A Visit with David Clohessy - January 20, 2007

Today was different. My brain was educated and my heart has much to ponder.

Today I picked up SNAP's (Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests) national president at the airport and chauffeured him around the big city for a press conference. If you are not familiar with David Clohessy you can Google his name and meet him. This is exactly what I did last night when my offer to pick him up and tote him around was accepted.

Whoa! The dude is in Wikepedia! A fact I don't think he was aware of prior to my informing him. David has been on all major networks, and interviewed by most talk show hosts. Major publications, like Time, have carried his articles and when someone news related needs a comment on pastoral misconduct they go to David. His own journey to becoming president of SNAP began at the hands of his own perpetrator.

So, what's he like? Nothing like one would expect such a notorious person to be. He is refreshingly real - and no better with directions than me! We spent quite a while roaming around some interesting sections of Atlanta looking for the lawyer's office. Once found, we were ushered in and I was even asked to help proof the press releases. I was also the official poster maker for the day.

Let's see...... Chauffeur, Editor, Advertising Agent - all in one day. Beats painting the house!

To the heart of things, David has me thinking about the importance of disclosure of the perpetrators name. Is he molesting the next door neighbor's kids? No pressure from David, just a question. One that God and I are going to have to wrestle out. What do you guys in blogger world feel about this?

Having never been a very politically active person - I think I have been heard to say things like I HATE POLITICS! - my cage was rattled a wee bit to be swept up into an announcement of new litigation filed against the ex-minister Earl Paulk. Feel free to Google him too. The list of accusations being handed the man will make you sick. Seems, he thought he was due a harem and he apparently collected and that is just starters as far as the law suit is concerned. Why is this type of behavior not illegal?

As I shared my own story with David, I watched and listened to the new me. That is who I was. Me. No striving for approval. No need for his acceptance. No need to be the constant center of attention. Healed and whole more than I even knew I could be and I didn't even realize how radical was the change until I sat down to write this.

Well, it is late and tomorrow I have to paint the house - or scrape, sand, patch, caulk, and prime it in order to get it ready to paint. I feel for the house....I have been there.

Facing GAD

GAD - General anxiety disorder according to Wikipedia is: "an anxiety disorder that is characterized by excessive, uncontroll-able and often irrational worry about everyday things. The frequency, intensity, and duration of the worry are disproportionate to the actual source of worry, and such worry often interferes with daily functioning."

I have it. Yesterday I was reminded of that. It was a humbling experience.

We stopped by Lowe's to buy a few items and discovered the paint we want has a big rebate this weekend. That meant if we could make a final decision and buy what we needed for the outside of the house then we could save about $80. We had tried out a couple colors on our storage building and thought we had it down to what we wanted, a touch of black added to a doubled "recipe" from one of the cards. So the guy mixed it up and there we had 5 gallons of paint that sure did look a lot darker than we thought it would. So, he added some white and lightened it a little and we went with it.

On the way home I worried and worried that it was not the same as what we had already picked out. It looked so much darker. We had just spent $300 on paint and what if it was the wrong color. My anxiety was climbing and it was not rational and I knew it. Then once I got home I felt nauseas and took something and crawled in the bed talking to myself about why I did not need to feel this degree of anxiety - the paint had proven perfect but the anxiety just wouldn't retreat.

Then it hit me. When was the last time I had taken my Effexor? Hmm. Not that day. Not the day before. No wonder. Effexor unlike other anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds has a more immediate effect and if you forget to take it the results show up in a day or two and you come down with flu like symptoms including nausea. So I popped my meds and read for a little while. An hour later, I was fine. Anxiety almost gone and no nausea.

I forget sometimes that underneath the meds remains GAD. About 3% of those living in the U.S. have GAD and 2 out of 3 are women. I am willing to bet that those women are at least perimenopausal. That is when mine started, when my hormones began to plummet.

A symptom of GAD is being extra hard on oneself......so, I am hard on myself for having GAD! I do see the humor in that. :-) What a vicious cycle. I first had to break that cycle by being ok with not being ok with being anxious. I know - weird, but it worked. I would get anxious over feeling anxious, I still do at times. I had to be ok with being anxious over my anxiety. Finally I could get at being ok with my anxiety itself.

I live so normally the majority of the time, that when the anxiety flares up due to a circumstance or my forgetting my meds, I have to remind myself it is ok to be flawed. But because of my GAD I have learned to be careful giving "pat" answers to people. To tell me there is nothing to be worried about when I am unmedicated is pointless. I know that. Nevertheless I stay anxious. The worst thing I can do is become frustrated at myself over the anxiety. Shame causes it to skyrocket.

So remember my GAD when you think you have an easy answer for someone. What is easy for you may very well be impossible for someone else.

Today, I thank God for Effexor! (I wonder if they would pay me for this advertisement?)

Healing from the Inside Out

Two years ago, my nephew Brent, was clearing a field on the wildlife preserve that employed him. A small tree fell the wrong way, entered the cab of the tractor and a small limb jabbed into his thigh. Being the good old boy he is, he yanked it out and went on to work. Three weeks later the area was swollen, red, and hot to the touch with great red streaks climbing outward from the center.

With some encouragement from the women in his life, wife, mom, grandmother, and aunt; he went to the doctor and began a regimen of antibiotics. After taking several weeks of various medications it became obvious the wound was not going to heal without some surgery. The surgeon went in and opened the wound and found masses of dead tissue and infection that he removed. Bandaged but left open to heal from the inside out, the wound kept Brent home and in bed. Yet, once again the wound closed on the outside before healing could occur on the inside.

