Because I Am Bound to You in Love

Because I am bound to You in love,

therefore will You deliver me;

         You will protect me, because I know your Name.

I shall call on You, and You will answer me;

         You are with me in trouble;

         You will rescue me and bring me to honor.

With long life will You satisfy me,

         and show me Your salvation.

                                    Ps. 91:14-16 (pronouns changed)

Lucy knew God’s name. From an early age she had learned about God and His love through Sunday school, hymns, and Bible readings. She was surrounded by people who professed a love for God. And so in those awful and terrible times, He was there to deliver and protect her.

His protection was not what many would have expected, but God is not a magician. He was with her through all the torment, and when it became too much for her mind to bear, He provided her with deliverance and protection in the form of dissociation and repression. When she could no longer bear the things that the Gene-monster was doing to her in the study, God led her from the room, leaving only her body – her shell – behind. He led her to the backyard and the cool grass where they sat together in peace and comfort. He allowed her to feel the breeze on her face; to feel the cool grass beneath her legs, and to hear the little dog barking in the yard next door. She watched the clouds in the sky, feeling peace and comfort, with all the fear removed. And when she felt drawn back to the darkness, He shone a light around her to fight off the darkness.

When the horror was over and done with her, He kept her mind protected while she was bathed and dressed for bed. And He gave her sleep, and the ability to forget and leave it all behind.

And when it happened again with the Gene-monster and with the Janet-monster, He was there to deliver and protect her -- to take her away from the terror and pain, and lead her to a place of peace, safety, and comfort. Over and over again He rescued her and provided her with comfort. He was there with her in all of the trouble, never leaving her side.

When the time came for her to retrieve the memories, He was with her still. Providing a shield of people to guide her through the treacherous memories. He reminded her that she knew His name, had always known His name, and this had brought His protection. She called on His name, and He answered her with the gift of a loving husband, compassionate counselors, and enduring friends. And in telling her story and sharing what had once been kept a secret, shameful memory, she has gained honor. God has brought me to honor. The time frame was very different than I would have envisioned, but it was in God’s time, which is always perfect in a way we cannot understand. He continues to satisfy me with a long life, and will show me His salvation as He has promised.

(Lucy is the name I use for myself as a child, as I am still unable to talk about the abuse in 1^st person most of the time)

with thanks to Gail Pitts at Dovehouse Ministries

linking up with imperfect prose

Day 24 of 31

I've been re-skimming Judith Herman's Trauma and Recovery. You know going back through and reading the portions I underlined or starred or highlighted; the pages I turned the corner down on. 
I was diagnosed with chronic PTSD in 2000 and I read this book for the first time in 2003. It was the first book on the subject that really spoke to me. I found myself all throughout the pages. 
It was a good news, bad news dilemma. The good news was I'm not alone. My responses are consistent with others' who have suffered abuse. The bad news was it validated that all these terrible things in my head were true. 
I read a post the other day written by another survivor about serial victims. Another term that unfortunately applies to me. What is it about having been abused that makes other perpetrators see me? It's like having a target on your back, or a flashing neon sign that says, "Pick me". 
And for all those years I believed it was something I had done that made it keep happening, or that the repetition was proof that I was making it all up. More abuse, emotional this time, even though the abusers were long gone from my day to day life.
My therapist and husband keep saying "Be kind to yourself" and "get angry", but I don't know how. Honestly. 
I've spent my entire life finding fault with myself and avoiding anger, except the kind that used to come roiling out at inappropriate times. I've gotten that under control, because I don't want to be like the abusers. Angry for no apparent reason. Lashing out verbally and physically. 
So I'm rethinking anger and what it really looks like. You know, righteous anger. The kind of anger that says you may not hurt me, but don't worry I won't hurt you. 
The "be kind to yourself" is taking even longer. How do I know when I'm doing enough and when I'm just being lazy? It looks silly typed up like that, but that's really what I worry about. How much is enough to make me a valuable, worthwhile, whole person? How much fun can I have and how many things can I do just because I like it, before I've crossed the line and become self-centered and uncaring of others' needs?
And then I remember grace. And I think about the gift freely given to me. The little girl who was abused grown up to be the woman who is trying to stop that cycle of abuse. 
And God says: "But if you give them a hard time, bullying or taking advantage of their simple trust, you’ll soon wish you hadn’t. You’d be better off dropped in the middle of the lake with a millstone around your neck." -- Matthew 18:6 (The Message).
And I find comfort in God's adamant love for me, and choose to embrace His grace.

