A Wife's Perspective

During the past four months, I’ve received several emails from wives of male survivors of sexual assault. Two of them found me through this blog, the others from reading one of my two books about sexual abuse.

This came from one of those wives, who gave me permission to share as much of her email as I chose. After the first three paragraphs below, she went into details about her husband’s childhood and his adult struggles.

None of what she writes would surprise regular readers of this blog. And yet each email is a story of pain, struggles, and (sometimes) happy endings.

My reason for sharing this portion is to point out once again that we survivors aren’t the only victims.

§

My husband is a victim of childhood sexual abuse from his father, older brother, and father’s friends, starting around the age of 6.

We have been married for 26 years, and I am just realizing through reading your book “When a Man You Love was Abused”, that I am also a victim of his abuse. This has only just become a realization to me, that I am also a victim.

I stumbled across a Focus on the Family podcast that you were on, addressing this issue. I was actually looking for a resource on healing from sexual sins in our marriage, when your podcast came up. I was in shock when I read the title of the show, “Helping Your Husband Overcome Childhood Sexual Abuse”. I did not know that such topics existed, or even books on the subject. Even though the subject matter is so hard to listen to, it was so helpful to hear two men [Gary Roe and Cec] share their struggles and their stories, and practical ways that a wife can help her husband! Up until now, I have only seen myself as the victim and not my husband. I have not realized the depth of how wounded my husband is until I read your book. All through our marriage I have focused on how I have been the victim from my husband’s actions, not realizing that they were a manifestation of his struggle. Up until now, I have not been able to see past my hurts, to be able to help him. I can now look back and see the effects in our marriage from his abuse.

Flashbacks

(This is a letter Philip wrote to Cecil Murphey.)

I read your book and it gave me great encouragement through a very tough time last year with flashbacks that I was getting through the abuse that I went through as a child. You answer questions that no psychologist or counselor (I have seen a few over they years) have given me. No doubt because you relate it all back to God, and that is how we can get meaning through this madness. God did not do this to us, was crying when we went through it, and he rejoices when we see his plan through this even though the acts we suffered was evil.

I am 42, and I'm not sure when the abuse started, maybe when I was 6, and it continued through my teenage years. It was mainly women, though men were also involved. I didn't remember the abuse. I knew there were gaps of time, and I had lots of questions about these gaps.

My mother was diagnosed with schizophrenia when I was young and I did not want to be mad like her, and I didn't ask the questions about what was going on.

I blocked people out and kept to myself. I haven't been in relationship because of a fear that for a long time I did not know that was there, I just accepted that I was strange.

Since 2005, I have experienced flashbacks off and on, and I've been on different medication to help me cope. I hide away and don't talk to anyone, or return calls, or develop close friendships.

I have accepted the flashbacks. It's in the long term past so that I can deal with because these gaps of time don't occur any more.

Now my question: How recent in the past do the events that produces does flashback, intense memories and emotions of sexual experiences need to be?

Right now I'm as scared as I have ever been because of intense memories and feelings of sexual experiences that I have no memory of. I have zero memory of those events and as a result I seriously think I am going mad. I take no drugs and very rarely drink alcohol.

I don't know what to do with this, and I restarted taking medication because I am struggling to concentrate and to be happy. All I seem to do this week is to have the memory in my head while I talk to people and this is full on because it involves both men and women. I know the medication is not going to fix it, but I need a break from this. It's getting difficult to drive a car because I get distracted so easily.

The two people that I can trust to talk about this, a close friend and a psychologist, are both overseas and will be back at the end of July. I feel shattered and running on empty.

If this memory is true or not it has such huge impacts for me either way and both of them are scary. I yell to God that I want life to be easy like it was and it is far from that.

(Here is Cec's response. We welcome your comments.)

Thanks for writing to me. Flashbacks are normal.

I'm not a therapist, but I have a theory. Those long-hidden memories start to return when we're equipped to cope with them. (I realize you're having trouble coping.) Many of us unconsciously developed a form of amnesia, which is a form of denial. That was our method of surviving childhood. I was almost ten years older than you are when my memories started to return. And they hurt. Deeply.

The only advice I can offer is, "Don't fight them. Accept those flashbacks." Because you sound like a praying man, here is where you learn to rely on divine help.

