Re-written

I struggled off and on with insecurity of the scars that are splotched across my left forearm. I often questioned cosmetic surgery and hid my scars in shame. Fear of judgment, memories of my past, and disgust were just a few of the battles I fought in my head when looking down. As time passed I fought through these battles, but the battle of judgment flipped from peers and dating relationship to professional relationships.

What will my colleagues think of me?

Will they think I’m incompetent to work in the mental health field?

These types of questions floated through my mind and when I first entered graduate school I covered myself when meeting classmates and professors for the first time. I soon realized I was being more judgmental of myself than anyone else. The more I let my guard down, the more God was able to use me and continue to mold me into what he has planned from the beginning.

Now working in a psychiatric hospital with a high crisis population, every now and then an adolescent will come up to me and say something along the lines: “Ms., you used to cut yourself? You were like me… you get it.” Something that used to bring me so much shame now opens up the door without me having to say a word.

God can use even the most darkest of times; what you think may be a big black mark on your life, is never big enough for God to transform. I think back now about how many times I wished my life were different, how much I fantasized of being someone else, somewhere else, living a life that was nothing like mine. After battling through the messes and taking my life back, I now couldn’t imagine my life any differently.

“Courage is to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart.”

Brené Brown

26 & 5 years

Today marked 26 years of life. Every time this time of year rolls around I look back in amazement. Have I really made it this far? Life has meaning, I value life, and I look forward to each day.

Life is no longer a black mass that is dictated by my experiences.

Even bigger than celebrating another birthday, is the week before my birthday. This year a milestone rolled around. Five years of freedom. And freedom has never felt so free. The first few years of freedom from my abusers felt anything but like freedom. The emotional abuse left huge gaping wounds and everything else just topped off the damage. I struggled, sank further, and often felt worse than when I was actively being abused. My escape to freedom felt anything but like freedom. But somewhere between then and now life has evolved, and I can truly say I am free.

That’s something to celebrate.

So I went on a mini vacation with friends to the beach, tried new foods, and reflected on all I have to be thankful. We often get caught up in the stress of life and forget all we have right at our feet. Even on the worst days, I have a bed to sleep, eyes to see the beauty around me, and breath. Instead of retreating inward and shutting down over a week that completely changed my world, this year, I chose to reflect and express my freedom and thanks. I know I’m extremely thankful for a Heavenly Father that never gave up on me, even when I gave up and completely turned away from Him. What an amazing feeling knowing that despite my brokenness, filth, and even hatefulness, Jesus didn’t turn His back. Instead, he broke through my stubbornness, cleaned me off, and made me whole. Are there still broken pieces? Of course. But instead of gaping wounds that spew out darkness, the cracks shine the light that was so graciously poured into me. How could you not celebrate that?

You have the Right to Remain Frozen

As a psychology major, not one of my textbooks gave much light to the third component of the fight or flight response. Hundreds of thousands pages read and hundreds of hours of lectures; I was never able to settle for this black and white, either-or, response. The overlooked “freeze” component of the stress cycle screamed how I dealt with my years of abuse, but tonic immobility was never mentioned. I take a lot of pride in where I attended for my bachelor’s degree, but this is one aspect that boggles me; one aspect that isn’t talked about near as much. The education system and larger society is teaching ignorance and contributing to blame by leaving this extremely common aspect of the stress response system out.

I spent years blaming myself because I often just “lied there and took it.” Much like a turtle goes into its shell to protect itself, the human body adapts to trauma by protecting itself in the safest way possible. Freezing is an unlearned response that we are incapable of changing. To take it one step further, compliance is a normal form of self-preservation. If you’re mugged on the street, you’re likely to freeze and say “take what you want” to protect yourself because you want to live. Nobody would blame you for “asking for it” by walking out of the bank, and no one would blame you for surviving, even though you complied.

This changes when it comes to sexual assault and expectations change. Why didn’t you run? Why didn’t you fight? Why did I do what he said? Why did I stay quiet? Not only are these blaming statements coming from people around the victim, but they’re also more than likely coming from themselves as well.

It’s easy to leave out topics like the common response of freezing or compliance. Accepting and voicing these things make it more likely that sexual assault is real, and it can happen to anyone, and the only person responsible is the abuser. If you’ve never experienced sexual assault yourself this gives you the comfort that you can protect yourself and your loved ones; if you have experienced sexual assault, this gives the protection that there’s possibly something you can do to keep it from happening again. Acceptance of evil in the world can be terrifying and forgiving yourself for whatever you had to do to survive can be difficult, but it’s much easier than continuously filling a destructive hole.

