Ugly Truths
You can recognize survivors of abuse by their courage. When silence is so very inviting, they step forward and share their truth, so others know they aren’t alone. ~ Jeanne McElvaney
I like t-shirts with a good message. It’s kinda my thing. When your voice is silenced by trauma, you find ways to lift it. If this post were one of my t-shirts, it would be entitled: I won’t be quiet so you can be comfortable. I wrestle with sharing parts of my story. Weighted by shame, stigma, and separation, it’s an uncomfortable subject. But every time I learn of a person dying by suicide, I’m compelled to move beyond my fear to courageously share my truth. I hope my story helps dispel the stigma surrounding mental illness and provides the hurting with a voice. You don’t have to hurt forever. I can tell you without reservation, you can move beyond the pain with Jesus.
The Trauma
Trauma is perhaps the most avoided, ignored, belittled, denied, misunderstood,
and untreated cause of human suffering. – Peter Levine
I battle Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). A diagnosis earned due to being repeatedly sexually molested as a child. For decades I carried this enormous burden in secret. Ashamed by the act imposed upon me. Numbed at the tender age of six, I didn’t have the mental capacity to fully comprehend the violation. But I knew it was wrong because I felt afraid, confused, and scared. My abuser told me not to tell and I didn’t… for decades.
By the age of 19, the pain was overwhelming, the weight taking its toll. I began crashing. Spiraling. My life was a complete mess. Suffering in silence was suffocating the life out of me. I was hurting and so tired of the pain. Exhausted, suffering, and alone, I didn’t see any other way out. On the evening of June 8, 1990, I attempted to end my life. But God had greater plans for me. I am grateful for His intervening power and gentle whisper: I will use it all for your good.
I was transplanted back to that little girl when I was sexually groped recently. Like her, I was confused. Like her, I was not boisterous in my protest. Like her, I felt small, worthless, used, disposable. Like her, I sheltered my violator because like the one who molested me as a child, I witnessed their worlds prop them on pedestals while methodically tearing down their pawns. But unlike what that little girl understood at the time, I reminded myself to Whom I belong. Cleaning off my proverbial mirror, I began to see just what makes me so strong. I owed that little girl the power of my voice she struggled so hard to find. I owed it to every tear I cried the past forty-five years because of what that little girl endured. This time forging an alliance with courage, I spoke.
Real talk. Can you stop touching me. He nodded to the affirmative and said, yes. Can you stop putting your hands on me. Again nodding, he said, yes. They weren’t questions but directives. I turned from him and walked away. Not upset but understood; not powerless but empowered; not invisible but now seen. My voice was heard. The little girl within smiled in gratitude. I thanked the Holy Spirit.
The Impact
You do not escape trauma unscathed. It changes you. The effects throw off your equilibrium, causing you to constantly search for a truth to help you recalibrate. But efforts are thwarted because your center as it was no longer exists. The abuse leaves you broken, questioning your very existence. Do I matter? Am I enough? Fractured, you’re constantly searching for pieces along life’s journey to make you whole again. Seeking understanding to the question: what is wrong with me?
This recent encounter has summoned me back to therapy. My violator’s offensive behavior dishonoring every facet of my personhood and causing feelings associated with my childhood trauma to reemerge. Upsetting my peace, I move differently now. And though I do not hate my offender, I vehemently hate his perverted actions. And I am determined, it will not usurp my life, but I will draw even closer to God because of it.
The Hope
By God’s Grace, I worked through decades of suffering. And it was not easy. With a background in psychology and counseling, I likely have an advantage that most don’t. Regardless, I sought professional help, did the work, and will continue because I am fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14) and worth it. And if you have been affected by trauma, you owe it to yourself to do the same. As author Jeanne McElvaney eloquently states, We aren’t the weeds in the crack of life. We’re the strong, amazing flowers that found a way to grow in the most challenging conditions.
Life. There is no way around it. You have to go through it; the passage encompasses the breakthrough. The other side breeds awakening and holds newness. You must press your way, embracing the adversities you encounter, growing as you forge onward. Follow the path set before you by Jesus. Though He tells us we will suffer in this life (John 16:33), I can attest, He is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18). He will transform your pain into purpose and use every bit of it for your good and His Glory (Romans 8:28).
And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good for those who are called according to his purpose.
-Romans 8:28
National Suicide Prevention Hotline number: Dial 988 or 1-800-273-8255