linking up to imperfect prose on thursdays and Write on Edge

Day 23 of 31

"Trauma is trauma". That's what I say to people when they talk about their own struggles. It's not about comparisons. Whatever you struggle with is what you have to learn to deal with.

And yet, sometimes when I hear people throwing around terms it irks me -- no, actually it infuriates me. It makes me angry.

The first time I noticed it was in the grocery. Someone said the prices on foods made him feel as if the manufacturers were just raping the consumers. Whoa! I don't think so, not even close. The price of cereal compared to being raped? 

I remember after 9/11, my therapist (at the time) saying the whole nation was suffering from PTSD, and I felt belittled. Maybe there was some truth in it, but it made my personal story feel unworthy. What I heard was "Get over it. Look what all these other people are going through." I don't think that's what he meant, but still . . . 

I've said it before and will no doubt say it again, I am a words girl. Definitions are my bread and butter. I live by definitions. 

Trauma -- a : an injury (as a wound) to living tissue caused by an extrinsic agent
b : a disordered psychic or behavioral state resulting from severe mental or emotional stress or physical injury
c : an emotional upset

That cuts a wide swath. Judith Hermann in her book Trauma and Recovery says it this way -- . . . simplistic efforts to quantify trauma ultimately lead to meaningless comparisons of horror. The salient characteristic of the traumatic event is its power to inspire helplessness and terror.

So maybe my theory that trauma is trauma needs to be updated by remembering what trauma really is. Having a bad day is not trauma. Thinking you or someone you love is about to die is trauma. 

Did I believe I would die? Did I feel powerless and helpless in those of moments of abuse? You bet I did. At times the abusers told me how they were going to kill me. At other times the pain and horror were so intense I couldn't imagine surviving. 

So what's the point of all this? I guess, it's to remind us all to think before we speak. And I'll keep working on listening with a discerning hear. Trying to hear what you mean even when what you say irks me.

The Simple Woman's Daybook

FOR TODAY . . . October 23, 2012

Outside my window . . . I see sugar maples turning orange and gold against a robin's egg blue sky. We are having a little "Indian summer" around with temps headed into the 80's today.

I am thinking . . . that going back to yoga last night was good, but my side is definitely noticing it this morning. Maybe I'll settle for a walk today.

I am thankful . . . to have a home. I think about all the homeless people this time of year. Each day must bring anxiety as the weather shifts to cold.

In the kitchen . . . dd made whole wheat/rice flour sourdough bread yesterday. Quite tasty!

I am wearing . . . a big t-shirt and my summer weight robe while I have my first cuppa this morning.

I am creating . . . still working on the afghan, but I started a scarf for a Christmas present last night.

I am going . . . to the dentist and to run a few errands. I'm wondering about early voting, but I here the lines have been awful, which I suppose is a good thing!

I am wondering . . . about trauma. The word covers the gamut of experiences. I am always telling people not to compare their trauma to someone else's, but I have a really difficult time with that myself. We had a speaker Sunday who talked about his experience of recovery after being hit by semi-truck, and I found myself thinking, "his experience is worse than mine". But based on what criteria? Trauma is trauma.

I am reading . . . A Murder of Crows by Jan Dunlap. Almost done. Not a great read, but relaxing, like a British cozy mystery.

I am looking forward to . . . our trip in December. Dh made the reservations, so it looks as if it will really happen : )

I am hearing . . . the dogs wandering around. They check out every nook and corner of the house after breakfast each morning before settling in for their morning naps.