Once again surgery had to occur, but this time a long period of wound care accompanied it. Every day, for two weeks, and then every other day for several more weeks, Brent went in to the wound care center for a painful procedure. First he was given a dose of morphine, the bandage was removed, a topical anesthesia was applied, the top of the wound was bathed in saline and an instrument like a water pick was used to tear the edges of the top of the wound back open. A prod was used to reach deep into the layers of flesh (Brent is a large man with strong thighs so we are talking deep.) to explore the very depth of the wound. Only the furthest tissue in was allowed to close up.

The process was so painful that tears flowed even with the morphine and topical anesthesia. As the nurses came to know Brent, they put the water pick into his hand and let him gauge the slowness or quickness of the procedure. Some days he was there 3 hours taking all the pain he could each minute of the procedure. It took about 3 months of painful prodding and reopening of the wound to finally obtain a clean bill of health.

Those 3 months of Brent's healing are much like the 20 years of my emotional healing. I tried many options each time to find the wound healed outwardly, but left much seething underneath. I attended conferences on inner healing, I read books, I received tons of prayer, I sought God and learned to hear his Spirit's leading. Each and every opportunity brought a measure of healing and the grace to continue the journey, but infection in my life remained hidden beneath the healed places. Finally, with the help of a decrease in hormonal balance and the advent of menopause, everything came exploding to the surface and external healing was no longer an option. It was time to go deep and get the puss from the bottom.

The degree of emotional pain I experienced during those first 3 years of work with Cheryl was indescribable. I don't know how I made it through it. Cheryl, my therapist, often called it courage, but to me it was the only choice I had. I could no longer continue with the deep necrosis inside. I became as a child as I emotionally regressed. I lost all control of my emotions; anxiety and shame consumed me. I was almost completely dependent on my therapist. And, then slowly and methodically, I rebuilt who I was from the bottom up.

Like the nurses who worked with Brent, Cheryl and now John, respected my own time table and the work happening inside of me. They often handed me the tools and stood beside me as I cleaned the wounds. They graciously allowed me the time it took and let me breathe and cry between the painful excursions into the unhealed flesh.

My healing will never be the same as anyone else's. I cannot measure someone else's journey by my own. No one else can measure mine by theirs. When I first entered Cheryl's office in August of 2000, I mentally gave myself a year and half or at the most 2 to finish. After a year, I realized I was still tearing dead stuff out and was nowhere near the bottom. After 2 years I began to panic because of my personally set time limit. When year 3 came, a little shame remained for the time this was taking, but I gladly signed up for my master's degree program in order to continue to see Cheryl. I had learned to trust myself and my gut. By the end of year 5, I was ready to let go of Cheryl and move on - or to at least try.

After a brief respite, I found a new therapist, and with John have tied up loose ends here and there. I have also recently faced the pastoral sexual abuse of my childhood with a new knowledge base and a healthier sense of self.

This time, I plan to stay put until God finishes. Wherever you are in your time of healing from whatever it is you are healing, may you find the grace to be the clay on the wheel and trust the potter's hands.

How to Refuse the Victim Role

In my last post I asked myself a hard question. How do I make sure I leave the victim mentality behind. I have had some good responses and hard questions asked of me. In considering the questions, it occured to me that a post I had written a month ago might have the answer. The My Stuff/ Their Stuff concept seems to play a major role in my letting go of being a victim.

As long as Bob's actions were about me then I remained a victim. To whatever degree any of that lies hidden inside of me, I still remain a victim. When I see Bob's abuse as a statement about him and not me, then I am not a victim and in a sense never was. I am only a victim if I allow his actions to define me.

At first, the abuse was my fault. I was an abuse magnet. Then slowly I came to see he was a predator but I still hated the needy part of myself that allowed the abuse. After dealing with the self hatred, it took some time for me to fully face the degree of abuse and predation he purpetrated on me. Why? Because I believed it was about me. For example: Though I remembered for years that Bob had set me up to keep his friend Charlie company and had felt he wanted me to entertain him sexually, it was not until a few months ago that I realized the fact that he was actually pimping me off on Charlie. Though it was right in front of my face, I couldn't see it. Why? Because, at one time it would have defined me as a whore.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped letting others define me so easily and when I discovered myself back in a "Bob's abuse" season, the experience defined him as a sexual addict and a sadistic and cruel one. His behavior did not define me and I could see it clearly and in a new light.

In the present - his choice of meeting with me or not - is not about me. I have been surprisingly fine with waiting to recontact him. I didn't expect to reach a point of being fine and focussing most of my time on other day to day issues. I was ready for more turmoil than this has caused. I have found strength that I was not aware existed inside of me.

Bob's decision will be about him, his courage or lack of it, his ability to look at truth or his lack of ability, his degree of repentance and recovery, etc. He has tried to make it about me - first as to whether I was still extremely angry, then to whether my therapist is supportive of my doing this and feels I can handle it, and finally to whether my therapist was a quack and pushing me into doing this as the only way to find healing. None are true and he has been told that 4 times now. Three times by me and once through Tom's conversation with his son-in-law, Michael. I expect to hear it again if he decides to not meet with me. I intend to tell him that his decision has to be about him and his need - that I am quite healthy enough to decide my own.

We can all work things out in the therapist's office, but sooner or later we have to work it out in our everyday lives. I am doing that in a deliberate, chosen way with Bob. His stuff is his. His actions and choices are about him. They aren't about me.

I believe this is refusing to be the victim. :-) And, it feels good.

Confronting My Abuser: A Week's Journaling

I did it. Today, Wednesday, May 2, 2007, I called Bob at home and confronted him with the truth - the fullness of truth. I confronted with what he did not remember and I did it with kindness and grace. Please pray that he will have the courage to face the truth and find his Father.


