There seems to be a book burning party going on in the survivor community...

The book is called: The Trauma Myth: The Truth About the Sexual Abuse of Children and it is written by Harvard educated Susan A Clancy. (I think the “A” may stand for asinine) In her book, Ivy league degreed, yet still *uneducated* Clancy claims that children who are sexually abused are rarely damaged physically OR psychologically.
In an interview, Clancy was asked, “What do you mean by the "trauma myth"? 
Her explanation: “The title refers to the fact that although sexual abuse is usually portrayed by professionals and the media as a traumatic experience for the victims when it happens — meaning frightening, overwhelming, painful — it rarely is. Most victims do not understand they are being victimized, because they are too young to understand sex, the perpetrators are almost always people they know and trust, and violence or penetration rarely occurs. "Confusion" is the most frequently reported word when victims are asked to describe what the experience was like. Confusion is a far cry from trauma.”  Clancy went on to say, “For 30 years we've been working on preventing sexual abuse. But we've skirted around what sexual abuse really is. The kids don't know what's going on, and they often enjoy it. They're not going to resist.”
Clancy also shares that she experienced quite a backlash from her book while working at Harvard. When asked how bad it was she says this: “It's bad enough I moved to Nicaragua. When I was at Harvard — the peak of my career, at the university you want to be, surrounded by all the people who were the titans in the field — there was just so much bullshit going on. People focused on a type of abuse that affects maybe 2 percent of the population, millions of dollars for funding that doesn't apply to most victims, bestselling books written by therapists misportraying sexual abuse. I would try to tell the truth. I would be attacked. Grad students wouldn't talk to me. Professors would tell me to leave for other fields. I just felt disillusioned. I got this opportunity from the World Bank to do cross-cultural research on how sexual abuse is understood in Latin America. I came down to Central America, and I've stayed.”
I have so many thoughts swirling around in my pea-sized trauma-brain I am not yet sure how to process what she is saying. I vacillate from wanting to tell her it is “that bad” to just shaking my head and letting it be –because clearly she will never understand. But my problem with letting it be is so many people already ignore what goes on, or believes that it isn’t “that bad”, that I cannot, in good conscious, not speak my peace about this outrageous misleading book, written by an uneducated woman who not only believes that there are no lasting physical or psychological effects from being sexually abused as a child but also believes it is not the abuse itself that is traumatic, but rather, the “Therapeutic” culture dictating to the victims how they should feel about the abuse they experienced.

Listen up, Susan Clancy:  It is that bad. And 5 year olds do not “enjoy” being fucked by grown men, in their own homes, which is supposed to be a place of safety. A 5 year old's vagina is not meant to be penetrated by a grown man’s penis. A 5 year old does not find it “pleasurable” to have a grown man’s dick shoved down her throat. It is that bad, Susan Clancy, and it does have life-long lingering effects. And as far as the “therapeutic” culture telling me how I should “feel” about it? Well, I have trusted only one therapist with how I “feel” about it, she did not ever force her opinions on me of what I should feel. I’m fairly certain she wishes I didn’t *feel* as bad as I do most of the time, as I’m sure she does not want to continue taking dissociative midnight phone calls from a child who relives the pain over and over and over again.  I'm pretty sure she hates that I continue to test her care and question her trustworthiness after we've worked together for nearly 4 years.  But she has never once said, "Grace, it wasn't that bad."  And she believes me when I tell her it is that bad. 

There are lasting effects, Susan Clancy. I could write a BOOK on the effects, both physical and psychological. Just because someone chooses not to disclose the abuse for 30 years, or even in their lifetime; just because someone can outlive the abuse and grow up and function in society so no one would ever guess what happened – that doesn’t mean it was okay.