A Challenge to Bystanders and Silent Supporters

My mom adored my new boyfriend and everyone thought we were the cutest thing. The approval I’d been fighting for, I finally had it. We had the same birthday, he was cute, played the guitar, and had manners. How great can you get? He had it all going for him, until we had a mutual agreement to break up. As “free bait”, the onetime fling I had with a fellow classmate, Brandon, escalated into dangerous territory. Walking the back stairways of a high school that was filled with dead end hallways, he’d follow me and pull me under the stairs, digging his hands into my wrist. I was conditioned to stay quiet; to accept it because being used and hurt was the only thing I was good for. After my no’s continuously became ignored, I stopped defending myself. He made it apparent that I never controlled anything with him. Fear crept back in as I started to lose control, again. After asking to be as far away from him as possible in our shared history class, my only option to avoid his burning hands was to skip lunch and run through the halls.

Cutting continued to be a bandage that had to constantly be replaced. I rarely left home without razor blades, but in the middle of a crisis I often found myself turning to varying alternatives. I was desperate for an escape. Brandon’s whispers filled our history class as his stares burned through me. All the hurt from Hayley and David was done with, along with their concern for me and their care. I was left without them and a mess I created from wanting attention. It didn’t take much longer until I went looking for them again.

When Hayley and I started talking again things fell quickly back into place. The brainwashed girl I was over a year ago was still there, just even easier to manipulate as I begged for forgiveness. As sorry as I was, I would never be able to repay either of them. From the beginning Hayley was the overly clingy type and extremely demanding of my time. Constantly wanting my attention, always wanting confirmation, always wanting me to promise to never leave, threatening suicide when we’d argue; it was always something. She was just as desperate for attention as I was. We were the same in that way, and were both victims of a self-centered, manipulative monster that got away with everything. She just continued to carry on the cycle of abuse.

A few times, I heard from her ex-best friend. Prior to Hayley and me meeting, they lived together as a way for Hayley to get away from family. Messages meant only for me, I’d relay to Hayley for an explanation.

“Leave.”

“Get away.”

“Save yourself.”

“She’s lying.”

“They’re evil.”

“RUN.”

She’d keep trying but I would not only refuse to listen, but would call her a liar. I’d argue with her that she was just upset because they weren’t friends anymore; she was after revenge and Hayley wasn’t the “bad” one, she was. Then, she stopped.

I refused to listen to the one person who was telling me the truth.

By my senior year of high school the blanks in my memory became significant. I’d go hours or days not knowing what had happened. I couldn’t keep up with what was going on in school, things I was supposed to do with friends, or remember things I was told I had said. It felt like my memory was Swiss cheese and I didn’t have the motivation or care to question why I was missing so much time. The one thing that wouldn’t leave my memory was the flash of a camera. Getting my picture taken made me sick from fear; the stress of getting my picture taken was almost unbearable. It wasn’t until college when I saw the other side of the camera, a camera that held snapshots of images I couldn’t grasp because I couldn’t remember, but were being passed around the globe.

The fastest growing demand in commercial websites for child abuse is for images depicting the worst type of abuse, including penetrative sexual activity involving children and adults and sadism or penetration by an animal (Internet Watch Foundation. Annual Report, 2008).
Child sexual abuse images and videos are often extremely graphic and violent. Among the images of identified victims submitted to NCMEC in the last five years, most depict anal and/or vaginal penetration. Almost half include depictions of bondage and/or sado-masochism.

As a society we’re conditioned to not really think about these things – sexual abuse, domestic abuse, child pornography, incest. So we remain in this web that continues to grow and affect hundreds of thousands of lives, but many people continue to back away from approaching the subject. After all, how do you talk about such topics? How do you accept that we do in fact live in world where these types of things happen and it’s not the fault of the victim? By accepting this our world is shaken, our safety and the safety of our loved ones is made vulnerable, and in the end, we can’t stop it from happening to anyone. While all of this is true, our safety and the safety of our loved ones is even more jeopardized by living in denial. We can’t stop these forms of abuse in the world, but we can educate and become a voice for those that can’t speak. While no one may want to accept the truth of the above statistics, living in denial and hurriedly scrolling past these and other statistics don’t make them any less prevalent.

Instead of remaining a silent supporter or a bystander, I challenge you to not only become more aware, but educate those around you. It only takes one drop to create a wave.

Female Sex Offenders: The Last Taboo

“Looking through the mirror
of all those yester-years.
My life began to revolve around,
nothing but my fears.”

