(an encore post by Cecil Murphey)
I've heard those words before. In my years of pain, I said them many times. And it was true: No one understood me.
How could anyone? They couldn't read my mind. They couldn't look at the way I walked and say, "There's someone who needs my compassion."
For most of us who start down the healing path, the first big step we can make is to say to someone, "I'd like to talk to you." That person can be a pastor, a therapist, a friend, or a co-worker, but it has to be someone we feel we can trust. I write, "feel we can trust" because we can't be certain about anyone, so we'll have to take a few risks.
Too many pain-filled men haven't spoken aloud about their abuse. Maybe not enough of us will listen. Maybe they don't have the courage to speak.
But unless they give others the opportunity to care for them, they'll have to continue to say, "Nobody understands me."
And they'll be correct.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Friday, February 14, 2014
Relationships?
(an encore post by Cecil Murphey)
I wonder how many men have written to me about their short-term relationships. They speak of anger, distrust, fear, and other significant issues.
I spoke to a man after a meeting in Grand Rapids. With tears in his eyes, he asked, "Will I ever find someone who loves me no matter what?"
I wish I could have yelled, "Certainly! Yes!"
He's suspicious of people and said it was a big risk for him to talk to me. "But you don't know my name and you'll never see me again, so I guess you're safe."
That's when tears came to my eyes. I understood his inability to trust, although his issue was certainly deeper than the matter of trust. As we talked he told me about his abuse and then hurried on to say that he had been in six relationships in less than two years. "At first, I was sure each one would last. I wanted each one to last—I really did."
"What happened?" I asked.
He shrugged. "They let me down. They betrayed me and told lies about me." He went into detail about his last affair. He wasn't able to acknowledge anything as being his fault. He was always the victim.
I could think of many things to say, and I started with a few suggestions. Occasionally he nodded; a few times he smiled. But whenever I paused, he said, "Yes, that's true, but. . . "
Finally I stopped. I had been speaking about practical things he could do but I realized that my words weren't what he needed. "May I hug you?" I asked.
He nodded and I warmly embraced him and held him for several seconds. "You don't need instructions," I said. "You need to feel loved and cared for, don't you?"
He pulled away, mumbled his thanks, and hurried away.
He was right: I didn't know his name. Most likely I'll never see him again. That evening I put him on my daily prayer list. I didn't have a name but I had a memory of a man with tears in his eyes. I've been praying for him daily for more than four months. I don't intend to stop praying.
I can't do anything for him.
But God can.
And God can use other people in his life. I wish I were able to be one of them.
I wonder how many men have written to me about their short-term relationships. They speak of anger, distrust, fear, and other significant issues.
I spoke to a man after a meeting in Grand Rapids. With tears in his eyes, he asked, "Will I ever find someone who loves me no matter what?"
I wish I could have yelled, "Certainly! Yes!"
He's suspicious of people and said it was a big risk for him to talk to me. "But you don't know my name and you'll never see me again, so I guess you're safe."
That's when tears came to my eyes. I understood his inability to trust, although his issue was certainly deeper than the matter of trust. As we talked he told me about his abuse and then hurried on to say that he had been in six relationships in less than two years. "At first, I was sure each one would last. I wanted each one to last—I really did."
"What happened?" I asked.
He shrugged. "They let me down. They betrayed me and told lies about me." He went into detail about his last affair. He wasn't able to acknowledge anything as being his fault. He was always the victim.
I could think of many things to say, and I started with a few suggestions. Occasionally he nodded; a few times he smiled. But whenever I paused, he said, "Yes, that's true, but. . . "
Finally I stopped. I had been speaking about practical things he could do but I realized that my words weren't what he needed. "May I hug you?" I asked.
He nodded and I warmly embraced him and held him for several seconds. "You don't need instructions," I said. "You need to feel loved and cared for, don't you?"
He pulled away, mumbled his thanks, and hurried away.