I was 5 years old when my mother brought my step-father into our home. I was 5 years old when he first touched me. I did not find it pleasurable to have a drunk man pawing my 5 year old chest. I felt only searing pain the first time he fucked me. And he did it again, and again, and again. Year after year he fucked me and sodomized me, Susan Clancy. And if you met me on the street, you would never know that. You would think I am an educated, polite, well-functioning woman, living the American dream. But I cannot even pour bleach into the washing machine because it reminds me of the SF’s semen in my mouth. I cannot eat or smell specific foods. I have no idea what intimacy is and I cannot make any sort of connection between sex and love. I have trouble fucking my husband not because I don't like to have sex, but because of the "lingering effects" that happen after I fuck him. I cannot trust people to see the "real" me, because of the ignorance of people like you who will say, "It was not that bad.",  and on most nights there is no safe place. But you would never know of those “lingering effects” of being fucked as a child. 

And for me there is no escape Susan Clancy. I was 5 years old and I could not jump on a plane to another country to escape the “backlash” I lived in. For me, it was “that bad”, Susan Clancy, and there was no escape.  And it's uneducated nitwits like you who speak on a subject they know nothing about; people like you, Susan Clancy, who make us believe that we should be ashamed for believing it was "that bad". 

It is people like you, Susan Clancy, who make me thankful for my therapist who does believe me when I say it was "that bad".  It's people like you, Susan Clancy, who make me want to flush my shame right down the toilet and write my own book telling everyone just how bad it was to be fucked as a kid.   And some day, I just might!  And when I do, I will send an autographed copy, first edition, to you - in Nicaragua, where you ran away to hide, because the backlash of your unsubstantiated theory was too great for you to bear. 
*Oh the Humanity!*

What are we waiting for? Won't anybody help us?

I ponder that question during those long nights when my mind won’t rest and I am begging for someone to knock me out with an injection of some mind-numbing medication so it will just stop. It used to be that the overwhelming question of “WHY” would send me into fit of self-destructiveness and suicidal thoughts. Kind of a: I can’t change it ~ I can’t fix it ~ no one will listen to me…which would lead this overwhelming internal pain that I could not deal with and I would hurt myself (mostly cutting – lots of vomiting) in a last ditch effort to get it to just stop. I don’t want to die, I’ve never wanted to die – not really…I just want someone to help me figure out a way to deal with all the conflicting parts of me and my past – help me in a way that WORKS!

GRACE, YOU NEED TO DEAL WITH YOUR FEELINGS BEFORE THEY DEAL WITH YOU….and deal with me, they have. Now what? Since my feelings began to manage me and I was no longer able to manage them…I was told to put them in the ‘time-out’ bucket. Label them – and throw them in the bucket. Well, let me just store them in the old cedar chest where they were covered with a quilt and preserved for 30 years before someone actually led me to believe that it was ‘okay’ to talk and I was not bad…and that I had a right to be heard and understood and ‘accepted’. (*To be fair, let me add the statement that my self-destructive behavior was excessive and troubling…and there were times when I could have died due to my ‘behavior’. And yes, I get that it’s okay to have feelings and emotions – however best not to always act on them.) 

This is a direct quote from my therapist after I sent her an email telling her that I was angry because I hated DBT class and resented going: Of course you are going to feel irritable after DBT class as this class runs counter to what your emotional mind wants which is to be heard, understood and comforted, vs being told to modulate, distract, "pretend" to feel good, etc. So, a trusted MHP admits that DBT is about ‘pretending to feel good’?  Someone should have just said that! That would have saved me months of self-destruction, invalidation and re-traumatization…not to mention two grand!


When Lynn posted this:  The MHP Manifesto ~ I felt it ~ her words echoed through my ribcage and chilled my heart and I again thought: what are we waiting for? 

But the problem is that there is so much hurt...so much pain, that we can't do it alone.  We have stored it for so long because we were afraid and ashamed that to finally find someone we can trust and then to feel as though that trust was breached…it’s like validation that we never should have spoken in the first place. Somewhere in our maladaptive brains it only confirms that our abusers were right. We don’t matter. Everyone else is more important than we are. We are nothing. We have no rights and we will always be nothing.  However unintentional that perceived breach of trust was...it was enough to send us right back there again. Even if it was a promise, or commitment, that was not sustainable - but was offered with only the best of intentions...even if your life 'changed' and you had over-extended yourself...that just validates that we are not important.  I realize that is not the way a 'normal' person, a person who actually received love and care that every child deserved, reacts.  But we never had that...our trust was broken time and time again.  Day over day, week over week, year over year. 