(undated)

The pages of the calendar continued to change, months and years passing. For every candle added to my birthday cakes, the more frequent days would pass that I couldn’t remember. Excuses and lies filled my days. Excuses to get out of changing in the locker room, excuses to get out of staying after school, excuses to cover up lies, and excuses for Hayley and David’s actions. Excusing their actions because of the misery in their lives, I began to fear what was in store for my future; surely I would be no better. Each of them gripped their bottles of alcohol as if booze was their lifeline; alcohol was a sure way for them to drown everything out. I pitied their habits, feeling sorry for them when they were passed out surrounded by a stench of Coke and Jack Daniels.

For all the attacks, tears, pain, and fear, I still carried around care and compassion for Hayley. For every action she committed that took the life out of me, she filled me back up through expressions of sincerity and care. The voices of “you’re stupid and fat” that screamed at me to take beyond destructive action were calmed by her reassurance and acceptance. These glimpses of care burned brighter than being held down, hurt, or torn down by words. I was blinded by these rare occurrences, and held on to them even through the darkest storms.

I was desperate to be loved, and continued to push away the truth that screamed at me. I continued to refuse women could be abusers, justifying Hayley’s actions and accepting her abusiveness as normal. Abuse was normal.

Men are automatically the ones we tell our children to be cautious around. Women are the caregivers, the protectors, the safe haven, and the automatic “safe” choice. It’s statistically accurate to say that men are the predominant sexual predators. However, the number of sexually abusive women are minimal because of the beliefs society holds about women. Just as shame surrounds the male victim that is abused by a male perpetrator, the same shame is held by the female victim that is abused by a woman. Sexual abuse is extremely under reported, with victims of female perpetrators even more under reported. Many studies have consistently shown that a vast majority of both male and female victims of female sex offenders tell no one. Girls face the task of convincing others that females can be abusive and that touch between females can be sexualized. Males are not socialized to report victimization.

According to Dr. Michelle Golland female sex offenders typically fall within these characteristics:

Women between the ages of 22-33 years of age.
They have experienced sexual abuse as children or teens and can have victimization histories twice the rate of men who sexually offend.
History of alcohol and/or drug abuse.
The majority are not mentally ill, but may experience depression or personality disorders.
A majority are employed in professional jobs.
They have difficulties in intimate relationships; or an absence of intimate relationships.

Their victims comprise:

A high percentage of victims are in the family or the perpetrator is close to the victim — friend, teacher, coach, sitter or clergy.
Victims are both boys and girls — with a slightly higher number of girls.
Younger children, under the age of 12, are more often victims of women over the age of 30 years of age.
Children between the ages of 13-17 are often the victims of women who are between the ages of 18 to 25 years of age.
Women do not tend to show a “victim age preference” in the same manner that male sex offenders do.

and they are categorized as:

Teacher/Lover: At the time of their offending, these women are often struggling with peer relationships. They perceive themselves as having romantic or sexually mentoring “relationships” with underaged adolescent victims of their sexual preference, and therefore, did not consider what they are doing to be wrong or criminal in nature.
Predisposed: Histories of incestuous sexual victimization, psychological difficulties and deviant sexual fantasies were common among these women who generally acted alone in their offending. They tend to victimize their own children or other young children within their families or they are close too.
Male-Coerced: These women tend to be passive and dependent individuals with histories of sexual abuse and relationship difficulties. Fearing abandonment, they were pressured by male partners to commit sex offenses often against their own children.

If we as a culture continue to deny the fact that women can and are capable of being sex offenders, we deny victims the support they need to report and heal from their trauma. While no type of abuse is worse than the other, from my experience, being sexually abused by a woman took a much harder toll on me than being abused by men. Although we are far from where we need to be as a society with supporting sexual abuse victims, our society as a whole has come a long way in recent years over the issue of male sexual offenders and pedophilia. However, there continues to be a systemic denial of females as sexual abusers. The involvement of women as predators is still seen a taboo. Accepting the fact that women can also be sexual predators undermines what we believe is the nurturing and caring side of women, but denying this fact keeps this harrowing truth hidden along with the victims that are harboring their pain in silence.

The Power of Words

The mind can do amazing things. It can drive you completely mad, or it can save you. Through my adolescent years and early emerging adulthood years I cringed and racked my brain about the blanks in my memory. Crazy was the only explanation I had, not that these empty spaces were my saving grace. While I began to normalize the abnormal, my brain kicked into survival mode. I learned how to act; when it was better to be submissive or fight, and I became a pro at judging the direction of what the day held.

