Our Own Exodus

Sometimes it seems recovery is never going to end. We think we are getting close only to find out there is another level to reach or mountain to climb. It can be painful, discouraging, and downright frustrating.

I often wondered why all of the abuse and its effects could not wait until I was an adult to reveal themselves. As stated in an early post, I started to remembering small parts of it at 13. I am thinking it all could have just waited until years later when I could clearly see all I had to recover from at one time rather than dragging it out over several years. I used to think my progress and growth was slow because I was constantly running away from it. Now I believe that is only partly true. Not only was I running from dealing with the abuse and its effects, I was running from God’s healing power. I am not saying the process would have been faster, but may be I would  not have continued to run from it had I counted on God for the strength to keep going or grant me peace when it was time to take a break from it.

A recent Bible study session on Exodus gave me a different picture.

As ready as the Israelites thought they were to leave Egypt and slavery, they, as a people, were not really prepared. They were anxious to be out from under the control of the pharaoh and knew it was God’s plan. They raided Egypt and headed out across the desert with the spoils of Egypt.. I am sure none of them (including Moses) had a clear idea of what would happen next and I am sure God planned it that way. They were expectant of the ultimate result but thought nothing of the journey. I wonder if they thought it would be easy because God had done a lot to make escape possible.

The above strikes me as a similar principle involving recovery. As ready as I am to leave all this behind me, to be free from the boundaries of the abuse around my life, and jump into a new future, I have to be patient and wait on God’s timing. I have not ever been prepared to deal with it all at one time. No one is. I no longer have any doubts that God was always with me. He knew me then, knows me now, and designed my whole being. He has also designed my healing. A healing that could never take place instantly. .

Like most survivors, I did not get all my information at one time. It came a little at a time, with the exception of the information avalanche I received last year. Why? Because to get it all when I first remembered as a teenager would have been catastrophic and to get it all as an adult would have pretty much had the same effect. It would have been so devastating and overwhelming and I would have drowned in it. I honestly do not think I would have survived it mentally or physically. God’s plan is to help me rise above it, move forward, and not drown.

When the Israelites were lead out of Egypt God did not take them the short, direct route to where they are going because he knew they were not prepared. Had they gone the shorter route it would have been easier for the Egyptians to capture them. They were not organized and basically defenseless. He wanted to demonstrate his power and give them confidence in that power. He wanted them to learn to depend on him for their needs and safety. He wanted them to follow a redeemer and not a result.

God gave me information about the abuse a little at a time. I needed the opportunity to accept and deal with what was in front of me. At 13 I was not emotionally mature enough to handle anything except what God brought to the surface. My confidence in myself was low and I really had no fight in me. It did not even occur to me at that age I had anything to fight for. I really was not really connected to God at that time. I had accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior but I was not actively seeking him. At that point in my life it would not have occurred to me to seek his help.

When the Egyptians started to chase the Israelites in order to enslave them again, God parted the Red Sea so the Israelites could get away from them. Of course they were afraid of the Egyptians, but they saw the miracle God placed before them and walked to the other side of the sea on dry land. The sea closed around the Egyptians and they all drowned. God again rescued the Israelites from Egypt. The Israelites witnessed his power and most likely they gained even more confidence in God’s ability to take care of them.

The Bible study leader pointed out something about the above event that I had never thought of before. When God closed the Red Sea after the Israelites were safely on the other side, there was no way for them to turn around and go back. They were now separated from their captors with no possibility of them attacking again. There was also no way to return to the place that enslaved them. The parting of the Red Sea was not going to happen again. The only direction they could go from that point was where God lead them and it was forward, toward a new future.

Survivors of abuse have made it to the other side of the Red Sea safely. When I became an adult it became clear the physical abuse was just the beginning. The effects are really the problem and are holding me back. I stood at the edge of the sea and had to make a decision whether to return to the “comfortable awful” place I was in or trust God to take me on the journey to recovery. The sea parted and I started to walk to the other side. During this walk I was remembering everything that happened. The details of the abuse became clear along with the effects. Every step I took across the sea on dry land was a choice, a choice to move forward. I could have just stopped at any point along the way and turn around or just stopped, sat down, and waited for the sea to come crashing down around me. I really do not think God would have let me drown. We serve a patient and loving God. I believe the sea would have remained parted until I finally reached the other side, lifting me up when I was ready to give up. Once I reached the other side the sea came back together, drowning the enemy. The memories are all still there but now they are swirling around at the bottom of the sea, like the bones of the attacking Egyptians. The physical memories can no longer hurt me. To walk back into the sea would represent a lack of faith and certainly the death of hope. I cannot turn around. I cannot forget the past but now the only direction I have to go is forward, in the direction God is leading me.