Lynn went on to write this:  shame-manifesto .  Shut up and behave!  Shut up and drug up!  Don't cry out loud! EVER!

Yes, it is a lot of shame to carry...too much. And the abuse from my childhood has ripped apart my insides to a depth I can barely see and feel.  There are parts of my being that were destroyed to the point that I know they can never be recovered.  Every night when I lay my head down I wish for even two hours of peaceful sleep....telling myself, "Sweet dreams, no nightmares."  Each evening when the darkness comes I hope like hell I can get through it without feeling him all over again, without hurting myself, without a pain so intense I cannot stay in this body anymore.  Each morning I wake up with no new injuries or long lasting residual after-affects from nightmares I am thankful for surviving another night.  But the shame, and the fear, and the pain...and the sadness of not having anyone to help guide me though it...all of that remains.  But I have put it back into the cedar chest and covered it with the quilt.  It is my childhood dowry...a dowry no one wants. 

And I remain silent.  Because I am afraid now.  I am ashamed of my behavior.  I am ashamed of my weakness and fear.   I am ashamed.  I am ashamed.

But I hope that someday I will not be ashamed.  I hope that someday someone will listen to me, to 'us'. 

What are we waiting for?  Won't anybody help us?  What are we waiting for?

We have stood up...we are trying to fight the enemy...won't anybody help us?

I am the product of a woman who never wanted me and a man who wanted me in controlling and abusive ways

Last night, The Therapist (obviously a glutton for punishment) gave me a 'reserved' sense of hope and desire to continue to try, and maybe believe that I did not fail after all. 

Dear Grace,
Having not spoken with you since our exchange of emails re: scheduling (which isn't really speaking with one another), I am left to wonder how you are handling the quiet desperation that I know that you experience day to day. I suspect that you are working very at trying to nurture yourself and manage the "voices" of self invalidation. I wonder how well you are managing the temptation to isolate and instead letting others from cyberspace and otherwise provide you with support.

I would like to share that the conference I have been attending has guided me in some ways that I hope with benefit our ability to renegotiate our goals and methods of work together, not to mention hopefully my ability to help you find a way to reach your goals. With the help of this conference and self reflection, I am clearer on how my shifts and or comments could have felt invalidating and/or unreasonable, while also recognizing that some "shifts" are/were necessary. The pain and emotions that overcome you feel truly too much for you to bear and sometimes "healthy ways to cope" just don't work. I am better recognizing that there are many situations in which you are overly competent and other ones in which those abilities don't generalize. I also hope that we can find a way to accomplish a greater sense of being able to feel or need without it either overcoming you or forcing you to have to totally suppress it. I am re-recognizing that the hidden shame that you attempt to cope with each day is in need of further validation and care. I truly hope that next Monday we can restart a dialogue about identifying your goals, needs, etc. and how best to get there.
With hope and patience,
Dear Therapist


Dear Therapist,
I made an appointment to see you next week, even though I continue to have portentous reservations about talking to you; and I am assiduously trying to quiet the part of me who is screaming that it is better to just continue to avoid any type of contact at all. She continues to believe that it is better to just walk away from you then to continue to head down a path filled with buckets which as I have tried to convey time and time again leads to hostility, defensiveness, and further resistance. I admit that your email brought with it a flicker of hope to continue on this journey, but the ‘what if’ gang is singing kareoke songs of doubt inside my head.


