therapy | betsybeadhead

Why is it that the person who has been attacked feels shame? The person who was abused by a parent wasn’t the person to blame. The person who was raped was the recipient, not the aggressor. The person who is the recipient of violence is most often female, but is sometimes male. Abuse isn’t exclusive. And the abuser or rapist isn’t always male. Physically, emotionally, sexually, abuse is abuse.

For the sake of simplicity I will say “she” for the person who is abused or raped and “he” for the abuser or rapist. I’m concerned I’m perpetuating a stereotype, so I want to be sure that it is understood that anybody can be attacked, and anybody can be the attacker. But our language has no appropriate third person singular, and saying “his or her” all the time is tedious, so I’m doing it this way.

I’m also making a point of not using the term “victim”. That is part of this. I believe that if she identifies herself as “victim” then she is perpetuating the violence that was done against her. More often though, the person who was attacked feels shame. They act as if they did something to deserve this. They feel shame so they don’t go to the police. They feel shame so they don’t go to the hospital or to a counselor.

Shame is another word for guilt. When a person feels shame, she feels as if she caused the problem. She feels that she brought it on herself. She feels responsible.

This is so totally backwards. The abuser, the rapist is the guilty party. The one he attacked is passive.

You do not cause someone to attack you. It has nothing to do with what you wear or what you said. Now, yes, I’ve recently written a post saying that women should dress modestly to protect themselves. I also think it is a good idea to get a handgun carry permit and take self-defense classes. Prevention, you know. But sometimes you can’t get out of the way of a problem, and there are a lot of damaged people out there who are ready to cause a problem with you.

One thing to notice is that the attacker is giving control of his emotions and actions to everyone else. The attacker blames other people for his losing control.

When Dad gets home from one of his many business trips, he has no right to beat his child for breaking something. His child is a child, and it was an accident. He has no right to yell at his child. His short temper is his fault, his failing.

Eleanor Roosevelt said that no one can make you feel inferior without your consent.

The same is true of anger.

But how is it that the person who is attacked feels shame, feels guilt? Do we teach that in our society? Is that normal? Is it something that is part of being attacked?

It certainly isn’t helpful. It renders the person who was attacked open to more attacks. It opens her up to abuse from not just the original abuser, but new ones. Bullies can spot weakness.

Again – that is not the fault of the person who is bullied. The bullies need to be responsible for their actions. It is not the “weak” kid’s fault that she gets her lunch money stolen from her – that is the fault of the bully. It is important to remember where the blame goes.

The odd part is that bullies themselves were often abused. Instead of feeling shame however, the bully learns that abusing others is normal. The bully patterns his actions on this warped lesson. The way to feel bigger is go make another feel smaller.

Stop bullying. Easy to say. Tell us how to do it.

Stop feeling shame for being abused. Stop thinking you are a victim. Again, easy to say. Hard to do.

I think there is something to teaching everyone that it is important to say no, to establish boundaries. That this is what you are willing to take, and this isn’t. Perhaps there is something to learning how to dialogue, versus debate. It helps if people can express their opinions without having to be “right” or “wrong” – but just be different.

I used to feel guilty for saying no, for telling someone that I wasn’t OK with what I was being asked to do. I’ve spent too much of my life feeling resentful that my life wasn’t my own. Even reading books about how to find my own voice, how to establish boundaries, I felt awkward. How dare I stand up for myself.

It was painful to read those books. It was like having to re-break a badly-healed leg. Emotionally, it was as if my family had broken my legs and because I’d not been allowed to get treatment, they’d healed badly. I was walking with an emotional limp. I just got used to it. It became my “normal”. Reading those books made me have to look at that wound again, and realize how it was affecting my life, and every relationship I had. I had to re-break those bones and let them heal again.

Emotional wounds hurt just as much as physical ones. And they are harder to spot. A broken leg – that sticks out. A broken spirit? That is much harder to spot. The damage runs deep there, and affects every part of your life.

