“But I’m Over It”

I’ve lost count of the men who tell me about their abusive childhoods and then add, “But I’m over it.”

They’re lying—even if they can’t admit it.

That’s not meant to be judgmental. In fact, I consider their words as more a wish or desire than fact. I’m not convinced anyone gets over it. We certainly move past the pain and the horror of childhood, but the trauma holds lasting effects.

For example, some men absolutely can’t trust others. One of my good friends was sexually assaulted by his mother and he admits he doesn’t trust women. Three divorces have forced him to admit that.

All of us have residual effects and we’ve lived with them all our lives. I’m an example of the overachiever. No normal person writes 137 books, posts twice weekly for two blogs, and does a lot of public speaking. I used to say, “God gave me a lot of energy,” and that’s true.

Now I say, “I was a driven man.” I constantly had to prove myself. I could have said, “prove myself to others,” and that’s a factor. But having to prove myself to myself that I’m lovable and worthwhile was the major residual effect of my abuse.

Last month, two different men told me they were over “it.” I didn’t argue or try to correct them. But both of them are in the morbidly obese category. Food seems to be their drug of choice. And their drug keeps them in denial about where they are now.

I’m not totally over my abuse, but I’m stronger and healthier for having faced my pain.

Healing is an ongoing process in my life.

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Are there questions or specific topics you'd like Cec to address in upcoming blog entries? If so, please send an email to his assistant at the following address: cecilmurphey(at)mchsi(dot)com.