The flashbacks rarely come in complete form, but usually in fragments. Or as you say, you have gaps. I still have them. Even today, I can't give you details of my sexual assault, but I know the events happened.

Be kind to yourself, Philip. I don't know if this will help, but when I went through the worst of my flashbacks, I said to myself repeatedly, "This is the best I can do at this stage of my development." Some days I wanted to give up, but I knew I couldn't. I kept on.

The really good news is that eventually the flashbacks go away.

My Amnesia

(an encore post by Cecil Murphey)

In my book When a Man You Love Was Abused, I wrote about my amnesia (which is denial). One man wrote, "Denial was a powerful survival tool for me when I was a boy. Now I'm an adult and I struggle to be free. I wish I could forget but I know I need to face it."

I understand his situation. Denial worked for us when we needed it to survive. We had few resources and were innocent and naïve about life.

Here's how I think about amnesia for us survivors: In first grade I learned to count by using my fingers. I haven't had to count that way since I was a child. The method worked until I was mature enough to leave it behind.

As adults, we're more sophisticated and can reason out the issues. Most of all, we can feel. The pain was intense when I began recovery, but I reminded myself that I actually felt the pain. My amnesia taught me to deny my deepest feelings; my healing liberates my feelings.

Conspiracy of Silence

Since the publication of my book When a Man You Love Was Abused, I've done more than 30 interviews on radio and six times TV on the topic. (One radio program canceled because the subject was "inappropriate" for their audience.)

A question that has come up several times goes something like this: What do you mean by a conspiracy of silence?

It's not an original term, but it fits. Conspiracy of silence means that those whom we would normally expect to support and encourage us erect a wall between us (or perhaps we do it ourselves). Sometimes we who were victimized try to break through and we're rebuffed by being ignored or they don't believe us.

For me to break the silence in my own family of origin was difficult. To my surprise when I did, two of my three widowed sisters immediately affirmed me. The first had been abused by the same pedophile. The other said she hadn't known but suspected. "We didn't know what to do about those things back then," she said. And I think she spoke the truth.

A few months ago. the third sister read my book on sexual abuse and we spoke on the phone. She remembered a few details that I had forgotten. I felt such a glow from talking to her. At last, I thought, the silence has been driven away. I'm freer now than ever.

I'm the father of three grown children. I hadn't spoken to them about my abuse before I wrote my book. (I'm not sure why.) I gave each one a copy and said, "I want you to read this."

Since then, all three read the book and they've talked openly with me. They know and they love me. That's what counts.

The important people in my life know about my abuse. The conspiracy is more than silenced: It's dead.

We Belong (by Gary Roe)

I asked Gary Roe to write several posts. He also shares his story in my book When a Man You Love Was Abused.

I belong.

I look in the mirror and I say it again. I shout, "I’m here. I count. I matter. I belong."

I’ll likely bump into other people today who don’t feel they belong. Statistically, I’ll encounter several people today who are also survivors. I want to give them the right message—the true message through my facial expressions, words, and actions. I want it to be a clear, resounding, “You belong.”

YOU belong. I belong.

We belong.

I Belong (by Gary Roe)

I asked Gary Roe to write several posts. He also shares his story in my book When a Man You Love Was Abused.

My abuse lies to me. It tells me that I am worthless and less than nothing. That I am an object waiting for others to take advantage of me. That I don’t exist apart from the perpetrators and what they did to me. My lying abuse tells me I will never belong.

My abuse wants to define me.

I mustn’t let it. I must remind myself of what I know is true.

I’m not an accident. I’m not merely the result of the union of a sperm and an egg. I’m not just the genetic combination contributed by my parents and my family tree.

I’m a personal creation of God himself.

Knowing I belong is the beginning. I have to believe and acknowledge this fact before I can begin to live it.

How do I do that? I don’t know. I stumble along as I travel forward. But I started by telling myself the truth. Repeatedly. Throughout the day.

I belong.

I don’t just exist here. I belong.

I’m not simply biding my time, trying to make the best of things. I belong.

I belong on this earth, doing whatever God has called me to do.

I belong to the people around me whom I love and who love me.

I belong.

For me, this is making a difference. Over time, this truth will sink in.

The Need to Belong (by Gary Roe)

I asked Gary Roe to write several posts. He also shares his story in my book When a Man You Love Was Abused.

