Coping as a Child

This comes from an anonymous reader.

“Get your hands out of your pants!” is one of the first things I remember hearing my mother say to me as a child. What she didn’t know is that I had seen my father masturbating in the bathtub and that I had discovered my own genitals. I wouldn’t understand for decades how this experience would shape my own sexuality and become the root of sexual addiction, pain, and dysfunction in my life.

Although allowing me to see him may have been an innocent mistake on my father’s part, it was but a precursor to a decade of sexual abuse that I would experience from other trusted relatives.

As a child, I coped with those repeated traumas by participating in the abuse, looking for value and self-esteem by being important to someone else in inappropriate ways.

As an adult, this coping mechanism no longer works and leaves me empty, frustrated, and alone.

Part of my recovery work is through finding healthy ways to cope with my anxiety and the residual pain of childhood sexual abuse. The lust I feel for men is really just a cry from my soul to feel okay about myself and to connect with someone on a deeper level. That hopeless feeling deep down inside is the longing to have what I didn’t have as a child—a safe and healthy family.

--Anonymous

Two Responses to Lies and More Lies

Two of our regular readers responded to the "Lies and More Lies" post. The first is from Arnold Caines.

Television is one of the biggest purveyors of the world's lies. I remember being deceived as a child by that "classic" show, Happy Days.

Happy Days distorted relationships between men and women, especially as it related to dating. The focus of dating was to find some chick and to end up necking with her. The show's hero, Fonzie, personified that nearly every week. When I look back on the show, I'm astounded at the scale of the lie that was foisted on adolescents back then.

Years after the show ended I found myself battling concepts I learned from Fonzie who, in reality, was nothing but a womanizer. Amazing what a lie packaged up as a prime time hit TV show can do.


The second is from Heather Marsden.

The first time my father came into my bedroom, I was seven. "You are so stupid, dumb, and ugly no one will ever want to marry you unless you put out," he said. "I'm going to teach you how to put out."

Those words stuck with me most of my life. My first marriage was based on the fact that the guy asked me and I figured no one else would. It was a mistake.

Even today my self-esteem is not what it should be.

Words hurt, and they stuck.

My mother and sister convinced me that the abuse was my fault. I should have said no to him. I should have pushed his hands away. Somehow the abuse was my fault.

Later, my mom told me it was my fault my father died because of the embarrassment I caused them by being taken out of that house by the courts.

Those two lies still hurt.

But the biggest lie, the unspoken lie, was that I was not worthy of love. That no one could love me, not even God. I also thought all fathers were horrid, including God. It took time to trust in God the Father and turn my life over to the only safe Father there is.

Thanks for your blog. I find such encouragement in reading it.

Lies and More Lies

Most of us didn't have one single event that shattered our childhood. With some it was a prolonged abuse by one perpetrator. Others speak of multiple incidents. Regardless of the number of times, something happened and it damaged our lives.

Someone wrote me, "I felt as if I had been stamped with the word worthless on my heart." That's a lie he believed. He held on to it until he was 39 years old when he began a period of recovery.

Most of us were lied to or not believed, which made us appear as liars. We were exploited and sometimes perpetrators pulled us in with soothing words of love and tenderness. The worst lie is when a perpetrator no longer wants us around and yells, "You're only good for one thing."

What about you? What lies did you hear about yourself?

We were young and didn't know how to distinguish truth. We believed because they were bigger and older and we were small and young.

What about you? Will you write to me privately and tell me the lies you believed? How did you deal with them? How did you realize they were lies? I'd like to share them with our readers and I'll withhold your name if you like. Cec_Haraka@msn.com

The Pain Has No Teeth

The man wishes to remain anonymous but he gave me permission to post this. He said he had almost finished reading When a Man You Love Was Abused.

I think one of the things that's changed the past month is the pain. Every time the pain comes, I run away. Lately, the pain has been quite severe. However, I'm starting to see that the pain has no teeth. It cannot hurt me. I think that it may be a tool the Lord intends to use to bring needed change, freedom, and strength. I've already noticed a significant paradigm shift.

Things I used to run after to escape the pain are losing their appeal. I'm starting to see myself how others see me instead of through the lens of helplessness and inferiority. I'm sure there is still a ways to go, but it's nice to move beyond some roadblocks and live life with a little more breathing space.

Special Announcement from Cecil Murphey

Today I learned that the Kindle version of my book When a Man You Love Was Abused is available for $1.99 through Amazon. The special will run through next Wednesday, July 27. If you know someone who loves a man who was abused, or if you know a man who was abused, tell them about this offer.

This Saturday, July 23, in Grand Haven, Michigan, I will be involved in an important seminar to help those who have been abused and those who love people who have been abused.

Main sessions include: I Ought to Be Healed by Now and The Lies We Believe.

Breakout sessions include: When a Man You Love Was Abused, When a Woman You Love Was Abused, and Finding Hope in the Heartache.

For more details on the When Someone You Love Was Abused seminar, click here.

Learning New Things

Years have passed since I dealt with my abuse. I cried so much the first two years I wondered if I would ever stop. But I gained insights about my behavior. I realized there were times when I spoke angrily and wasn't even aware of the tone I conveyed.

It still surprises me to gain perspective about myself that stems from the abuse of childhood. I constantly see new ways in which my past changed the way I see the world and react to people.

The more those things happen, the more victorious I feel. And even better: The more I like who I have become.

Feeling My Feelings

My major coping method of survival from abuse was not to feel. When the emotional level got heavy, I went numb. I didn't do that consciously, but it was my way to handle the trauma of childhood. Once I became aware that numbing was what I did, I also realized that I needed to feel my pain—to re-experience the hurts of my past—if I wanted to be free from the past.

Here's how I did it and this may work for others. Each day I said, "I feel my feelings." I usually looked into the mirror and spoke to my image. I wanted that message to get into my core being.

Although I hadn't talked to a therapist or a pastor, I sensed that facing the hurts and feeling them once again was a step I had to take.

It took months before I became aware of how I felt; it took even longer before I fully accepted the abuse of my childhood. It took years before I knew I had been healed. It wasn't easy and it hurt. At times I felt alone, unloved, unwanted, unworthy—and many negative emotions flooded through my soul.

Each time I felt my emotions, the pain seemed to lessen a little. Now, years later, I can honestly feel my emotions.