This is what happened: I had an appointment with my pastor, Tom, and in the back of my head I thought I might go ahead and call Bob. Tom and I looked at his calendar to decide, if Bob agreed, when it might work for Bob to come over here and meet with me. I really didn't want a long period of time to pass between my contacting Bob and us sitting down - if he agreed to it, but Tom mentioned the fact that Bob would probably need some time to think his way through this, hopefully pray about it, and perhaps talk to his wife. So I looked at Tom and said, let's do it.

It took a little while to get the right phone number. I finally called the last church he had pastored and retired from 2 years ago and a lady answered. I told her I was trying to reach a man that had once pastored me and had been pastor there and told her his name. She asked me my name and then said, he was her father, and gave me the number. My God! I hung up realizing I had just talked to the little girl I had babysat. That was a very strange feeling.

I looked at Tom. Took a deep breathe. Dialed. Bob answered.

"Bob, this is Di ........and I used my present last name."

"Who?"

"Di.....and used my maiden name. " Dead silence.

"Bob, I am sitting in (church name) with Tom (last name) and I would like to talk with you about our relationship. Are you willing to talk to me?" I asked clearly but gently.

"I don't know, how angry are you still?" came a rather defensive reply. It was as if he was shooting arrows at me.

"I think I have dealt with most of that. I'm ok. I am ready to do this." I replied dodging the arrows and any reaction to him.

"Well I ask, because when T.N. (the regional minister I reported him to) came down here and talked with me and (wife) I was willing to sit down with you and your therapist.

"T.N. never told me you said that."

"I offered but T.N. said you were pretty angry and hurt and he didn't think you were ready." His voice remained defensive and betrayed a need to remain the one in control. My feeling was that he was saying that I was the one sick, but that didn't matter. What he thought wasn't truth and I knew it. I knew it deep inside and was even able to share from weakness and not strength.
Immediately upon his question of my level of anger and the tone of his voice, I also knew I was talking to a man unbroken. I responded with an amazing control and levelness and evenness through the whole conversation. Where did this woman come from?

"No, Bob, I wasn't ready. I had work to do. As a matter of fact, it was only this past fall after I came to this church that I finished enough to do this. I could never come to church here before. (I heard a quiet moan.) My mom moved to town and I took her to church. And when I did, every remnant left inside of me blew open. It wasn't easy. But I am through it, and I am ready, and I would like to talk. Can you?"

"Do you mean now on the phone?"

"Actually I was thinking of face to face and here at the church. It would mean your driving over." I added somewhat apologetically.

"I'm really sorry I hurt you." a slight tremor entered his voice. "I had no idea this would happen." "Are you still seeing a therapist?" he asked.

"Yes, I am".

"Is this something he encouraged you to do?" he asked somewhat patronizingly with the emphasis on the word "encouraged." He was still defensive but slowly his tone was changing and his voice cracked showing me his self control was lessening.

"No, he would never 'encourage' me to do something like this. It was my idea, and he has been supportive, and we have discussed it quite a bit, but he would never push me to do something like this."

"I would have to know it was his recommendation that you do this."

"He is supportive, Bob. I am fine. I am doing ok."

"I never saw you as a child, I know it was wrong and I was wrong not realizing it, but I saw you as a woman. I know that is not right, I am not saying it was but it was the way I saw you." he interjected in his defense.

Firmly but evenly I replied, "Bob, not only was I 17 and very much a child, but you were my pastor."

"Yeah, I know that. I understand that........" His tone never really sounded sorry. "We were such good friends and it just grew out of that."

Nothing in my tone was harsh as I said, "Bob, how did it come out of our friendship when I had only known you one day when it started?" Silence........

"Can you explain. I don't comprehend what you are saying." his voice was definitely quivering and inside of me power and a sense of truth was growing. I was very in control of myself and very aware of the fact that I was handling this wonderfully, much better than I would have expected. "I went by your house the first day and met you and your family and you asked me to meet you at the church to show you around the youth center and I did. I met you there the next day and on the walk back from the youth center you asked me if I had a boyfriend and I told you we had just broken up and then you asked me if we had sex. Bob, no body talked about stuff like that and I thought it was amazing and then when we got back to your office, you lifted my chin and you kissed me....and then on Thursday I babysat for (your daughter) and you came home while she was napping and we had oral sex and in three weeks time I was in bed with you."

He interrupted the last couple of words with, "That isn't what I recall. I remember taking you home from a lock-in at the church. You remember us having a lock-in?"

"Uh-huh"

"I took you home and I remember kissing you when I dropped you off." he replied quietly and seemed to be a little hesitant."

He seemed uncomfortable and somewhat confused as I spoke the truth, yet I think he was being honest when he said he did not remember anything before that time. He did not accuse me of being wrong he simply said he didn't remember it.

The lock-in was well into his stay at the church - as in months down the road. He is truly in deep denial.

"That is what I remember" he continued. "Whatever the details, I don't think either one of us needs to rehash through it. I don't think that will do any good."

Carefully I replied, "I'm not sure I agree with that, Bob. Healing only comes as we face the truth."

Silence.....

"So are you willing to listen to what I remember?" I pried gently.

"I don't know. I don't know if it would accomplish anything. Would it help you?"

"Yes, I think it would."

"When T.N. and his wife came down here and talked to me and (wife) it really tore us up as a family. I had spent a little time with a counselor before then and after that spent about 2 years in counseling. (Wife) had her own counselor. The first person I told after T.N. came down here was my son-in-law and my daughter. (Daughter) went to counseling too. " All this was said with a tone that betrayed a belief that he was the victim and I the purpetrator of his abuse. There was anger in his voice and defensiveness. I didn't swallow it, but neither did I react to it. I felt like the adult listening to the child.

"Well, let me tell you what Tom and I are thinking."

