A Survivor of Abuse: My First Round of Counseling and a Few Years of Peace

I didn't know who to trust with this new pile of garbage I'd been forced to remember. Fortunately my parents knew of a semi-retired counselor in their church. Mom gave them a call and he agreed to see me, to see if we'd be a good fit.

I saw him on a semi-weekly basis for a few months. The first thing he told me was he believed me. I was honestly shocked. It had never occurred to me that someone wouldn't believe. I was telling the truth. I WAS TELLING THE TRUTH!!! While it was reassuring to know he believed me, it made me wonder if anyone around me didn't. 

Those first few months were not easy. I had a handful of memories return that were awful when they came, but the really hard part were the constant panic attacks. I hadn't really known much about panic attacks until my oldest started going through them. My attacks were different than hers, so at first I didn't recognize them for what they really were. I thought they were a form of "muscle memory", as if I was some how going through moments of my abuse from the past.

When the doctor told me they were simply panic attacks I made them stop. I know that sounds weird and probably not real, but looking back at it I think it was a way of "stuffing" that abused and frightened part of myself back down into the recesses of my mind. I put a lock back on that door and it would be years before it opened back up.

One of the things the doctor had me do was write a letter to my abuser, telling him what his actions had done to me over the years. No one should ever have to write a letter like that. Still, it felt good to finally put the thoughts down on paper. It was nice to say in writing exactly what I'd been thinking. I hated this man. I loved this man. I wanted him to be happy and despised him for using me in such a way that I would believe in my core I would never deserve to be happy. How do you put those feelings and more into mere words? And was I a bad person for wanting him to hurt?

Another day the doctor asked me to sit in my chair while he placed another chair right in front of me and imagine my abuser was sitting there. All of a sudden that chair was way too close. Did he have to be so close, even if it was only in my mind? I was supposed to talk to my abuser, to tell him what I wanted to say right to his imagined face. I went from the gut. I spoke as if he really was in front of me. It was terrifying, obviously worse than writing the letter. My doctor would occasionally prompt me by saying, "Tell him how you're feeling right now" or asking "What did that one action cause to happen in your life?"

Then I was asked to do the impossible. I was asked to sit in his chair and speak in his voice. While I hated every moment of it - never did I want to understand this man - it was a good thing. Not because I gained empathy for the man, but because trying to see things from that side of the situation helped me to understand on some level that no matter what I did or didn't do to or for my abuser, he was never going to be happy. He would never be satisfied. All of this really was his problem, not mine.

Too bad it didn't mean I would or could suddenly forgive and forget. I did gain a measure of peace for a few years. Little did I know what was brewing under the surface, frantically trying to scrape its way out from that locked door. I would get indications of it here and there, like sudden dizzy spells that in the past would mean a panic attack was trying to come on or a sudden vision of his face hovering over mine as he yelled and yelled at me. Like the moment I realized I didn't have to give in to those panic attacks, I would simply deny it all from happening, in essence putting a cork in a volcano.

In a few years time that volcano began showing signs it was ready to erupt.

Two Years and a Lot of Changes

It's been almost two whole years since the beginning of another new journey, one that has taken me down roads I never thought I'd travel. One thing I discovered about getting rid of false ideals that have taken years to pile on, they don't disappear in one go. As I peeled off a few layers of lies, the forgotten truths that first created those lies reared up biting.

WARNING: If any of you find child abuse to be a trigger, please don't keep reading. Please.

It was the same night that I wrote about in my last post. I was still flying high from the peace I felt when I went to bed. I have always been a side or stomach sleeper. Always. Laying on my back, even in the dentist's chair, makes me dizzy and sick to my stomach. That night I happened to think about this silly fact when these words popped into my mind: "Maybe I can't sleep on my back because I couldn't breathe when he would lay on me." Just like that I couldn't breathe. Just like that I was curled up in a ball biting back sobs so I wouldn't wake my husband.

When I gained enough control over myself I crept into the living room to sit on the floor, rock, cry, and pray. I don't know how long I was there. It doesn't really matter. The next day was Sunday. The moment I was able to get a hold of my husband and my bishop at the church building I asked for a blessing. I was numb for a good while.

The next night I sat on our back porch, grateful the kids were gone that evening to various friends' houses. Instead of putting down negative thoughts about myself I began a tirade of angry words at this man (a neighbor). I filled pages and pages until I couldn't write much more. The words most penned - I was just a little girl.

At last I ran out of steam, no more room to be angry...for the moment. It was then more words came to my mind. Be gentle. You have no idea how he was abused as a child. Though I cannot explain it, I knew with absolute certainty that whatever he had done to me and other children in our neighborhood was nothing compared to what his own father had done to him over years and years. This knowledge was placed into my head because in that moment I had a choice. I could either choose to dwell in the misery and anger this new found truth brought, or I could choose to forgive with the understanding that even as it would set me free, one day this man would have a reckoning with his Savior.

