I Have Something To Say

Whether you run in evangelical circles or not, chances are you've encountered someone who has started a sentence with, "God told me to..." and finished it with something inspirational, aspirational, or irrational. Depending on the denomination, it might get thrown around as a common catch phrase, or it might be reserved for more serious, "big" declarations. Either way, narcissists in the church love to exploit it. Here's why. When a narcissist says, "God told me to..." it is almost always in order to over-inflate their own status or position while simultaneously absolving themselves of any personal accountability. What better excuse is there? If a narcissist claims God told them to quit their job, who can argue with that? Certainly not their wife, or their children, or anyone who might be counting on them to pay the bills. Perhaps a narcissist decides to move their family to another country because God told them how they would be "lif...

Nothing is ever good enough for a narcissist. They seek to tear down and destroy any good thing they can't claim for their own spotlight. Chances are, if you've ever confronted a narcissist about their cruel words, you've heard them deflect, "I was just telling the truth!" This is the lie of the narcissist: to twist "truth" into malice and give it a holy name. When something is true, it illuminates and inspires. Sure, the truth can hurt. Like a bright light, truth exposes everything. But truth is not judgment. It reveals, but does not condemn. Truth ensures that all will be seen- good and evil. This is why good people crave the truth and evil people must distort it. A narcissist's "truth" is one such distortion. Its sole purpose is to throw shade on anything the narcissist views as a threat. When a narcissist says, "I was just telling the truth," what they really mean is that they refuse to take responsibility for their cru...

As an abuse survivor who struggles with complex trauma, I must limit how much I engage with the inescapable political frenzies that consume the cultural landscape. Like many other survivors, the idea that anyone could set aside reason to vote for a sexual predator stirs up a deep reservoir of physical, emotional, and psychological distress for me. I know first hand what the excuses sound like, and I have zero interest in entertaining them. I have written before how those who enable abuse are often worse than their abusers. I despise enablers. As a survivor, I process more traumatic fallout from the enablers than from the abuse itself.  That said, I want to address why it's important that white female voters do not become the political scapegoats for the actions of predatory white male politicians. Last night's election in which Doug Jones defeated Roy Moore, largely due to the voter turnout of black men and women who voted over 96% in favor of Jones, was a win for everyon...

Recently, Arc of Hope , an (excellent) child abuse recovery and support network on Twitter added me to a list titled "Abused Kids/ Child Abuse Victim Army." Seeing myself associated with being a victim of child abuse sent a shock through my body. It might sound weird, but it felt like a new revelation. Now, one might think that someone with the Twitter handle @AbuseSurvior, having over 10 years of no contact with her abusers, who has been been blogging about the nature of abuse for several months now, with scores of posts and a steadily growing audience might be used to the idea by now that she was abused. But seeing this struck me in a new and different way. Here's why. It was external validation, by people who "get it," that it really happened. Growing up, not only was there no one else to validate that the emotional, psychological, spiritual, and sexual abuse happened, but the very nature of the abuse meant that I was brainwashed into doubting my own f...

As a person was was manipulated, gaslighted, and lied to for all of her childhood, truth-telling matters deeply to me. Even though I was often punished for it, it became extremely important for me to always tell the truth. I realized at a young age that truth and my own integrity were all I had, and as much as my abusers tried, they couldn't take them away from me. Even if no one believed me, I knew that at the very least, I could trust my myself. My own integrity is what helped me discern the difference between what I was told by my abusers and what was actually happening. I value truth more than anything, and even though sometimes truth does hurt, I believe in its power to heal. That said, holding to the truth in the face of abuse is not easy. In many cases, it's easier to accept the deceptions and lies of the abuser that nothing is wrong, it's not that bad, and to just get over it. Over time, victims of abuse cope by deceiving themselves often become their own worst...

I am a highly sensitive person, and I often find myself in the position of understanding people better than they understand themselves. I often physically feel what others are feeling, and I can sense whether their thoughts are clear or whether there is a jumble of static in their brain. People who are not empaths are probably scratching their heads right now, but the empaths are nodding. My people get it, so much so, it's often not worth explaining to those who don't. People often want to talk to me, but I am sensitive to the people who drain me in order to make themselves feel better. They slather me with their problems that they have no interest in solving for themselves. Over time, I've learned to keep up pretty good boundaries and limit how much of myself I give to others. But then occasionally, a few slip through the cracks. Some people carry so much psychic chaos around, it zaps all my defenses. There is one such person who, from the very first moment I met he...

Holiday season is a difficult time for many abuse survivors, especially if their abusers are family members. Even survivors who have gone No Contact can be quickly overwhelmed by the social pressures of the holidays. They are surrounded by advertisements of happy families in sweaters, beaming at each other while they pass the gravy, and serving as a too-painful reminder of what the survivor never had. Everyday small talk turns to whether they are going home for the holidays, which almost always guarantees an awkward conversation. The constant reminder of what a family "should" be causes many, including me, to re-process through the stages of grief this time every year. For those who have not gone No Contact with toxic family members, there is the added tension and anxiety of having to manage the inevitable confrontations. The pressure to "be nice" around toxic people during the holidays becomes magnified as many abuse survivors are trained to absorb the toxic e...