"You told Tom, he knows all this?" He obviously missed my statement in the beginning that I was sitting there with Tom.

"Yes, I told him. And he has walked beside me supporting me in these months as I dealt with it...... There is not a lynch mob here, Bob. No one is out to lynch you. Not Tom and not me........ We were thinking maybe early June. Can I call you back in a week and see what you think about sitting down and talking?"

"Well, I just don't know that it will accomplish anything. (Wife) is out of town taking care of her sick mother. It tore us up so much after T.N. came down here that I don't know that it will accomplish anything. We won't both be back home until after the 16th, I am leaving the country briefly. If I do this, it will be a family decision. I have to talk to them all first. And I absolutely have to know this is what your therapist thinks you need to do," he said trying to put it back in my lap.

"I am talking with him and will be talking with him. I'll get back with you then, when you are all back. Are you ok?" I am not sure he registered that last question.

He ended, we both ended with a moment of concern for the other, though I can't remember exactly what either of us said. I hung up and looked at Tom who had been rearranging the books there in the church library as he listened to my end of the conversation.

"I did it Tom." and a big smile broke out on my face as he replied, "Yes, you did do it and you did it with kindness." We talked about the fact that Bob might very well call him tomorrow and Tom assured me he would let me know, and he would also tell Bob that there were no secrets from me - that anything Bob said to him would be shared with me. And then we prayed for Bob, on my request and we both prayed that truth would break through to him and with it grace.

I asked Tom if, now faced with two different stories, he believed me. He replied, "I can't imagine someone creating such pain for themselves." but being the concrete person I am, before I left church for the night, I had him look at me and simply say "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

I love that man! God has a crown for him.

How am I? Amazing. A little in shock, but amazed at myself and what came out of my mouth and how it came out of my mouth. I felt no fear or intimidation and who Bob is did not in the least bit define me or my ability to cling to truth. How he responded or responds is not the issue. How I responded is what it is all about.


TRUTH REIGNS!


Thursday, May 3, 2007
Update to Confrontation

Today was horrendous at school. Stress and more stress. Please continue to pray for me, much is wrong there and it hits me at a vulnerable time. I had heart palpitations again this evening for an hour and was on my way to the emergency room when they stopped.

As far as Bob, he talked to his son-in-law who is also a minister and to his daughter last night after my call. His son-in-law called Tom this morning. They know each other pretty well. No questions about the differences in our story, but Bob was confused as to my therapists part in this. Odd. I answered that 3 times. It seems he was concerned I had some terrible shrink who was pushing me to do this and saying there was no way over it unless I did. Tom assured him that was not the case, that John had not suggested it or pushed me, though he was supportive of whatever I chose to do. Also they were looking for reassurance that no was was out to stone Bob. Tom assured him of that and offered to talk to Bob if he would like to talk with him.

It all feels scary and the fear is because I am afraid I will not be believed. I had to ask Tom again if he still believed me. He teasingly said he was not going to answer that question but as my panic rose to a high pitched, "You have to!" he quickly reassured me that he did.

That is so important to me. Without the support of my dear husband and Tom, I could not do this.

Then as I sat to write this post a couple of hours ago, my husband put his arms around me and told me he had sad news. Taffy, my calico cat of 15 years, was hit by a car. I completely broke down and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. I asked him to call my two sons and one of them immediately left his night of RISK playing and came over. The other son was hosting the RISK tournament and sent his love and a hug.

Odd how I needed my children at that time of grief. It was my very first response. Get me my kids, now! When my son arrived he just held me and patted my back and let me cry all over his shoulder. I think that is the first time that has ever happened. It was nice.

I am at my emotional limit and called in and got a sub and will stay home tomorrow and call the doctor. I have no doubt that the palpitations are due to the stress and that God used my sobs tonight to release emotions I needed to release. I will terribly miss my cat, but I knew that the depth of grief that came out of me was not only about Taffy.

Taffy, was my birthday present from Jesus 15 years ago. I had wanted a calico but everytime one was advertised in the paper it ended up being a tabby. People didn't understand what a calico cat was. Then on my birthday my husband had seen a posting in a vets office for one and called and went over and got her. I named her Taffy because she was all different colors like salt water taffy.

We buried her in the flower bed where we will soon plant some new roses on top of her. I like that idea. Those roses will recycle her life. We still have her son, a black and white long hair cat named Snoopy. I wonder if he will miss her too?

Saturday, May 5, 2007 More thoughts on the confrontation

My mind is a little clearer this morning, after losing my cat, and I am intrigued with the degree of denial Bob displayed. I will be glad to see John on Tuesday to talk about all this. His expectation as to Bob's psychological condition was right on target. "It was all about Bob, wasn't it?" The narcissism is evident along with the denial. Bob also seems to be looking for any reason that he can hang on me as to why he should not meet with me.

The fact that Bob sees himself as the victim of my reporting him is a loud statement as to his psychological condition. Woe to his family for all I put them through. There was no sense or suggestion that it was his behavior that brought this pain on his family but rather the confrontation by T.N. that I initiated that caused them such pain.

I wonder if his family sees this distortion or if they are too soon in the healing journey to do so.

Also a part of our conversation that I forgot about and left out of the original dialogue, centered around when he had been confronted. He seemed to think it an admirable quality that the first person he told was his son-in-law. His son-in-law however worked in the central office and had contact with the ministerial committee that looked at all this, had/has access to the file that now had my story in it, and saw frequently T.N. the regional minister. It seems to me that he really had no choice but to tell his son-in-law. Secondly, he could not remember when the confrontation with T.N. occured in relation to his daughter's wedding. He admitted his memory as to timing was very foggy and that was just 5 years ago. It was a major circumstance in his life and he cannot remember if it occured before the wedding or afterwards.

