Recovery

(an encore post by Cecil Murphey)

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.

Self-Promises

(This comes from Tom Scales, Executive Director of Voice Today.)

While enduring the sexual attacks, many of us made promises to ourselves. That was our way to comfort ourselves. The sad part is that the promises were made when we were too young to understand the true implications.

Our self-promises reflect the invasion of our boundaries and our inability to protect ourselves. They also echo the violation of trust that took place.

What are your promises? Here are common ones.

* I'll never trust anyone.

* I'll never love another person.

* I'll never share my feelings.

* I'll never be vulnerable to anyone.

* I'll use masks to protect my true persona and never take them off.

* I won't let anyone see me cry.

* I'll be in control in every situation.

* I'll be perfect so no one sees the damage in me.

* I'll constantly wear a smile, so no one suspects the depression I hide.

As we heal, we can learn to understand the promises we made to ourselves in the agony and rage of sexual violation. It's not healthy to carry those self-promises because they distort relationships and leave us with impoverished lives.

Intentionally abandoning our self-promises will usually be difficult, but results are worth it. We open ourselves to love, happiness, and intimacy. 

Ring the Bell

(This comes from Tom Scales, Executive Director of Voice Today.)

A friend sent me this quote by Leonard Cohen: "Ring the bells that still can ring, forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in."

As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, I've viewed myself as damaged—not scratched, but seriously life-threateningly damaged. I spent most of my energy covering over the cracks that symbolized the damage. I labored endlessly to hide the cracks and hoped they would disappear. Most times, I was more willing to allow the internal pain, suffering, and anxiety to build to a bursting point rather than allow others to see the cracks in my façade.

The Cohen quote gave me a new perspective. While I was hiding, I didn't realize I was blocking out the sunlight that brings joy into life and makes me a person others desire to be around. By patching over the cracks, I lost the opportunity for the real me to ring out with joyful, healing sounds.

Today, I accept the cracks, large and small, and I feel joy in the resonance my life has in my ability to encourage and support others. Sometimes there are harsh tones that represent the mistakes of life. I pray to learn from them, and not allow them to silence my ring. My tone is distinctive, because I embrace the uniqueness of my own bell. 

Non-suicidal Self-injury

(This post is from Tom Scales of VoiceToday.org. It was published on their blog in a slightly different form.)

Many survivors of childhood sexual abuse are brainwashed to believe that they can't make good decisions for themselves. I was one of those children. During the period of abuse, the predator subtly and deceitfully convinces the victims they're responsible and complicit in the behavior. Even though the victims are children, they're brainwashed to believe that the acts were consensual. As a result, the victims assume responsibility and guilt that become serious problems in the healing process.

If they're complicit in the evil, their sense of self is severely damaged. On some level, they see themselves saturated in deceit and lies. Over time, they build up rage and self-hatred that turns into self-destructive behavior.

I had never heard the term non-suicidal self-injury until I started to understand my past and my behavior.

One of the most difficult steps in healing for me was to separate my behavior and my responsibilities from those of the predator. I had to remind myself that I had been a child with the emotional and mental capabilities of a child.

I finally understood that I had no power, no control, and no method of escape. To heal, I had to become truly free of the control and influence of the predators.

I was allowing men who had been dead for years to continue to control my life. That's when I realized I needed to forgive all my predators, and do so without reservation. As long as I carried the anger, rage, and desire for vengeance toward them, those feelings ate at my soul and discolored my self-perceptions.

It took me time to understand that forgiveness didn't release them from accountability, but released me.

My inner change didn’t release them from the prospects of an excruciating final judgment and consequences; it removed from my hands the role of judge, jury, and executioner.

Forgiveness doesn’t relieve the perpetrators from their accountability, and it's not a license for more abuse. Forgiving must come from our hearts. Only then was I free to be me, and that me is now someone I respect and love.

Triggers

(This post is from Tom Scales of VoiceToday.org. It was published on their blog in a slightly different form.)

What we call "triggers" remind me of my past. Something happens that throws me back to my painful abuse. It can be a voice, a smell, an event, a person, or a place that thrust me back to the sensations and world of sexual abuse. When that happened, my old companions of silence and isolation protect me once again.

The break from those devastating triggers came while listening to a TV interview of Frank Fitzpatrick, who was being interviewed about the sexual abuse he suffered at the hands of Father James Porter.

In that moment it was if someone had flipped the switch and my eyes opened. Listening to that interview brought a torrent of ugly memories. At times overwhelming, they seemed never to stop, as the actions of one predator after another paraded themselves through my consciousness.

While the journey of healing never ends, that TV interview and the many steps and events that followed brought me out of my emotional cave. They enabled me to replace the impervious walls with appropriate physical, emotional, and spiritual boundaries.

The process strengthened my faith and my self-esteem. It allowed me to have true friends and to experience joy. I was able to cast off the persistent depression that stayed with me throughout my life.

Transformation is possible for all survivors of childhood sexual abuse. For me, a TV interview was the start.

I'd like to be part of the starting experience for others.

Invisible

(This post is from Tom Scales of VoiceToday.org. It was published on their blog in a slightly different form.)

“Dear Lord I pray that today you will make me invisible.”

Growing up in a world of childhood sexual abuse, I was preoccupied with being so invisible that I never attracted attention. It was a challenging path. I wanted to fit in with others and be part of groups and teams; I wanted to have friends. Yet I wanted to keep my inner self hidden.

I dreaded it that others would find out. I feared that my distorted sense of right and wrong would surface in embarrassing ways.

I mentally wrote scripts for conversations to avoid the risks of vulnerability that openness and honesty could bring. I analyzed and planned everything I could.

Silence and isolation become my friends. They offered safety with no judgment. Over time, they helped me to build strong and impenetrable walls. As an adult I couldn't afford the vulnerability of youth because the stakes of job and family are higher. The longer I held the secret, the more powerfully I feared exposure. As a result, I sacrificed joy, friendship, intimacy, and other life-fulfilling pleasures to fortify those walls.

Truth and Trauma

(This post is from Tom Scales of VoiceToday.org. It was published on their blog in a slightly different form.)

I woke up this morning and it was there again. Over the 60 years since my sexual abuse started it has happened many times, although less frequently as my healing has taken place.

I refer to the sensation of being sodomized. It is one of the reminders of uglier times.

For decades the sensation triggered fear, anxiety, rage, and an appetite for vengeance. Today I feel none of those, only a renewed commitment to my participation in programs to protect children and help adults heal form the evil of childhood sexual abuse.

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.