Gloom & Doom vs Sunshine & Roses

When I previewed my previous blog entry, I took one look at the picture I had chosen (a pensive girl) and thought, "Gee, that's really depressing."  I removed the picture.  I realized that by  writing openly about the realities of childhood sexual abuse, you could get the impression that every minute of my childhood was full of fear and dread.  And it really wasn't.  The human spirit (and body, I guess) won't let us stay in that place for long. We protect ourselves by hiding the reality away, out of mind and sight, and we find ways to laugh, wonder, imagine, and create.  We find ways to be children.

My brothers and sisters and I went on adventures, climbed trees, and had secrets.  We ran and laughed and fought, like all kids do.  As we got older, we learned things from our parents.  I learned about carburetor's and spark plugs, growing carrots and rhubarb, ironing and hanging clothes, and making bread.  We had friends, favorite clothes, dreaded chores, and foods we either loved or hated.  Yes, the "bad" stuff was there but, in between, there was "good" stuff as well.

I had been thinking about this for some time and was planning to write about it here on my blog.  But, what motivated me to actually begin writing, was a dream I had last night. In the dream, I was at some kind of gathering, like a family reunion, and I was having a really bad time.  I wanted to shut out all of the people and the commotion, so I curled up on the couch and put a blanket over my head (something I've been doing in "real life" some lately).  My siblings were attentive and wanted to understand what was going on, and even my psychologist was there.  I wanted to to tell them how I felt and that there was nothing to fear, but I couldn't express my feelings. I wasn't afraid or despairing, I was just so very, profoundly, sad.  At the end of the dream, someone touched my hand, soothingly, and I immediately had an image of that touch on my vulva.

I woke up fine, not upset, but thinking about the dream and how I might write about it.  I realized what a great counterpoint the dream was to my earlier thoughts.  As a child, I survived by shutting out the fear and pain and, by doing so, I was able to have times of joy and laughter.  As an adult, having looked the monsters in the eye, I no longer need to hide from the the traumas of past events, and I feel pretty safe and content.  But, as my dream shows, the core of the trauma, the reality of it, is still deep within me.  The bittersweet truth is that I will always carry, within myself, both the horror and the joy of my childhood.   

Today I'm very comfortable with my psychological and emotional status, and I'm grateful that I had the help and encouragement to be at peace with myself.  I know I'll learn and change and grow for the rest of my life.  I also know that my past, and all that I've lived through, has made me who I am today.  It's given me depth and compassion and helped to form my own personal style, perspective, and magic.

Life is such an amazing gift.  In spite of all the struggles and traumas, I'm glad to be alive, and I'm very glad to be me!  If you've had similar insights, or if my experience resonates with you, I'd love to hear your comments.

Eyes Wide Open

Have you ever noticed how some people close their eyes when they speak?  I can't imagine myself ever doing that. However, I do often close my eyes while waiting in medical offices, sitting through boring lectures, listening to music, or planning my day.  It always feels safe, quiet, and restful in this private internal darkness. I've been aware of  this tendency for some time, but I've only recently decided to explore it more deeply, thanks in part to the example set by the writers at OvecomingSexualAbuse.com.

I think that feeling safer with closed eyes stems from the initial trauma  (as well as the daily threat) of the sexual abuse I suffered as a child.  When the situation was too frightening and I found myself helpless to make it stop,  I tried to shut it out.  I closed my eyes.  It seemed to make the horror less real if I couldn't see it (him).  I felt safer with my eyes closed. As an adult, I think that closing my eyes now and then to find a peaceful place is fine.  It can be restful, centering, and calming. 

On the other hand, if I find myself trying to "shut out" or "close my eyes" to difficult thoughts and emotions through food, sleep, compulsive behavior, or other methods, I know that I need to take notice.  I'm fooling myself and not helping my healing process.  I'm reminded of the child who hides his head behind a sofa thinking that you can't see him (because he can't see you), when in fact his body is in plain view.  The thoughts and emotions are still there in plain view, whether I "close my eyes" to  them or not.  And, if I don't look at them, they can weigh me down and continue to have power over me. 