Being who I am, I chose forgiveness. What surprised me was the healing it brought when it came to how I thought of myself. I had spent years trying to understand why I always felt like a dirty, sinful creature. I would mentally beat myself up for things I didn't even understand. There was this lie so deeply etched in my child's mind that if something was wrong I couldn't tell anyone. Especially my parents, because my parents would be so mad at me. Looking back on my life, on the things I kept reprimanding myself for, they were due to the false beliefs this man forced on me. I didn't want to live those lies any more.

One day during that week I took some time and attended one of our temples. I prayed. Oh how I prayed. Near the end of my time there an answer came in the form of a scripture:

"That ye might be sanctified from all sin."

To be sanctified means to be cleansed, not only just the body but the spirit as well. If I was to move forward and find happiness and light and become the person my Heavenly Father saw, I needed to be cleansed in both body and spirit. That is what I worked on for a good year.

Memories popped up now and again. Some were horrific, others were fairly benign. Yet they each held the emotions of that little girl as she experienced them. I dealt with panic attacks, yet was blessed that I was still able to work through it all. I received counseling from a man who was definitely guided by the Spirit as to how to help me best.

I have to credit my amazing parents. They had no idea what was going on, but they gave me a home full of love and the gospel of Jesus Christ. I was safe there. I have no doubt that made all the difference.

Since that time other major changes happened, changes that needed me to be much more whole. Our ward (local congregation) and another ward that meets in our same building had both been struggling for years for enough people to fulfill the necessary positions. Church officials on a higher level counseled together and decided to combine our congregations. When our new bishop was called, he asked me to be the Relief Society President - I was now to watch over more than 300 women in our new ward. I have two counselors and a secretary with whom I work.

Yet I still feel as though I'm not enough. I can't seem to get to everybody to talk and chat and visit with. In the almost one year we've been together my presidency and others have overseen more than 14 funeral luncheons. Being a part-time worker and a full time wife and mom doesn't leave a ton of time to do everything I want to do, and I can feel those ugly lies trying to take hold again.

If I had not been awakened to what happened all those years ago, if I had not let go of all those lies, my ability to function in this position would have had me drowning. Instead I am treading water with a life jacket on. My Savior will not let me drown.

It's been two years since I last wrote, but it's been an amazing two years.

Rediscovering My Voice

Medically there was nothing wrong. My thyroid was normal. There was nothing swollen or out of place. No abnormal growth of cells to explain away the feeling there was something unusual in my neck. Everything was fine. Everything except this uncomfortable feeling that something...something wasn't fine.

I would lay down at night and find it difficult to breathe, as though a ball had been inserted into my neck. I could still breathe, of course, otherwise I wouldn't be writing to you today, but it wasn't with the ease I had previously experienced. I went in for testing. I was now the proud owner of a cpap machine to help me at night. The only problem - I still felt some sort of blockage.

I am a big supporter of what has been termed "Western" and "Holistic" medicine. It's no secret I love to use essential oils, as those are the medicines God originally placed on the earth to help us in the first place. I also believe God has inspired men and women to bring about the extraordinary methods to help treat illnesses in these modern times, and to dismiss them isn't respecting what God has put in place. I believe there is a beautiful middle where both can be used to the sufferer's benefit.

This last year I have been introduced to different types - modalities - of energy healing. I had no idea how many types there were. It came through my parents' introducing me to the "Emotion Code". From there I have attempted some research and even went to a conference about energy healing. In the last few weeks I came to realize the block in my neck is an emotional block. Specifically, the emotion of being silenced.

I don't care for the imagery and feelings that come with the term "chakras" as it's been mystified and corrupted over thousands of years. There is, unfortunately, no other ways to term the energy pathways of the body. It's certainly not a new concept, not for me. I'd dealt with similar things when I did allergy elimination. In different areas of the body there are different energy centers. Because my block appeared in my neck, I knew it was my voice that had been silenced.

I went to see a woman recently who works on chakras, as well as other things. She told me many things, much of which made a whole lot of sense about different things I'd been dealing with as she explained them, including the block in my neck. The biggest way to fix them? Take back my personal power.

Sounds cheesy, doesn't it? I had to take a long, prayerful look at the last few years to see where exactly I had lost my way. With the guidance of Heavenly Father I began to see little choices I had made to let others dictate what was good or bad for me, and about me. This even included the members of my own family, though none of it was intentional. I began to see with spiritual eyes that the person God needed me to become was being lost in what everyone else thought I ought to become. Deep within myself was the unaccountable knowledge that I did not have enough confidence in myself and the inspirations of the Lord in regards to His plans for me to do what I knew to be right. Instead I would cave in to what others felt was more important.