Around the house . . . the usual picking up, and I need to finish up the laundry from yesterday. 

I am pondering . . . depression, and the way it comes and goes, plus how responsible I feel when I'm having a hard time. Trying to shake the responsibility aspect and place it firmly back in the abusers' court.

One of my favorite things . . . is sitting at my desk in the mornings watching the people in my neighborhood taking walks and getting ready for what their day will bring. Sometimes I feel a little like Alice Kravitz!

A few plans for the rest of the week . . . trying to get back to a routine with my Bible study (man I am SOOOO behind!), some beading and crocheting, and then dh and I are headed to Pickett Park on Saturday.

Here is a picture for thought I am sharing . . . 

new project

for more visit The Simple Woman's Daybook

Heart Knowledge @ (7/27/2010)

(warning: adult content)


July has been an intense month. I have been working through my childhood abuse for years. I've been told repeatedly (ad nauseum) the abuse was not my fault. No child is ever responsible for sexual abuse. I know this in my head. I forget it and have to remind myself, thus making me feel stupid and selfish.


For the past several weeks, I have been focusing on a rape that took place when I was 5 years old. It's been gut wrenching, and has brought on depression, sadness, lethargy, pain, and questioning my value. Today was the first day in a long while that I've seen some hope at the end of the tunnel.


I realize that he didn't rape me because I reminded him by asking what he wanted to show me. He had a plan from the beginning, and I had no power to change the outcome. She is just as bad. Doing nothing, when she knew full well what the plan was, may make her even more culpable.


One of the worst things people have said to me over the years is, "He/she must have been abused to have done that to you." I don't care what happened to the offenders. This is about me -- the child, the victim, the innocent. While I recognize in the big picture of life, offenders have their own set of traumas to deal with, that is not my concern now, and will most likely never be my focus. All of us have free will and we all have the same choices between good and evil. Circumstances are different -- socio-economic standing; family; support systems -- they are all factors. Ultimately a decision has to be made to continue the abuse; to continue to see people as objects; to continue to put others in harm's way. I chose to stop the pattern of abuse by not harming another.


So now I will continue to focus on healing, and hoping that my healing will help others address their own traumas. I can't make the abuse not have happened. All I can do is try to make something good come out of it. 


linking up at Mama's losin' it

Easter Sunday

It is Easter Sunday. My mind (and the world around me) is telling me to be joyous and grateful for my risen Lord. 
I am grateful, but joyous is a long way from my heart today.
This past week has brought reminders and remembrances of a past event. It is a common occurrence for me especially around holidays, but Easter has traditionally been one that gets by untarnished. Not so this year.
I've been processing through a rape that took place in the early spring many years ago. It's an episode that I've kept boxed up for a long time, and even now am wondering at the benefit of opening this particular box. 
My energy level is very low. I'm sleeping a lot, and find I prefer to sit and watch television than do anything else. My house is messy, my refrigerator is full of inedible things. I can't seem to get motivated to cook or exercise or even write. 
I find myself constantly apologizing, although I have no idea what I'm apologizing for. And I'm spending an inordinate amount of time and energy trying to figure out what is wrong with me. Why I can't just snap out of this funk?
There is, in reality, a very simple reason I can't just snap out of it. I was raped. Yes it was over 20 years ago, but I had never talked about it until a couple of months ago. I kept it stored in box on a shelf in a dusty, never entered corner of my mind. 
I chose to open that box and talk about it, because I know that is the only way to heal, but nobody said healing was going to be easy. Healing from trauma is most often compared to healing a wound caused by burn or infection. It is not a one time treatment. A kiss and a band aid won't cut it. Instead trauma must be treated repeatedly -- a constant irritation and re-opening of the injury to make sure all the infection is fully removed. 
I ran across this description recently:

Treatment for third-degree burns will depend on the severity of the burn. Burn severity is determined by the amount of body surface area that has been affected. The burn severity will be determined by your child's physician. Treatment for third-degree burns may include the following:

-early cleaning and debriding (removing dead skin and tissue from the burned area). This procedure can be done in a special bathtub in the hospital or as a surgical procedure.

