Showing posts with label shame. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shame. Show all posts

Friday, March 18, 2016

Just A Touch



I came across the following section of scripture in the midst of writing a different piece. It did not fit the subject I was investigating but it gave me pause. 

A large crowd followed and pressed around him. And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years. She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors and had spent all she had, yet instead of getting better she grew worse. When she heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, because she thought, “If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed.” Immediately her bleeding stopped and she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering. At once Jesus realized that power had gone out from him. He turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who touched my clothes?” “You see the people crowding against you,” his disciples answered, “and yet you can ask, ‘Who touched me?’ ”But Jesus kept looking around to see who had done it. Then the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell at his feet and, trembling with fear, told him the whole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.” Mark 5:24-34

This woman intrigues me and I relate to her. She had been suffering for twelve years not only from the bleeding but from the shame and isolation forced upon her. In the world in which she lived she was already a second-class citizen. With the constant bleeding she was also considered untouchable; no one was allowed to touch her lest they become unclean themselves. 

How often have I felt unclean because of my abuse? It has been longer than twelve years. I have spent days, weeks, months, and years hiding myself due to shame and a feeling of being damaged. I often find it difficult to believe anyone would really love me if they knew the truth. As an abuse victim, I feel there had to be something genetically wrong with me in order to be abused by so many men. I never could put my finger on it but there had to be something that flashed “Abuse Me! I’m not worth saving.” 

There is the doubt about being worthy to be loved and cared for. It seems so much easier to hide real feelings and emotions than let someone in on how much of a train wreck you really feel. No one wants to date a disaster. Early on we learn to pretend everything is okay and keep our dark secrets. We do not want to create trouble and need everything on the surface to look normal. Deep inside we are desperate to find someone to love us, understand us, and heal our hearts. More often than not, we end up spending all our time with people who will take advantage of our weakness and our spirits become more damaged. 

The woman who reached for Jesus’ cloak had not given up. As much as she had been isolated and ostracized in her world, she still had enough fight in her to reach for Jesus. She pushed through obstacles to get to him. It is possible the crowd surrounding Jesus was not familiar with her plight, otherwise she would have been cast aside and never allowed to get close enough to touch him. She was there, however, with a secret contained within that would make her an outcast. This woman had heard of Jesus and made sure she got close enough. 

I want to talk a little about her level of shame. She was unclean by the standards in her time. If she had been bleeding since puberty, no man would be able to marry her. It was forbidden to lie with a woman while she was menstruating. If she started the constant bleeding after marriage, she could be divorced simply because she could not engage in intercourse and produce children. Her circumstances placed a burden on her that would have made it difficult to look anyone in the eye. She had to hide. When Jesus healed the sick he came face to face with them. The woman was desperate and afraid, so she came up behind and touched Jesus’ cloak. 

Why do I hide from the healing power of Jesus? Like the woman in the scripture, my affliction was not my doing. I did nothing to cause the abuse and she did nothing to cause the hemorrhaging. The shame inflicted on myself simply comes from within. I internalize the shame and guilt; none of it my fault. I did not cause it. I was moping up the needs of men who had no regard for me as a person. Their actions were absorbed by my emotions and sense of self-worth. I made myself an outcast. 

When Jesus felt her touch he turned and asked who had touched him. Jesus was walking with a crowd of people. What made her touch so obvious to him? I believe it was the desperation and faith behind it. Although she did not know Jesus, she had heard of him and just knew touching anything attached to him would restore her. He felt the power of her faith, not the physical touch of his cloak. 

While I fully believe this woman walked away from this encounter with Christ completely healed, without residual effect from her disease, she did have to adjust to a new life. She had been in bad shape physically and socially for twelve years. Physically her body was restored but how long did it take for the emotional healing? She had to engage society again, let her people know she was healed and no longer untouchable. They had to understand that she was no longer damaged and was now worthy of marriage and a respectable reputation. How many people tried to dim the light in her eyes? Squash her hope of a better future? Was she her worst critic as I am? 


Unlike the woman in scripture, I can reach for Jesus with a prayer and seek healing. I do not have to fight through a crowd to get to him. I only have to fight myself to get in his presence. I can spiritually reach for his cloak, having the faith that he can restore and heal. In fact, I do not need to seek his cloak, I can seek his hand on mine and feel him enter my heart. Emotional healing is not instant for us because we live on earth and are subject to the influences around us, even the negative influences in our minds. If we fight through the noise within ourselves and reach for Jesus, the noise becomes a whimper and we are filled with the hope and love of Jesus Christ. Our faith will make us well. 

Thursday, January 21, 2016

The Other Side Pt. 2

I continue to imagine hurting my abusers. I am human; it is going to happen. Writing my last post brought to the surface a lot of anger and desire to cause them pain. At times it feels like I fight these feelings every day. Several times in therapy and my journal I expressed the desire to make someone hurt as much as I. Wanting to punch, kick, and stomp a person so much they could feel my emotional pain was overwhelming.

For years I was afraid to tell my therapist about the raw desire to hurt others simmering in my soul. At first I was afraid he was going to kick me out of therapy because I was beyond redemption. When I had children I became scared he would take them away if he knew. The feelings terrified me. I did not want to be one of “them” but did not know if there was a point to fighting it. I honestly believed if I ever acted on the feelings or could not stand them anymore I would just end my life. I would not be able to live with myself either way.

Slowly I started to reveal this to my therapist. I was testing the waters, giving just a little at a time to gauge his reaction. There was never any judgement and eventually I spilled it all.  Much to my relief family services was never called and I was not considered a hopeless case. He understood and declared the feelings a normal reaction to abuse trauma. In fact, he suspects a lot of victims become abusers out of the same desire to make someone feel their pain. It is not an excuse. Abusing a person is a choice, a way to mop up a selfish need at the expense of the victim.

As I wrote the last post and am writing this one, I am ashamed, not of my selfish desires to inflict pain as much as considering myself better than my abusers. While I have not abused a child or adult sexually or physically, I have hurt people in my life. I destroyed my first marriage out of selfishness, put my current marriage in danger, and have hurt countless others who have crossed my path with thoughtless words, lack of compassion, and an air of superiority.

We are all born with a sinful nature. Mistakes will be made and we will hurt others; it is unavoidable. Murder, physical/verbal/sexual abuse, and other violent acts will not enter the lives of everyone, yet the potential always exists. I am just as capable of murder as the next person. As nauseating as it feels to me, I am also just as capable of abusing another physically. It is my sinful nature. I can no longer deny its existence and am humbled by it. The sinful nature we are born into puts us all on the same playing field.

My abusers and I are not as different as I am comfortable with. Every cell in my body seems to scream that I am better than them. I want so much to believe there is a great void that cannot be crossed between us. My heart wants to cling to to the idea they are the scum of the earth and I royalty in comparison.

The first time God gently taught me all sinners are the same it was like taking a bullet. I was crushed and did not want to accept it. I fought against the idea and turned away from him, refusing to give up my royal status in the world. Unfortunately avoiding the truth hindered my recovery. I had to get honest with myself and God to keep going in recovery. I struggle with this truth so much. I do not want to show grace to my abusers. I do not want to forgive. I do not want to consider my sinful nature the same as theirs. It goes against my nature and the world’s nature.

What can I do? I can put myself on the long journey towards faith and surrender my pride. This is a moment-to-moment struggle a good part of the time. As I read His word and allow grace to enter my life for my sins, I will learn to extend the same grace to others, even my abusers. There is no earthly finish line in accomplishing this and it is not only about the abuse. Grace is something to be extended to everyone in our lives, no matter how difficult.