As much as I regret to say this, I did not come with an owner’s manual, nor is it possible to run a quick diagnostic test on me and diagnose the ‘problem’. It took me a very long time to trust you and it seems that at some point you lost your trust in me and we began working against each other. Obviously, I'm no therapist, but I do know that if neither of us can trust or have faith in the other, moving forward is not possible. And I question the sudden change and I am somewhat saddened that you suddenly believe and ‘trust’ in something you hear from another ‘mental health professional’ and yet you did not hear it, or trust me, when I said it.  And I am still searching for signs of the flying nun in your message.  And I wonder why you even want to try to help me since...well, because I am "ME"...

I recognize that I am not easy to work with someone with my “history” ~ and my constant hyper-vigilance and defensiveness incessantly tire and frustrate you. I question things I do not understand and I can be a rainbow of ‘personalities’ in one session leaving you feeling exasperated and wanting to pull your hair out. I know that I am different than you (or at least who I ‘know’ you to be). I know that I experienced way too much, way too early, and these things make me react to situations in aberrant and strange ways which perhaps leave you to question your own sanity for not throwing me out of your office into the tree-hugging recycling bin.

ME

I am a high-maintenance client.

I am a sad scared little girl.

I am an angry rebellious teenager.

I am a self-reliant woman with above average intelligence.

I am sad and small.

I am overbearing and demanding.

I am questioning and untrusting.

I am sarcastic and amusing.

I am outgoing and reserved.

I am determined and strong but also fearful and weak.

I am honest but withholding.

I am compassionate and giving and yet also hard and cold.

I am stubborn and willful.

I hide behind the façade of a woman I want to be.

I feel nothing and too much at the same time.
I am the life of the party but never really present.

I am beautiful crystal on the outside but shards of broken glass on the inside.

I will endure a hurricane to take away someone else’s pain and turmoil and yet I cannot seem to do the same for myself.

 

I am the product of a woman who never wanted me and a man who wanted me in controlling and abusive ways.

 

YOU: Dear therapist, are a compassionate woman with the patience of a saint, but I hope you understand that none of the above intrinsic personality quirks have changed since we last spoke.   I don't know exactly why you still have not given up...for the love of God....but I guess for now, I will allow myself to ‘trust’ what you say above, and that you still have the patience to deal with *all* of me.

So I guess I will see you next week....

~ Grace

P.S.  I hope you are not just reaching out because much like my feelings and emotions you are tired of being in a bucket.

It is mine and mine alone...to fight~talk~cry~scream~hate~hold...and hopefully someday face and accept. How could I have possibly believed that someone else could understand...

I feel like I am so many different people disconnected from each other wrapped tightly inside this lost little body with no escape.

I am a mother
I am a wife
I am a friend
I am a professional
I am so much more…
I am an incest survivor…she is the part that is wholly separate from the rest of ‘Grace’.

I have never faced her, accepted her or anything that happened to her, she was not me…now she has grown into this big all-consuming monster growing inside of me. And the bigger she gets, the louder she is, the faster I have tried to bury her and push her away. But she is now way too big and I am way too old to bury her anymore. And I have to figure out a way to be okay with her being a part of me.

Why do I continue to run and fight who I used to be and who I am? Why am I so scared and so ashamed? Why do I continue to live in doubt and hopelessness? Why can’t I trust anyone? Why can I not understand and accept her? If this is what I so desperately wish for, what I have worked so hard for the past 3 years, why can I not just DO it? Why? Why can’t I be okay with ALL of me?

I am rambling tonight because I do not feel well and I am afraid to keep all of this inside of my head for fear that tonight could end with the unaccepted being punished. And there is no ‘support system’ in place right now to help me with that. There is just ‘me’, logical adult Grace, trying desperately to remain in charge. I catch myself not breathing, and it feels like I have to talk myself through a few breaths before it becomes subconscious again. And yet even when I concentrate on my breathing, I cannot breathe deeply, I cannot let all the air out of my lungs. Why? Is that because I am afraid and untrusting that air will fill my lungs in the next breath? Not only can I not trust another human being, I cannot trust my own body to breathe? 

I am not crazy. I am not weak. I am alive and I am lucky. I am alive…so now what? Is this where I say, “Yes, I am an incest survivor~ time to move on.” And then I walk away? I keep trying that. I am an incest survivor. I am an incest survivor. (I suppose that is a step forward, I still can’t say the words out loud, but I can write them now.)

