Girl Friends

Well, I went to visit with the girlfriends. Now, they were friends in college that I hadn't seen in 30 years. They weren't my best friends. They had been in classes with me and in clubs. They had seen some of each other over the years, but I had not seen any of them. So, while I felt that my idea of getting together to visit with this sick friend was a good idea, I was also anxious.

But, things went well. We got along fabulously. And I found that over time I could be real. They were not interested in playing a good face of the perfect Christian. They were interested in being real. So while one shared of the heart ache of birthing dead children and the other shared of aging parents and their problems, I shared of my childhood and the drama therein. I shared for awhile and stopped. And asked if that was too much. They were interested and not at all put off by my imperfectness. I could not have done this 30 years ago while attending college. But I was able to do this now. They were receptive, not put off. I was accepted, as an imperfect person who had struggled because of abuse. But I was accepted as a born again Christian, just like them. My struggles were foreign to them, but not beyond that which our God can forgive and repair. Wow. I could not have anticipated better.

And further, we were able to talk about real life now. Grown women and their needs for conversation and sharing and communion together. I was encouraged to find some other Christian women, not condemned, encouraged. I know that when I share my experiences as I journey this path, I will be encouraged by these friends. I am encouraged already. I have friends, long distance though they be, they do care about he real me and they want me to succeed as a Christian, as a woman, as an Overcomer. Wow. Sometimes, I am surprised by the human factor. God is good. Talk to you later sisters!

Old Friends and New

I'm heading off to visit with a college friend who has been ill. Two other friends will be joining us. We haven't been together since the early 80's. So much has changed since then. But I feel a bond that was there so many years ago. BUT, here's the problem. Back then, I did not talk about my abuse. It was a secret I kept well hid. I didn't know how to deal with it then, but I do now. So, do I share this with my friends?

I guess we'll have to see the level of honesty and openness that develops with us. All of us have had ups and downs, difficulties and victories, some things have happened that we could never have imagined. Can we trust and share? I guess that remains to be seen. I shall hold my peace and share if it is appropriate.

I think there are those who can handle that level of honesty and those who cannot. Discerning this can be difficult. As an abuse overcomer, I am learning to trust more and be open with others. Fear still jumps in there sometimes. But there is some level of caution that is necessary when sharing my past. So that is where the struggle lies. I am tempted to say nothing. But in a way that is denying myself with these friends. I guess I will have to trust my heart, my instincts and my faith. Hmmmm. Isn't that what a healthy, healed individual does?

Family History (and Future)

Busy again. A busy mind and a busy life. I've been working on a family history album. Not a history that includes my abuser. A history of the more healthy, normal side of the family. I've enjoyed it but I'm glad I've put a book together and put it aside for awhile. It can be very consuming.

It was also somewhat sad as well. I have often felt disconnected from family. Mostly I believe because I was disconnected from myself. Now I am much more in touch with me and I guess not sure about connecting with this extended family. I have been watching from afar most of my life I think.

Let me tell you a bit about them. My birth father died when I was a baby. He had five sisters - three older and two younger. All of these women have been career women with college degrees, several with at least two degrees. They have been achievers. They have been strong women. They have been independent women who were also deeply connected to each other and their own families and friends. And spiritual women, though maybe not in the same way I think of spirituality. The oldest was very involved in my life during my childhood and young adult life when I lived in the same area as her. She was always encouraging me to go to college, to achieve. The next two sisters lived out of state so I did not see much of them. I do know that one was a PE teacher back when that was uncommon for women and cheerleading coach. The next younger sister became a social worker and is now a Licensed Mental Health Counselor. The youngest was an elementary teacher, then HS teacher and now teaches at a Community College.

They are fine examples for me. This is not the example set by my own mother. Like many of you, my sisters, your mother was weak and helpless and you suffered for it. It's difficult to be strong when this is your example in life. So, I am very thankful that I have others to look up to and follow after. I have done that successfully.

