One of the motto's of the church I attend is that "secrets make you sick." Wow. What depth embedded in a simple 4 word slogan. I'm determined that sexual abuse is one of the best kept secrets around. I wish I could say that I was the exception to the typical secret keeping behavior, but I wasn't. I fed into the lie that most victims fall prey to.....that it was somehow my fault, that I must have deserved this, that I was a dirty person. I hated the person I was and was too ashamed to let anyone know the truth of what was happening to me. I thought my only way out was to hide behind a mask of secrecy.
Putting on a mask actually came quite natural for me. You see, I was raised in a family who had mastered the art of secrecy. From the time I was a little girl I learned the rule that many of you probably had in your own family......that what happens behind closed doors stays behind those closed doors. By nature I am an introvert, so this "keep it quiet" family edict really did not prove that difficult. The worse things were at home, the quieter I became, which only enhanced my ability to maintain the secrets.
Looking back, it must have been fairly obvious to my father that I was a safe target. My father was a terrible alcoholic, and I don't mean a "happy" drunk. Often he would yell horrible obscenities and lose control. On one occasion he practically destroyed the inside of our house. He went about the house only in his underwear shattering dishes, tearing framed pictures off the wall, throwing broken chair parts across the room, pulling doors off their hinges....just to name a few things. My brother was trapped inside, hiding in his bedroom, as my mother ushered my sister and I off to my grandparents for protection. To say I was afraid of my father as a child would be an understatement. In fact, one of my favorite places in our house was inside my closet. I felt safe there. That being said, I'm guessing that when my father began sexually abusing me as a little girl, he really never feared he would be caught....besides, I sure wasn't going to tell. It was a secret....
Before I continue to tell you parts of my story as this blog progresses, please know that though I share the parts of my story that tried to steal away my identity, there are many wonderful memories too. We took fun vacations, I played a ton of sports growing up, I had friends who I spent time with, I had swim parties at my grandparents house, and the list goes on. Not every second of my life was tragic and I don't want to give satan any more credit than he has already taken. Yes, I had some devastating times that tried to destroy me, but I also had some wonderful and treasured moments that I will hold dear forever. The difference is, these weren't a big, ugly secret. I was free to share this part of my story....in fact, I was encouraged to.
For 26 years I kept the dark secrets of my past hidden down deep inside of me. It was a time of painful isolation that was slowly killing me from the inside out. It is a lonely place to be and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I want you to know that the beauty of the fact that "secrets make you sick," is that it is not terminal. It is a condition that is reversible. It might take a lot of time and support, but it is worth it in the end. If nothing else I ever say remains in your hearts, please keep this tucked away....you can recover and become the person God created you to be. Wherever you are in your journey, do not give up. You, too, deserve to be healed.
No comments:
Post a Comment