As I mentioned in Abusers Are Weird About Food, the common denominator of abuse is control. Abusers will use anything within reach to control their victims, so the most common, everyday resources are typically the ones most used. Money is no exception. I can't think of a single case of abuse I know in which money wasn't used against a victim in some form. In my house, my narcissistic father often bragged about how he made three times more than my mother. We lived in a big (empty) house that they couldn't afford. He had lots of toys- a motorhome, ski boat, houseboat, new cars, etc. He surrounded himself with expensive hobbies. He had an expensive pool table in the game room and a dedicated dark room, but he spent much of his time in "his" brown La-Z-Boy watching "his" shows in the "family" room. Every area of the house was his, down to the grass we weren't allowed to walk on in the back yard. In spite of his "very important...

Here lies the dilemma of anyone who has been psychologically abused. When we pointed out what was not normal, we were told that we were wrong. When we got upset about not being believed, we were told we were overreacting. When we told the truth, we were told we were making it all up. When we tried to reason, we were told we were the unstable ones. Many of us were willing to be wrong if it meant keeping the peace, but, unfortunately, we were right all along. Some of us were children, and therefore even less likely to escape the gaslighting and manipulation our abusers applied to keep the status quo. Some of us grew up extremely confused in spite of our own impeccable integrity. Our abusers, always and purposefully a step ahead of us, went to our friends and family and whispered things in their ears to discredit us. Because we were so used to having our words twisted and our intentions misinterpreted, we expected to be misunderstood. Because it was often easier to absorb the blame ...

You were lied to on the playground.  "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." Neuroscientists and psychologists have proven in spades that words hurt most of all. But first, let's establish that abuse of any kind is horrible, heinous, and deserving of attention and care. The impact of physical trauma ought never be minimized in order to shine a light on psychological trauma. Not only is all trauma valid, all perceptions of trauma are valid. Two people can experience the same event and have drastically different outcomes. One's experience isn't more or less valid than another. If it hurts, seek help. Physical trauma is visceral. There is hard, objective evidence of abuse. Most people don't question its validity. It's cut and dry. "If he hits you, you should leave." If you are beaten or shot in a senseless crime, no one will try to convince you it didn't really happen. Children who are physically abused are ...

One of the most common non-helpful responses to someone suffering from the fallout of abuse is to push the victim toward forgiveness too soon. Usually it's coupled with some form of shame that the victim "should" feel something other than whatever she is feeling. Sometimes, it's coupled with well-meaning platitudes- "It's the Christian thing to do." It's offered as the fix-all solution to help her "set it aside," "snap out of it," and "move on." Here's the thing. Pressuring people to forgive prematurely only prolongs the healing process. The only way to fully process what happened is for the victim to feel her feelings, whatever they may be. People who have been psychologically abused by narcissists and other dark triad personalities have been brainwashed into all kinds of shame-based falsities that their thoughts, feelings, ideas, and opinions don't matter. Essentially, they were taught to believe that they...

I consider myself to be fairly self-aware and introspective. I've always been willing to look at my life and my life choices from every angle and make adjustments when necessary. And yet, there was this one area of my life that I felt, instinctively, was too big, too dark, too scary for me to face head on. I knew my parents weren't "normal" and that my childhood was lacking certain things, like, say, love. I knew enough about the dysfunction to go no contact over ten years ago. There was quite a bit I had already figured out and gained perspective on. And yet, there was this compartmentalized part of me that lurked in the shadows. I found myself thinking, fearing,  someday , I'll have to deal with that. Someday came. It came in the form of chronic illness, exhaustion, and collapse. It came in the form of feeling empty in spite of success. It came in the form of feeling responsible for burdens that weren't mine. It came in the form of nightmares. It came i...

Wouldn't it be nice if we all lived in harmony? Wouldn't it be great if everyone respected one another as human beings? Wouldn't it be wonderful if every interaction with others stirred up feelings of warmth and connectedness instead of fear and dread? But alas, some people suck. I used to think it was my own failure. As someone who was trained from an early age to take on the responsibility of my abusers, I accepted their lie that it was my fault that we didn't get along. I thought there was something wrong with me that they behaved the way they did. If I was really a kind, peace-loving person, I would be able to handle them with all the love and concern they demanded, but never reciprocated. Worse still, was when my parents got religious. It was then my obligation as their daughter to "obey" them and turn the other cheek, no matter what. No matter what. It's no wonder I had to learn about boundaries as an adult. My parents never respected even the...

