What I find so enthralling and terrorizing is that the imprint of abuse will show itself, until you process the abuse, without fail. It will replicate itself verbatim to mimic the actual act. Its feelings and depiction will not disappoint…unbeknownst to you, you will be an actor playing out your abuse time and time again, until you see that which is wrong.
What is so maddening is that you are the actor and the play and within it you have to find out what is not right.
What many fail to recognize is that when you are abused when you are young and you go untreated, no one steps in to tell us what is right and what is wrong.
So, when we step out into the world as young adults we seek love with the same definitions.
As a child whose father abused her, I believed that to be loving was to be a victim. I felt comfortable or at home with a religion that didn't allow for free expression.
I felt at home and at ease with a man who made all the decisions. I wasn't shown how to be a strong individual….I was shown how to serve other people's needs first and always. I became invisible in relationships. I served to be loved. If I didn't do something for you, then I wasn't being kind and loving. I was not able to say no.
No meant that I was unlovable.
Looking at my life, I kept replicating that which I didn't know. Victim. Powerless. Doing things I didn't want to do to be liked by powerful people.
I would put myself into situations that would reflect my abuse to me. Time and Time again, I would find myself in relationships where I was unseen…and I felt that the more I did, the more I would be seen…and the opposite would happen. The more I did, the less I was seen. I would disappear…for I was taking care of others needs and never my own. I disappeared to me.
The church itself is red flag waving…or should I say a beacon for victims. A home to feel powerless in.
The FALC owned my whole body and life. Just as my parents did. The church owned my hair, I couldn't color it. The church owned my fingernails…I couldn't paint them.
The church owned my body; I couldn't have birth control. It would decide my life for me. Sounds like power and control to me….which is abuse.
What I didn't know, is that being comfortable in that church that had power over me, was replicating abuse. I was comfortable without power.
When I discovered that the church had blessed the man who abused me….I knew I was completely wrong about what I felt were high morals and values…inside its doctrine. It was then that the comfortable became terrorizing.
Being unable to show my feelings of terror as a child, I then acted comfortable being powerless. This definition showed itself repeatedly in my life.
Until I was able to see that which I called comfortable was actually abuse.
It would have been too much for a child to understand that her father was a monster and her mother didn't see that and the church blessed the monster….and that no one seen her. So, I created a story of comfort in my mind. And then, as I stepped out in the world I didn't remember that the files were wrong….until my whole file cabinet shattered in 2004. My niece said out loud…"Grandpa touched me….molested me". My comfortable spot became unbearable.
What I had thought, was that everyone would be flipped around, when I was…but now I realize, that they were able to keep their comfortable files upright…and not see what I saw. Yet, what I now see…is their lives replicating our childhood home. A play without end it seems.
The original play may have slowed or stopped, but their lives are reenacting it today.
Some will reenact the play and play the powerful…others the powerless.
But, it is depicted completely accurate.
What I love about this, is that no one escapes or can deny it, for the subconsciousness is out in full display.
What they feel is secret is in full living color…replaying, replaying, replaying.
The frustrating part is that they can't see which they couldn't bear to see as a child…so, they love the uncomfortable and steer clear of kindness.
I have heard stories of how awful their childhoods are, and then seen the loyalty of their abusers.
Abuse that happens when it is with someone you love and care about, is that it leaves you upside down in the world.
Instead of seeing the abusive behaviors in that person, you label them love and caring.
You can't even see this inside your head and body, but yet your life is replicating it.
We keep looking for the answers while living the answers.
It is hard to get ahead of your life or sit in the seat above it. It takes separation. It takes picking apart the scenes and really looking at what is going on.
Who holds the comfortable card and what their truth is….and then who is holding the uncomfortable card and what is there true history.
It is to become a sleuth in your own life…with careless abandon. You have to be willing to see what you thought was true become falsehood.
To feel terror of the abuse you were too young to feel.
The caring Universe is painstakingly replicating abuse so that you can express and release the emotions that are held inside.
And, so you can be free from the abuse and be a powerful loving being.
What I also find so intriguing and completely engaging is that when a child keeps their abuse a secret. The secret will show itself. It can't remain a secret. For, the markers of abuse will shine forth in their lives by the choices they make. It will be impossible for them to hide this secret.
Their actions alone will put the secret in full display.
Parents who are willing to see their actions as red flags will be able to help their children. Parents who want the abuse to be covered up, will turn their heads away or blame those actions upon the child. Like the child is making bad choices. When in fact, their abuse is actually showing.
