Peace in Thankfulness

This has been a very difficult year for me. But, I have been blessed throughout. This Thanksgiving, I am truly thankful for many things. I am thankful that God has never left me, even though I have yelled at him and questioned his plans. I am thankful for my family. My immediate and extended family members are amazing Christians and their love and faith has strengthened me beyond measure. I am thankful for the friends who have supported me, pushed me, and loved me throughout all of this. I am so overwhelmed with gratitude. I remember you all in my prayers.

The following is my feeble attempt to share how I tripped and stumbled my way through confronting the man who abused me. I could not have done it without the support of the people mentioned here. Thank you from the bottom of my butt…it is a lot bigger than my heart. (Insert comic relief here.)

Sometime in 2009 I drunkenly disclosed the secret of my abuse to a friend over a pitcher of margaritas. I had never told another soul. As soon as I said it, I wanted to take it back, I wasn’t ready.

 Sometime in 2011, another friend disclosed to me that she had been sexually abused by a family member. The more she talked to me about it, the more difficult it became for me to suppress the emotions I had been hiding my whole life. In one of our conversations, I disclosed my abuse to her. I felt safe, because she knew where I was coming from.

Then I mentioned my abuse to another friend on a casual car ride on a shopping trip. I knew she’d be supportive and I knew she’d want to kick his ass, which was helpful. This was easier. I also blurted it out to my oldest best friend who lives states away. She’s beyond supportive and caring. It was awkward, but even easier, it was safe; I didn’t have to see her every day.

In July of 2011, I made an appointment with a counselor. I awkwardly tried to talk to her, but mostly, I fumble my words and cried. I was terrified. She was the first person who heard the details. She brought up pressing charges. When I left there, I was so worked up, I ran to my cousin. She listened, cried, hugged, and just let me projectile vomit the information at her. Hard, but not crippling. Exhausting, but not defeating. I can’t say I felt a weight lift. I was in a blur. I was struggling between moving forward and reverting to what I thought was safe, hiding it all inside.

These five friends kept my secret for several months. I was not ready to tell any family members who are directly linked to the family member whose actions scarred my life. I wanted to spare them the pain. In fact, that is one of the overriding reasons I never told anyone. I was trying to protect them.

But, as time went on, I needed my big sister. She is closer to me that anyone else in the world. We shared a room until she went away to college. We lived together for two years in Florida. She is my best friend and I needed her. I told her over the phone, not ideal. She listened intently. She wanted to know details; I gave her those I was ready to give. I could tell she was shaken. Nobody expects this from a family like ours. But, she is a valuable ally. She had been in therapy for unrelated reasons for years. She had inside information and more than a little bit of helpful advice.

That was difficult, but what happened in Spring and Summer of 2012 was far more difficult.

I waited for some time to tell my mom. My mom has been through a lot recently, most significantly my dad and a close friend dying from cancer almost exactly a year apart. And, as strong as she is, she has a bipolar disorder, and I didn’t want to stress her anymore.  I was convinced she would die. I don’t say that facetiously, I literally thought it would kill her.  I also didn’t want her blaming herself for anything. However, after we attended a family wedding in June 2012 and this relative was in attendance, I was shaken and I needed help. I needed her help to go to the doctor with me. My anxiety was through the roof and I needed to get it under control so I could think. The anxiety of seeing him after so long was indeed crippling. I was missing work and was becoming physically ill. It was very hard to tell her. But, I did, slowly and cautiously, and with one of those friends for support for both of us. Mom was upset, rightly so. She blamed herself for not protecting me. She was angry. She wanted me to tell family members I wasn’t ready to tell. I knew I would tell them eventually, but not now. I was already afraid it would kill her, I couldn’t kill more people. I allowed her to tell her sisters for her own support, just like I allowed my sister to tell her husband, people need support. And, it snowballed from there, soon practically the entire family knew. (…except my brothers. Man, I did not want them knowing.) It happens in a loving, caring family. And I appreciated the extra prayers. But it freaked me out.

This brings in the only male I told personally. A close friend from high school who happens to live here in town has always been there for me when shit hits the fan. I was so worked up about so many people finding out so quickly, I panicked, literally. I couldn’t think straight. I needed someone who “wasn’t going to get all emotional on me”. I needed someone with a clear head to help me decide what to do. He listened calmly, didn’t come near me at all (for which I was thankful, given the subject matter), and he gave me some tough advice. The advice is what I knew needed to be done, but I was terrified. Rightly so, but this friend reminded me that my fears and concerns were less than the benefits of confrontation.