As months went by it went from protecting Hayley, to protecting kids like me. The thought of anyone else, much less a kid (as I didn’t see myself as one) being hurt, was out of the question. People didn’t deserve to be hurt and no child ever deserved to be hurt that way, no matter how they acted. I dehumanized myself and stripped away every thought of me ever possibly being a worthy child. I painted myself as tainted, filthy, and used. The marks on my body and the constant replay of words going through my head confirmed the worthlessness I felt.

Tears welled up inside of me and fear traced through my veins, but as much as I wanted to cry and show fear, I knew better. I pushed myself to believe life wasn’t that bad. Threats of “it’s only going to be worse if you cry” soon smothered out my emotions. As an almost hollow person, blocking out the physical pain was easy; it was as if someone else just took over. But, blocking out the verbal pain was completely different. Words stung like bees and were branded in my brain that played over and over again.

“You evil bitch.”

“You destroy everyone around you.”

“You deserve this.”

But nothing sunk down deeper than “I love you”.

Having the ability to disconnect from reality in the blink of an eye gave me a sense of power and strength. It didn’t matter what happened to me, no one could take away my secret escape. However, the control disconnecting gave me escaped me the first time knife registered through my brain. I had come face to face with things I could have never imagined, but there was always something that pushed horrific even further. The word slipped out of his mouth as cool as ice, as if it were normal. There was an evilness that I felt dwelled in me so deeply that I believed I deserved the worst; even if that meant risking my life. Like a puppet on strings I’d go where I was directed and do as I was told. Whereas choice is usually something we take for granted, something that’s comforting and expected, the choices I regularly faced stripped me from any sense of comfort. Directed by my puppeteer, the silver of the knives reflected my pale skin as I ran my fingers across their blades in hope of finding a dull edge. Gripping the black handle in my hand, panic and fear never sank in; the only thing on my mind was survival and making the right moves. I knew the drill, and knew that no matter how much I tried to get away, there wasn’t a way out. I was stuck.

Tears burned my eyes and before I felt the cold from the blade against my skin their voices faded and everything went black. I drifted away to my safe place, a place where happiness replaced fear and pain. To a place I spent so much time in that it was completely real to me. I could touch the clouds, be comforted by a warm embrace with no expectations, and be filled up by the cleanest air. Leaving my safe place, the next thing I knew I was walking around my junior high school in a pain that I couldn’t disconnect from. Pain shot through me as I walked, stood, and sat down. Walking out of the choir room, my friend laughed as she said, “it looks like you got it good last night!” Quick to respond, I laughed with her and directed her attention elsewhere. I refused to believe the truth that screamed through my body. No memory was the equivalent so it didn’t happen, I reasoned with myself that it couldn’t have happened and bandaged my aches with excuses.

Words leave a tremendous impact on people. I’ve come to a place where I feel I deal with the impact of past actions well, but there are still words ingrained in my brain that scream out at me every now and then. It doesn’t take a physically abusive person to use words to tear you down, in fact, I’d even guess at some point in our lives, we’ve all had something come out of our mouth that caused a lot of harm to someone, and possibly still does. I’ve heard a lot of people say emotional and verbal abuse is by far the worst torture. Of course, when people would tell me this and I was surrounded by physical and sexual abuse I carelessly thought to myself “you have no idea”. But, as I’ve started to come full circle, I can very easily see this. It’s the aspect of abuse that leaves no physical marks, the part of abuse that isn’t seen as “real abuse”. The physical aspects of abuse are terrible, but in my case, it was their words that ultimately caused the most harm and kept me a slave to their world.

We all know that words can cause a lot of damage, but at the same time we throw them around like their meaningless. I’m guilty of it, and while I try to bite my tongue or walk away before something slips out that shouldn’t be said, it doesn’t always work that way. With no doubt in my mind I can easily say there is no chance of me carrying on the abuse cycle that so many abusers use as a crutch. “I was abused, that’s all I know, so that’s all I can do” – all I can say to that is a big NO. But, can we, as a whole, say that about our mouths? I may not go around degrading people, put people in a double bind over mixed signals, or spew hate out of my mouth, but there was a time when I used my mouth to “get even” and even use my words in an attempt to hurt people that I wanted to hurt because of how they had or were hurting me. This isn’t something we usually think about (in my opinion), but the way we carry ourselves verbally can become a cycle just like anything else, and be passed down if we don’t take the time to alter what may be our defense or become aware of what’s really coming out of our mouths – or even what is about to come out of our mouths. That doesn’t mean become a doormat and keep silent, but our words are much more likely to get us somewhere productive if we’re not yelling, cursing, blaming, and throwing word daggers. For anyone that’s been hurt this can be a huge challenge because our emotions kick in and it’s like word vomit just flies everywhere. There’s a balance between shutting down and verbally spewing. We may not always be in that middle area, but I challenge anyone and everyone to be aware that it is there.

