The Power of Denial – 1992 Entry Five - Then vs. Now

My heart breaks when I receive an email from a survivor who believes the abuse was/is all her fault, or questions whether it is really abuse at all. I’ve read many horrific stories of abuse from women asking me for a frame of reference. “Is this really that bad?”

The question leaves me stunned and grief-stricken for their pain. And I answer, “Yes, you are describing horrible abuses and huge betrayals.”

Today, it is hard for me to believe that sixteen years ago, I too, questioned if my abuse was “really that bad.”

I used many survival tactics as a child - such as dissociation and denial. Yet, when I began recovery, I discovered that the very mechanisms that saved me as a child – harmed me as an adult. My therapist tried to “gently” shake me out of my denial. It was a long process. Sometimes, his eyes would well with tears when I told him a story, and I wondered – “why?”

At one point, Thomas told me, “Nancy, on a scale from one to ten, your abuse was a ten. The sooner you accept that, the better off you will be.”

And still I lived in denial.

The following are a series of entries from my 1992 journal spanning a couple of weeks:

Thomas said, “I have an assignment for you. I’d like you to write an indictment.”

“I don’t understand. An indictment against whom?”

“Whomever you think should get one.”……..

……..I went to the library and got a copy of an indictment and the RCW on child abuse. I studied them. The definition of Child Abuse is so vague, it seems as if anyone can worm out of it. I can’t tell if what happened when I was a kid was prosecutable. That’s driving me nuts. I recall my phone call to the hotline when I was fifteen. The volunteer told me to call the police. I can’t remember why she thought I should…….

……….I told Thomas, “I can’t write the indictment. I’m not sure my abuse was prosecutable.”

He said, “That’s Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad.”

Boy did that make me crazy! When I left Thomas’, I felt like I was having an anxiety attack. What if I have exaggerated my abuse out of proportion just as Mom always said. Maybe it didn’t really happen the way I remember it. If it didn’t happen, then I really am nuts. My family has always told me I am nuts – maybe it’s true. It’s like looking at a color. I see red, but everyone in the family is mad at me and says it is blue. I need to find out for myself……..

…….I called some childhood friends that might have seen something. I am overwhelmed by the response I received. Even after all these years, many still had vivid memories and were more than willing to talk. Some of what they saw were –

• I remember Ed chucking Rob down the basement stairs. Not pushing or shoving, but literally picking him up and chucking him right down the stairs.
• Once Rob spilled something on the kitchen floor. Ed came running in from the other room and grabbed Rob by the back of the neck and yanked his head to the floor. He rubbed Rob’s nose in the spill like a dog…Just like a dog.
• I remember that when I’d eat dinner at your house, Ed often stabbed you guys with a fork.
• Ed had this thing about “watching.” He used to line you guys up - turn to me and say “watch this” and go down the line beating you with a wooden paddle just for sport.
• I saw Ed beat you once. I can still hear the tremendous “whack.” I ran from your house and never went back. I was scared to death of him.
• I saw Ed pick up little Randy and throw him against the fireplace brick wall………

…………“I was shaken when I left here last week, Thomas. I had to find out. I’m always so scared I’m going to get bashed for talking about my childhood. I always have in the past. Even now, talking to you, a part of me is still scared you will say it was all my fault, or that I’m making it up. It runs to my core. But it did happen. It’s not just my imagination.”

“I know.”

“I know that you were just trying to “jar” me with the indictment assignment. It was prosecutable.”

“I know.”

Even after working through this assignment with Thomas, it took years to fully accept the extent of my abuse. It took receiving a great deal of validation and acknowledgment from many people before I became stronger and clearer about what happened to me and the effect that it had on my life.

Although I was already aware of my childhood experiences, I lived in denial about the effect the abuse had on me. It was necessary to have other people bear witness to my trauma. This allowed me the opportunity to admit to myself the ways in which I was damaged by my abuse. Support and validation offered from others, dissolved my isolation and gave me the necessary strength to journey forward to the life I deserved.