I grew up feeling different. Different from other boys. Different from other kids. Shy. Insecure. An outsider. Feeling very small, less than, and badly damaged.

Given the sexual abuse and the verbal messages of my perpetrators, it’s no wonder I felt that way. If there is any wonder, it's that I'm as healthy as I am.

For a long time, no matter whom I was with, I never sensed I really belonged. I always felt I was outside the happy home looking through the window at others' lives. I wanted desperately to belong, but my self-confidence was non-existent, and my self-hatred was enormous.

Then one morning, while reading my Bible and journaling, it hit me. God knew me before I was born. He personally created me in my mother’s womb. He wanted me and he wanted me to be happy.

God wasn't simply trying to make the best of a bad situation. He thought of me and planned me. He wanted me.

I belong. I belong to him. I belong here, on planet earth. I was meant to be here at this time.

I belong.

So I am going to face the world today as someone who belongs. I am going to continue to heal.

I Can Heal (by Gary Roe)

I asked Gary Roe to write several posts. He also shares his story in my book When a Man You Love Was Abused.

I can heal—I am healing. And as I heal, I experience more safety. The safer I become, the safer I am to help other survivors.

I can’t change what happened to me; I can stand against the evil of sexual abuse by becoming a safe and faithful friend.

I'm learning to deal better with my anger. I'm experiencing letting go and forgiving those who hurt me. I'm slowly figuring out how to manage the anxiety and depression that lurks around me.

I'm living a freer life and it shows because I'm able to open my heart to others. They say I'm compassionate and wise. Maybe I am—or maybe it's because I've climbed a few more hills and tripped over a few more potholes than they have.

But I can heal; I am healing.

Being a Safe Person (by Gary Roe)

I asked Gary Roe to write several posts. He also shares his story in my book When a Man You Love Was Abused.

I’ve had so much fear in my life. I don't want to trigger fear in anyone else. Instead, I want them to feel safe and peaceful when they are with me. I want to show that I'm trustworthy. Protective. Caring.

Being a safe person is a gift I can give others. By being safe, I stand alongside them and against the great evil of sexual abuse.

To be that person, I must continue to heal. Healing is a long, long journey full of hills, valleys, potholes, and speed bumps. It’s excruciatingly difficult at times, but it’s worth the effort and the pain.

Pursuing Safe People (by Gary Roe)

I asked Gary Roe to write several posts. He also shares his story in my book When a Man You Love Was Abused.

Even though I had wonderful, safe people in my life, I went off to college and distanced myself from them. Contact grew less frequent. I thought I wasn’t worthy of such wonderful people. They couldn’t possibly want to stay in contact with me. I slowly isolated myself.

That became my pattern. I did the self-distancing with almost every safe person in my life. At first, I was thrilled to be with them, but then, the old form of behavior reasserted itself. I didn't know how to cope with safe relationships. I began backing off.

Now I understand.

If I want to feel safe, I need to stop obeying the old patterns. I must take action. I have to find and initiate relationships with safe people. Initiate and keep initiating: That's my goal.

And guilt enters into this as well. I ask myself, "If I feel so safe just hearing their voices, why wouldn't I not call, sometimes daily?"

And yet, I tell myself that I don’t want to bother them. That's a lie. Life is busy and I forget to reach out to them. That's another lie.

How long will I keep doing that to myself?

The abuse programmed me to self-isolate. I had no control over what happened to me back then; now I can choose a different path. I can reach out to the safe people God has placed in my life. I can choose to believe what they say about me and to me rather than accept messages my abusers gave me.

I promise myself: I'll resist the temptation to withdraw. I’ll reach out.

Needing Safe People (by Gary Roe)

I asked Gary Roe to write several posts. He also tells his story in my book When a Man You Love Was Abused.

The sexual abuse in my background took place early in my childhood. My world was very small. I can’t remember knowing any kids my age during that time. When I started school, things began to change.

I met a few safe people in my life—several teachers, a few classmates who became good friends. I became a serious competitive swimmer, which put me in touch with more safe people and families.

When my family blew apart, and my dad died suddenly of a heart attack, one family took me in. Living in their home, I experienced safety from the inside out. I could feel myself beginning to relax.

To this day, whenever I talk to anyone in that adoptive family, a wave of safety washes over me. Whenever I am with them, I feel as if nothing bad could ever happen again. And even if disaster did occur, I know that everything would be fine.

