Choosing to Share

When I was 12 I started getting regular migraine headaches. They were painful and my only reprieve was to retreat to the dark and wait them out. When I finally came forward and told my Mom about my sexual abuse my headaches stopped. I haven't had one since. I know for sure there is a connection between our bodies and any trauma we have had in our lives. It manifests itself until we are able to set it free.

Since I've started my blog I have had a few comments about it, especially the posts about sexual abuse. On one end, I've been asked if it's strategic to share so much of myself. Am I afraid of the
backlash? (I'm sure there will be some). Am I afraid people will see me as weak?  (I know that I am not). On the other side, one of my friends contacted me almost as soon as I posted, to tell me how proud she was that I would share my story and that she loved and supported me. I had never told her before that day. I've also had people open up and share their own story with me. My post gave them the permission to do so. Others have said they read my story, then stood in silence, while the words they couldn't yet speak sat heavy between us. I haven't pushed, though perhaps I should, as I know how hard it is to finally speak out. But I also believe they will get there in time.

The reason I decided to share my story is because it felt like a natural part of my own healing journey. To say the words out loud has been empowering, I've found peace from something I feared for so long. It has allowed me to be seen, really seen. Secondly, I hoped someone out there would read it and know they are not alone. If we go by statistics there are plenty of us out there. Men and women.

From my own story I know how long that shadow followed me. At my lowest I thought about ending my life, I couldn't make any sense of my experiences. But now I can truly tell you, there is nothing to be afraid of. It took me a long time but on the other side there is a peace and love that I could never have expected or prepared for.

I've spent my whole career working with Aboriginal people. I felt called to do so, even though I doubted my qualification and more whether I had the blood quantum to do so. But here is the thing; I was raised far away from the reserve, far away from my culture. And yet, I share the same story as so many. I suffered sexual abuse at the hands of a priest. It rocked my world. It made me question god. But it has also helped me see that we're not different.

I went to a healing circle where 7 of us from different backgrounds shared the same story. The story of abuse and misuse of power. I see now how close we all are. Really, we are all the same. And I know that we have the power to transform our stories. To dive into the dark. Just like my migraine headaches so many years ago. They made my eyes so sensitive to the light that the only way forward was to surrender to the darkness. If my story is yours, know this, you are not alone. I know (and have seen) that we can heal ourselves of anything. Find a way to share your story. Write it. Tell it. Shout it out. Ask for help and be confident that it will come.

My Celebrity Obsession

I have a secret. I am addicted to celebrity gossip blogs. I started off with one, I loved the writing, and then I got latched onto a second, though this one was more for the commentary of readers. I find it fascinating.

Lately on the blogs everyone is following the Woody Allen/Dylan Farrow story. Allegations? Should I call them that? Or is Dylan Farrow finally empowered enough to really find her voice and openly (and graphically) tell her story. I’m not a fan of Woody Allen movies, but I did recently watch Blue Jasmine, as part of my pre-Oscar  viewing. I watched it and then I read Dylan’s horrific account of the sexual abuse she suffered at his hands.

It made me think, by watching a Woody Allen movie am I supporting an “artist” who is also (likely) a sexual offender?  Here’s what happened when allegations of sexual abuse came out against my perpetrator. Some of the community rallied around him. They wrote support letters for his defense. Defense against multiple victims spread over decades. Someone even asked my Mom if she would write one. How could she? But she was unable to tell them the whole truth. How dare they write a letter of support for someone who violated her daughter. Should she have told them instead of opting to protect me?

I’ve heard other people recount stories of how their abuser was held up as a model citizen. A teacher, a leader, a priest, a business owner. These people worked hard to serve their community, there is no way the allegations could be true. And what does that say to victims? That we are liars. That we are worthless. That we should stay silent. That our perpetrator deserves to get away with it. These slick people who prey on the vulnerable. Who lead a double life.  Who pick and groom their prey with care?

I’ve often thought about the power dynamic between my perpetrator and me. I believe he chose me because of it. I believe he really thought, because of his lineage, his position, his education that he was untouchable. And I was something for him to have. A nothing. Insignificant. When people stand in support of perpetrators they reinforce this idea. That he could have me because he wanted me. And maybe he knew that, even if he was caught, people would stand in support of his character, good judgment and moral authority. 

On one level I get the support. These are often people who are trusted. Maybe they visited you in your home or you invited them over for family dinners. Maybe they held positions of authority. The earth shakes a little when they fall from grace. How did you not know? Was there signs? Is that why some revert to the idea that they cannot really be culpable in their crimes.

To me this is part of the problem. I was likely not emotionally ready to share my story as a teenager. But what if I was? What if I had stood in front of the supporters and let them know my story. Would they have written those letters? Will I watch another Woody Allen movie now that I have read Dylan Farrow’s story. No. Definitely not.