In reality, it occured after the wedding because I requested he not be confronted until then. My report occured 6 weeks prior to the wedding. Denominational policy stated that he should have been confronted within 24 hours of my report. The policy was set aside because I did not want to hurt anyone or rob them of the joy of the wedding. It had been 30 years and T.N. did contact elders in the church to make sure nothing that appeared to be abusive was occuring.

I see that Bob now has two choices as he wrestles with this new confrontation. He can decide I am creating memories so I can avoid some internal strife, or he can face the fact that he is erasing memories to avoid a similar strife. Since I openly admit my desire for the relationship and eager participation, and because Tom's conversation with his son-in-law reassured him of my mental state - it seems he is going to have a harder time nailing the inconsistencies on me.

Also my conversation with him was so healthy, placing this new discord of memories on my psychological state should be difficult. It seems that God, by placing in my life Tom, and thus Tom's relationship with Bob's son-in-law, is making it more difficult for Bob to remain in denial.

The curtain is wrent in two. (For those who may not understand the analogy, when Jesus died, the curtain that separated the inner section of the temple where God was supposed to dwell, from the rest of it was torn in two. This represents the fact that all persons whether priests or not can now enter the holy of holies or God's presense.)

Saturday, May 5 More Thoughts and Feelings

Today has been strangly full of emotion at times and lacking of them at other times. Anxiety to numbness - I have shifted between the two. I don't know whether my grief over my cat or my phone call to Bob or my conflict at work or all of them are at fault.

Anger has also surfaced over Bob's lack of realizing it was his own sin that hurt his family and not my reporting of it or T.N.'s confrontation. But the anger seems to be dissipating pretty rapidly.

I have had major stomach cramps both this evening and late yesterday afternoon. Odd. I had them the summer of Bob's abuse. After lunch each day they would double me over in pain. I can't help but wonder if the ones I am having now are not equally related to connecting with Bob.

I started to email his son-in-law. His email is online. But then I decided I didn't like his picture. Actually I wasn't sure about doing it so I didn't. I wanted to tell him to go get the chart and read what I reported. I want him to know what Bob is denying.

I had coffee with the associate pastor of the church and one idea that came from it was for me to make sure I am not trying to be responsible for Bob. I can't do that. God is big enough to take care of him.

I am about to fall asleep so off to bed I go. Thanks for all your prayers out there.

Sunday, May 6, 2007

The emotional journey continues. I have gone from excitement over my handling of the phone call on Wednesday, to grief over my cat, to numbness, to anger at Bob's denial, to once again seeking Bob's approval. I can sit as an outsider and watch my emotional movement and see the confusion and find it quite interesting, but when I go back into my self I feel a greater degree of anxiety than I have dealt with in quite some time.

The most recent feelings from today involved wanting to just have the chance to SEE Bob again. It suddenly didn't matter if I confronted him with anything. I just needed to go full cycle and see him and talk with him and forgive him and just be normal. While in that stage it sounded good but then I realized I was falling back into the 17 year olds running back to him on his terms.

The ache for his approval came up out of me as if it was 34 years ago. The mind is an amazing thing. I feel that ache for approval toward T.N. (who just responded to an email I wrote) to Tom, to Trey, toward these three pastors (funny that they all have names that start with "T", is there something godly about "T"'s. ) This drive for their attention and approval and affirmation is great at the moment. Should I give in to it and call Tom? It might help momentarily but it is so very deep and not about Tom at all that I am not sure if anything would relieve the anxiety inside.

I dread with a capital "D" going back to school tomorrow and facing Mr. J our retiring principal who has recently treated us with such control and disrespect. I am transfering my "crap" with Bob onto him, no doubt. My need for his approval has been dealt with to the point that I am not supposed to feel this degree of anxiety but I do.

Incredible, what comes rushing to the surface when we deal with the past. At least for the moment I can see what it is and that helps. It scared me when I realized earlier that my desire to just call Bob and ask to see him and to say to him that I forgave him and just talk about intervening years and deny the abuse had occured at all was the same thing I had done at 17.

How many times did he manipulate me that way? I remember 3 or 4 big ones but the whole relationship was built on his manipulation of my need for his attention.

I hope one day my own story of this week will help someone else.

Monday, May 7, 2007

No more heart palpitations since last Thursday but my anxiety level is definitely heightened. Our team or group of students (100 of them) go on a field trip tomorrow. There is less than 2 weeks left in school and everyone including the students are mad at me. I am making them do work on the field trip. Nothing I did satisfied my team. The principal called me stubborn for forking out my own $$ to carry water for the kids. Now the truth is that I am stubborn but I think that caring, responsible, giving, might as easily fit.

And the kids - they get cookies for doing the work as well as a grade. Bribery often works better than grades.

With Bob issues right under the surface, the loss of my dearest pet, and the stress of the field trip I am close to being maxed. Today was foggy. Not outside but inside of me. I actually do not remember much of the day. That is so strange. Other people do this, not me! Other people have panic attacks. Other people were abused. Other people have to take medication. Other people see a shrink just to try and be normal on the inside.

It isn't that I appear abnormal on the outside. I think I do quite well outwardly but those who know me best, know that times of shaking are not uncommon on the inside.

I plan on talking to John (shrink) tomorrow about my conversation with Bob and about my flipping back into approval mode. No, if this possible meeting is to do me any good, it will be because I am true to myself and the truth. I have at times continued to have a little anger but nothing like the past. It seems to dissipate with the passage of a small amount of time.

So that is my day. If you read this, pray that I survive tomorrow without my heart going off at 160 beats a minute.

Tuesday, May 8, 2007

I saw John today and it took most of the hour to catch him up on all the happenings since our last conversation. Following all the Toms, Bobs, T.N.'s, Trey's, etc. is confusing. I see him again on Thursday to further process my emotions.