He was right: I didn't know his name. Most likely I'll never see him again. That evening I put him on my daily prayer list. I didn't have a name but I had a memory of a man with tears in his eyes. I've been praying for him daily for more than four months. I don't intend to stop praying.
I can't do anything for him.
But God can.
And God can use other people in his life. I wish I were able to be one of them.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Learning New Things
(an encore post by Cecil Murphey)
Years have passed since I dealt with my abuse. I cried so much the first two years I wondered if I would ever stop. But I gained insights about my behavior. I realized there were times when I spoke angrily and wasn't even aware of the tone I conveyed.
It still surprises me to gain perspective about myself that stems from the abuse of childhood. I constantly see new ways in which my past changed the way I see the world and react to people.
The more those things happen, the more victorious I feel. And even better: The more I like who I have become.
Years have passed since I dealt with my abuse. I cried so much the first two years I wondered if I would ever stop. But I gained insights about my behavior. I realized there were times when I spoke angrily and wasn't even aware of the tone I conveyed.
It still surprises me to gain perspective about myself that stems from the abuse of childhood. I constantly see new ways in which my past changed the way I see the world and react to people.
The more those things happen, the more victorious I feel. And even better: The more I like who I have become.
Friday, February 7, 2014
Being Different
(A note from Cec: I hesitated printing this message from Robert because I don't want it to be a self-serving ad for one of my books. Instead, I hope you'll sense the pain and the healing Robert has experienced.)
I am reading your Knowing God book and it is really wonderful. Today I read in chapter 12 your aphorism "Everything I am and everything I have come as gifts from God". I also knew the second half, but I am learning the first half since I began my recovery process from my sexual abuse. I have been thinking a lot about this, and reading today cemented in my conclusion. I am so different from my four brothers because of my abuse, yes, but also because God used that to make me who I am. Like you discussed in chapter 13, I too was the child who was kind to the special ed students and made friends with the outcasts. I was driven to do so. I have always been that way, much more sensitive than my siblings. I always used this as another way to hate myself, thinking once again I was too girly because I was sensitive...because I was a boy who had sex too young with older boys. It was the bat I used to beat myself up with. Now I am realizing that this was a gift from God. He made me more sensitive, bringing something good and beautiful out of my abuse. I am more aware of HIM because of this and I am more able to do ministry because of this. I think I love people a bit more than my brothers. I am not trying to build myself up, but rather recognize that my personality is a gift from God, NOT a sign of weakness and less masculine. I am truly thankful to be who I am now and I am learning to embrace this sensitive side of myself....because I know I can better be the hands of Jesus when I accept this gift HE has given me. Thanks for this book too, it is really wonderful.
* * * * * * * * * *
I am reading your Knowing God book and it is really wonderful. Today I read in chapter 12 your aphorism "Everything I am and everything I have come as gifts from God". I also knew the second half, but I am learning the first half since I began my recovery process from my sexual abuse. I have been thinking a lot about this, and reading today cemented in my conclusion. I am so different from my four brothers because of my abuse, yes, but also because God used that to make me who I am. Like you discussed in chapter 13, I too was the child who was kind to the special ed students and made friends with the outcasts. I was driven to do so. I have always been that way, much more sensitive than my siblings. I always used this as another way to hate myself, thinking once again I was too girly because I was sensitive...because I was a boy who had sex too young with older boys. It was the bat I used to beat myself up with. Now I am realizing that this was a gift from God. He made me more sensitive, bringing something good and beautiful out of my abuse. I am more aware of HIM because of this and I am more able to do ministry because of this. I think I love people a bit more than my brothers. I am not trying to build myself up, but rather recognize that my personality is a gift from God, NOT a sign of weakness and less masculine. I am truly thankful to be who I am now and I am learning to embrace this sensitive side of myself....because I know I can better be the hands of Jesus when I accept this gift HE has given me. Thanks for this book too, it is really wonderful.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Feeling My Feelings
(an encore post by Cecil Murphey)
My major coping method of survival from abuse was not to feel. When the emotional level got heavy, I went numb. I didn't do that consciously, but it was my way to handle the trauma of childhood. Once I became aware that numbing was what I did, I also realized that I needed to feel my pain—to re-experience the hurts of my past—if I wanted to be free from the past.
