Being Healed

Abuse causes most of us to end up with little self-esteem (although some become braggarts or bullies to hide the truth). Because we were overpowered as children, control is often a big issue for us as adults—fighting for it or surrendering to those who threaten us by their words or presence.

Because someone we trusted betrayed us, many of us are slow or unable to trust others. We may freeze when someone unexpectedly touches us. Some of us slide into substance abuse to deaden the pain. Sexual dysfunction is common.

That's not an exhaustive list, but I mention them because they're symptoms of long-term issues. Even to be aware of them isn't a cure, but it's like a doctor analyzing our disease and prescribing the medicine.

I'm not quite healed, but I am being healed.

Recovery #2

At the beginning of our recovery, we may assume full healing is imminent —which I did—because we're unaware how severely we've been damaged or don't realize that our wounds have been festering for years.

For many, the abuse took place during a short period of time. It could have been a one-time assault or something that happened repeatedly for three or four years. Regardless of whether once or forty-six times, the molestation worked like an undetected virus that invaded our souls, went systemic, and infected every part of our psyche. Among other things, abuse destroys our ability to see ourselves as we are.

How could healing not be difficult and time-consuming? The core of our being is at stake. We need to fight, not just for ourselves, but for our families and others around us who’ve been touched by the abuse we endured.

Recovery

Our abuse took place in secret, and it happened when we were young and innocent. We lived with our hidden pain for years. I turned fifty-one before my memories flooded over me and forced me to learn to cope with my painful childhood.

Here's a statement I've adapted from Voice Today, an organization that works with survivors of sexual molestation.

A victim of murder feels no more pain;
A victim of childhood sexual abuse feels pain for the rest of his life.

You may challenge that last phrase, "for the rest of his life," but I believe it's true. Terrible things were done to us and it takes a long time—years—the rest of our lives--to work through the process and to undo the damage. All our lives is accurate because the damage is deep and it's painful.

Learning to Trust (Part 2 of 2)

This post comes from Gary Roe. 

“God, help me to trust you. I truly want to trust you.”

This has become my daily prayer.

My mother and grandfather were the main perpetrators. They sexually abused me during early childhood. If they (the ones who should have nurtured and protected me) could do that, what might the rest of the world do?

Because of them, I felt unsafe growing up.

I still do.

I’m convinced my father knew nothing about the abuse. Now I find myself asking, “How could he not know? How could he miss the signs?”

My dad lived in denial. I can look back and see it permeating his life. The bottom line: My father could have stepped in and protected me, but he didn’t.

I’ve discovered that I automatically assume that my heavenly Father is like my earthly father. That means that deep down in me I believe that even though God could step in and protect me, he doesn't. Or he won’t. I might even believe that he is clueless sometimes, he doesn’t really care, or that I don’t really matter.

I’ve made God in the image of my earthly father. I’ve let what happened to me shape my view of him. I need to repent. I want to see and know him for who he really is.

“God, help me to trust you. I truly want to trust you.”

Trust Comes Hard for Me (Part 1 of 2)

This post comes from Gary Roe.


Trust comes hard for me. That’s natural and makes sense. I was sexually abused and raped by family members in early childhood. Those events and relationships have defined much of my life.


After decades of saying that I trust God, I've discovered that I really don’t. I believe that he exists, that he’s with me, but when life gets really difficult, I don’t believe that he will come through for me or protect me.


That means I must protect myself. I have to figure things out and direct my life. Not only that, I have to manage and control other people and situations. My lack of trust puts me in an impossible position, and creates a life of fear, anxiety, and fatigue.


Not trusting God allows the abuse to still define and control me. The abuse that I hate so much becomes an idol. In order to let go of it, I must begin trusting God.


I don’t know how to do this. I just pray, “God, help me to trust you. I really, really want to trust you.”


I sense he is working. I must hold on to that. 

"He Acted Out"

I recently read a romance novel written in 1932. Quaint, of course, but one thing stood out. At the end of chapter 9, the hero picks up the heroine (his wife who had resisted his affections) and carries her into the bedroom. The chapter ends with these words: "He kicked the door closed."

"The next morning," are the first words in chapter 10.

In those days writers were careful not to write about sexual issues but readers figured out what they meant. Maybe that's why we speak of pre-World War II as the time of innocence.

I mentioned that concept because of a phrase I hear quite often today about men who have been sexually assaulted in childhood. They talk about their change of heart, conversion, counseling, and move on to the changes in their lives.

But once in awhile a man admits, "But I acted out," and that's all he says. I certainly am not a voyeur and I'm not interested in reading graphic descriptions, but I would like a little more direct honesty.

• "I fell into sin."

• "I went back into my old ways."

• “I was promiscuous.”

• “I got into porn.”

• "I had sex with another man."

• "I committed a homosexual act."

As repulsive as those statements may sound to some, they're honest. I realize that saying a simple sentence like engaging in sexual acts with someone of the same gender is too difficult for some men to admit. Or they may not feel safe in saying those words.

But if a man seeks healing, that's part of the reality if he has "acted out." He needs to learn to speak the truth as candidly as he can. Not to say it straight is a form of denial or at least an attempt to mitigate the seriousness of the activity. Or it may be a statement still wrapped in shame.

I'm certainly not trying to urge survivors to speak openly and publicly until they're ready. But to speak in euphemisms or cover words isn't being candid.

My Problem

(This post comes from Neal of North Chicago, Illinois.)

He was my role model. He was handsome and kind and everyone looked up to him. He was about the smartest teacher I ever had and he liked me. He invited me to his house one day to help me with my math problems.

He kept telling me how special I was and how much he liked to look at me. I kept wondering why he'd like to look at me so much. He put his hand on my knee while he talked and stared right into my eyes.

I won't give the details but that's how it started and I made weekly trips to his house for almost a full semester. One day I saw him in the hall at school and he said, "Don't come by this week."

He said the same thing the next week and didn't seem to want to talk to me. That confused me because of all the things he had said to me. I finally asked him what was wrong.

"I helped you as much as I could," he said. And he walked away. After that he ignored me and I also found out that he invited other boys to his house. That hurt even more.

My buddy Joe must have figured out something, but I don't know or at least I don't remember if he ever said anything. Joe gave me the book Victims No Longer. I didn't want to read it at first but I started and that's when I understood that he was a pedophile. I knew the word before then, but I didn't know that's how it was. I thought they only went for kids who were four or five years old. I was sixteen.

I'm now thirty-one but I still think about him. I don't want to see him again. But even now, after all these years, I still miss him, even though that sounds weird.

I'm getting help in a group and the other guys understand and they assure me that I'll get past this problem. I hope they're right.