The best thing he offered me was to accept the anxiety the same way I accept the grief over Taffy. It is part of the process and normal. Just recognize it and accept it and remember this is not Bob being in control again - though it feels that way. It is a result of this situation and I am not the only one feeling anxious. This will impact more people than me. So I am working on it being ok to be anxious. I haven't done that kind of work in some time.

Also he raised a new thought. The rest of Bob's family might want to talk with me too. Egads! I don't want to be the harbinger of pain though I refuse to be considered the source of it.

After I left John's, I began to give some thought to the increased anger I am feeling toward the denomination. I don't want that. I chose to believe from the very little bit that I was told, that Bob had gotten more help and was more repentant. I feel angry that the reporting process of 5 years ago seemed to protect Bob and leave me out in the dark. It was unfair to not be told what he said. Other than telling me that Bob admitted the abuse, cried a lot, and had gotten some kind of counseling in the past I have been left to wonder. I have some anger to work through. I feel as if Bob was put first.

Also, I am realizing that if Bob does not agree to sit down with me that perhaps more needs to be done to make sure he is not taking interim minister roles without a full psychological evaluation. I think I may ask to meet with the state ministerial committee in order to talk with them face to face, bring them up to date on my conversation with Bob, and to request they require the evaluation if he continues in any form of ministry, allow me to talk with a psychologist about the situation, and then accept or deeply consider the report of the psychologists as to whether Bob is fit to minister or not. I can at least ask and be at peace knowing I have done all I can do.

This should have happened 5 years ago and had I known it is a common practice I would have requested it. The abuse was so predatory. My story is not one of a weak and gentle man who fell prey to his own needs. My story is instead of a predator abusing a child. Day 2 - lines were crossed when he kissed me. Day 3 - sodomy. Week 3 - intercourse. And a year of sexual and emotional abuse followed that.

Bob remains very sick in my opinion. His victim mentality and defensiveness speak loudly of a man probably incapable of repentance and thus dangerous.

I hope this is all uneccessary. I hope Bob can admit to the truth and admit it to his family. If he can do that then healing can lie ahead. I doubt it though. But God IS God.

Wed. May 9, 2007

I have gone from great excitement and passed through a period of numbness to find myself angry once again, not so much at Bob but at the denomination, and finally tonight I find myself very teary eyed and sad.

Three situations have occurred that left me disappointed in a pastor, but the pain comes from the power I allow them to carry. One promised me we would talk as soon as the weekend was over - but I have not heard from him. One seemed to judge rather than simply listen. The other just didn't give me the hug I needed this evening. :-) Obviously a minor issue.

I have realized that where pastors are concerned, I have a deeply worn and rutted road traversing my soul. Though, I try to keep pastors and situations out of those old ruts, I find it hard to do.

I know the answer is two fold. I must find my acceptance in God and in myself.

Truth

"You will see the truth and the truth will set you free."

But, it ain't that easy, especially when the truth is about me! You will see the truth .......and cry and hurt and fear and be sad and feel hopeless and run and ........well, you get it. Seeing truth is one of the hardest most challenging issues in our lives. But, if we have the courage to slowly but surely face it, we will find freedom.

One of the most challenging truths I have had to face about myself is the fact that I am not healed and may never be completely whole emotionally. When I entered therapy years ago, I calculated to myself that it would probably take a year and a half of weekly visits to cure what ailed me. Instead I began a road that crumbled into a million pieces, took me through deep sand pits, bumped me along washboard clay, covered me in dust, and often coursed close to the edge of the cliff.

When I struggled to make some reasonable distance in the self-allotted time, the drive was nothing but frustration and a sense of failure. But if I take that same road and view it as one of my favorite drives in the mountains, dust and bumps slow me down so I can see the great views on the sides of the cliffs. Life is no longer about arriving but about the journey.

Freedom isn't in finishing the journey, but in the acceptance of one's limitations.

To Err Is Human And To Admit It Is ........

What do you think? Why is it so hard to admit our mistakes? Why is it even harder to let ourselves be imperfect?

I arrived here on this planet as one who wanted perfection and expected it out of myself. My first grade teacher told my parents not to put pressure on me because I put enough on myself. I have always tended in that direction, but after the abuse, it got much worse. An "A" in school wasn't good enough. I had to be top of the class. I had to be perfect to fix the mistakes I had made. Even now when a significant mistake first surfaces, my heart often skips beats and the blood rushes to my face.

When I have been able to admit the mistake instead of defending myself, I feel much better and it often throws my criticizer off kilter. Their heart softens, and they hear my humanness and suddenly it is OK for them to be human with me as well. I have had parents melt and give me big hugs. I have seen students in shock because never before has a teacher apologized.

Let me share a couple of stories:

My great aunt Bertha was the middle child of 3 sisters. I loved her. It wasn't until my grandmother and other aunt died, that I came to spend more time with her, and to discover in the midst of her own uniqueness, she had a good lesson to teach me. I visited her one Christmas when she told me she had burned the turkey the weekend before when family were coming to visit. I think my reply went something like this, "That must have been frustrating. I get so angry with myself when I do things like that." Bertha just laughed and said, "No, I just said, well there goes that stupid Bertha again and laughed." I decided then and there that she was my hero. She was my first lesson in "it is ok to make a mistake."

