Questions and Answers (Part 2 of 7)

(an encore post by Cecil Murphey)

"Is it typical for molested boys to keep quiet and not tell?"

It's definitely typical and there are many reasons they say nothing. Sometimes they fear they won't be believed. They think it's their fault. In my case, I believe it was because I didn't think anyone cared.

The official-and-conservative figure is that one out of every six boys has been abused before they reach the age of sixteen. Oprah Winfrey commented on that and said, "Those are only the ones who speak up."

I think Oprah was correct. I was abused and didn't speak up until I hit 50. I wonder how many more men are around who haven't talked. I wonder how many men carried the dark secret all their lives and died without telling anyone.

Adopt Healthy Coping Habits

In the previous blog I mentioned the book of 75 things men could do to help themselves survive and overcome childhood abuse. Number 73 read: "Adopt Healthy Coping Habits."

The author wrote eight paragraphs about how important it was to learn to cope and to do it in healthy ways. I had the same reaction on this as I did on self-love.

"Thank you for that advice," I wanted to shout at the author. "But tell me how to do that." I felt as if the author patronized me and pulverized perfectly healthy trees to have such a book published.

I'm a pragmatist. Don't simply tell me what, tell me how.

Most of us who've been abused have figured out that we survived by doing things that weren't helpful for recovery or for growth. My two younger brothers became alcoholics as their coping method. I coped by denial in the form of amnesia. When I began to face my painful childhood, my healthy coping method was to open myself to my own childhood pain. Instead of running from the memories of abuse, I began to do practical things to face them. (In my next blog I'll mention one of them.)

What I did wasn't easy, but it was powerful and life changing.

Questions and Answers (Part 2 of 7)

"Is it typical for molested boys to keep quiet and not tell?"

It's definitely typical and there are many reasons they say nothing. Sometimes they fear they won't be believed. They think it's their fault. In my case, I believe it was because I didn't think anyone cared.

The official-and-conservative figure is that one out of every six boys has been abused before they reach the age of sixteen. Oprah Winfrey commented on that and said, "Those are only the ones who speak up."

I think Oprah was correct. I was abused and didn't speak up until I hit 50. I wonder how many more men are around who haven't talked. I wonder how many men carried the dark secret all their lives and died without telling anyone.

"My Inner Dialogue"

A therapist on the third segment of the Oprah Winfrey show on male sexual abuse brought out something I've done, but I haven't written about. He spoke about the wounded inner child. My friend David refers to it as "my little kid."

A few months after I began my healing journey, I had several dreams one night. In the first, I saw myself as an adult and I held an infant in my arms. I knew it was myself and I said to him, "I'm Cec and you're little Cecil. I'm sorry I wasn't able to take care of you in childhood, but I'm here now."

In the second, little Cecil was a toddler and sitting in a high chair. I stroked his cheek and said, "I couldn't help you then, but I'm here now."

In each dream the little child was older. In the final dream, Cecil must have been a teen, although he was still shorter than Cec. I took his hand and we walked down the street together. "You were so brave," I told him. "You survived and you're healthy. Your brothers didn't make it, but you did. I'm proud of you."

I stopped, turned to him, and hugged him. Then I awakened.

The meaning was obvious, but it started an inner dialogue with me. Even today, probably 20 years after that dream, I still talk to the boy. I remind him of his survival and thank him for not committing suicide (which he tried to do once).

"I like who I am now. I like who I am because you were brave and kept fighting. You didn't let Dad or others defeat you. You were alone and had no one but you kept on. I'm strong today because you were strong then."

Years ago I read something by Marsha Sinetar in which she wrote about the "invulnerables," whom she referred to as those who survived an oppressive childhood and by every law of human behavior should have failed.

I'm an invulnerable.

And I'm grateful to little Cecil, who showed his courage and refused to quit.

"Killing the Inner Child?"

I watched the third show about male sexual abuse in childhood on Oprah Winfrey. I can't speak more highly of the program and hope it will come out on DVD for others.

One thing did bother me. Near the end, a dark-complexioned man stood and said that the abuser had killed the boy inside him. One guest said that the child hadn't died, but had been so hurt he couldn't be what he might have been.

I don't agree. Perhaps it's because of my strong Christian theology, but here's how I see this. I was abused by a female relative and later by an old man who lived with us. My father beat me often and brutally.