I knew I wasn’t ready to do anything yet. I was already maxed out. Over the next few weeks more family members were brought into the loop including my brothers. (The family members were on the opposite side of the family, not directly linked to the abuser.)

After some time, careful deliberation, and a suddenly vast support system, I decided it was time to take action. Pressing charges were out of the option, but confrontation was not. My biggest fear for over 16 years was if, as a result of my silence, some other innocent children were being hurt. There are young children related to this man, he helps out in the church nursery, how could I not gather the strength to confront him and expose his secret. I decided, since I had no desire whatsoever to see him in person, to write him a letter. I feared for his soul and his faith, what if he isn’t repentant? I didn’t want him to go to hell. So, I mustered every ounce of strength I had one friday evening and wrote him a letter. I saved that letter for about a week. It felt like a lead weight. I had a few people read it to make sure my point came across clearly. I have my uncle read it to make certain my use of Scripture was correct and that my plea for his repentance was clear. Then, one day I was ready. I sent it.

I WAS TRIUMPHANT. I had overcome a huge hurdle. I was so proud of myself. I was on cloud 9. It was amazing. Every survivor should get to feel that at some point in their life. (More on the confrontation in a later post. This subject deserves much more emphasis that I’m able to provide here.)

It is here I realized, I did it myself, but I never could have gathered the strength if it weren’t for my support system. I am so thankful and in awe of God’s blessings of Christian love and support.

That first friend that heard my story during a margarita marathon, she’s my reliable friend. She always answers the phone, always willing to listen. She’s my subtle cheerleader, I’m not even sure she realizes she’s doing it, but she always backs me up and reaffirms my thoughts and actions.

The friend who herself had been sexually abused, she is my sympathetic friend. She is the only one who knows where I’m coming from. Although our experiences are different, we understood each other.

The next is my muscle. I’m relatively certain that if this friend ever met this guy she would rip him to shreds with her bare hands. I love it. She is all the angry that I find difficult to be.

My far away friend, she is my thoughtful caring friend. Even when we don’t talk often, she remembers what is going on in my life and never forgets to ask me how it is going. This means so much to me.

My cousin is my level headed supporter. She’s rational, clear-headed, caring, and her lips are sealed. She is non-judgmental and doesn’t push me. She gives advice when it is needed and listens when needed.

My sister is my other me. We are very alike, but different. She knows without me saying. She will listen to nothing but sobs on the phone. She’ll remind me to breathe. She’ll proofread my letters and emails. She’ll give me advice from her counseling. She’ll talk to my brother-in-law and, inevitably, I’ll have an email with a Bible passage in it to help me get over the latest hurdle. Sometimes I listen to her advice and sometimes I disagree with it, but it helps me in both instances. She is my best friend, my first phone call.

My mom is my mommy. I’m not ashamed to admit that there have been plenty of times when I’ve just collapsed and cried, something that little girl did not get to do. She knows me so well I don’t even need to say anything, she can just tell. I moved back home when my dad got sick and have stayed with her to help her out and to help me out while I finish nursing school. When I am frustrated about my situation, being 28 years old and back living with my mom, I remind myself that I need her, that little girl inside who is finally getting to freak out needs her mom. I am so thankful she is here.

My male friend, he is my emotionless rational friend. I don’t want this to be misconstrued as an insult. He is exactly what I needed. He has been there for me at a moment’s notice and took his life into his own hands with advice I did not want to hear, but desperately needed to hear. 

I have been blessed with not just this inner circle of support, but my entire family. They are my cheering section, my army. Even those directly connected to the abuser, they are so supportive in my healing. I am so truly blessed. Everything I was afraid of for so long turned out to be false. My family was not destroyed. No one accused me of lying. Everybody was worried, concerned, and willing to help in any way possible.

Because I realize not everyone who has been sexually abused is as lucky as I am, I thank God everyday for my family and my support system. I literally could not do this without them. Words cannot truly convey how much they mean to me. I was hoping to be able to capture it here, but I am failing miserably. The only way I can sum it all up is with Philipians 1:3-11 “I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. It is right for me to feel this way about all of you, since I have you in my heart; for whether I am in chains or defending and confirming the gospel, all of you share in God’s grace with me.  God can testify how I long for all of you with the affection of Christ Jesus. And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God.”