God took care of the Israelites the entire time he was leading them to the promised land. He made sure they were fed, clothed, and protected. He lead them by a pillar of clouds during the day and a pillar of fire at night. All they had to do was obey and follow him. They made many mistakes, disobeyed, and complained but he still took care of them. They ended up wandering in the desert for an extra 40 years because of disobedience, but he never stopped providing.

God has taken care of me every step of the way. He has made provisions for my healing. I have his Word for direction. He provided a strong christian therapist, a faith-based support group, and has opened my eyes so that I can see how he has provided for me. He has plans for me and I need to follow the pillars of cloud and fire. When the pillars stop moving I need to take the time to see what God has brought me through, taught me, and how he has helped me grow.  Healing is done in his time, not mine. When God feels I am ready, the pillars start to move again and I am to follow and trust the direction he is taking me. Yes, there are times I complain, fuss, criticize, and just plain disobey but still he is there, providing for me and waiting for me to come back around..

Unlike the first generation of Israelites to leave Egypt, I will still see the promised land. On earth this will be freedom to live a life on the other side of the Red Sea, seeking and obeying God. The ultimate promised land is of course heaven and eternal life. .

Anger Eruptions

Recently I created a situation that scared me. I experienced a taste of the amount of anger buried deep inside. Anger is probably the wrong word. Rage seems more appropriate.

I had been frustrated for a couple of days over a misplaced item. I was frustrated with myself and my husband for not putting forth the same amount of commitment and effort into finding it. This situation has presented itself on several occasions over the years and in some cases I had just accepted it and moved on. This was different for no logical reason.

I erupted. In the course of 10 minutes I had called my husband a name that was not endearing, cleared an entire desk in one fell swoop, and threw a 3-way sorter laundry basket across the room. I destroyed our bedroom to the point walking through it was nearly impossible. I gathered my pillow and quilt and went to the guest room. My husband and I had never slept in separate rooms before and it felt strange doing it. I had completely gone off the deep end.

I laid in the guest room, still fuming, with a few small tears trickling down my cheeks. I did not sleep well at all. The rage was gone and I was now feeling guilty and ashamed. My husband did not deserve what I called him. The frustration that erupted into rage had nothing to do with him. Frustration-yes. Rage-no. I had hurt my husband and created a huge mess for me to clean up. I had lost control to the point of causing significant damage. I was frightened by my actions. It was raining that night and noise from the water dripping from eaves onto the roof was distracting and made it more difficult to sleep. Around four in the morning I went into the bedroom and slept in our bed, mostly because I did not want our kids to see me sleeping in another room.

As the next day wore on, I started to realize I really did know where the rage came from. I know it was from a deep place within my soul that I had never wanted to touch; a place so very dark and scary. It came from all the anger from the abuse I have been suppressing.

When I told my therapist about the eruption he was surprised. He said “That does not sound like you.” I had never acted like that before. Sure, I have been frustrated before but I had never become enraged. The event was a big indication I have a great deal of work to do regarding anger.

In therapy and group I have processed a lot of stuff. I have remembered incredibly painful and horrible memories; learned ways to cope with shame, false guilt, real guilt, sadness, depression; and I became more self aware in several areas. I learned how to let go and embrace positive things rather than dwell on the negative. I learned to safely approach things and take chances on new things at the same time. I have not dealt with “blind with rage” kind of anger.

I am truly uncomfortable and frightened at the degree of anger/rage inside. I have no idea how to deal with it safely and it seems impossible. My therapist has assured me there are safe ways to defuse and cope with this and I trust him. I have no idea where this is going to take me, but I do know what I will fight to keep from going off the deep end again.

I will fight the temptation to turn this towards myself. I have spent so many years hurting myself physically and emotionally for things I am not responsible for. As I write this I am fighting the urge to cut or cause other bodily damage. I cannot be sure that I will successfully fight this every time, but I have a strength I did not recognize before, a new level of growth, and the assurance God is fighting this with me. I also realize that if I do not succeed, it is not the end of the world and I can see it for what it is----a setback and not a fall off a cliff.

I will fight to keep from taking it out on those around me. The rage comes from the abuse and is where it should be directed. No one else deserves it. This will be tough with the rage this close to the surface. I will need to be more self aware and will need to made a concentrated effort to act and not react. Reacting can be dangerous and unpredictable. I do not want to be unpredictable in an unsafe manner. I do not want to punish others for something my abusers did.