When I started doing the family history, I told myself it was because I wanted to update what my oldest aunt had done back in the 70's and 80's. While that is true, I feel like I have learned so much about the family. I have gotten in touch with an aunt I haven't seen since I was a child and talked to a cousin I haven't seen since then as well. I've spoken more often to the two younger aunts than I have in years. It has been a great experience. For part of the family history book, I asked the surviving sisters, the youngest 3, to write memories of the family that had passed on. The stories about my own father brought tears to my eyes. They still do. The youngest two remember their big brother very fondly and both stated the family was never the same after his death. I admit it did cause me to grieve a bit about what I never had, the father I never got to know.

Everyone I gave a copy of the book I created was pleased. Some overwhelmed with emotion. My aunts have connected with my husband and are planning a big girl's get together this summer. They wanted to fly me up there, but he said he would and they could plan a trip to the City. So that will be coming up in June. I look forward to it, but am anxious as well. How will I handle it? I'm hoping I will be able to open up and let them in. And let some healing occur. Let some bonds become more firm.
Time will tell. I've got to get my mind set. What wonderful experiences are waiting for me?

Vacation?

I used to love the TV show "The Waltons". And for that matter, even "The Brady Bunch" or "The Partridge Family". These were great escapes for someone who knew her family was sick or at least knew there was something better out there.

So this summer I returned to NJ to visit my family. And they are nothing like John Boy and Mary Ellen. I haven't been back in a few years. Why did I bother? Mom's aging, getting sicker, may be the last visit...take your pick. So, I embarked on a journey with my son to visit the childhood home area. We stayed with mom, that in itself was a challenge. From chain smoking boyfriend who can't be trusted to a mother who cares more for placating people than standing up for the truth, .... well it was challenging everyday for sure.

However, in spite of these challenges I was able to make some great strides. I was more able to be in touch with me and not be the doormat I was trained to be as a child. I was able to talk with my brothers briefly about the abuse....at least enough to tell them about the threats, the intensity and duration of the abuse....to talk to them about how it had destroyed the whole family and our relationships. They were both rather quiet, not knowing what to say or how to react. At least they didn't react negatively or just tell me to get on with my life. I did realize later through comments from both of their wives made that they had been affected and were saddened by the abuse I suffered. At least a little bit.

I also attempted conversation with my mother. I learned a bit more about her and understood a bit more how weak she is as a person. I understood how she had been touched sexually by a brother-in-law at a time when you could not speak up about such things. So much so that as a senior adult, when her sister passed, she still feared being in the same room with this man. I feel pity for her, as I see her just being swallowed up by life's experiences. In the face of recent illness, she seems to be giving up.

Mostly, since being home with my own, I feel thankful that I have been blessed. God has given me strength to survive and overcome years of abuse. He has blessed me in an unbelievable measure. I am able to share freely about my childhood without fear, well maybe a little anxiety still :o) I am able to begin to help others to heal. I believe the strength God has given me is not just for me, but for me to help others. My experiences, though awful and rather extensive, pale in comparison to those of some of my sisters. I'm referring of course to Sisters who have been abused. If I do little else in my life that the world may recognize as successful, if I help another Sister to heal, to move toward wholeness and peace, then I have done well.

God Bless. Peace to you. And thanks for listening.

Bones

I used to think "the abuse was a long time ago. That was then. This is now." I was totally unaware of how much the past was affecting my present. Emotional damage yes, and physical.

We bury things to survive. These things live in our bodies, they live in our bones and flesh. They cause tension, physical problems and a myriad of emotional problems. But of course we don't know it at the time. At the time, it was a healthy response, a survival based response. It was necessary at least for a survivor of long-term sexual abuse.

For me, as time went on it seemed I didn't realize what I had hidden. Yes, I remembered my abuse, but the feelings, the confusion, the anger had all been buried. I basically had denied myself and disconnected myself from my feelings. You can't do that without repercussions. There is a price to pay for storing all that stress.

The price I believe is intimately knowing and being in touch with the "real' you. You tend to be more of a puppet, unsure of yourself and your own opinions. And you tend to adapt to those around you really well, too well even.