Here's how I did it and this may work for others. Each day I said, "I feel my feelings." I usually looked into the mirror and spoke to my image. I wanted that message to get into my core being.
Although I hadn't talked to a therapist or a pastor, I sensed that facing the hurts and feeling them once again was a step I had to take.
It took months before I became aware of how I felt; it took even longer before I fully accepted the abuse of my childhood. It took years before I knew I had been healed. It wasn't easy and it hurt. At times I felt alone, unloved, unwanted, unworthy—and many negative emotions flooded through my soul.
Each time I felt my emotions, the pain seemed to lessen a little. Now, years later, I can honestly feel my emotions.
My major coping method of survival from abuse was not to feel. When the emotional level got heavy, I went numb. I didn't do that consciously, but it was my way to handle the trauma of childhood. Once I became aware that numbing was what I did, I also realized that I needed to feel my pain—to re-experience the hurts of my past—if I wanted to be free from the past.
Here's how I did it and this may work for others. Each day I said, "I feel my feelings." I usually looked into the mirror and spoke to my image. I wanted that message to get into my core being.
Although I hadn't talked to a therapist or a pastor, I sensed that facing the hurts and feeling them once again was a step I had to take.
It took months before I became aware of how I felt; it took even longer before I fully accepted the abuse of my childhood. It took years before I knew I had been healed. It wasn't easy and it hurt. At times I felt alone, unloved, unwanted, unworthy—and many negative emotions flooded through my soul.
Each time I felt my emotions, the pain seemed to lessen a little. Now, years later, I can honestly feel my emotions.
Friday, January 31, 2014
Adopt Healthy Coping Habits
(an encore post by Cecil Murphey)
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Love Yourself
(This is an encore post by Cecil Murphey.)
I picked up a book a few weeks ago that proposed 75 things men could do to find healing from the pain of childhood abuse. Some of the actions and activities were practical. Some. But not many.
It wasn't that any of the suggestions were wrong; they were just too simplistic. For example, the title of number 17 was "Love Yourself."
I agree that's wonderful and much needed advice. What the author didn't say in the next two pages, however, was how to make self-love happen.
How do I learn to love myself? How does anyone?
Answer: I don't know.
The only answer I know comes from my own experience. Two people loved me without any demands on my behavior. The first was Shirley, my wife, and my friend David was the second.
They loved me and accepted me, even though I felt damaged and in pain. Neither of them insisted I go through a course of self-improvement or change my ways.
They simply loved me. That was the first half of the solution.
The second half was that I felt loved by them.
Once I sensed their irrefutable love, I was able to love that small, injured boy who lived inside me.
So it's true: If you want to be healed, love yourself. But don't tell anyone unless you're first willing to express that unrestricted love.
I picked up a book a few weeks ago that proposed 75 things men could do to find healing from the pain of childhood abuse. Some of the actions and activities were practical. Some. But not many.
It wasn't that any of the suggestions were wrong; they were just too simplistic. For example, the title of number 17 was "Love Yourself."
I agree that's wonderful and much needed advice. What the author didn't say in the next two pages, however, was how to make self-love happen.
How do I learn to love myself? How does anyone?
Answer: I don't know.
The only answer I know comes from my own experience. Two people loved me without any demands on my behavior. The first was Shirley, my wife, and my friend David was the second.
They loved me and accepted me, even though I felt damaged and in pain. Neither of them insisted I go through a course of self-improvement or change my ways.
They simply loved me. That was the first half of the solution.
The second half was that I felt loved by them.
Once I sensed their irrefutable love, I was able to love that small, injured boy who lived inside me.
So it's true: If you want to be healed, love yourself. But don't tell anyone unless you're first willing to express that unrestricted love.
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