The Little Things
This past weekend I was at a conference for school which also included many pastors from all over the state of Wyoming. As we were all gathered together for a church service, I couldn't help but glance around at all the pastors standing around me singing and think, "I wonder how many of these guys are child molesters." Strange? Absurd? Shocking? Most people would think so, yes. But because the grandfather who molested me for seven years as I grew up was also a pastor, that is often one of the first questions I find myself asking when it comes to pastors. It's what makes finding a new church so hard...I often wonder just what sins the man preaching from behind the pulpit is hiding.
This is one lingering affect my childhood experiences (abandonment by my mom and the sexual abuse) still have on me and at times, it is so frustrating. Here are some more examples:
~ When I see any married couple for that matter, often my first thoughts are, "They know each other intimately" and I am so completely amazed and saddened by that because I can't imagine ever getting to that point in a relationship with a man.
~ When I see moms kissing and hugging their children as they drop them off at school, most people smile but to me, it is such a deafening reminder of what I never had as a child.
~ In staff meetings at work, my boss likes to ask the question, "What's your pleasure?" when she asking us to make decisions. Instead of thinking about the decision at hand, my mind immediately goes to the things my grandfather did because the word pleasure is one I've always associated (negatively) with the abuse and frankly, I hate the word.
~ While others love to go shopping and try on new clothes, I find myself asking if that particular outfit is emphasizing the femininity of my body and instantly I hate the outfit and my body.
~ Even after all these years, I still find myself laying in bed at night with my hands clenched into fists and I literally have to tell myself to relax them and that I'm safe.
~ Most of my co-workers are moms and talk often about their children - their sporting events, what's going on at school, what jobs they applied for and/or got, etc., and while I want to celebrate in their joy, I can't help but remember that my mom never made it to one sporting event while I was in school. She never helped me get ready for school dances, study for tests, apply for college, or was there for any of those important times. At those times, I remember a conversation I had with her one time during a summer visit when I was in middle school. She was a waitress and had one of my sports photo buttons pinned on her apron. She told me that whenever a customer would ask about the button, she would tell them that it was her daughter who was making straight A's in school. I told her that I don't make straight A's and her response? "Well, that's what I like to tell people." I never felt that I was 'enough' in her eyes.
~ There's a song called "Amazing Grace - My Chains Are Gone" and I can't even hear it without breaking into tears. The chains of my past aren't gone and as much as I want them to be, they just aren't. Even on my best days, I know they are still there. Well-known Bible teacher Beth Moore was also sexually abused as a child and talks about the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the Old Testament and how when God brought them out of the fiery furnace, they didn't even smell of smoke. She talks about how God takes us all through fiery trials but we can come out on the other side not even smelling like smoke if we give it all to God. That makes me sad and frustrates me at the same time because I try as hard as I can to give it to God every day but the stench of smoke is still so strong at times. I don't want to 'stink' anymore.
~ Each year as December approaches I hear the first strands of Christmas carols along with the rest of the world. For most, they bring up happy memories and reminders of good times. Me? My eyes well up with tears during those beginning notes of the song because my mind goes back to the Christmases as a child, before I told about the abuse. My entire family would gather and spend the whole day together and I loved it. I loved it. All these years later, various members still gather together with my grandparents at Christmas but I haven't spent a Christmas with them since I was nine years old.
Yes, it truly is in the 'little things' of life that I remember the most painful and sad moments of my past. I pray that as the years go on, those moments will become fewer and far between. Again, and as always, thanks to my few readers for listening to me spill my heart.
This is one lingering affect my childhood experiences (abandonment by my mom and the sexual abuse) still have on me and at times, it is so frustrating. Here are some more examples:
~ When I see any married couple for that matter, often my first thoughts are, "They know each other intimately" and I am so completely amazed and saddened by that because I can't imagine ever getting to that point in a relationship with a man.
~ When I see moms kissing and hugging their children as they drop them off at school, most people smile but to me, it is such a deafening reminder of what I never had as a child.
~ In staff meetings at work, my boss likes to ask the question, "What's your pleasure?" when she asking us to make decisions. Instead of thinking about the decision at hand, my mind immediately goes to the things my grandfather did because the word pleasure is one I've always associated (negatively) with the abuse and frankly, I hate the word.
~ While others love to go shopping and try on new clothes, I find myself asking if that particular outfit is emphasizing the femininity of my body and instantly I hate the outfit and my body.
~ Even after all these years, I still find myself laying in bed at night with my hands clenched into fists and I literally have to tell myself to relax them and that I'm safe.
~ Most of my co-workers are moms and talk often about their children - their sporting events, what's going on at school, what jobs they applied for and/or got, etc., and while I want to celebrate in their joy, I can't help but remember that my mom never made it to one sporting event while I was in school. She never helped me get ready for school dances, study for tests, apply for college, or was there for any of those important times. At those times, I remember a conversation I had with her one time during a summer visit when I was in middle school. She was a waitress and had one of my sports photo buttons pinned on her apron. She told me that whenever a customer would ask about the button, she would tell them that it was her daughter who was making straight A's in school. I told her that I don't make straight A's and her response? "Well, that's what I like to tell people." I never felt that I was 'enough' in her eyes.
~ There's a song called "Amazing Grace - My Chains Are Gone" and I can't even hear it without breaking into tears. The chains of my past aren't gone and as much as I want them to be, they just aren't. Even on my best days, I know they are still there. Well-known Bible teacher Beth Moore was also sexually abused as a child and talks about the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the Old Testament and how when God brought them out of the fiery furnace, they didn't even smell of smoke. She talks about how God takes us all through fiery trials but we can come out on the other side not even smelling like smoke if we give it all to God. That makes me sad and frustrates me at the same time because I try as hard as I can to give it to God every day but the stench of smoke is still so strong at times. I don't want to 'stink' anymore.
~ Each year as December approaches I hear the first strands of Christmas carols along with the rest of the world. For most, they bring up happy memories and reminders of good times. Me? My eyes well up with tears during those beginning notes of the song because my mind goes back to the Christmases as a child, before I told about the abuse. My entire family would gather and spend the whole day together and I loved it. I loved it. All these years later, various members still gather together with my grandparents at Christmas but I haven't spent a Christmas with them since I was nine years old.
Yes, it truly is in the 'little things' of life that I remember the most painful and sad moments of my past. I pray that as the years go on, those moments will become fewer and far between. Again, and as always, thanks to my few readers for listening to me spill my heart.
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