I SURVIVED THE ABUSE ~ IT IS TIME TO MOVE ON…

But I need help with the second part. I mean, I have moved on, I am an adult, I am not helpless. I can function in society, and the majority of the people in my life probably think I am a product of the Cleaver’s. But it has affected so many parts of me, parts of me I am possibly not even aware of yet. That is the only way to explain the nightmares and the triggers and the strange reactions to what most people consider normal situations. I try to keep track of these moments, events, feelings, and I think I am doing better, right now…and yet I also feel like I am waiting for Shaquille O’Neal’s size 23 shoe to stomp on me and squash me like an ant. 

I wish I could talk to people in my real life and trust that they won’t look at me in shame, embarrassment, or worse, pity…but I cannot. Nope – my past is mine…and I am left here alone now – to fight with it, talk to it, hate it, deal with it, cry with it – and maybe someday accept it.

And I will do it alone because it is my past…no one else’s.

How I could I have possibly thought that someone else could understand.

Gracie is a big girl now! She has reached a milestone on the growth chart!

LET'S CELEBRATE GRACE'S NEWFOUND INDEPENDENCE! WITH THE RIGHT 'TOOLS' SHE CAN MANAGE ALL THE PARTS OF GRACE WITHOUT SEEING BLOOD OR CRYING FOR DT!!!!

“Grace: It sounds like you found that "strong" part of you, while simultaneously feeling intense anger, fear, grief, smallness, weakness, and power. Ultimately bearing witness, holding, managing and perhaps negotiating a truce with all these experiences inside you…DT”


Yes, DT! I totally did it "all by myself"!! I'm so awesome! The biggest relief is that I have found the perfect combo to alleviate the cutting, at least for now. It doesn't stop the conflicting voices inside my fucked up head- BUT- it does allow me to simply pass out before it gets to the cutting stage. And I can do it "all by myself". The perfect combo of ativan, seroquel and liquor…at just the right time….

As I see it, there are only 2 drawbacks- I have only 1 liver, and when I finally make it to bed- which most of the time I don't remember getting there- I'm not conscious enough to build the fortress correctly so I wake up w/o the security and typically no blanket or comforters- which leads to the whole fear and insecurity issues. But a minor price to pay- for the lack of newfound scars (at least any scars visible to the public). And I deal with it all by myself because I am such a "big girl" now. It’s so very exciting!!!

“Grace, Take a moment and realize what all you have learned, practiced, and are able to do that you couldn't even consider 3 yrs ago. In your proactively you were able to practice self love and a "presence" that felt too frightening or overwhelming for you 3 yrs ago. This is no small accomplishment! Bring the "strong" part of you to sit with the scared part of you. The little scared part of you isn't the one that needs to be strong; it is that adult part of you that is by nature a protector. The adult part of you that keeps protective radar out…That part of you is nearby….DT”

You are right! I have figured out how to shut them all up…and I could not have done this without your *consistent boundaries*. I had to be consistent with them. Hold my boundaries through their rage, let them fight and struggle and argue and attempt to kill themselves…and I just hold steady - just like you do with me. And it’s working! Eventually they shut up! (or maybe it’s just that I can no longer hear them because I’m unconscious from the drugs and booze- but either way, it’s working!!!!) Like you said, I can’t keep them safe, or alive. I can just be there for them, “in the limited ways that I can be”~ until I lose consciousness, go on my own DFW hiatus…and then I don’t worry or care anymore. Just like you!

I am so proud! This is a HUGE breakthrough. I am so awesome! Of course I also give ample credit to you for teaching me how to “tolerate” them, as you do. But please understand there is no “love” for them; I will never accept them, embrace them, or even like them…but like you, I will *tolerate* them until I pass out and no longer have to…just like you do me!

