The soul cannot forgive until it
is restored to wholeness and health.
In the absence of love - how can one forgive?

With an abundance of love, starting with one's self,
forgiveness becomes a viable opportunity.
-Nancy Richards

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

1992 – Entry Three - Still a Damaged Child

From my 1992 journal:

…….I am questioning myself. I’m afraid that people will believe Mom and think that I am crazy. It is hard without the love, support, and understanding of a mother. She isn’t behind me to help me. She is the one I need protection from. I long for the love, safety, comfort and support of a mother. Why doesn’t she love me?

I talked to Thomas today about my frustration that every once and a while, Mom does something nice for me. Whenever she has done something nice, I’ve let myself get sucked back in. I get my hopes up that we can have a relationship and then – Wham! She slices me to ribbons.

Thomas said, “So, you can grieve the loss of the mother she could have been.”

I fought back tears…….. “Yes.”

Monday, April 7, 2008

1992 – Entry Two – Afraid to be selfish

In 1992 was afraid to be “selfish” and to put my own well-being first. I was torn between the destructiveness of my relationship with my mother and the consequences of deciding not to see her anymore.

From my 1992 journal:

Sometimes I’m in so much pain it doesn’t seem like I will survive; yet, I’m afraid of the alternative. I told Thomas about the latest episode with my mother.

“I feel so hurt, broken and angry that I decided not to talk to my Mom. Would it be okay not to talk to my mother anymore, at all?

Thomas said, “I think you should do whatever it takes to be okay. You do what ever is right for you.”

“My Mom would be furious with me and so would my family.”

“You can tell them that I gave you permission. Let them be mad at me.”

I laughed. “To the adult Nancy that sounds so funny. But, there’s that little girl who waited twenty-five years for someone to acknowledge that what happened really happened. That little girl has been waiting for someone to lift that awful burden from her. To her it isn’t funny at all."

Thursday, April 3, 2008

Sometimes, it’s Okay to be Selfish

Contrary to popular belief, healing required stepping out of my abusive relationships, out of the desire to forgive and to become “selfish,” focusing on myself and on what I needed.

Selfish didn’t mean self-centeredness. It meant taking my focus off of that which diminished me and placing it on that which gave me hope and a future.

During the most tenuous part of my recovery, it was important for me to build a strong healing foundation. In the ensuing years, I often found myself thrust back to my foundation with an uncompromising resolve to put myself first in this process no matter what losses putting myself first required.

Monday, March 31, 2008

1992

I was 35 years old in 1992 when everything in my life came to a head and I began to really face my past. My therapist provided me with the first safe environment in which to grow. I’m grateful for the people who have helped me heal. It is interesting for me to remember “what it used to be like.”

This is a passage from my 1992 journal:

For a long time, I haven’t realized how much I am learning from Thomas (Therapist). Nor have I understood the power of what Alice Miller calls an “enlightened witness.”

I’ve told Thomas many horrifying things from my childhood. Most of the pieces are well organized in my head. However, I have walked around with them forever and the information hasn’t done me any good because I haven’t been able to feel it. I’m not learning facts in therapy – I’ve already known most of them. It’s easy to learn what is tangible. It is a slower process to learn what you can’t see.

When I hear the details of someone else being abused, my stomach tightens and I feel overwhelming empathy for their pain. But, for so long, if I take the same facts and I apply them to my own life – I have felt absolutely nothing.

I was punished for trying to share my feelings with my family for so long that my feelings haven’t existed anymore.

I told Thomas a story today:

“A hungry mouse runs through a maze in search of much needed food. She comes to a crossroad. The passage to the left has visible cheese. The passage to the right has no food. She goes to the left and receives an electrical shock that sends her flying back. She turns around and goes to the right.

The mouse comes to the next crossroad. Again - cheese to the left - nothing to the right. She goes for the cheese, gets shocked and heads right again.

In time, Miss Mouse chooses the path to the right every time. She knows there is cheese to the left, but after a while, she doesn’t even realize she is hungry. She keeps running through the maze, starving herself to death. She recognized other mice need to eat cheese, but not herself.”

When I see Thomas, I know the facts, but I have been terrified of the feelings. After rattling off story, after story, Thomas has made a single comment, or sometimes he will pose a simple question that validates the feelings that the years have erased. Often I am uncomfortable with his questions and comments. Not because they are untrue for me, but because I am glad that he said it and not me. If he said it, I am free to feel it without fear of “the electrical shock.”

I’m beginning to not only say and hear what happened, but I’m starting to feel it as well.

Sunday, March 30, 2008

Rewiring My Brain / Viewing Life Through a New Lens

When my children were little, we had a large cedar tree in the back yard that became caught in a wire fence. After removing the deeply embedded wire from the cedar, the tree continued to grow. Once the tree became large enough that it threatened our house, we cut it down in segments. While examining each section, we could see the perfectly round growth rings in the portion from the base of the trunk; however, the section caught in the fence had a disturbing pattern of contorted growth rings.

In time, the tree re-grew normally above the area where we removed the fence. That odd shaped pattern in the tree remained a part of its wiring, but it did heal. Of course, the longer the fence stayed in the tree, the longer it wired itself “wrong” and the harder it was for it to set itself “right” again. The same was true for me.

