Thoughts on Escaping an Abusive Environment, Part 2

I hope Part 1 helped you understand that even if you haven't personally experienced emotional, psychological abuse, that it is still a horrible reality with terrible results for others. I had not intended to do this in two parts but setting the stage is critical to begin such a discussion on such a topic and required enough space that a single post would be far less effective. Having primed the subject, now I turn to my notes and thoughts on what is needed to escape an abusive environment. These thoughts are taken from my escape, my mom's inability to escape, and observing and considering the happenings and implications of culture and others' experiences.

Before the idea of escape is even possible, there must be a vocabulary that allows understanding, awareness, social acknowledgment, and dialogue of the realities of the existence and nature of such abuses. This is, in part, why it's so critical to talk about it. Having been so trapped, I am always concerned and a bit agitated when all the conversation goes to physical and sexual abuse. I in no way mean to negate that need, but it puts me in mind of the family who addresses all their concern for one child's health problems to the detriment of the others'.

Until there is a general awareness that there is a problem, those so trapped will be as I was when daring to speak out about it as I wrote in part 1. And even then, I only spoke because I hurt - because my identity and psyche were being so damaged I didn't know how to survive it. So I asked for help from the hurt and the hurting was scorned. I didn't know what was wrong or why or that there was anything to be done about it.

If society can't conceive or won't admit that there is wrong, how will an embattled child know they have a right to better treatment? Especially when the abuser is telling them, convincing them, that they are less human, less worthy. Have you never heard of a victim told that the life the abuser has 'given' them is better than they could hope for anywhere else? Because it's already more than they're worth being given? The victim must know that respect for self and choice and ability are expected and honored and that despite the abuser's claims, the victim has that same right as the members of that family up the street that actually loves and respects each others' existence.

Sometimes victims get stuck in the same pride that others face. They want to believe that they couldn't have fallen for the lies and are stronger than those who get manipulated. Sometimes they think they can shield others in the family by pretending it isn't happening or by 'running interference'. Sometimes they need help to admit they need help, that they are trapped in a bad environment and allowing it to continue only allows for further damage to self and even others.

The victim must know help is available. Will family or neighbors believe and support or will they deny and condemn? My mother had no confidence that support was available for a bed-ridden woman (MS) and her children. She was also afraid that leaving would incline my dad to act out in violence and debated to her death whether it was safer to leave or to stay. Her death took that option off the table. Being sick, she also feared because she was unable to work and provide for her children without the financial support of a husband. Again, discussion and awareness in society would enable to victim's awareness of resources available.

Ultimately, the victim must be brave enough to act. Often it is recognizing the damage occurring to children/others should they stay that motivates final action. Distance often brings a sense of safety by creating a physical barrier that might incline the abuser to consider the inconvenience of pursuit a deterrent. It also means a new environment where new, healthier rules can be put into play without the same social repercussions.

Physical separation is only the first half. Mental and emotional separation is begun in the process of leaving but the healing takes time relative to the length of time and trauma in the abusive situation. Following are things that aid healing. Their lack can likewise hinder healing.

The survivor needs a safe environment and safe people where they can learn to simply be without having to always fear another attack for every little thing they do. They need time to absorb the comprehension that they have a right to correct mis-assumptions of another (an authority figure, even) without fearing recriminations (respect). This means they gain an awareness that silence is no longer needed for survival.

They need an understanding that sometimes the trauma will revisit in times of stress but it is as the aches of an old injury as a storm front comes in. It is also good for those they interact with to recognize this pattern. Like healing injuries, pain killers can incline some to think all is well but when the pain returns, more Tylenol may be needed. The same often occurs in the healing of traumas. Do not fear the pain. It will also be daunting to face the actions of rehabilitation (such as learning to trust again), but, like physical therapy, it is worth the soreness.

Ultimately, it takes time as proof that survival away and continuing safety and even flowering is possible, sustainable, and defensible. This can be aided by working contingency plans should the feared return of the abuser occur. They may never become necessary, but simply having options and plans available returns a sense of control to the survivor.

On a personal note, I have found that my emotional state can be measured by whether or not I can laugh. If One can laugh, one will survive. If there is no laughter, the stress is at a problem level.