I was able to imagine what it might be like to live from that kind of reservoir of safety. Wow.

I didn't look for those safe people. I believe God brought them into my life. They would say God brought me into theirs.

Longing to Feel Safe (by Gary Roe)

I invited Gary Roe to write several posts. He also shares his story in my book When a Man You Love Was Abused.

Living out of fear isn't fun. I seem to have a baseline feeling that all isn't well, that I'm not well, that everything is potentially dangerous. All of that is my fault.

That isn't surprising. The abuse programmed me to think that way.

I yearn to feel safe.

I'd like to let down my guard and relax more. To let go more and to fret less. I want to stop investing vast amounts of mental energy into heading off every possible disaster at the pass. I want to be less self-conscious and more at ease in the presence of others. I want to live less in this cloud of anxiety, compelled to make certain that I'm never abused again.

My abusers told me the outside world was dangerous, implying that they were the safe people. They would take care of me. I could count on them.

If they were the safe ones, what did that make everyone else?

I'm thankful that I've finally experienced feeling extremely safe. Several safe people made that possible. But it wasn't easy.

They had to prove themselves—and it took time for me to trust them. Like many survivors, I was short on trust and long on suspicion.

Safe people have been the source of a lot of healing in my life. I want more healing. And for me, that means I need to be in deeper relationship with safe people.

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.

Forgiving the Consequences (by Gary Roe)

I invited Gary Roe to write several posts. He also shares his story in my book When a Man You Love Was Abused.

I had taken the step to forgive my abusers. I thought I had the forgiveness part of my healing down pat, and then a friend came and asked a deeper question: “You say that you have forgiven your abusers for what they did. . . the rapes, the acts of abuse. But have you forgiven them for the results in your life of what they did to you?”

I stared in shock. I felt as if my soul were being ripped apart. And right there, in a chair on the deck behind my house, I began to cry. Soon I wept convulsively. It grew more and more intense. It was as if I were throwing up emotion in waves. It went on for almost two hours.

My eyes were closed, and I saw myself walking toward my perpetrators and I carried a large, heavy bucket of filth. When I reached them, I set the bucket down in front of them and said, “These are all the horrid, devastating results in my life of what you did to me. These things have affected my relationships and the people I love. I won't carry this any more. These things don't belong to me. I return them to you. I leave them here. I forgive you.” Then I saw myself leave the bucket and walk away.

When my sobs subsided, I knew God had broken through and enabled me to forgive at a new level.

It was devastating to think of all the results of the abuse in my life. It was the key event of my childhood and it affected everything. Everything. Forgiving my perpetrators of the consequences of the abuse, as well as the acts of abuse themselves, was like a sledgehammer that broke the back of my bondage.

Forgiveness Releases Me (by Gary Roe)

I asked Gary Roe to write several posts. He also shares his story in my book When a Man You Love Was Abused.

“I thought forgiveness was releasing my enemy," someone said to me, "but when I forgave him I discovered that the captive I released was me.” I've certainly experienced that in relation to my abusers.

When I made a frightening phone call to my closest friend and told him what happened to me as a child, he was silent for a long time before he asked, “Have you been able to forgive them?” This question surprised me. I knew that my friend asked because he loved me and was deeply concerned about me.

I suddenly knew that forgiveness was about my heart. Forgiveness was about not letting my heart be ruled by the abuse and the abusers any longer. Forgiveness was about separating my person from what happened to me. Forgiveness was about letting God heal me.

I wanted healing. Forgiveness was the road to it. So I began to forgive. I had to forgive repeatedly. I had to learn to practice forgiveness. And somewhere along the way I realized that I'd been holding myself captive by not forgiving. Sometimes I even imagined that I was releasing myself when forgiving my abusers.

I'm not saying that forgiving is easy. It was far from painless for me. I once screamed into a pillow repeatedly as I tried to forgive. I found forgiveness to be like physical therapy after surgery—excruciatingly painful at first, but strengthening and healing over time.

Forgiveness as a Process (by Gary Roe)

I invited Gary Roe to write several posts. He also shares his story in my book When a Man You Love Was Abused.

I used to think forgiveness was a simple one-time act of the will. Forgive. Let it go. Move on. When I found myself confronted with the same emotions again, I assumed I hadn't forgiven.