I will not let this take away my faith. My anger is not directed at God. I have accepted his love and sacrifice for me. He has been with me always and will continue to be there. I will find strength to fight as long as I seek him. I need to keep these thoughts ahead of the angry ones.

I have more to say about all of this, not necessarily how to cope with it, but maybe just identifying where it comes from. It is too simple to say it comes from the abuse. It is so much more complicated. There is more than one type of anger created from the abuse and reasons why we suppress it. I need to start sorting through this and get to the other side.

More to follow….

Change in Perspective

This is a short post and I usually do not post twice in the same week, but I had to get this out.

Very recently I had a heated discussion with the psychiatrist prescribing my medication. During the month prior to this visit several things happened that left me extremely irritated with her. At this particular visit we went through the usual song and dance about my progress with my actual therapist and whether my medication was working. I was in a defensive stance through most of it and then she asked if I had any questions. It was on at that point. I asked my questions about her past actions and she answered them with an air of deniability. She finally told me that most psychiatrists/psychologists do not like to deal with patients with my diagnosis because we are “too needy.” She then tried to offer advice and things I should work on with my therapist. I was down to one-word answers at that point. I left her office incredibly angry and I had a sense I had at least irritated her also.

The above is not the point of this post, it is my reaction. I left her office angry, hurt, overwhelmed, and depressed all at the same time. I was angry because she was incorrect about a couple of events and claimed I had things confused. I was angry because played my diagnosis against me. The anger seemed fairly justified to me.

I got in my car and my thought was “How dare she make me feel like this?!” I disappeared into my depression. I was immediately fatigued and could only focus on the words she said that hurt me and gave me doubts about myself. It all started to sound familiar. My abusers gave me doubts about my self worth and said words that hurt me. I am not saying the psychiatrist abused me, but she brought up the bad self perspective I have been fighting for years.

Later I realized I did it to myself. I let her make me feel this way. I allowed the hurt and depression to sink into my heart and ruin the rest of my afternoon. This is a person who barely knows me, sees me 15 minutes tops every couple of months or so, and I considered her opinion of me higher than the ones of my family, friends, and more importantly, God. I cannot say I will never have a knee-jerk reaction like that again, but I know that as long as I step back and seek God’s help, He can change my perspective and point me in His direction.

Letting Go of Fear

The Lord is my light and my salvation— whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life— of whom shall I be afraid? Psalm 27.1.

I have been thinking a lot about fear the last few weeks. All of us are fearful several times in our lives for multiple reasons. My thoughts have focused on the fears enhanced or brought about by my sexual abuse. Some of my fears were unknown to me, I just acted on them unconsciously. I believe an important part of my recovery is identifying these fears and moving past these.

I have identified the following:

The fear of:

1. Losing control or consent of what happens to my body sexually.
2. Intimacy and vulnerability.
3. Trust.
4. Acceptance once I revealed I was abused.
5. What life will hold when I learn different ways of handling things in a positive way, thinking of the future, and not being stuck in the past.

I could probably come up with a much longer list but I believe these are the biggest I have faced and need to face right now.

Losing Control or Consent

I have no doubt that this applies to just about every victim of sexual abuse. I remember being very cautious while dating and labeled a prude my first couple of years of high school. At one point that was no longer the case but I found myself dissociating in most situations involving sexual contact of any kind. I surrendered and never really expressed anything I needed or wanted. This carried through my first marriage. After my marriage ended, I became the opposite. I was militant about my needs and nothing was done without my consent. My body is mine and no one was going to take advantage of it again. End of story. Between marriages I went a little crazy and thought I was controlling men with sex. When I remarried I had total control of our sex life. I was in charge of when and what we did. My husband has never been anything but gentle and understanding with me, and yet I was not willing to give him any say in our sex life. When he initiated sex and I agreed my thought process included the statement “He wants sex and it is my choice to give it to him.” It was never “I love him and I am glad we can do this in a mature, loving relationship.” For the record, this is not the best way to handle sex within the confines of marriage.

I did not initially grasp the reasoning behind my behavior. I came to the crushing realization that I was trying to control sexual situations in my past while living in my future. I was hurting my husband, a man who loves me seemingly unconditionally. I am not saying my body is his; it is still mine, but I can give myself to him in a loving way, the way God intended in a married relationship. Don’t get me wrong, I am still really protective of my body and I have come to blows over someone doing something inappropriate, but it is not driven by fear. It is driven by a desire to keep me safe and my marriage safe as well.

