Chip On My Shoulder

In the past 90 days I have collected 4 chips, all from Alcoholics Anonymous.  Every alcoholic’s story is different and not all involve several DUIs, trips to jail, losing jobs, or family.  Mine involved my daily decision making and I decided to give it up before drinking lead me to one of the above.  I only mention this because giving up alcohol has made facing my recovery that much more difficult.

Over a year ago I “voluntarily” admitted myself to a behavioral health center to get help with abusing my anxiety medications and cutting.  These medications were removed from my regimen and I have not taken them since.  I considered not telling my new psychiatrist about the medication abuse in order to have the anxiety pills prescribed again.  It was a short-lived internal debate. He had my discharge papers from the hospital.  I have had to ride out the anxiety since then, which is not all that much fun.

I did not stop drinking when I stopped the pills. I did not see it as a problem, even though I was mixing pills with the alcohol.  I decided alcohol was controllable and I did not drink that often anyway.  With the loss of anxiety medication, the drinking picked up.  A lot of my writing has taken place with a glass of vodka right next to me.  On occasion I have met with my therapist and support group just after consuming a drink, just to take the edge off, to numb reality enough to avoid being crushed by it.  

To recap, I am off anxiety medications and alcohol.  Where does this leave me? Smack in the middle of reality with no way to escape and experiencing “white knuckling” when I feel like I could just explode. There is not a clear way to distinguish the good and bad of this new lifestyle and I can argue both sides.

I am no longer depending on alcohol or medication abuse to help get me through the rough spots.  The buffer is gone. Everything I have used in the past to keep myself sane has disappeared.  Cutting is no longer satisfying.  I tried it after giving up alcohol and its effect was minimal.  I considered upping the severity, but eventually decided against it. I did not want to have to explain it to anyone.

The upside of all this is the same.  I can no longer numb myself or keep a buffer zone between myself and all that emotion and truth I need to get through.  Logically I can rationalize the benefits.  The possibility of having a life unconsumed by the abuse and its effects surrounds brings hope in face of soberly tackling the mess the abuse left behind.  However, the thought of digging through all this mess head on, without chemical help, also brings nausea and fear.  There are moments it all feels like a lose-lose situation.

Not drinking has affected my desire to write for the same reason above.  I will feel the full impact of the emotions and memories I post here.  For the last 90 days it seemed easier to keep the laptop off.  

Recently, I wrote out another portion of my story for a support group, first time I have ever done this totally sober.  It was painful, simply because I felt it this time.  There was not my comfortable level of detachment.  In the past I had written out parts of my story in one sitting, maybe taking an hour.   This time around it took nearly the entire week.  I would get a section down and have to stop.  I wrote some of it in a public place, which is a cheap form of putting distance between myself and the words on the paper.  I have a strict rule about making an emotional scene in public.  I barely do it in counseling or in private.  My nerves of steel were now spasming and I was amped up on emotion.  If I had to paint a picture of what life was like that week, leading up to the time I had finished reading my story, it would be of a squirrel in the middle of the road with a car coming at it.  I could not make up my mind which direction to go.  It was like I did not have time to think rationally, and I wasn’t. I experienced my first episode of “white knuckling” and hated every second of it.

Approximately an hour after I finished reading the story and the next member told theirs, I felt better in the sense I was no longer rocking back and forth in my seat.  I was exhausted and I was emotionally exhausted well into the next day.  However, I had done it.  I faced my story head on, as nerve-racking as it had been.  I am certainly not saying I will be able to handle my recovery in stride and with grace, but I at least know I have done it once, and the first time is always the hardest, right?

Nightmare Revisited

Nightmares are inescapable and a part of everyone’s life. Some happen while we are sleeping and others are happening right in front of you. As survivors of sexual abuse we have experienced both.

Not all of my nightmares have been driven by the abuse. A horror or disturbing movie will cause them for me. I have been known to watch a Disney movie after a movie or show has left me uneasy and unable to sleep. With the deeper work through recovery, the more frequent the nightmares became. Several nights I woke my husband up screaming. I did not always remember all the details but always the feelings of fear, sadness, anxiety, and helplessness. Most mornings I was exhausted and my entire day was off.

I am not sure what was different about today, but I recalled a nightmare I had years ago, when I was sixteen and had just started therapy for the abuse. It stuck with me for years but I have not thought about for at least 15 years. There are not a lot of details but the ones I recall still bother me.