Thank you so much for the "kudos" and recognition, DT - because I too am happy at this newfound "independence" - especially since you're so busy now, and everyone else is more important than I am (which I totally get~ it’s a familiar message – I am no one and am just here to serve the needs of others).

You give yourself a giant pat on the back too! In fact, we should totally celebrate this new milestone of mine on Monday! I'll bring the wine, or grey goose, if you prefer, but only, of course, if that's acceptable to you- I don't want you to get the impression that I would be giving you a "gift"—like, we've been there, and the whole Christmas candy thing made me feel very uncomfortable! I'd prefer not to go there again, DT.

I think I’ll celebrate early…you don’t mind if I get the party started without you, do you? Of course you don’t – it’s Sunday, which is…as we know…a DFW *free* day! Yes, I will celebrate my achievement…DT…without you – as it should be.

You’re Beautiful!~ Grace

P.S. if you reflect back, I think you’ll find that 3 years ago, I was very independent…as that was BEFORE my "dependence" on you-before you worked so ‘diligently’ to get me to trust you. ALL of which happened prior to your life changing and you dumped the 5 year old for a man…and so now we have finally learned to be independent again. (I'm just sayin'....)

Are we doing the "United States of Grace" Tonight?

Lately, I find myself vacillating between PAG, little 5 year old, sad/lonely girl/humorous sarcastic girl….constantly...it seems that they each have to make an appearance several times a day. It is tormenting just about everyone in my life, including me.
One minute I’m laughing with my son as we are walking to across a walkway that goes over a busy Interstate and the next minute I’m imagining myself jumping over the bridge into the traffic below.
One minute I can be Ms. Social Butterfly…a picture of perfection and humor…and then an hour later I’ve fallen into my favorite chair, wrapped in my blue blanket crying and shaking in pain and fear.
One minute I’m full of energy, pulling weeds, trimming rose bushes…cleaning the kitchen until it sparkles, a couple of hours later…depressed and so exhausted it takes every ounce of energy to breathe.
I cancel my T appointment at noon – and call to say I really don’t want to cancel at 8.

During a ‘bad’ moment this evening - my children were arguing over a card game, and I raise my voice and told them to stop fighting or they would both go to their rooms and no TV ~ and then DS says something funny that happened earlier today, and suddenly the 3 of us are laughing and singing “Ding-Dong-the witch is dead”….

During the last exchange listed above, DH was in another room on the phone, and when he hung up and came out of the den…he asked me (in a humorous way): “Is this going to be a “United States of Tara” night?” Referencing the show, United States of Tara on Showtime about a woman with DID.Of course…one minute I was offended and angry…10 seconds later I found it funny.
Being in the “okay” Grace personality at this moment, I am thankful for my family, friends, DT and ‘blog friends’ for hanging in there with me during these “United States of Grace” times… It isn’t easy to be supportive to someone who can be so crazy…lucky for me! Just keep trying...every day...just keep trying.

I will be PERFECT, or locked away in a mental institution for good….I’m hoping for “acceptance – and self-like”.

For just this minute, It's going to be alright...

I can't sleep tonight...and my head has that familiar ache.
But somehow tonight, PAG isn't going to hurt 5 year old tonight. She isn't so angry and 5 year old isn't crying too hard.

So just for tonight, for this minute (Becasue sometimes we can only live minute by minute)....it's going to be alright. You're going to be alright....I'm going to be alright...we're going to be alright...



It's going to be alright
It's going to be alright
I can tell by your eyes that you're not getting any sleep
And you try to rise above it, but feel you're sinking in too deep
Oh, oh I believe, I believe that
It's going to be alright
It's going to be alright
I believe you'll outlive this pain in you heart
And you'll gain such a strength from what is tearing you apart
Oh, oh I believe I believe that
It's going to be alright
It's going to be alright
When some time has past us, and the story if retold
It will mirror the strength and the courage in your soul
Oh, oh, I believe I believe,
I believe
I believe
I did not come here to offer you cliches
I will not pretend to know of all your pain
Just when you cannot, then I will hold out faith, for you
It's going to be alright
It's going to be alright