Intimacy and Vulnerability

For the longest time I have joked about the wall around my heart. I described it as steel reinforced, bars on the windows and door, and surrounded by a moat full of alligators. No one was ever getting in no matter who they were. At a minimum, everyone was kept at arm’s length (my children are the exception to this. They had my heart from the positive pregnancy test). I earned a reputation as being hard hearted and just not caring about how anyone else felt. This was not necessarily true but I did not know how to express it without letting my guard down.

I did not know what I was missing. I heard women, and even a couple of men, describe a desire to have intimacy with someone; to have a connection that felt safe and comfortable. I had no idea what they were talking about. The thought never crossed my mind. Somewhere deep inside I was afraid of it and did not know it. I was afraid to become intimate and/or vulnerable with anyone in case they took advantage and I feel abused all over again. I have slowly begun to open myself up to my husband, sharing things with him, and letting him know what lies below the surface person I present. This has happened in baby steps but I have to say it feels great and has strengthened our marriage. I feel the draw of intimacy and vulnerability in a loving marriage with a man who would rather die than do anything to hurt me. As a result, he has become more open with me. It is difficult not to dwell on the time we missed, but it is easy to look forward to the time we have ahead of us.

Trust

Again, I think this goes without saying. Most abuse victims do have major trust issues. I believe this ties in with intimacy and vulnerability. I trusted those who abused me to keep me safe and not cause hurt. They violated that trust in a despicable manner. Now trust is difficult to say the least. How do you trust anyone not to hurt you again? How do you not expect the worst from people? I think you start with God and work your way down to earth. God is consistent and loves us. People are not consistent. A big part of learning to trust has to do with accepting that other people are human and are going to make mistakes, including ourselves. In my mind this does not include our abusers. The sexual abuse makes them untrustworthy forever. Perfection lies with God, not humans. The trick is to not exaggerate our reaction when someone hurts us. It is unfair to pin an emotional reaction based on abuse on an unsuspecting person in our life, one that has absolutely nothing to do with our abuse.

Acceptance once I revealed I was abused

The fear of how someone will react when we tell them of our abuse can be overwhelming. We already feel like we are damaged and not worthy of being loved. We do not want others to think the same of us. There are those who will not react well. I had a boyfriend go into a rant about how he had not been able to find a woman that had not been “damaged.” I ended up comforting him. Needless to say the relationship ended fairly quickly.

It will make some people uncomfortable. There are others who will provide an uncomfortable amount of sympathy right off the bat, and there are those who will keep a comfortable distance and offer to help if needed. Whatever the reaction of who we tell, it is their reaction and has nothing to do with us. I feared that anyone I told would see me the way I would see myself: Damaged, broken, unworthy, and unlovable. I still have to be mindful about who I tell, but 99% of the time the reaction is far less traumatic than the one I had built up in my head.

What life will hold when I learn different ways of handling things in a positive way, thinking of the future, and not being stuck in the past.

This fear is driven by having to step out of my comfort zone, no matter how destructive and negative this zone is. For over 30 years I have lived with the shadow of the abuse over my life. I have let it drive decisions and still do. Embarking on a life that is not driven by the abuse and is driven by faith and hope is terrifying because it is completely new. For the longest time I never imagined a life without the abuse affecting it. It is uncomfortable just because I have never experienced such a life before. It almost feels like moving to a foreign country with a different language. Like with the intimacy and vulnerability, I am taking baby steps and I have fallen backwards on several occasions. The difference is I have continued to make an effort to move forward and not focus on the setback. I am not always as successful at this as I would like to be, but deep inside I know there is hope. I have seen it in other survivors and look forward to what my life will be. I am still unsure of what it looks like, but it certainly has to be better than the alternative.

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

Being Prepared...

I honestly thought I had all the memories of my abuse and recently found I was wrong. I dealt with it poorly to say the least. It is discouraging to think you are done recovering memories and then be overtaken by another one or two.