It started in circular all-white room. I was barefoot, wearing a pair of shorts and a pink shirt. If I had to guess my age, I was in my teens. The room was cold. Slowly the room started to darken. I was in the center and a dark blue haze was forming around the sides of the room. I was surrounded by the haze with just a tad bit of light coming from the ceiling. My feet were cold on the still white floor. I was anxious, confused, and frightened of the haze. Eventually I could no longer see the sides of the room through the haze. As far as I could tell, there was no way out. I began to fear suffocation. An arm with an outstretched hand materialized only inches in front of my face. There was no noise, just the arm. More started to appear and as I turned around I realized I was surrounded. My breaths became shallow and I lowered myself into a crouching position with my arms hiding my head. The hands never touched me and there was only the noise of my panicked breathing. I started to shiver from the cold and fear. There was the sensation of the blue haze closing in on my, making my spot of light smaller and smaller. At this point I either woke up or just do not remember if anything happened next.

This nightmare bothered me for years and I never understood why I could not shake it. Details of other bad dreams disappeared when my eyes opened; this one stayed. In fact, it shook me so much that every time a room was suddenly cast into darkness from a power outage or the lights were simply dimmed I would be taken back to the above nightmare. There were a few uncomfortable moments my senior year of high school when the power went out and I started crying in the dark. I lived in a very windy area and power outages were frequent. Eventually I learned to keep the panic and tears inside.

Dream interpretation is not something I have looked into. I do not believe any dream can be explained in its entirety. I looked at this nightmare as just that, a horrible dream as a result of the sexual abuse. The circular room without doors was my being trapped, helpless against the abuse. The blue haze everything I could not remember and the hands were those of my abusers, reaching to hurt me. I often thought some of the hands represented the doctors who treated me for numerous urinary tract infections or any abuse-related problem. There was a day an invasive test was done in order to diagnosis the recurrent infections. I was four and fought the doctors and nurses with all I had, which resulted in them restraining me with a sheet tied around a board. No one picked up on the sexual abuse. There was no escape from the room in my dream; I did not see a way out. It ended with me in a crouching position being overtaken by the haze.

As mentioned, today triggered the memory of the nightmare. I could track down the specific cause of the trigger, if I felt it necessary. As the day wore on I started to wonder if I was misinterpreting the dream.

The nightmare occurred at the start of treatment of the abuse, not before I started to remember and not in the middle of recovery. What if the white circular room represented the small world I created outside of the abuse? I hid it for so long and presented myself as the “good girl.” Everything was shiny and white and unblemished. The blue haze still could represent the memories still to be recovered, memories I have always been frightened of. The shiny world was becoming hazy. Instead of the outstretched arms and hands representing those who hurt me, what if they represented the memories and emotions I needed to grasp to clear the room? In the dream the hands never touched me; they were just there, surrounding me. What would have happened if I had touched one of them? Becoming smaller and trying to hide at the end of the dream could simply be my unwillingness to take these hands and discover the truth about my sexual abuse. The haze was surrounding me and closing in on me because there was no turning back. Once the door is opened and healing starts it cannot be stopped. It can be suffocating and terrifying. I have often felt like I was drowning in memories, emotions, and depression.

All the dream interpretation above could just be a load of bull. I could just be reading into something that has absolutely no meaning and has nothing to do with my abuse. My perspective on the dream has changed however. I have taken it from a nightmare to a dream representing the beginning of recovery.

The sixteen-year-old girl has grown up and her life is different. What was initially seen as a nightmare full of things wanting to hurt her has shifted into a dream representing what needs to be embraced and processed. Still just as frightening, but now representing a plan of healing.

My heart continues to skip a beat when a room suddenly becomes covered in darkness. I considered myself crazy because I reacted like a scared little girl when it happened. Honestly, who isn’t taken aback when the light disappears, even for a minute. It is unsettling but it does not have to be a huge deal; it can be a temporary inconvenience.

Getting caught up in the negative and nightmares of abuse is so easy we often do not feel it happening. It feels natural to take up residence in the hopelessness and see the world through a negative blue haze. Perspective is seemingly forever tainted by the abuse. Taking one step forward, however how small, we can clear our vision and see hope.

Facing the Enemy

I am headed into a battle; a battle to win the war of gaining my intended life. I am working to find my purpose. I was simply not created to mop up the need of my abusers. God has a much better plan for my life, for all of our lives.

