I recently overheard a troubling conversation between two Penn State alumni. They were strangers, bound only by their alma mater, and yet the intensity of their discussion was palpable. And disturbing. (Disclaimer: I know very little about Pennsylvania State University, about the NCAA, or about college sports in general. As always, the opinions expressed in this blog are just that - my opinions.)
Man A and Man B were discussing the recent punishments handed down to Penn State by the NCAA in response to the far-reaching sex abuse scandal most of you have probably heard about. After several minutes of recounting football greatness, Man A said to Man B, "...and all of that gets taken away from us because a couple of fairy boys got their feelings hurt." Man B replied, "Makes you sick, doesn't it?"
At that point I had to get up and leave the room to prevent myself from going all Incredible Hulk on the both of them. My husband, short on words but long on wisdom, reminded me, "They're ignorant idiots, don't let them get to you." And he's right; I can choose not to let the insensitivity of clueless people bother me.
I can also choose to educate.
If you haven't survived sexual trauma, if you haven't personally endured the torture of abuse, you simply cannot fully grasp the lifelong ramifications. I'm going to try to paint a picture of just a handful of the consequences that face survivors: Post-traumatic stress disorder. Alcoholism. Drug abuse. Self-injury. Eating disorders. Suicide. Agoraphobia. Panic disorder. Fear. Hopelessness. Guilt and shame. Misplaced sense of responsibility for abuse. Isolation. Nightmares. Flashbacks. Depression. Insomnia. Low self-esteem. Sexual dysfunction. Disassociative disorders. Impaired relationships. Borderline personality disorder. That's not even a comprehensive list. Then there is the very, very small minority of victims who go on to become abusers themselves, thus perpetuating a horrible cycle.
A bit more than "hurt feelings," no? I have been challenged with the notion of 'time heals all wounds' as it relates to trauma, and it's just not true. Intensive therapy, interventions to resolve maladaptive behaviors and teach healthy coping skills, and in some cases medication, can help alleviate many of the symptoms. Even after all of those things, you never forget. It has been 22 years since my first traumatic event and 14 years since my last one, and I can say that I still battle with the consequences every single day. I have a wonderful family, a comfortable home, safety and security, and access to therapy. Even still, I wake in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, shaking from the images that invaded my mind. I am afraid much of the time. Paranoid, even. And despite a great deal of work, I still struggle with the notion that if my body is starved of its beauty and allure, I will no longer be a potential victim. I am by no means the only one dealing with these things.
In short, I take comfort in the resolution of the Penn State situation. The perpetrator is in prison, and the survivors will have the financial means to access any form of help they need with their healing journies. For most of us survivors, we will never have the same sense of justice; for most of us, our perpetrators walk free and we have to fight for access to mental healthcare.
Be educated, my friends. Know what we're up against. Do your best to protect your children and yourselves. And above all, be kind. There are, after all, more important things in this world than football.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Sunday, July 1, 2012
You Know My Name, You Don't Know My Story
A wise and wonderful woman once taught me, "You know my name, but you don't know my story." How true those words are. I used to claim open-mindedness when it suited me, but I was often guilty of jumping to conclusions based on appearences. My worst example of this flaw was evident when I was behind the wheel: if somebody cut me off, it was because he was an obvious douchebag with no consideration for other people. Now I am able to rein myself in and think, "Maybe that person just got some bad news. Maybe he's had a rough day. Maybe he or someone he loves is sick. Or maybe - just maybe - he didn't even see me there." That little shift in thinking has worked miracles for my own peace of mind.
I want to take it a step further, though, and use this point to shed a little light on the silent sufferers in our midst. I have had occasion over the last year and a half to share my story - my whole, unedited, often unpretty story - with a lot of people. I can't tell you the number of times I have heard, "I would never have guessed you'd been through that." There's the truth - we can never guess what another person has endured, what she has seen and survived and experienced. Even the people we think we know best often have little pockets of shame within them that keep their secrets hidden. Part of my own past - childhood sexual abuse and trauma - is one of the most intensely concealed skeletons in people's closets. The disgusting and tragic reality is that one in every six women and one out in every 33 men will survive a rape or attempted rape in their lifetimes, and that 500,000 babies born THIS year in THIS country will be sexually abused by their 18th birthdays. This problem is not just prevalent, it is epidemic.
You know survivors, I guaruntee it. It may be your sister, your best friend, your dad, the sweet teenager who babysits your kids, the older gentleman who sings in the church choir, or even that guy who cut me off on the freeway. We are everywhere, in every walk of life, in every socioeconomic sphere. We are Christians, Jews, and Muslims, we are children and the elderly, we are gay and straight, we are white, black, and every other color in the crayon box. You may know our names, but you probably don't know our stories.
My intent in sharing this is not to repulse you with the statistics nor to shame you for passing judgement without having all the information. My goal is to make you aware, as I have been made aware, that survivors are all around us, sometimes candid about their stories but often struggling in silence. Be kind to each other, my friends. You never really know what anyone else has gone through.
(And a little sidenote, my beautiful friends: my page has been viewed over 4,000 times now. I am incredibly humbled and immensely grateful to have reached so many people, and I pray that all of you will take a little something away from my story. Peace be with you all!)
I want to take it a step further, though, and use this point to shed a little light on the silent sufferers in our midst. I have had occasion over the last year and a half to share my story - my whole, unedited, often unpretty story - with a lot of people. I can't tell you the number of times I have heard, "I would never have guessed you'd been through that." There's the truth - we can never guess what another person has endured, what she has seen and survived and experienced. Even the people we think we know best often have little pockets of shame within them that keep their secrets hidden. Part of my own past - childhood sexual abuse and trauma - is one of the most intensely concealed skeletons in people's closets. The disgusting and tragic reality is that one in every six women and one out in every 33 men will survive a rape or attempted rape in their lifetimes, and that 500,000 babies born THIS year in THIS country will be sexually abused by their 18th birthdays. This problem is not just prevalent, it is epidemic.
You know survivors, I guaruntee it. It may be your sister, your best friend, your dad, the sweet teenager who babysits your kids, the older gentleman who sings in the church choir, or even that guy who cut me off on the freeway. We are everywhere, in every walk of life, in every socioeconomic sphere. We are Christians, Jews, and Muslims, we are children and the elderly, we are gay and straight, we are white, black, and every other color in the crayon box. You may know our names, but you probably don't know our stories.
My intent in sharing this is not to repulse you with the statistics nor to shame you for passing judgement without having all the information. My goal is to make you aware, as I have been made aware, that survivors are all around us, sometimes candid about their stories but often struggling in silence. Be kind to each other, my friends. You never really know what anyone else has gone through.
(And a little sidenote, my beautiful friends: my page has been viewed over 4,000 times now. I am incredibly humbled and immensely grateful to have reached so many people, and I pray that all of you will take a little something away from my story. Peace be with you all!)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)