“Think twice before you speak, because your words and influence will plant the seed of either success or failure in the mind of another.”

Napoleon Hill

Breaking the Chains

Three years ago my life was unsuspectingly in shambles. On the outside I was well put together; I was a full-time student making all A’s, I excelled at my job, had amazing ties with my co-workers and everyone I came into contact with at work, I went out and did things with my few very close friends, and I was certain at some point in my life, I was going to make an unforgettable impact on the world. At the same time, days prior to my 21st birthday I gathered the courage to run from the people that had been sadistically abusing me since I was 13. With newly found hope and a will to live, I stuffed all of the fragments of my past away and cried out to thin air that I would do anything to not be found. I didn’t know how to live without the abuse that had awaited me each day, but I didn’t know how to live with it anymore either. The scars I wore were a daily reminder.

“You can run, but you’ll never be free.”

My self-inflicted wounds and empty memories carried me through those dark times, but their names engraved into my leg brought anything but comfort. It screamed out I wasn’t a person, but a piece of property; an item that belonged to someone. With scars and a face that the flash of a camera made visible for the world to see, I stepped outside each day fearful of who would recognize me.

“Have I seen you somewhere?”

These words haunted me for years. I hid in the shadows of my fear, construing what seemed a simple question into a disabling, emotion filled moment in time. Memories flashed in front of me within the nanoseconds it would take me to respond. I knew the answer could have been yes; anyone could have known me, just not in the way anyone would ever like to be introduced. Disgust would twist through me and fill my knotted up intestines, my heart racing. With a tied stomach, I would try to avoid the “you’re one of them” thoughts. I was desperate to run and hide, to find a refuge for protection from the possibilities that filled my head. Instead, I always reverted to my usual response and extended my right hand.

“I don’t think we’ve met, my name is Sarah.”

As a precautionary I would keep my distance and hide the identifying marks that covered my body. Thoughts of dying my hair and cutting it off often flashed through my mind, I wanted to be unrecognizable; a fly on the wall that didn’t catch anyone’s attention. I didn’t want to be identifiable, but I came to realize that changing my appearance was not going to change my past. Instead, I learned to face it, from beginning to end.

The cold hard truth is sexual predators DO exist, in fact, they exist in overwhelming amounts. The internet is a gateway for predators, giving them the ability to freely and directly communicate with each other. Online sexual predators find kids through social networking, blogs, apps, chat rooms, instant messaging, discussion boards, and other websites. They seduce their targets through attention, affection, kindness, and even gifts. They are up-to-date with current music and hobbies of interest to kids, they listen to and sympathize with kids’ problems, and they try to ease victims inhibitions by gradually introducing sexual content into their conversations or by showing them sexually explicit material. With time, they may evaluate the kids they meet online for future face-to-face contact.

The grooming process has been broken down into 6 gradual phases (Dr. Michael Welner), as follows:

1. The offender targets a victim by sizing up the child’s vulnerability. Children with less parental oversight are more desirable.

2. The sex offender gains trust by watching and gathering information about the child, getting to know his needs and how to fill them. In this regard, sex offenders mix effortlessly with responsible caretakers because they generate warm and calibrated attention.

3. Once the sex offender begins to fill the child’s needs, that adult may assume noticeably more importance in the child’s life and may become idealized. Gifts, extra attention, affection may distinguish one adult in particular and should raise concern and greater vigilance to be accountable for that adult.

4. The grooming sex offender uses the developing special relationship with the child to create situations in which they are alone together. This isolation further reinforces a special connection. A special relationship can be even more reinforced when an offender cultivates a sense in the child that he is loved or appreciated in a way that others, not even parents, provide.

5. At a stage of sufficient emotional dependence and trust, the offender progressively sexualizes the relationship. Desensitization occurs.

6. Once the sex abuse is occurring, offenders commonly use secrecy and blame to maintain the child’s continued participation and silence—particularly because the sexual activity may cause the child to withdraw from the relationship. Children in these entangled relationships—and at this point they are entangled—confront threats to blame them, to end the relationship and to end the emotional and material needs they associate with the relationship.