Yesterday, I received a call from my principal over the intercom. "Mrs. D, I need that progress report we discussed earlier!" The angst in her voice was louder than decibels of her voice. Now, lately with hormone changes, I am a lot like my Aunt Bertha when it comes to forgetting things, and for a moment I pulled a complete blank. I remembered printing it off and I remembered thinking, "OK, I got that done," but I couldn't remember actually giving it to her. I hesitated and replied, ".....Didn't.....I....already give that to you?" "No maam you did not!" returned crisply through the speaker. "I thought I did.....?" I replied with some hesitancy as I tried desperately to pull up the memory. All this time my students were quietly and intently listening to this verbal exchange. "I need it before the parent arrives!" "OK, I will...." Click and off went the intercom. My students were all looking at me with some pity as they understand the concept of being in trouble with the principal. One student responded with, "Mrs. D, they always cut you off." I just shrugged and smiled and pointed to the kids giving their presentation and nodded for them to finish, as suddenly the memory surfaced. I had not only given her the print out, but we had discussed a make-up assignment that I would either send home with the kid or send to her office. I was waiting for the students to finish with their presentation when the intercom clicked on again. This time it was the secretary, "Mrs. D, Mrs. J found the report." I smiled, nodded and said, "I remembered...." Click! "....that I had ......." Oh well, I intended to tell her that I had already given the kid the make up work, but I learned long ago that Mrs. J can't handle being wrong.

Now as I compare these two human beings, I can say that I fall somewhere between them. I have not surrendered to the fate of my aging brain so readily as Bertha had and can't always laugh at my forgetfulness, but I have worked to learn that it is OK to make mistakes. I learned this lesson by asking myself how I would respond to someone else who made the same mistake. Why, I would probably be quite compassionate and have a lot more grace for them than I usually do for myself. Then I apply the same response to myself. I use this any time I panic once a mistake is unearthed. It works. And then there is the....

It is OK to make mistakes. It is OK to make mistakes. It is OK to make mistakes..... I practice it a lot and I almost believe it. :-)

Being able to admit our mistakes opens doors with others, that slam shut when we can only become defensive. I used to try to bridge the gap between administration and faculty but I gave up a year ago due to similar instances. I can't change my principal. I wish she was capable of learning from me. If she was, I would teach her the lesson I have learned. People do not like others who are perfect. Perfect people intimidate us. People open to and give their best to those who, like themselves, make mistakes.

In the classroom, I mess up all the time, and when I do, I use it as an example to my students. I often laugh at the little mistakes and shake my head and shrug if it is something minor and I do not hesitate to apologize when I hurt them in some way or correct them when they are not guilty. It develops a wonderful report that leads my kids to say, Mrs. D is cool. I wish I had that relationship with my principal. I wish for her that she could find the peace in knowing, "It is ok to make mistakes."

Your Stuff, My Stuff

Have you ever felt like you were damned if you do and damned if you don't?

I think one of the worst situations I experienced occured five years ago when I was student teaching. The teacher I was working with seemed very kind and gentle at first but ended up being rather passive aggressive. When it was time for her to send in my first evaluation, she brought it to me in the middle of third period, interrupted me in front of the kids, to get me to sign it. I looked down, read my scores and was shocked! I was doing what I know now to be a great job, but I wasn't teaching her way. She had a bone to pick with the education department at the local university, and she put a lot of pressure on me to conform to her ways and not the ways I was being evaluated by the college. I was basically in a no win scenario. If I pleased her I displeased the university and vice versa. The approval seeker inside of me was in total turmoil the whole 8 weeks.

That lukewarm evaluation shook me. I was used to being the top of the class and making straight A's. It was all I could do to not cry right there in front of the 8th graders, but I had to teach on and that is what I did.

One of the ridiculous things she criticized me for was my physical management of the classroom area - where you position yourself, where the desks are , etc. Now, I found that rather confusing since I had changed nothing when I took over. I figured it worked fine and the kids resent too much change, so what I could leave alone, I did. After the evaluation I decided I had better change some things around, so I split some tables apart and combined some others. Two weeks later she returned to join me in the classroom. As I traveled down the hall that morning, I heard this loud "bam, bam, scrape, bam." There she was slamming the tables right back where they had been when she let me have the classroom, right in the exact same places which had merited me a less than average mark!

How I wish I knew then what I know now. I so worried about pleasing everyone and had no possible way of accomplishing it.

Now, I know to categorize such situations into "my stuff" and "their stuff." When people respond or react to me in what seems irrational or undeserved ways, I tended/tend to take it very personally and believe what I have believed in the past with abuse issues: "Something is wrong with me."

Now when someone treats me in a way that feels painful, embarrassing, or just flat wrong, I accept what is mine but leave them with what is theirs.

Take me for example: As a teacher, I have good days and bad days. The kids are usually pretty even, and most days I can handle 105 middle school kids pretty well without losing my cool. However, occasionally, I get irritable and grumpy. I may snap at the kids or jump on the whole class, but it has little if anything to do with the kids and everything to do with me.

So now when someone handles me poorly, I first think about what is mine and own it. Then I take the rest of it and mentally give it back to them. Their anger or rudeness or passive aggressive behavior is about them - not me.

This has proven an amazing way to free myself from that driving need of approval I have carried. It is seldom what others do that determines our behavior but what is inside of us. When you can turn that around and realize someone's tone of voice or attitude toward you is about them and not you, it decreases their power over you and allows you to move on to the rest of your day.

Di

What Are You Telling Yourself, Di?

This one is for you, Cheryl! Or shall I introduce you to the world as Dr. Y? Either way you were a great therapist and I miss seeing you regularly.

So blogging friends, let me tell you about the greatest lesson I learned while seeing the dear Dr. Y. She actually taught it to me the first or second session but it seemed to take me about 2 years to really internalize it and make it a valued part of my normal everyday thinking.

