Fragile Roses

I was a victim of sexual abuse as a child; I am a survivor. Up until the time I was 43 years old, my memories of the abuse were very indistinct, like dark shadows in my life, but without definition or clarity. Many years before that, in darkness and betrayal and fear, my spirit had been shattered like glass. I suppose it was only inevitable that someday my whole facade of competence, self-assurance and sanity would come crashing down. At the age of 43, I was a very diligent worker in my ministry with persons with disabilities, hyper-sensitive to everyone else's needs and totally forgetful of my own. I worked feverishly to fill up the time, so there would be no time to face my terrible secret. I hid my unspeakable pain beneath the mask of my smile.

A slow emotional collapse led me to be hospitalized at a psychiatric hospital for one and a half years. There, I started to remember the cyclone of horrors of childhood sexual abuse. These horrors attacked me in the form of posttraumatic stress disorder (a psychiatric condition suffered by persons who have experienced extreme catastrophe), nightmares, sleepwalking, amnesia, panic attacks, and frightening feelings of anxiety and fear. It was exhausting and it broke me. I felt physically weak, less of a person. My self-esteem was shattered. I felt fragmented and thought I was going crazy. It is a very humbling experience, especially for a caregiver par excellence, to walk the path of poverty of spirit.

Many survivors feel depressed, worthless, less a person, angry, sad, frightened. Some have nightmares, flashbacks, anxiety attacks. Some worry about going crazy, getting out of control--or being controlled. Some survivors get violent, obsessively angry. Some valiant women do not feel present in their bodies. We dissociate, for example, when fearful. Why does the damage done by someone else still revictimize me today, as it may for the rest of my life? Why can't I trust others? At times I don't even trust myself. I have fears and embarrassing phobias that constantly remind me of the fragileness of my psyche and the vulnerability of my pleasing (always-say-yes) personality. I find that harmless, everyday events can trigger terror--a door being closed, a certain aroma, the touch of an unseen hand on the shoulder. I have learned that this is what happens to some victims of abuse who hold the secret of a deep wound too long. We become fragile, vulnerable, and profoundly depressed. Some women's pain is so great, they become painfully addicted to alcohol, drugs, food, sex--just to help their bodies and minds feel good or to numb the terrible pain of abuse memories. These behaviors are the deep wounds we adult women carry with us everyday as we struggle to overcome or cope.

I write today as a wounded woman, a wounded woman religious with a wounded inner child. I write today for all the children and women who have endured the deprivation of body, soul and spirit because of violence; for all those children and women who lost their lives in a violent moment--a moment of silence; for all those valiant women who are sharing their stories so others will not endure days and years of fear and deprivation; for all those women who have not yesterday to remember. The betrayal and violence of sexual abuse never leaves the memory. Incest victims think pain is controlled, over--then, it pops up with terrorizing fury. There is a constant struggle to fight being depressed. Putting lives back together is a daily (at times unbearable) struggle.

I walk and sometimes stumble with the other valiant women along the devastating and crippling road of the long term effects of incest, sexual abuse and rape on our adult lives. It is a terrible, lonely journey for a survivor. We survivors sometimes hide our feelings behind masks--smiles, caregiving par excellence, perfectionism, pretending all is okay, being a super worker, a super nun. When our real feelings attack us, we feel bad, dirty, ashamed, powerless, victimized, different from others. We feel that something is wrong with us. We feel that if people knew, they would reject us.

It grieves me to write of the violence and violation I suffered. If you have endured childhood sexual abuse, you have experienced unbearable pain. But it is within your power to break the terrible silence and say: "I was abused. I want to reclaim my life in new and healthy ways."

Break The Silence--Many victims of abuse deal with the ongoing horror by numbing their feelings and blotting out their memories. As adult survivors, we must dare to grapple with our wounded psyche, which suppressed memories of abuse out of fear or horror. We need to break the silence. Breaking the silence is frightening, it is a risk, but we must remember the abuse, admit it, and recover our silent voice so that we can tell the story of our "amnesia years."

We cannot do this alone, however. We need the kind of gentle compassion that heals and brings release from our dark fears. Share your story with someone you can trust to be this kind of companion--a caring professional, someone from your church community, an extraordinary friend, other survivors within a support group--such companions help us to embrace the parts of the pain we shudder to face. They validate our feelings, hold us up when we cannot carry the burden alone, accept us just as we are.

Grieve for Your Lost Childhood--we were warned not to talk to strangers, but no one warned us about the people close to us, whom we trusted with our innocence. As survivors of sexual abuse, we must grieve for our lost childhood. This can be a lonely and frightening process. It means mourning the childhood we missed and remembering the horror of the one we had. No one paid attention to our small desperate screams, our attempts to tell the terrible secret, our nightmares. Our spirit became crippled by hiding the pain and pretending all was O.K. Allowing yourself to grieve might release a whole torrent of losses: the loss of childhood memories (because of attempting to obliterate the memories of abuse), of power over your own body, of nurturing and trust and security, of healthy relationships (if you isolated yourself in your shame), of playfulness.

Nurture Your Inner Child--Children who experienced sexual abuse are thrust into grown-up roles and responsibilities long before they are grown up. But we can go back, rediscover the "inner child" with us, and give that child the nurturing he or she lacked. Cherish and protect your inner child. Parent your inner child with comfort, respect and love. Through making the connection with this wholesome and innocent part of yourself, you can learn to love yourself again. Affirm yourself; give yourself credit for having had the strength to survive. See yourself as a good, holy, and courageous person.