Research affirms that when we are children, our developing minds are programmed both psychologically and physically.

According to Martin Teicher, M.D, Ph.D., director of the Developmental Biopsychiatry Research Program at Mclean, “A child’s interactions with the outside environment causes connections to form between brain cells. Then these connections are pruned during puberty and adulthood. So whatever a child experiences, for good or bad, helps determine how his brain is wired.”

In other words, because my psyche was constructed in large part by my abuse, I often viewed my life through the lens of my mistreatment. In the early part of my recovery, I responded to the world the way I learned in childhood. For the better part of the last two decades, I have endeavored to rewire my psyche and to create a new lens through which to view my life.

For instance, because as an abused child my perceptions were often blatantly denied, I needed to learn to stand firmly in my own reality, without permission from anyone else.

Although I argued as a child that it wasn’t “right” to burn my tender hands, to rub my brother’s nose in spilled milk on the floor, or to otherwise beat and betray us, everyone I knew told me that my perceptions were wrong. Therefore, I constantly sought validation, trying to develop a frame of reference from others as to what was “right” and what was “wrong.” Consequently, I had difficulty as an adult identifying what was and was not acceptable behavior. If I felt betrayed, and the “offender” defended himself or herself, although I argued that it wasn’t “right” to betray me, deep down I questioned whether something was wrong with me and I worried that it was indeed okay to betray me. I desperately searched for validation that I had a right to the way I felt.

Un-doing a life long mechanism is very difficult to do. Needing permission to “feel” was so deeply ingrained in me, that even if I accidentally smashed my thumb with a hammer, I needed consent to accept my pain. In other words, if I was with someone who said, “Oh, it’s no big deal,” I’d either try to “power” through the pain, or I’d argue that the injury was indeed painful, focusing on the other person’s perceptions of my experience rather than my own.

Rewiring a strong internal parent was necessary to assure my inner child that I had a right to my hurt, anger, sadness, and fear, without arguing for that right.

I have been determined to replace the negative messages I received about myself as a child with positive messages, feelings and responses.

I have been placing new wiring on top of the old. Sometimes it still seems natural to go back to the “old” wiring. Then I remind myself to strengthen new healthy messages, feelings, and responses.

The world feels safer since learning to view myself differently than my mother taught me to view myself. I can view life through a new lens!

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Dietrich Bonhoeffer / Luke 17:3

German theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote: “cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance.”

As an abuse survivor, I felt oppressed by pressure from other's to forgive my unacknowledged abuse. I wondered what was wrong with me. Why can't I forgive? Bonhoeffer’s words as well as Luke 17:3 offered me great relief:

Be on your guard! If another disciple sins, you must rebuke the offender, and if there is repentance, you must forgive.

In this verse, Christ is calling for preliminary conditions before forgiveness that lend themselves to acknowledgment and guarding against “cheap grace.”

From Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary:

Rebuke: 1 a: to criticize sharply : reprimand b: to serve as a rebuke to 2: to turn back or keep down : check

Repentance:

the action or process of repenting especially for misdeeds or moral shortcomings

Repenting:

intransitive verb1: to turn from sin and dedicate oneself to the amendment of one's life2 a: to feel regret or contrition b: to change one's mind

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Accepting Estrangement

Accepting does not necessarily mean “liking,” “enjoying,” or “condoning.”
I can accept what is – and be determined to evolve from there.
It is not acceptance but denial that leaves me stuck.

~Nathaniel Branden, American Psychologist

It took most of my 14 years of estrangement to reach a place of accepting the loss of my entire family of origin. It is difficult to mourn the loss of the living.

No matter the condition of our family soil, when we become cut-off, our roots are severed from the garden of our origin.

Although the pain of estrangement did lessen with time, it was not easy to gauge any healing progress. On a scale from 1 to 10, my initial agony was certainly a 10. A few years later, I didn’t recognize that my hurt had diminished to a 6 and so on. My awareness was simply that I was still in pain, and I wanted the ache to go away completely. Sometimes the anguish did go away, and then I’d hear of my exclusion at a family event, or some words of judgment from a bystander. My wounds would grip me all over again and I’d wonder, “Will this pain ever go away?”

For many years, I worked at healing and filling the void where my family used to be. All the while, the lingering hope of reconciliation remained.

I’d wake up each morning to a feeling of on-going rejection and I had to learn to somehow live with the pain.

Sometimes, no matter how much we may desire peaceful resolution – reconciliation doesn’t appear on the horizon. We have no power over the emotional progress, healing, or choices of our family members. We can only control our half of the relationship and perform our own emotional work.

I found support to help me accept the reality of estrangement; to continue to heal from my abuse; to focus solely on myself, and to move on to live the best life possible.

Accepting what is – as what is - afforded me the opportunity to free myself from the bondage of the past, and fully experience the present.

The irony for me was, after healing sufficiently to accept estrangement, I did reconcile with my family. In an odd way, no longer needing my family left me in a stronger position to explore the possibility of reuniting. All of the love, acceptance, acknowledgment, and help with healing I used to yearn for from them, I had received from other people and from myself.