-intravenous (IV) fluids containing electrolytes

-antibiotics by intravenous (IV) or by mouth

-antibiotic ointments or creams

-a warm, humid environment for the burn

-nutritional supplements and a high-protein diet

-pain medications

-skin grafting (may be required to achieve closure of the wounded area)

-functional and cosmetic reconstruction

I see so many similarities here. I think I'm in that debriding stage right now, and it is immensely painful and tiring.

I always have a difficult time letting others know I am struggling, but especially around holidays, I don't want to burden others with what I view as my negativity. 

So today I will take a walk with my husband. I'll try to clean out my refrigerator and find something to feed my family. I'll remember the amazing gift of God our Father and Jesus Christ our Brother. And I will be kind to myself as I continue to travel this road of healing and learning to accept the reality of how difficult that can be.

Peace and blessings.

Heart Knowledge - a repost

(this was originally posted on 7/27/10)


July has been an intense month. I have been working through my childhood abuse for years. I've been told repeatedly (ad nauseum) the abuse was not my fault. No child is ever responsible for sexual abuse. I know this in my head. I forget it and have to remind myself, thus making me feel stupid and selfish.


For the past several weeks, I have been focusing on a rape that took place when I was 5 years old. It's been gut wrenching, and has brought on depression, sadness, lethargy, pain, and questioning my value. Today was the first day in a long while that I've seen some hope at the end of the tunnel.


I realize that he didn't rape me because I reminded him by asking what he wanted to show me. He had a plan from the beginning, and I had no power to change the outcome. She is just as bad. Doing nothing, when she knew full well what the plan was, may make her even more culpable.


One of the worst things people have said to me over the years is, "He/she must have been abused to have done that to you." I don't care what happened to the offenders. This is about me -- the child, the victim, the innocent. While I recognize in the big picture of life, offenders have their own set of traumas to deal with, that is not my concern now, and will most likely never be my focus. All of us have free will and we all have the same choices between good and evil. Circumstances are different -- socio-economic standing; family; support systems -- they are all factors. Ultimately a decision has to be made to continue the abuse; to continue to see people as objects; to continue to put others in harm's way. I chose to stop the pattern of abuse by not harming another.


So now I will continue to focus on healing, and hoping that my healing will help others address their own traumas. I can't make the abuse not have happened. All I can do is try to make something good come out of it. 

Heart Knowledge

July has been an intense month. I have been working through my childhood abuse for years. I've been told repeatedly (ad nauseum) the abuse was not my fault. No child is ever responsible for sexual abuse. I know this in my head. I forget it and have to remind myself, thus making me feel stupid and selfish.


For the past several weeks, I have been focusing on a rape that took place when I was 5 years old. It's been gut wrenching, and has brought on depression, sadness, lethargy, pain, and questioning my value. Today was the first day in a long while that I've seen some hope at the end of the tunnel.


I realize that he didn't rape me because I reminded him by asking what he wanted to show me. He had a plan from the beginning, and I had no power to change the outcome. She is just as bad. Doing nothing, when she knew full well what the plan was, may make her even more culpable.


One of the worst things people have said to me over the years is, "He/she must have been abused to have done that to you." I don't care what happened to the offenders. This is about me -- the child, the victim, the innocent. While I recognize in the big picture of life, offenders have their own set of traumas to deal with, that is not my concern now, and will most likely never be my focus. All of us have free will and we all have the same choices between good and evil. Circumstances are different -- socio-economic standing; family; support systems -- they are all factors. Ultimately a decision has to be made to continue the abuse; to continue to see people as objects; to continue to put others in harm's way. I chose to stop the pattern of abuse by not harming another.


So now I will continue to focus on healing, and hoping that my healing will help others address their own traumas. I can't make the abuse not have happened. All I can do is try to make something good come out of it.