Be Nice to Yourself--Once we are able to confront our abuse, we begin to realize that we don't have to be a "pleaser" anymore. We don't have to pretend that everything is O.K. We can set boundaries with people who cause us fear or depression. We can be assertive on behalf of our rights without feeling we must say yes to everyone. As you push yourself forward with gentleness and patience, you can make new choices--healing choices--that allow you to spend time celebrating your inner goodness.

Reclaim Life--We were innocent victims, wounded terribly by abuse. We did not cause or deserve this treatment. At times the memories are so very unbearable; we can never fully erase them. But I do believe that we gradually can learn to embrace our pain and rebuild our lives. I believe that as we share with other members of the suffering community of survivors, we can heal parts of one another. Perhaps we will even come to recognize that our deepest wounds are the greatest gifts we can contribute toward a more compassionate and respectful world. We can be wounded healers for others who dare to share their dark secrets. These others need our support, care and courage.

It takes great courage to heal and greater courage to pick up the pieces after your life has been ruined and to believe that there will come a day when the memories will be put to rest, when the deep wound will start to heal, when you can live with your fears and phobias with less shame and no guilt. It is a great risk to share, it costs a lot to reveal pain, deep wounds, one's vulnerability and fears. One wonders if she or he will be victimized again. Our stories are filled with pain, sorrow, deep anguish and sometimes violence that we did not deserve. We ask but a listening heart, an understanding nod, a compassionate and affirming relationship.

We are not destroyed, though we are deeply wounded. We are stepping out by speaking, writing books, poems, drawing, sharing faith journeys. We are saying, "No more oppression, no more violence" by learning to keep boundaries, finding safe places to live and work, safe friends who care to understand. Our spirits, though shattered and fragmented are attempting to soar like eagles--daring to be strong, yet fragile roses.

A survivor needs to believe that somehow, in all this darkness, the flickering light of God's presence is sustaining, that resiliency and courage is a gift inspired by an inner strength. I call on Jesus hidden in weakness, Jesus who cried, Jesus who feared being alone in the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus who embraced suffering. I believe that Adult Survivors are really sharing in the suffering of the contemporary Christ. Will we hear them, accept them, love them? An adult survivor can be Jesus incarnate touching wounds, binding broken hearts and offering faith moments of trust. When I am powerless, that is when I get in touch with my inner spirit. The cost of discovery is to meet and greet Christ in a world of suffering, fear of every kind, and not give up. The cost of discovery is to remember being abused, violated, raped and not give up.

You have listened to a survivor share part of her journey. Abuse is a crime, a terrible violation, and those of us who have the scars of fragmented spirits need to know others care. You must be the church's response to deep wounds. I believe we are the contemporary Christ and each person is the mercy and compassion of God. Each one of us is the tenderness with which the infinitely mysterious power of pardon turns the darkness of this abuse into the light of grace. We see to reclaim ourselves and believe in ourselves. We ask you to love us and tell us we are valiant people. Tell us we are not guilty and unworthy, but truly precious children of God, gifts to the world. You can help us learn to recover life and to celebrate our own inner beauty. We will find strength and pride in knowing we are survivors, and you will find it in knowing that you responded in love to the deep wounds of valiant people.
 

The following prayer service is an excerpt from Roses . . . Healing Prayers for Adult Survivors of Sexual Abuse, by Ave Clark, O.P.

Because we care - Memory allows us to gather roses in the winter.

Journey To discover places, small places where I can feel and be safe within . . . knowing that the Lord does abide in the emptiness, in the daily searching for peace, comfort and solace.

Path of Loneliness People scarred by incest or sexual abuse seem ordinary on the outside--go to work, clean, watch TV, pray. No one knows that each daily task is often done with such struggle, that they feel so alone....so very alone.

Scripture "We love because God first loved us." 1 John 4:19

Saying "Those who are best able to reintegrate emotionally after stressful situations have proven to be those given the chance to share their experiences verbally with each other and with helping professionals." (Resilience: Discovering a New Strength at Times of Stress by Frederic Flack, M.D., Fawcett Columbine Book, N.Y., 1988, p. 22)

Prayer We recall our history to discover where God is leading us. My prayer is that we embrace our pain (with other Roses and friends and care-givers) and find a loving, gentle and compassionate God who walks slowly....ever so slowly....with His wounded pilgrims enabling them to survive with a new fidelity and joy.

Quiet Time Write your own feeling in a word or two...or draw a picture.

A Rose for you....I cannot manage my pain alone. I must seek help. (Fourteen Steps of Growth for Survivors of Incest.)

Sister Ave Clark, O.P., is an Amityville, NY Dominican Sister and Coordinator of Religious Education for Persons with Disabilities in the Diocese of Brooklyn, NY. (Sister Ave Clark, OP, Office of Catholic Education, Diocese of Brooklyn, 6025 Sixth Avenue, Brooklyn, NY 11220-4098).

We are grateful to Sister Ave Clark for her permission to use this material.

We are also grateful to Our Sunday Visitor Press for allowing us to use parts of the article, "Together in God We Are Whole," (PACE 20); to St. Mein-rad Abbey Press for allowing us to use parts of the CareNotes, "Recovering from Childhood Sexual Abuse.", and to Human Development for allowing us to use parts of the article, "Surviving Sexual Abuse," (Vol. 11, #2, Summer, 1990).

Roses... Healing Prayers for Survivors of Sexual Abuse are available from: Sisters of St. Dominic 555 Albany Avenue, Amityville, NY 11701 Price: $7.00 (includes postage).