For the last 3 to 4 months I have felt a nagging in my heart to no longer work around my core feelings by focusing on symptoms. Not that I am finished with symptoms, but I really believe if I do not get to the center, the symptoms will stick. I could stop right here and still be able to live an okay life, working around the damage of the abuse and maybe moving further past it. However, I do not want an okay life. I want the life I am meant to live, the one God created me for. I need to feel whole and fully experience life.   

Compartmentalization of the abuse is a defense mechanism. There are compartments holding memories, emotions, and self-protection. While I have cried and experienced feelings about the abuse I had to stifle, there was always a part I did not touch, avoiding the core driving my life and decision making.

About a month ago, after great personal physical harm was experienced, my counselor and I decided it was really time to excavate, to dig into the core. He asked where I wanted to start and, much to his surprise, I chose to start with the most destructive emotions. There were a few reasons for this. First, I had pretty good control over the anger, sadness, and over protection. Second, I was starting to spiral down from the destructive thinking and there was a very real threat to my physical body as well as emotional stability. Lastly, if I could survive getting to the core of harmful emotions, it would put the others in a different perspective and possibly be less painful to work through.  

The lies we believe are hurtful and deceitful. Any cutting, toenail removal, or other painful physical action I took was driven by the lies. For the longest time I was able to keep them under control and not really expose myself to origin. I hid from them out of fear of experiencing the incredible pain.

I created this monster of lies within. My abuser (nickname Junior) told me the sexual abuse was my fault. If I was not cute, sweet, or pretty, he would not do those things to me. Junior was excellent at convincing me he just could not help himself because I was so desirable that I was the instigating factor. I made him a bad person because I was purposely tempting him and therefore responsible for all of it. I was 3-½. Even now I can hear Junior feeding me these lines. I shoved all those “responsibility” feelings and lies into a compartment. Without being conscious of it, I was punishing myself for causing the abuse, for creating a monster forced to sexually assault me based on my actions.

My therapist’s intern, who has participated in my sessions, made a casual remark that struck a nerve. She wondered if I also acted out of un-forgiveness? Was the inability to forgive myself lowering my resistance, inspiring the physical harm because I felt I really did deserve it? It was ultimately decided to explore this in the next 2-hour session he had available. There was concern a 55-minute session would not be enough time to “regroup” afterwards and the goal was to avoid cutting or worse. With the longer session there was time to recover if it got really bad. For the record, there was not any pressure to actually do this in the 2-hour session. It was completely up to me how it went. If I deferred, it was not a big deal and the time would be used for other issues.

In the few weeks leading up to the longer session I started to write down the possible negative emotions behind the self-destruction. Once I had the list, I put it aside and waited. I was nervous about getting too involved without proper protection in place.

The self-hatred was composed of my abuser’s lies about my being to blame and all the other negative emotions I have about myself whether abuse related. The list of hurtful emotions consists of un-forgiveness, self-hatred, vulnerability, intimacy, brokenness, and unworthiness.

My therapist gently took me through the basics of the emotions. He showed me how they are all lies. It was not my fault, so there is nothing to forgive. I did not create the situation or encourage it, therefore I should not hate myself. Vulnerability and intimacy are good things that were twisted and made to feel bad. It is going to take time and I have been taking steps to become vulnerable in safer situations and I am making connections with people I never had before. The abuse is not the only thing making me feel broken and flawed. There is nothing in my DNA making me less of a person, making it okay to abuse and/or hurt me. Something in the abuser broke and he sexually abused me, not the other way around. I am not less valuable because of the abuse. The feelings of unworthiness not only stem from the abuse, they also reach into my relationship with my father. After my parents divorced I did not see or hear from him for a long time. He essentially disappeared into his military career and new wife. My therapist helped me see his actions came from his own hurt and had nothing to do with me. Every child believes divorce or absent parents have something to do with them. If I was somehow a better daughter, he would not have left me behind. By the time the divorce took place I had been abused, adding to my feeling I was not good enough for my dad to stick around.

The session was the most emotional I have endured to date. It was raw, honest, and excruciating. I have cried in therapy several times but this time the pain and tears came from my core. I felt everything. I was sifting through devastating emotions and could not hide. Once I started the option of cutting the process off was out of my control. I was fully present, could not dissociate from it, and crushed by the power of the pain. After 1-½ hours my therapist and the intern stopped me and we talked about how to take care of myself when I left. Everyone in the room was drained by the end. I was safe and put back together at the end of the 2 hours, exhausted but no longer defeated.