I'm a survivor—but I'm more than a survivor. I hate what happened to me. Not only did I live in pain for years, but I caused pain to others by my confusion and silence. But today, I'm a stronger, healthier person for having gone through the abuse. St. Paul said it far better than I could: "God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us" (2 Corinthians 1:3–4, New Living Translation).

"Walking in the Rain"

I taped the second Oprah Winfrey show where she dealt with male sexual abuse and watched the program that same night. She had two hundred sexually assaulted men in her audience. I was touched by their openness (and their tears).

Afterward, I thought about what I had seen, and I went emotionally numb. I haven't had that kind of emotional freeze for years. The last time it had happened was when I watched a PBS program on sexual abuse—a documentary by a Canadian woman who had been a victim of incest by her father. After watching her documentary, I wasn't able to talk afterward and went for a long walk late at night.

A similar thing happened after the Oprah segment and I went for a walk in the dark. Even before I was out of my yard, I had a flashback.

I was somewhere between 12 and 14 years of age. I lived on Second Street but at night I often walked down Third because it was darker and I wanted to be alone. During those walks I felt the pain of childhood—not the molestation because I had "forgotten" that. I felt useless and unloved.

As I walked, I felt totally alone. "No one cares about me," I said aloud as I walked along. If I died, I didn't think anyone would miss me. I assumed my mother would cry, but she cried about many things, and she would soon forget me.

A few times I walked in the rain and that caused me to feel even more alone. The rain pelted my face and my clothes and I didn't care.

The brief flashback after the Oprah show reminded me of the pain of my teen years. I had forgotten about those walks, but somewhere, deep inside, the memory had lay hidden.

After my walk I tried to talk to Shirley and called my best friend. With both of them I stammered, trying to find words to explain, and finally quit trying to put my emotions into words.

I went into our guest room and lay on the bed. I kept thinking of that kid walking in the dark, and his pain washed over me again. "I'm with you," I whispered to that confused, miserable teen inside me. "I'm here now and we're both safe."

Eventually I relaxed and fell asleep. Perhaps an hour later I awakened. The pain was gone but the memory remained vivid.

I share this because it reminds me that there seems always to be just a little more hidden pain. But these days I'm older and I feel compassion for that lonely boy who walked in the dark.

Tyler Perry Admitted It! Oprah Winfrey Announced It! And 200 Male Survivors Will Face It on November 5.

Writer/actor/producer Tyler Perry spoke about his childhood physical and sexual abuse in front of millions of Oprah viewers on October 21. He shared his story in an effort to liberate himself emotionally. On November 5, 200 male survivors will give voice to the issue of their abuse.

Physical and sexual abuse survivor and veteran author Cecil Murphey agrees that healing comes in the telling. But for every man who opens up about his abuse, millions of others wrestle with shame and the emotional bondage that keeps them quiet. What does it take for abused men to shatter the silence of the torment that has held them captive to their past? How can a friend or loved one help a survivor through the recovery process?

Tyler Perry told Oprah that as a child his unrelenting abuse made it nearly impossible for him to trust adults. Cecil Murphey says, “That’s normal and most of us carry distrust of people into adulthood.” Murphey said it wasn’t until he was shown unconditional love by his wife and a good friend that he was able to open up about his childhood trauma. Once he opened up, he was on his way to recovery.

Cecil Murphey offers the following suggestions to help a man you care about move through his recovery.

1. Be honest about your feelings. Don’t lie or hide how you feel.

2. Be a reflective listener. That is, pay attention and accept his thoughts and feelings.

3. Seek eye contact. Look at him as he talks.

4. Suggest regular times to talk. He might not know what he wants to say, or be unwilling to divulge more. As he speaks and you accept his words, it enables him to probe deeper into his past. As he probes, he heals.

5. Accept him as he is. He won’t be perfect at the end of his healing journey.

6. Recognize that healing won’t be in a straight line. After months of progress and increasing intimacy, he may suddenly reject you or create distance. If that happens, be patient. Think of it as time-out for him.

7. When appropriate, remind him that you love him, that you pray for him, and that God created him loveable.

8. Accept the pace of his progress. This is his painful past, not yours.

9. Avoid blaming him for problems in your relationship. His behavior was probably the best way he knew to cope.

10. Encourage him to empty himself of the trauma of his childhood and let go of resentments and anger of the past.