Alma 55:20

...arm...th[e]...prisoners...give them power to gain possession of [themselves]...

A Timeline of Lessons (2012)

Re-posted from a closed blog.

(I came across this while looking through a folder. I have left it as is and thought it worth sharing even though I had considered this blog closed. I think it shows an insight into what it is to be raised in an abusive home and can only hope the reader will pause to consider their own situations for what good it might lead to. Non-physical abuse is very insidious - it doesn't leave blatant marks, but it marks just the same. Please guard your own actions from doing that to anyone, yourself included. And if you realize there are parallels in the life of someone you know, please be there to lift, help, support them through, and if possible away from, the nightmare. Just as I always wished someone would do for me.)

  

When I was youngest, you taught me that no matter how hard I tried to be good, I'd have to try harder than everyone else to even have a  prayer. 

  

You also taught me that for every thing I did wrong, the value of my soul would shrink and nothing could every make it better. 

  

You'd never think it, but listening to your hateful words about your brothers and parents taught me that your saying you 'loved' someone meant nothing. 

  

I learned that there was no point in telling anyone that you were mean because no one would believe me or care because you told me so. 

  

A little older and a big, yet innocent, mistake later and you taught me that even horrible criminals would think I deserved to die and they would want to kill me if they knew and would kill me if I were older. 

  

That Christmas you taught me that I was not worth as much as anyone else in the family. 

  

During these years  you taught me that everything had to be done exactly how you said to do it even if it was harder your way and didn't make sense and didn't even matter how the bathroom sink was  cleaned so long as it got cleaned… 

  

Then we moved and you were around a lot more. 

  

And I learned that you got mad at me for daring to sleep when you were mad at me for something else. 

  

I learned that anything that made you unhappy could be my fault. 

  

I learned that I could get in trouble for not knowing what you wanted me to do even if you never told me. 

  

I learned that I would be in worse trouble if someone helped me do something you had secretly planned as punishment. 

  

I learned that being darn good wasn't good enough - I had to be the best and I had to remember I was  nothing at the same time. 

  

I learned that if I ever had the audacity to speak like I had a claim on something you promised me, you would take it away so I would know better. 

  

So I learned not to want or expect anything because it would just be used against me. 

  

I learned to convince myself that I must be nothing - a slave - for if a slave, then nothing wrong could be done against me since, by definition, a slave has no rights to violate in the first place. 

  

I learned that you loved the animals more than you loved me, even though you could make them yelp and scream and cry like you couldn't get away with doing to us. 

  

I learned how to manage full time school, work, caring for a bed-ridden mother, three younger siblings, cleaning the house, shopping, cooking, driving any and all to appointments, and well as maintaining my own spiritual state through church activity, all at the age of twenty. 

  

I learned all this while I was also expected to somehow be a professional painter with no realistic help and that if I dared get overwhelmed that I would somehow sink even lower than rock bottom in standing. 

  

I was terrified to learn that all you had to do was tell me 'something' I had done for a low-down, heartless, selfish, cold, dark reason and I would not only believe you, but I would forget what I had really done and why I had done it. 

  

I learned that my health was of no concern to any of you.  

  

I learned that you would be furious if I dared talk to anyone about how overwhelmed and stressed I was because that reflected badly on you. 

  

Therefore I learned, once again, that I didn't matter. 

  

I learned that if I behaved any way other than you thought proper that I was shaming you, even if it was an emotional outburst related to recent trauma. 

  

You taught me that Jesus despised me and that turning to God in prayer was slothful on my part. 

  

You taught me that if something wasn't working then I must not have done my best. Never-mind the fact that no-one is capable of actually doing everything. 

  

So I guess I learned that if anything was not succeeding then it was my fault. 

  

In fact, I even learned that life almost got easier if I just accepted fault for everything and anything that anyone was upset about. Because then, if it was my fault, I could fix it and they wouldn't be mad at me anymore. And there would be a reason to my existence. 

  

I learned that mom had considered divorce up till I was five and often couldn't wait till you went out of town again so that the fragile stability she maintained in your absence could be restored. 