My sequence of events is as follows:

• Age 13: I remember a seemingly small detail of being abused at age 3.
• Age 16: A few more details of the same incident are remembered. I still only think it happened once.
• Age 26: I get most of the details of the above incident and start to realize it happened more than once with the same abuser. These new memories were mostly things that were said and very little actual physical detail.
• Ages 26-42: Focus on the 3 times I remember from ages 3 to 5 and the one time when I was 8 years old.
• Age 42: I got details upon details while writing my story for group. All were different situations with my main abuser. I was completely overwhelmed and just emotionally leveled. I wrote all the details down and a few weeks later felt confident I had all the memories and could start working more on the aftereffects.
• Age 43: Worked through a lot memories and by God’s grace and a lot of outside help, I was lifted out of the pit.
• Fall age 43: A person close to me told a benign story that ended up triggering a memory of abuse at age 10.
• Winter age 43: Full memory of what happened at age 10 returned. It threw my life off for the better part of a week. I fell into some old destructive “coping skills.”
• A week later: Another memory from age 4 hits. It felt like I had been hit in the chest. All bad, self-destructive coping mechanisms took over and I had no concern for my own safety.  

Honestly I was extremely discouraged by the emergence of new memories. I felt like I had been gut punched and entered into a deep level of depression I had not been to in a long while. I felt like I had started all over. I lost my direction and was close to being hospitalized to keep myself safe. I was not suicidal but definitely in a self-mutilating place. I slept so much and had no energy. I felt guilty because I was taking time away from my family due to the depression, which made the depression worse. I was lost and just seemed to exist rather than live.  

At each level I thought I was done with actual memories. The emotional aftermath is all I thought I had to deal with, which is still a monumental task. I believed as long as I had all the memories I could focus on recovery and was not prepared for more. I had all the tools in place and just needed to use them. It was almost like having a disaster kit in the house and not being able to find it when the disaster actually occurred. Instead, I created a mess. If I had taken several deep breaths, really focused on the present, sought help sooner, and looked toward Jesus, those 2 to 3 weeks would have been different. I am not saying I would not have been depressed, but maybe it would not have been so crippling.

Somewhere during the end of those 2 to 3 weeks the following verse showed itself to me.

Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland. Isaiah 43:18-19.

The new memories changed absolutely nothing. I already knew I was abused. I already knew I survived it. I already know several ways it has affected my life in the past and present. I already know the ways to work towards leaving all of this in the past and live in the present. I was not only stunned by the memories, but was also stunned by my seemingly hopeless reaction. My therapist and a couple of friends helped me take a step back and take the time to remember the positive tools I have in place to get through these times.

What are the positive coping tools I have now? There are 3 main ones.

Journaling

Journaling is a tool I need to use more often. Before I cut or do something counterproductive, I need to write down what I am feeling at that moment. Chances are by the time I am done writing (typing) the feeling will have passed or the intensity will have lessened. My perspective changes and most of the time logic will overcome the emotion. I always have some sort of notebook and pen with me. On the off chance I do not, I have been know to write on the back of a receipt. The point is to get it out in a tangible way to regain a sense of reality and get the junk out of my head. I have been known to hesitate to write, because, to me anyway, putting it on paper means I cannot deny it anymore and have to accept it happened. It is not always pleasant but there ways it can be. I can also journal the progress I have made, the dreams I have for the future, and look to those entries when the negative thoughts are taking over.

Friends

Telling a friend I am struggling is a relatively new tool for me. I have had 2 ladies at church that I can tell I am struggling the last couple of years,  but group has been my best source. All the women in group understand and details are not required. If I want to give details, nothing will shock them. They will encourage me and remind me of how far I have already come. They will encourage me to seek help from my therapist and will pray for me. This is an extremely valuable tool (resource). Asking for help can be extremely difficult for me because I hate to admit I am not strong enough to handle things on my own. I am learning to admit it and each time I ask for help it gets a little easier to do ask the next time.

Jesus

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Deuteronomy 31:6, 8.

The biggest resource  I have is Jesus. Admittedly there are moments and even days that I am so overwhelmed I cannot find the words to pray. Jesus knows my heart and nothing is hidden from him. It may seem that since he already knows I do not need to pray, but we all do. Acknowledging his presence and calling on Jesus is what we need to do. We need to admit we need his help, strength, and hope. We need to say it out loud. If I cannot find the words, all I simply need to do is say his name. I can also ask others to pray for me. I do not necessarily need to give them the reasons, yet they will pray for whatever it is I need. Jesus is a comfort and is always there. Always. I can look to him and know he will never let me down. He is the perfect resource.

Putting all of this into practice takes a lot of time and effort. Bad habits are difficult to break and new ones are harder to form. I will not always be successful, but I hope to get closer and closer and really think about my positive resources before I act on self-destructive habits. The path of recovery is not a straight line but stay on it, as it will get you where you are free.