Many of us have held the believe that, because this life is full of danger, it is safer to peer out at it with our hands metaphorically over our eyes.  We want to be safe from the horrors of  suffering, death, abuse, disease, poverty, and war.  But, if you think about it, with our hands over our eyes (or with our eyes closed) we are actually less able to see approaching danger.  I've come to believe that it's much safer to have our eyes WIDE open, taking everything in. That way we can not only see approaching danger, but we can also more clearly see the life and beauty we've been missing all around us.

Early Therapy Drawings

When I was seeing my first therapist many years ago, she encouraged me to draw at home and bring the pictures to her.  She said, "Just doodle.  Draw anything that comes to mind."  So I did.

The pictures I drew were full of unsettling images, some of various body parts, which I won't share with you! (actually, I think I finally threw away the body part ones  :-).   They were also filled with images of sadness, loneliness, anger, and isolation.  You can see some of them here.

The pictures I drew showed how I was feeling, and they helped me get in touch with how I saw myself.  These were helpful pictures, but they weren't really healing pictures.  I think that most people dealing with a traumatic past will go through this phase of discovery and expression. 

Drawing My Story many years later was quite a different experience.  As I was drawing each panel, I thought about what I had felt, seen, said, and thought.  I was driven to tell it all, show it all, eyes wide open, as honestly as I could.  This was possible in part because I had a good doctor who had earned my trust.  But I think we were both surprised by the outcome.  

Check out this lady who expresses herself beautifully with poetry.

http://www.youtube.com/user/reVerse2bfree/videos

There's TELLING...and Then There's TELLING

You might wonder how in the world telling your intimate memories of traumatic events could make such a difference.  Here's how I see it. 

I think there comes a time for every "victim" when they come to believe that they will never, ever be able to tell what happened to them.  They've lived with the secrets for so long and feel so isolated that they give up.  The decision to remain silent is then reinforced if their supposed rescuer betrays them, if they tell and are not believed, if the abuser is vindicated or ignored, or if someone implies that they should have or could have rescued themselves. 

Oh, they might reveal the bare facts of the trauma.  Over the years, I told lots of people something like, "Yeah, I was sexually abused as a child.  A minister molested me for several years and then my father continued it at home."  Short and sweet.  In each case, I was absolutely certain that nobody would care, nobody would understand, and that it would only make people uncomfortable and lower their opinion of me. 

Real healing comes from finding a safe listener (ideally a professional) who is committed to hearing your whole story without judgement. That includes how you felt, what you saw and heard, what you thought about - all of your fears, worries, horrors, humors, anecdotes, and lies.  It's amazing what a relief it was to finally share that part of my life with a doctor who encouraged me, sympathized with me, and challenged my self recriminations.

Why Would ANYONE Want to Talk About THIS?

Most people don't want to get anywhere near this subject.  So, who does??  Here are some that I've seen.

1. Victims who want to be heard and understood (often full of anger, despair, sadness and confusion). 
2. Recovering victims who tell about their healing process and encourage others to share their experiences.
3. Victims and advocates who use strong emotional appeals to bring the subject to the attention of the public. 
4. Professionals providing resources and information to the public, to victims,  and even to abusers.

So, why am I doing this? 

First, I think I have an obligation, after all I have experienced, to do my part to help others to heal and the public to understand.

Second, I believe that abusers count on the cloak of secrecy that surrounds child sexual abuse and that talking publicly about it can make it more difficult for them to succeed. 

And third, I learned some nifty things about the nature of secrets during my own therapeutic process that I think could be helpful, not only for abuse victims, but for all who have suffered traumas.

Soon I'll be posting my story in slide show form on YouTube and here.  So, stay tooned!