  

I learned that it was safer to not let anything show on my face since I was always getting in trouble for the thoughts you were telling me I was having. It's a good thing you didn't know as much as you thought you did… 

  

I learned that even if I managed to do 'better' at just about everything, it was only treading water and to do less than best left me in the red. 

  

I learned that you would stop at nothing to keep your control. 

  

I learned that you wanted me so isolated, I would get in trouble for confiding in my own sibling or a teacher/bishop. 

  

I learned after mom died that you only thought mom was considering divorce for the first year of your marriage and you disregarded the lifelong story where mom had known I was waiting to be born as her desperate attempts to preserve your marriage. 

  

I learned that I could get in trouble for being so selfish that I was not doing my siblings' chores. 

  

I learned that you trained the family so well that my siblings knew they could use me as a scapegoat to get out of trouble themselves. 

  

I learned that you knew you were being unreasonable and you just didn't care. 

  

I learned that you not only had no care for my physical well-being, you were doubly willing to endanger it to lessen my dignity so you could get a laugh. 

  

I finally learned that it would never matter how hard I tried, how much I gave, how well I kept all of your arbitrary, multiplying demands  - it would never be enough. 

  

So I left. 

  

Since then, I have also learned. 

  

I learned that you betrayed yourself far more than you may ever realize and would ever admit. 

  

I learned that you think love means satisfying your expectations and that you've brought your own stupid misery on yourself.  No wonder you never feel loved and I could never do enough because every time a demand gets met, the love expires and the next unmet expectation is the only one that matters. 

  

I learned that I was not the lazy one - you were. 

  

I learned that all the things that never occurred to me but that you blamed me for 'thinking' had to have come from your own head. 

  

I remembered you scoffing at a crying child and mocking her with the words, "What are you going to do, tell the Bishop I'm emotionally abusing you?" Years before I had any clue to what that even meant... 

  

I learned that you are the selfish and self-centered one. 

  

I learned that even though you expect everyone you come in contact with to think you're the smartest person they know, you're not nearly as smart as you think you are. 

  

I realized that you gave into having me because it was you who feared divorce but at some point you must have realized my birth didn't accomplish your intended purpose so the unwanted child became the despised child. 

  

I realized that for all you complained of how much money you had to spend on me, I saved you far more than you've ever considered and my debt has been more than paid in full. 

  

I have learned that even if I was born to you and even if our religion believes in forever families, I do not have to stay with you and that does not compromise my immortal standings one bit. You have more than lost your right to me. 

  

I have even learned some of what you did to mom. But I will leave that to stay between you and God. Fair warning - you can't hide the truth from Him.  

  

I tell you this because I have been learning all along since I left that you haven't been changing. You are only targeting others. 

  

I have always thought that you consider yourself too sophisticated to be physically abusive. And as early memory proves - you either think emotional abuse illegitimate or you figure no one is smart enough to recognize what you are doing. Indeed, many are quite naive. But many are not, and tearing apart a person's identity, spirit and mind does greater violence that a simple fist can ever do. 

  

Ultimately, I have learned that you are pathetic. 

Mirrors

The year after I moved away from home, I was at a friend's house for the holidays and came across The Pretender, a TV series from the late 1990s, while browsing their story collection. Since my work had an automatic week off built in between Christmas and New Year's, I had ample time to devour this new story.

With food for the body and food for the mind, I tend to go through a sort of seasons. At one time, I may always crave cheese, or tuna salad, or my veggie concoction... Then I'll hit a point where that item is no longer fulfilling and I'll rarely eat it over the next year or so. I suspect it has to do with particular nutritional needs at any given time. The same applies to stories. When I come across the right story at the right time, it become integral to my diet until whichever insight need has been fulfilled. This explains my pre-occupations that were so focused on Merlin a couple months ago and The Avengers a couple months before that. (I have long been aware of this pattern, I simply explain it for the reader's understanding.)

In the case of The Pretender, the most obvious connection is found in the back-story of a hero who had been held captive since, being discovered as a genius, childhood who finally escaped the people who only wanted to use and control him while learning and experiencing the normal life elements he had missed in captivity. Being in the process of breaking with home and extricating my identity and will from the messed-up manipulations and expectations and demands that kept me bound to it, the literal fight for understanding and independence and the joy of being free resonated deeply in my spirit.