Do you know we have paths in our brains and to think differently we have to reform them? There are physical reasons, called neurons and synapses and dendrites, that make it hard re-learning and changing beliefs. Educators are taught that it is important to discover what a child knows and then to plug the added info into their knowledge. If the knowledge is eroneous then the work will be harder. Unlearning is not easy and most of us resist it naturally.

And as the dendrites thin with menopause.....well, learning is tougher as anyone like me who returned to college at middle age can tell you. The hardest lesson was the one that retaught me to relate positively to myself. I really had to work at it to make it my own and without Cheryl's frequent reminder I might have given up. I didn't think it would ever become second nature to me to cut myself slack but often it now is.

What did I constantly tell myself? "There is something wrong with me," was a pretty consistent recording sometimes worded as "What is wrong with me?" "I should not be needy." "Having need is bad" "If only this person would approve of me then I would be ok." "I have to be the best because then I will be special." "I am so stupid." All of these lies I believed and told myself along with a myriad of others.

Cheryl had this uncanny way of reading my thoughts and when I switched to judge myself mode she would ask THE question. "What are you telling yourself?"

At first she had to ask the question for me to remember to be careful with where my mind was taking me, but pretty soon I was asking it when I felt the panic inside begin to rise. For a long time, any time the anxiety or emotional pain started, I asked, found the lie, replaced it with the truth and walked around mentally saying the truth over and over in my head. Then slowly but surely I noticed I flipped into switching to the truth without consciously having to go through finding what I was telling myself. It became me. And then finally the truth rose up first as soon as the difficulty faced me and I never even flinched.

Most of the time now it works like a well oiled machine. The gears turn and I tell myself mistakes are ok, I dont' have to be perfect, I am allowed to be human like everyone else and have human needs, and what others say or think doesn't define me. I can take most blows that come at me and move on, but occasionally I get that call into the principals office and the heart pounds and I have to ask myself once again "Di, what are you telling yourself?" Disapproval by authority can really kick me hard but some time alone and "Di, what are you telling yourself" usually fixes me up pretty quickly.

I encourage you to try it, but remember it will take time to reprogram that computer in your head and lots of practice. Maybe tape THE question up around the house, or get a friend to remind you when you sink into the old ways of thinking. And always, try sitting in God's presence and hear his words to you. I guarantee you he is not telling you that you are stupid or have to be perfect or that abuse was your fault. He knew that shame and condemnation didn't work or he wouldn't have bothered to die and release us from the law that brought shame.

Forgive Him?

Forgiveness is a scary topic for me to share about. Two reasons: one, I do not want someone to EVER feel pressure to forgive; and two, I may open a can of worms here as far as my beliefs. Nevertheless beliefs change and iron sharpens iron; so, I am listening if you disagree and hope you will consider my thoughts.

If you are in the process of healing and do not think you can ever forgive then tell God. He will honor your honesty. He is a God of grace and the last thing He wants is for you to carry more shame over this issue.

The scripture has some interesting things to say about forgiveness and so do many books. The Lord's prayer refers to forgiveness; Jesus spoke of forgiving your brother 70 times 7. Rather than repeat things already said, I would like to share my heart and the fruit of my personal journey. These are some of my views that I will expound up0n:

• Forgiveness is a process, it doesn't happen overnight.


• Forgiveness comes in levels.


• Forgiveness requires seeing the truth and fully facing the pain and shame.


• Forgiveness finds us as we heal.

Forgiveness has taken me 34 years. Now, that doesn't mean that it took me 34 years to decide I should forgive Bob and Minton and the church that hurt me, or that it took me that long to choose to forgive. I decided that soon after breaking free of all the dynamics of those relationships. I was so very aware of my own shortcomings that to hold someone else's feet to the fire was impossible. Besides, I really believed I was equally at fault. It was the 1970's and 80's and not much was out there talking about power dynamics in sexual abuse. No one was even talking about sexual abuse at all. But now I realize that forgiveness has a lot of levels.

At first I chose to forgive and didn't find it very hard because I saw myself as extremely flawed and hated those flaws within me. Note that I did not see truth very clearly. I was full of shame and all those things that counter the work of the cross and grace.

After about 10 years the inner healing movements began to spring up around the country and through church I learned new principles of God's love and grace and mercy. It was at this time that I had a sense that God was not pressuring me to complete something quickly. As I slowly faced truths about the abuse and its damage to my life, I continued to "work at" the forgiveness. I felt that being honest with myself and God was far more important than demanding something of myself that I couldn't do. It became obvious to me during this time, that forgiveness was not sweeping things under the carpet and pretending they didn't happen. Neither was healing.

It is easier to sweep things under the carpet but I believe you can only forgive as you look at the horrendousness of the sin and looking at it requires one step after another in the healing process. Anger is one of the steps in grieving and facing the truth. An important step that no one should be rushed through.

I recently read a book by John Patton entitled Is Human Forgiveness Possible? What he proposes is that unforgiveness and blame and anger and finger pointing are ways we protect ourselves from the shame we feel. As the shame is defeated there is nothing for the unforgiveness to hang itself upon and it dissipates.

This is exactly what happened to me. I recently returned to the denomination in which the first abuse occurred and to a season of truth hitting me hard. I remembered forgotten and repressed horrors. I began to see things in ways I had not been able to see them in the past. I faced the degree the abuse had damaged me as I fell completely apart after 6 years of therapy. I felt more anger at Bob than I had ever felt. I hated him for hurting me in a way that was affecting me 34 years later. And I once again faced shame. Shame for having no control over my emotional state. Shame for the driving dependency inside. As I dismantled the shame and discussed the questions on forgiveness with my pastor, who I think agrees with me on at least the first 3 principles I shared, I chose once again to forgive the church only to find my heart toward Bob had completely changed. I have forgiven by facing truth, finding God's grace and mercy, and fighting the shame.

Forgiveness found me.