About six months after I first dealt with my sexual assault, I made progress, but the process seemed to go on and on. "Why is it so hard?" I asked Steven Grubmann, a fellow survivor.
"The deeper the wound, the slower the healing." Those aren't Steve's exact words, but I knew what he meant. We were naïve, innocent kids and they turned our world upside down.
If the violation had been only somebody beating us up on the playground that probably wouldn't change our entire life. But sexual assault permeates every part of us.
The question makes me think of a situation I encounter professionally. I'm a ghostwriter-collaborator and have made my living at this craft for thirty years. Perhaps twenty times a year someone wants help in learning to write a book, and comes to me.
I hardly know how to answer except to point out that the art or craft of writing takes time—years—of hard work and serious commitment. One reason most would-be writers fail is because they stop trying. They often pout, "Nobody will take first-time writers." "No one cares." The excuses pile up, and I heard all of them when I first started. But I persevered and it paid off.
Perseverance. Persistence. It's not a one-month rehab course.
The wound is deep. The healing is slow, but the result is worth it.
3 comments:
It hurts is all I could say. It is like a splinter that is in deep & it's hard to pull it out. You got to dig deep. The splinter has to be removed before the healing can start. 35 year old wound that I protected kept hidden. I didn't let anyone touch that deep splinter that went to the core of who I was. Then I took it to the cross & gave it to my Lord & Savior. It was as if I went back 2000 years to the foot of the cross & laid it down. He gave his life for that & I can trust Him with it. It was just the beginning of Him coming into those very dark places of my life. He is gentle & kind. I am learning I can trust him with the hurt. It is hard but worth it!
I do understand about deep wounds and the need to protect them. Raised as a preacher's kid but abuse by that same preacher, I subconsciously learned not to trust the God of my father with such intimate personal pain. I could not talk to my mom, I could not talk with my father, and so I did not talk to God about something so personal and private.
So it too festered for a long time. It took me decades to find someone I trusted that I could talk to and fortunately it was a Christian. He helped me to bring my pain, anger, and resentfulness to the cross too. My victory did not happen overnight but the gentle Savior did remove the pain, lies and the anger as I was able to walk that road of forgiveness.
Learning I could trust the God of my father with the sin of my father was not easy. For years I could not even speak of it; just blocked it from memory. I clung to the fantasy of happy childhood until the fantasy fell apart as they all eventually do to the sane ones. The only thing that stands the test of time is truth and having accepted it I found I could cling to it safely. Truth may hurt but it also heals if allowed to. But yes, it was hard, very hard. The good things sometimes are.
R
Roger, your phrase "Learning I could trust the God of my father with the sin of my father was not easy" has really hit me. Wow, what a statement of truth, faith, hope, trust.
It both challenges and encourages me.
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