 Did recognition of all this fix everything? No, but some of the power is gone. The feelings were dragged into the light. Now I can see them and can sort through and reorganize, reshape, and put it them perspective. This will take time and a lot of work, more work than I really think I want to do. I am taking 30-plus years of damage and repairing it. Just as one does not gain or lose weight overnight, I did not wake up the next day all better. A lot of effort on my part needs to take place and I will need help to keep it all in proper perspective. I can do this and have been doing it a little at a time all along. I will slip along the way and have dig my way out, but I honestly think the cutting and other physical harm is over with.

A Life Worth Saving

When you start to think you are tired of dealing with the abuse or that you just do not have the energy to keep going it is scary. It is frightening to my soul and causes great concern for my counselors and support system.

This just hurts. I am weary and wish giving up was an option. Not necessarily suicide but I just want to forget the abuse again and live in blissful ignorance. In thinking about this, forgetting the abuse would take me back to age 11-13. Not a big time frame to live in and it certainly was not blissful. Even if I never remembered the abuse, the effects would have been lifelong and I would have had a hard time relating to others. I guess blissful ignorance is not possible either.

It appears continuing to recover or suicide are the options. I need to explore them a little further.

Suicide is not a reasonable option. I used to deeply believe it was and had plans for such. I still know the plans but several precautions are in place to control the possibilities. Truth be told, if I was really determined, none of the safety plans in place would stop me. I am not there however. It still crosses my mind but I will not be acting on it. Even though I am 98% confident I am safe, the 2% has me thinking of going into a hospital until the feeling passes.

What are the things stopping me from ending my life? There are several but some are stronger than others. Saying I need to stay alive for my husband and children seems easy. While taking my life would hurt them deeply along with other people who care about me, I really need about other reasons to keep fighting. I need to fight for me. If I give up, the abusers win. They have taken so much of my life already, why give them the rest? I need to take my life back, not give it up. This is what the 98% believes.

So what do I do? I start thinking about what is really driving the thoughts and push my outside resources to the surface. I will start with the outside resources in no particular order.

Hospital

The emergency room is a safe option. While I dread the stigma that comes from checking into an ER stating I am in danger of hurting myself, it makes more sense. If I cannot keep myself safe from harm, I need to be watched. It feels childish to have another adult keep you in their line of sight for hours or days at a time; however, it works. A few years ago I was in the hospital for being suicidal. I was released 5 or 6 days later. A lot of things took place in those days but one of them was a determination not to go back in the hospital. It turned my house upside down for awhile but therapy became more intense and more progress was made.

The last week I have considered going to the ER. I managed to talk myself out of it only because I considered more than just myself. I had a lot of responsibilities that week with my husband, kids, and appointments. Do not misunderstand, my family would rather I be safe and alive and I would have checked in if I had not come to the conclusions listed below.

PROFESSIONAL HELP

Plans are established by seeking advice; so if you wage war, obtain guidance. Proverbs 20:18

I have a professional counselor, who is exhausted by the way. He is not there to tell me everything is rosy and just hang on. He pushes me to reach in and deal with the pain. My doctor knows what I need to recover. Granted, he will encourage me to go to a hospital if I truly concern him, in fact, he instigated the hospitalization earlier this year. I was incredibly ticked off at him but it saved my life. Finding a therapist you trust may take time and it may not be the first few you see. Over the years I have seen five. These days I am wondering if I did not get anything out of sessions with the previous four because I did not put enough into it. Honesty is the only way to really make progress and establish trust.

My counselor can usually tell when I am hitting bottom and push the button needed to get to the

bottom of it. It can happen in one session or over a few, but he has forced me to see reality and gain a logical perspective several times (which has to be exhausting).

If you do not have a personal counselor, I urge you to seek a minister. Make an appointment and give them the opportunity to listen, help, and guide.

Telling Family/Friends

Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective. James 5:16

This is harder than it may sound. Who wants to worry family and friends? No one. Which family and/or friends want to know I am trouble? All of them. I had to make a promise to my spouse after my last hospitalization. I have agreed to let him know when my depression is worsening and/or when I am seriously considering hurting myself. I do tell him when the depression is getting worse but unfortunately I have failed to let him know when I am considering hurting myself and usually let him know after the fact. I am pretty sure I do not tell him beforehand to avoid constant questioning and the potential of being watched. I still want space to work things out. I hit a wall last week and did something that caused excruciating pain. Guilt and shame afterwards were heavy and I have resolved not to let it happen again.