Forgiving my abusers has been a process. It certainly began, as all forgiveness does, with an act of the will. God led me to the point where I chose to forgive, trusting that over time the feelings would follow.

Then another trigger would get pulled. A flashback. Someone would do or say something that put me right back under that ugly, familiar cloud of anger, shame, and guilt. Instead of wondering if I had really forgiven, I voiced my forgiveness again.

I've repeated that process dozens of times. Each time seems to get a little easier. Each time, I feel a little freer. I'm learning that I have to practice forgiveness, and sometimes it seems like moment by moment. Whenever the trigger gets pulled or the cloud of shame descends, I'm learning to see it as an invitation to forgive.

Flashbacks (by Gary Roe)

I invited Gary Roe to write several posts. He also shares his story in my book When a Man You Love Was Abused.

I was young when it happened and it happened repeatedly. The perpetrators were close to me. I had no memory of the sexual abuse itself, but I grew up with a sense of deep terror and anger toward the perpetrators.

Years later, I began having flashbacks. They started slowly and increased in duration and intensity. Finally, they came in like a flood. I couldn't believe what I was seeing and experiencing. I thought I was going crazy.

These flashbacks were intense, just like I was there and it was happening all over again. It was unnerving, confusing, terrifying, and exhausting. They continued over a period of two years.

If it hadn't been for my wife, a counselor, and a few trustworthy friends, I don't know what I would have done. I knew I couldn't handle it alone. I also sensed that isolation was my worst enemy. I had to share, to talk, and to stay connected with those I knew loved me.

After two years, the flashbacks dissipated and my health began to deteriorate. At random times my adrenaline went crazy. The anxiety was terrible. I felt like a deer being chased by a tiger. My life felt small and dark. Those “flashback aftershocks,” as I called them, continued for another few years.

To say that I'm grateful now may sound inadequate, but I am grateful for the flashbacks and their aftershocks. I'm relieved to finally know what happened. My life makes sense now. I understand why things were the way they were and why I felt and thought the way I did.

I had to endure those flashbacks. Denial was survival in my childhood, but denial no longer served me well. It shackled me. I had to go back and see what happened so that I could heal. I really am grateful. Now I can grow.

"It's Easier to Look in the Mirror"

(This is an additional post from Anonymous.)

Last night I started When a Man You Love Was Abused. One of the things that's been helpful reading it so far is being able to have names for different effects. It takes things out of ambiguity and gives them concrete boundaries which make them much easier to sort through.

One of the things I saw on the blog that was great was something to the effect that it's not something that is wrong with us, it's that something wrong has been done to us. I've been rolling that over in my head a bit. It makes it easier to look in the mirror. :)

--Anonymous

"I Rarely Feel Like a Real Man"

(This blog post comes from an anonymous reader.)

I wanted to thank you for your Shattering the Silence blog. It has been a tremendous help reading others' stories.

Starting when I was five, and off and on for a couple of years after, my older cousin would rape and fondle me and have me perform oral sex on him. Thankfully, the Lord showed me how to forgive a decade ago. Before that, I was planning how I could get away with burning down the house that everything happened in. However, now at 31, I find myself still dealing with the effects of what happened.

I rarely feel like a real man, always plagued by inadequacy and not being masculine enough. I've struggled continually with same sex attraction since the abuse happened. It seems that all I crave is to have a guy I consider a real man, tell me that I am man enough - to be accepted as a guy. The only time I feel like a regular guy is when I'm working out at the gym. I spend almost all of my free time there. Although I've gotten bigger and stronger, when I look in the mirror, all I see is shameful weakness. The shame is suffocating at times.

I'm trying to convince myself to get your book as I know it will be of tremendous help. However, having the pain become even more raw through this process is daunting. The pain has gotten more acute lately, and I've retreated into sinful behaviors to buffer against the pain. The fun part is I work at a church, and if they ever found this out about me (my struggles, my sin), I'd be let go.

Your blog has provided great comfort. I was watching a Beth Moore clip last week, and she asked, "Have you ever let God touch those deep painful places in your life, or are you just quickly scabbing over them?" I asked God to touch the deep places in me, and that's when I found the link to your site. I think I will get the book.

Through it all, the Lord has been so merciful to me, so gentle. I fight against myself every day to trust Him.

--Anonymous