boy, and engaged in every boy'ish activity I could find. I wanted desperately to repel my father. I kept thinking, "If I can become enough like a boy, he will lose interest in me." For many, this thinking continues into adulthood. Many dress in too-big clothes, or have even intentionally gained significant amounts of weight to ward off any unwanted attention. The thing that runs through a victim's mind is, "I don't want to have sex, so it must be my body that is sending these signals. I hate me. I hate my body. I hate everybody."

The following is a list of symptoms of low self-esteem. Write down the ones that you experience.

A constant feeling of worthlessness
Persistent thoughts that you didn't do it right
Broad swings in negative and positive attitudes about yourself
Self-doubt
One mistake destroys feelings of accomplishment or success
Negative self-statements
Over-responsible - feeling that everything is always my fault
Under-responsible - being unable to acknowledge that I was wrong
Difficulty making decisions

You may have noted one or two, or the entire list... Consider sharing what these have been like for you in the comments.

We need to realize that low self-esteem is a mindset, not a state of being. Low self-esteem is an attitude about ourselves; therefore, it can be changed! We are not vain, self-centered, or egotistical when we view ourselves as God views us. We can allow Christ to lead us as we change our mind-set from one of inadequacy to one of competency and fulfillment. He can transform our feelings from helplessness and hopelessness to affirmation and determination, from condemnation and self-hatred to self-affirmation and love.

Guilt / Self-blame

If you have an absolutely awful feeling inside yourself that says you somehow caused the abuse, know that you are not alone, but that IT IS NOT TRUE. Frequently, victims will blame themselves for not preventing or stopping the abuse. Adolescents and children who have been sexually abused rarely have the emotional maturity to deal with what is happening to them. Physical and mental maturation is not reached until late teens. When children are violated, however, the normal maturation process is severely damaged.

Can you identify any guilt or self-blame in your life?

Let's talk for a minute about that last statement, "when children are violated, the normal maturation process is severely damaged". I have heard that in some ways a child stops maturing at the age he/she was abused. As I've talked with other survivors, many have noted that a part of them was "stuck". That they still felt like that child - young, vulnerable, unable to stop it, unable to deal with it, having no control, feeling the EXACT same emotions from years ago. Many times we also view our abusers as we did back then - as our parent, our trusted family friend, our teacher... A person whom we fear because of their abusive behavior, but that we also care about and desire to have a completely different relationship with. As we journey through this recovery process, we are becoming less and less stuck and are beginning to see more clearly the reality of our lives. We are beginning to recognize our brokenness and are placing responsibility on the correct person - the abuser. We are maturing, healing, growing...

Shame

In addition to self-blame, survivors experience a deeper feeling that something was terribly wrong with them. If they weren't so messed up, the abuse would never have happened. That feeling is called shame. What child victims of sexual abuse must cope with is incomprehensible. Children lose their rightful identities as loved and valuable human being. They must try to mature in life with a foundation based on confusion and betrayal.

Many factors enter into the healthy development of children. The false beliefs of shame and undeserved blame, established as children grow, devastate their emotional stability as adults. Whether we experienced sexual abuse as children, as adults, or both, we need to let go of the shame and undeserved responsibility.

Have you been shaming yourself? Thinking something along the lines of, "I don't deserve to be happy." or "I'm a freak. I am not worth loving."

Take some time right now to pray about these major consequences of sexual abuse. Tell yourself the truth... If you have low self-esteem - tell yourself, "God loves me and I can love me too." If you feel guilty or are blaming yourself - tell yourself, "Responsibility belongs to the abuser." If you are ashamed - tell yourself, "I am worthy of respect and love."

For me - this lesson was empowering, yet it also grieved me. It laid all my losses out in black and white. I was overwhelmed at the life that someone took away from me and the awful one they gave me to replace it. I had to take some time to look closely at this and deeply grieve all that I'd lost. I realized that it was utterly sad, crushing, heartbreaking... I was less angry and just plain sad that my life is not how it should be. And as sad as I feel about it, I can only imagine how heartbroken God is. From a parent's perspective, I feel that I have a very slight grasp of how He feels. This is not how He designed His children (my parents) to treat their child (me - also His child). So, if God is more grieved than I am (and I firmly believe He is), then I have a lap to crawl up into for comfort. I am not alone - God is with me. Tears are streaming down His face as well.

There is a lovely prayer in the workbook that I would like to close with. It is from the book's authors, Cynthia and James. "God, grant these readers the experience of knowing Your love, Your freedom from undeserved guilt, from self-blame and from shame. May they know that they can love and respect themselves. Help them to believe, to accept, and to feel the truth of Romans 8:1, that there is "now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." In Jesus' name we pray. Amen.