Fortunately, there is hope. Through competent counseling and much effort you can reconnect. It takes a lot of work and it is painful. BUT IT IS WORTH IT! YOU ARE WORTH IT! For me, it took EMDR, and some hypnosis. But, you'll have to figure out your own needs. I encourage you to do it. Be brave, be patient with yourself and learn to love the "real" you.

Family

What does one do with family? As a child, you assume every family is like yours. You may assume as I did that your parents love you and would protect you no matter what. Brothers too would care and protect you. But i learned very early on that I would not be protected. So, my mom was still my mom. Confusion arose, of course, but she was my mom. So when the abuse continued and the threats made to maintain silence increased in intensity, I protected my mom. Because that is what family is supposed to do. Or so I thought.

So now I'm older. I've been through counseling and much healing has occured. But in my family, I am still viewed as the same. Still the one to dump on, use for your own purposes, pretend I exist for your needs. I don't really exixt within the context of my family. Not the real me anyway.

Someday I will confront my brothers. Tell them the truth. But, I don't know if that will change anything as far as our relationship. But, I will no longer be there to dump on and I will take no grief.

My mother....what can I say. She knows some of the truth and can't handle the rest. She is still my mother, but by genetics and name only. There is no real mother daughter relationship. And I don't think there ever will be. Because in order to have that type of relationship you have to have trust. And she has betrayed me over and over again. So, I will keep my distance. And grieve for what could have been.

The Doormat

I don't remember when it began. I was quite young. But I do remember the night that I knew I was on my own, that no one would protect me. I think I was six.

What happens to a child when they know that a monster is after them and wants to harm them and no one will help them. They try to hide but cannot. So they hide inside themselves.

I don't know when I began to do this. But trying to hide the pain and keeping the secret were all consuming. I began to feel like keeping the family happy was my responsibility. My burden. The threats that I receiving from stepdad also helped burden me with unbearable responsibility. "If you tell, then mom will be mad at me" or "She'll divorce me and it will be your fault" and the motherlode "I'll kill myself and everyone will be unhappy and it will be your fault." Much, much more than I could bear. Than I should have been made to bear for I was only a child.

So, I learned my place in my family. I was the doormat, my feelings, my reality, my entire being not worthy of mention and certainly not worthy of the family's attention. Meant to be used, abused and forgotten. And so it was...

The Doormat

Treads come undone,
No repair is made.
Torn, tattered and ignored.
Cleaned up superficially,
So to be seen by the world.
Outside presentable.
Bring no attention or disgrace.
Foundation not lain.
Empty inside.
No strength to protect,
But always there to be used.
Value unknown.
Not cared for by most,
Ignored by the rest.
Walked on, used, abused and
Thrown away.

Step One

Why is that sometimes we don't do important things, things we feel an internal urge to do, until a hurtful or catastrophic event occurs? That's the way it is with me sometimes. I mean well, but get too busy with life, family, work...

This blog is to be about my journey through healing of sexual abuse. It is my way of standing up for myself, my inner child. It is my way of defending the defenseless. It is my way of reaching out to others in pain. In some small way I wish to help others heal, while I continue my own journey of healing.

As with any journey, the most difficult part is the first step. So here is my first step in blogging. Opening up my mouth to tell my story has never been easy. Like many others who have suffered through childhood abuse, threats were commonly used to maintain the silence and secrecy. It has taken a long time to be able to talk, though my abuser has long since been dead. Some habits are hard to change. Though I feel stronger each time I talk about the abuse I remain cautious about whom I talk with because others don't necessary understand. Friends and family alike fall into this category. We cannot be healed if we just believe that was in the past it's time to move on. We must open up and share. For me the sharing has occured little by little over time. Most recently, working with an excellent trained counselor has made all the difference. Opening up has helped me release so much pain that has been buried for so long. It has been the most freeing experience of my life. I would encourage everyone out there who has suffered some form of abuse, particularly those of you who have been sexually abused to find someone to talk to...a friend might be able to handle what you share, but I would recommend a trained counselor. No matter what you choose, just open up and begin to let the poison out so healing can begin. I believe God sent me to the right person and he will lead you too if you will just ask. God Bless.