A support system of friends that are going through similar things and some that are not is important. People who are going through the same understand where I am struggling. They can either sit with me and cry or show me how they have come through the same crisis. My friends who have not been abused are invaluable in a different way. These women pray for me when I ask and do not press for details. There is no judgement from either group. It is precious. I imagine ending my life will hurt them deeply and I do not want to leave them thinking they failed. Suicide is actually a selfish action no matter how you try to justify it. Not giving people a chance to help tells them you do not trust them to love you through heartache.

For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” Matthew 18:20

GAINING PERSPECTIVE

Out in the open wisdom calls aloud, she raises her voice in the public square; Proverbs 1:20

Stubbornness is an inherited trait for me. If I am determined not to do any of the above, I need to work into a proper perspective. A wise man I respect once told me this time in my life is just a drop in the bucket in a lifetime. This is not a permanent state and is not always bad. If I get caught up in all the pain and struggle, I will forget all the good. Does this seem to trivialize the pain? It will make my eyes roll from time to time but it is correct. Everything in my life has not been traumatic and there were good times, even if it was just a few minutes a day. Hold onto those moments. There will be more. We never know how much time we have, which leads me to my next point.

GOD’S PLAN

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

God has a plan for my life and yours. I can guarantee he does not have a plan for us to end our lives before his set time. Giving up is disobedience. I was never promised life would be easy. God promises to never leave us and to lift us up. Suicide is disregarding all of his plans and promises.

Humans are incredibly imperfect and we cannot achieve perfection until we die and meet him in heaven. Meeting him ahead of schedule is not the design. You may think ending your life will just get you to heaven early (if you have accepted Jesus as your savior) and end suffering. God desires for us to live out his purpose for us. We affect more people than we realize. God realizes it and puts us in people’s lives and people in our life for specific reasons. I have come to the conclusion my job is not to alter God’s plan by taking my life but it is to listen to him and seek his purpose for me. He designed me to be an individual and I am honored that he thinks I am valuable tool for his work.

A person’s days are determined; you have decreed the number of his months and have set limits he cannot exceed. Job 14:5

God Understands

I never realized how much God really does understand the effects of sexual abuse. I had always tossed Him aside saying to myself “He really does not understand what I am going through.” Most of this time I was also blaming Him, so that contributed to my rebellion.

In reading On the Threshold of Hope by Diane Langberg about recovering from abuse the author mentioned the story of Tamar in the Old Testament, 2 Samuel 13:1-22. Tamar’s half-brother (Amnon) and his cousin tricked her into being alone with him and then raped her. When he was finished he took his anger at himself out on her. He disgraced her in front of the house staff and destroyed her spirit. She sought consolation from her brother (Absalom) and he told her “not to take it to heart.” When her father, David, heard what happened he was angry but never said a word. Tamar was alone in her shame with no one to help her. Those she trusted either violated her or failed to care about her pain. Sound familiar?

This story in the Bible was almost earth shattering for me. It definitely became a turning point for me. I realized that God does understand what abuse and rape does to us emotionally. Verse 20 states ...Tamar lived in her brother’s home, bitter and desolate (The Message). A couple of years later her brother killed her attacker but I am not sure that provided any relief for Tamar. Sure, she would no longer have to face him should the occasion arise, but her self-worth had already been destroyed when no one came to her rescue immediately. Her sense of value was already gone and she had a bitter heart. I would like to think Absalom finally decided to kill Amnon after seeing the effect the rape had on his sister on a daily basis. Maybe by then his anger of what was done to sister finally reached the point Tamar had needed from the beginning. Setting Amnon up to be killed was wrong, but certainly understandable.

Tamar did not have knowledge of the healing power of God that we have now. There does not seem to be anything written that indicates anyone showed her His love or implied that He understood. I have that. I can read through His word and now feel His understanding of my wounded heart, bitterness, and the shame. I can feel the words reaching my heart, pushing out the bitterness and reassuring me that I am not the one who should feel shame. It is my abusers’ sin and shame, not mine.

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” Matthew 19:14. Our abusers hindered us but the kingdom still belongs to us. We just need to keep seeking God’s wisdom, recognize how valuable we are to Him, and accept His son Jesus. God can heal us because He understands our pain. Just simply knowing that He “gets it” is enough for me. I have someone in my corner who will always be there to rescue me and provide comfort. I do not even need to ask necessarily; I just need to accept it.