The were many specific parts of the show that also left deep impressions, but the one that was most important was in an episode about identity. I do not remember the particulars, the season, episode title, episode details, etc... What I do remember is that Jarod, the hero, had reason to remember back to his time in 'The Center' (where he'd been held captive) when he refused to solve some puzzle because he'd become aware that he had never even seen his face in a mirror. He didn't know who he was or where he came from, where his parents were, even his last name. He knew they wouldn't give him any other information, but at the moment, he needed to know what he looked like - to see what/who he was.

During this same time period, I'd been struggling with the recognition that while the gospel taught me that God loved me and that I could find peace in doing my best, my dad's constant echoes and his perception of me (recall that these perceptions had me to the point of feeling guilty for even existing...) would regularly drown out that peace. It was a fair roller-coaster ride trying to handle the polar opposites. It was also greatly upsetting in trying to understand how the man who should be my protector was my greatest torment and how the one who should love me most constantly thought such evil of me. My nature has always been one to respond quickly to expectations and guidance so to be treated with such a heavy, emotionally rough hand left deeper wounds than might otherwise have been suffered.

Reflecting back, further in time, I have always had a talent for avoiding notice (surely made stronger by trying to avoid further negative attention at home) to the point that I'd be surprised to see myself in a picture. I'd also be surprised to see what I looked like since, even having a mirror, I'd never actually look at myself, just focus on the particulars that needed attention - hair, eyelashes for mascara, etc... I think I was scared to see that I really was the terrible, worthless person God surely despised the way dad always made me out to be. In fact, to see myself, having no intrinsic value, I had to look through the eyes of others. Furthermore, walking around the halls in high school, I often felt like a pair of floating eyeballs: seeing, observing, but never seen. Never part. All there was to see was either neutral or negative.

When I made it to this particular episode (perhaps on the second time through, I can't be sure), all these elements had been percolating for some time. When Sydney, Jarod's mentor/handler, finally obtained permission to let him look in a mirror, Sydney told him, "This is who you are." I'm pretty sure I paused the show for quiet because at the same time, it was as if a concept unfolded in my mind. It was symbolized by a tall, standing mirror that I knew was my dad's, with him in front of it. I was standing apart. To make the meaning more readily understood, imagine everyone with their own mirror. But I didn't have one. I had to go by the reflections in everyone else's mirrors. Returning to my image of just my dad's mirror, it was as though the Spirit told me to take a close look at his mirror. It was covered with dirt and grime and dust and stains. Suddenly I understood that dad's view of me was so negative not because I was so horrible, but because the means he was using to view me was filthy. When I heard, "This is who you are" I also 'heard' Heavenly Father say, "You need to use my mirror to see who you really are, not his, not theirs. Your own. Mine."

It was, for me, a revolutionary concept. Probably basic for many others, but then many others have not lived my life with my personal nature, either. I cannot say I have it down all the way, but with every passing year, my own mirror is clearer and the reflections of others less so. I still stumble and get distracted sometimes, but then something reminds me of this epiphany and I remember to look in the right mirror again. I'm writing this blog now because I just went through this process again this week.

This concept reminds me of the scripture in 1 Corinthians 13:12.

 12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

Someday all the mirrors will be clear and we won't get distracted and confused by the distorted reflections of smudged looking glasses, dirty mirrors. Someday we will know, without question, the value God sees in each of us and in each other. Until then, we just need to be careful about our mirrors. Are we using our own, and are we keeping them as clean and clear as we can? It will affect how we judge others. It will affect how we judge ourselves.

(P.S. If any of you have watched The Pretender, you may have noticed it begins to leave a darker feeling the further it progresses. I did not realize that until trying to watch it again last year when I found I had to only watch a few shows at a time to avoid a build-up of home feelings and thought patterns in my mind. I can only assume that having come so freshly from such a negative situation and still freshly battling the wrong patterns, the show's 'vibe' meshed so well with what I had come from it was unnoticeable at the time. Once I was far more free of it, the distinction was much more apparent.)