My mother was obsessed with them, but I never figured out who they were. For a while, I thought maybe they were the neighbors, but that didn't make sense. Other than waving hello as we passed by, we weren't really friends with our neighbors. We didn't know each other any more than what was said over appetizers and small talk at the block party. Could their opinion of us matter that much to my mom? What would we miss out on if the neighbors knew? Patty's signature 9x13 dish of seven layer dip? Then I thought, maybe they were our extended family. Most of them lived out of town, and it seemed my mom wasn't really in touch with them, save the annual Christmas letter. The ones nearby we saw two or three times a year on holidays. Like the neighbors, most of the gatherings involved small talk and dip. I would give each relative a hug hello and a hug goodbye, along with the obligatory reminder of what grade I'm in now. Other than that, I don't recall anyone i...

All my life, I've felt like an orphan. My parents and brother are technically still alive, but have never been real family to me. After enduring years of emotional, psychological, sexual, and spiritual abuse, I made a decision in my early 30's to go no contact with them. In order to do so, I absorbed much of the blame. I wasn't strong enough to have "grace" for them. I wasn't patient enough to put up with them. I wasn't saintly enough to forgive them of faults they never admitted. It took a while for me to realize how much of a lie all that really was. Looking back, I was the only one who cared enough to put any effort into a relationship. It was entirely one sided, and I was expected to simply bear all of their mess with no expectation of receiving love or understanding in return. Well, fuck that. As far back as I can remember, I have been looking for a real family.  Family that I could love, and also family that could love me back. I was the kid w...

I have a unique and diverse perspective on spirituality, religion, and faith due to my own eclectic spiritual background. For the record, I consider myself a devout Christian of the Roman Catholic tradition. I have been a "born again" Christian and experienced the worlds of protestant non-denominational churches, church plants, evangelical churches, and charismatic churches, among others. Prior to my Christian life, I was involved in many other "new age" type spiritual practices. I have also witnessed spiritual abuse in many forms, from every group I've belonged to. Here is yet another attempt to condense my thoughts on an impossibly large subject. The other title for this blog post could be "Clichéd Concepts about Faith and Healing That Sound Religious but Really Aren't." I am involved in my church, and I believe in raising my children in the context of faith. However, as a survivor of abuse, quite often what I hear in the homily or in passi...

"Well, admitting that I was abused emotionally, psychologically, sexually, and spiritually was healthy and important for a season, but I want to be done now. I'd like to go back to being myself again. You know, disconnected and ignorant of the real impact all this had on me. I'd like to move on now, as if it never happened." Lately I've been having thoughts along the lines of this. A couple years ago, I started making major adjustments to my life so that I could free up more time to deal with myself. Originally, it was involuntary. I got sick, and subsequently had to scale way back. As I went down the path of healing, I decided to strip more and more out of my schedule. The more I uncovered, the more I needed to make room to grieve and heal. While I do feel like I am experiencing major shifts in how I relate to my trauma, I also know it is far from over. Sometimes it feels like an eternal sentence, where I am destined to don my perpetual sackcloth and ashes. ...

Complex trauma is like an impressionistic painting. Up close, it's a bunch of tiny brush strokes, a jumble of dots and colors. It doesn't look like anything, just stuff, seemingly unrelated. It's not until a person takes several steps back to look again that the whole picture emerges. At least, that's how it was for me. For many years, I felt "off" but couldn't pinpoint why. I was aware that I had a difficult childhood, and that my family was atypical in their dysfunction, but I also thought I had moved on. My issues were a jumble of seemingly unrelated dots. Of course now looking back, it all makes sense. I wish I had started this work so much sooner. Putting the past behind me and moving on ended up prolonging my healing. I had buried the trauma deep in my psyche. Now, many years later, it's a major excavation. Moving on is not the same as healing, but it might be the stepping stone to help get someone to a place where they can do the work. Ev...

When I was pregnant with my first child, I had panic attacks. I was terrified of having children, for good reason. I was afraid that I would succumb to the cycle of abuse that I grew up in. As much as I had already made many choices that were vastly different from my parents, I feared that abuse would be some inevitable fate. I knew, statistically speaking, about the high risk, and I was worried. On top of that, I already had a traumatic parenting experience, which struck me to my core. When I had just turned twenty-one, the summer I had just graduated from college, I became an instant stepmother to a four year old whose birth mother was a drug addict.  The child's father and I had just moved in together, which is a whole other story. I met the child maybe once or twice before his mother kidnapped him and disappeared out of state. When the DA found them, police in the other state were about to arrest her for aiding and abetting a homicide. He was taken from his mother and f...

I went no contact with my abusers many years ago, and in the years following, I spent much of the time putting the whole ordeal behind me. I escaped, and I went on to live a fairly successful and happy life. Or so I thought. A couple years ago, I hit the wall with several physical health problems, which forced me to take a step back and reevaluate everything. At first, I couldn't figure out why my body had collapsed in exhaustion. I tried all I could to manage the physical symptoms, and when nothing worked, I moved on the to emotional. What I rediscovered was that I was experiencing complex trauma from the long term effects of childhood sexual, emotional, spiritual and psychological abuse. Oh, right. That. Complex PTSD explained my anxiety, nightmares, migraines and digestive problems, all of which I previously thought weren't connected. It explained my exaggerated startle response and high blood pressure. It explained why I felt too responsible, and why I felt like my ac...