But somewhere in the middle of reading those books, I was standing up for myself, and realizing that I wasn’t a victim, and I wasn’t to blame. By reading those books I was taking control of what had happened.

There is no shame in being abused. There is shame in being an abuser. You aren’t to blame for what happened to you. You are, however, responsible for what you do afterwards. You are responsible for your own actions, not the actions of others.

If you were raised with abusive parents, there are a few different ways of thinking about that situation. You could say “They did the best they could.” Or you could say “They could have done better.” Both have good and bad points.

If you fall and break a leg, you could say “At least I didn’t break both legs.” While this reflects positive thinking, it fails to acknowledge the pain and the loss of the use of the leg that IS broken. Saying “it could be worse” isn’t helpful. It does not honor what is, the reality of the situation.

Saying “they did the best they could” kind of lets the abusers off the hook. It acknowledges that they weren’t perfect. Perhaps they were abused as children themselves. Perhaps they were too proud to ask for help. Perhaps they were living away from family and were just not mature enough to be married, much less try to raise a child. Saying “They could have done better” is kind of vengeful. It acknowledges their lack, their fault. It pulls “should have” into the conversation. “Should have” doesn’t fix anything, however. It didn’t happen. So what do we do now?

It isn’t helpful to dwell in the past. What is done is done. The abuse won’t go away if you think about it or don’t think about it. It is important to acknowledge the reality of the situation. You need to be honest about the fact that your leg is broken. The fact that you are broken.

I think it is essential to understand that this is something that was done to you. It isn’t your fault. You are the victim, not the perpetrator. For some strange reason there is a sense of shame in our society in being a victim, and there shouldn’t be. It wasn’t your fault that this happened to you.

Perhaps it helps to distance the emotions from this. Perhaps it helps to think of this as a tree falling on you. You still get hurt, but there is no malice in the tree falling. Wondering “why” it happened isn’t helpful. But now you have a choice to make. It happened. What do you do now?

Perhaps you walk with a limp because of that broken leg. Perhaps you have walked with this limp for so long you think it is normal. Then either someone points it out to you, or you figure it out. Then you have to decide what to do. Do you leave it like it is? Do you get physical therapy for it? Or do you have surgery?

The same is true for realizing that you were raised by abusive parents. You may not know that your childhood was less than ideal. For you, it was normal. That limp is just the way things are. But then when you realize it, what do you do? Change is very hard. For some, the fear of change will prevent them from getting better. They will muddle along, damaged and hurt, because that is what they know.

Part of being raised in an abusive home is often that you feel you don’t deserve to get better. Psychological abuse is insidious like this. It is the pain that is self perpetuating. Even though the abuser isn’t saying hateful things any more, the abuse continues in your head. That groove has been so well laid down that your mind will only go on that track. It takes a lot of energy to make your train of thought go somewhere else other than “Loserville.” You’ve been taught that you are not worthy of love. If you have been taught this, it is very hard to work up the energy to get help. It isn’t impossible – just difficult. It is slow going, but it is important work.

Say you decide to get therapy or surgery. Both are very painful and take a long time. Both require focus on the problem. Both require a lot of work. If you decide that you want to stop walking with that emotional limp, it is going to be a hard journey. But at the end you’ll be better. You won’t be perfect. But you’ll be stronger than you were.

First you have to acknowledge that the damage is real. Then you have to realize that you aren’t to blame for it. It is something that happened. It wasn’t personal. In fact, it was as impersonal as you can get. If your parents were able to really see you for the amazing person you are – the amazing gift from God that you are – they wouldn’t be able to abuse you. But they didn’t have eyes for that. Perhaps they didn’t realize that they themselves are children of God.

You are special. You are amazing. And you are worthy of love. And that starts with you. It is OK to get help. And it is going to hurt – but it will get better. Lean into the pain. You’ll make it, one step at a time.