Over the last month I have worked hard to recognize these little choices. I have been asserting my own needs and desires. I have even spoken up instead of backing down when certain people have stated things I knew was not right. One funny thing occurred after my first session - my singing voice started to return. I haven't been able to sing with power in so long I thought my voice damaged. In a way it was.

It's been over a year since I last posted here. It's not for a lack of trying. No matter how much preparation I would do, what time of day I would sit down to write, nothing would come out. Ideas and thoughts would flow through my mind at hurricane speed, demanding an outlet. Not a word could be typed, because my voice was blocked.

This post right here, it's a huge step. My wishes and desires to voice my own opinions and beliefs feel like a reality now, rather than a dream. I am once more making an effort to keep my power where it belongs. With me.

As a Man Thinketh

Last night I posted on Facebook I hoped today would be spiritually filling. Never did I realize that not only would it fill me up, but I would struggle to figure out exactly what to choose for today's post. The children sang so well in Primary - even in the nursery! I found myself able to serve a sweet and overwhelmed sister by simply being a shoulder to cry on. I had a chance to go to choir practice today (something I haven't done in months) where we sung through one of my absolute favorite hymns. But it was the messages shared in our main sacrament meeting today that caught my attention the most.

As a child, a teenager, and young adult I used to love cloudy days. There was something invigorating about taking a walk or swinging at the park or even just sitting on my front porch in windy, storm like weather. I loved to watch the clouds rolling across the sky, see where they would try to touch the ground in a shower of rain, and most of all enjoy watching lightning streak across the sky.

Something happened over the years. Instead of enjoying the weather as I used to I found myself particularly depressed on cloudy days. It got so bad I would suffer the effects of seasonal depression through the winter months. I wondered more than once where my joy of cloudy, rainy days had gone.

The young, single adults in our ward (local congregation) have had a chance this weekend to attend a summit put on by the area leaders of our church. Men and women ages 18-30 were invited to attend a dinner and concert Friday night, a bunch of classes plus a carnival Saturday, and tonight there will be a spiritual speaker to tie everything together. My husband, as the leader of our particular ward, had the chance to attend as well. Today a few of those who went spoke to us in our main meeting.

Though the theme of the summit was "Find Yourself Through Service", most came away having been greatly influenced by one particular speaker (who had also been one of the entertainers at the concert the night before). He spoke about the way people think and how much it influences who they are and the way they present themselves.

The idea is simple enough: if you think negative thoughts you'll be negative. If you think positive thoughts you'll be positive. I believe the problem comes when we don't realize our thoughts are negative.

My therapist and I have discussed it a lot throughout my sessions. He's a big believer in our thoughts contributing greatly to the way we approach life. He told me our thoughts can come through so fast we may not even register what it was that just went through our heads. These thoughts are often formed during our childhood years, though the way the think about things can change (as mine did about cloudy days).

Dr. Jim gave me a copy he'd made of a bumper sticker he once found. It read: Don't Believe Everything You Think. That's right - believe it or not the things we think are not always true. We can even change the negative thoughts that come automatically by recognizing them when they happen. For example, someone makes a mistake. Their automatic thought is, "I'm so stupid. I can't do anything right. Might as well give up." If we see ourselves thinking along these lines it's time to stop, to rewind, and instead say something like, "I made a mistake. That's okay. I'll remember what I did wrong and try again."

Doesn't that sound easy? I think so. Give it a try this week. If you find yourself in a really bad mood and you don't understand why, do a little backtracking to figure out where the negative thought hit, then change the way you think. When you go to bed at night, review your day, let the bad thoughts go, and just remember all the good things. When you wake up in the morning, start your day with some positive thoughts. See if you find a difference in the way you approach your day, in the way you are able to handle your problems, and even the way you look at yourself.

This last week we've had some rainy weather. I could actually sense the dark feelings approaching. Instead of embracing those, I went outside and just stood in the wind, feeling it rush over me, and for the first time in many years I felt invigorated again. It was beautiful.

Laurie's First Counseling Appointment

I was nervous. Really nervous. Like giant bats in the tummy sort of nervous. For me it had little to do with saying or doing something wrong. Rather I was fully prepared for whoever it was to say, "You're fine. Why are you here?"

I was first asked to fill out some papers - I know, it's quite a shocker. Who would have thought a therapist might need to assess his patient? It was interesting, though, to sit down and take a good look at myself: how I handle things, my thoughts regarding myself, my relationships with family and friends.

In just a few statements, wherein I was asked to rate the accuracy or inaccuracy of each one as it applied to me, I began to see a pattern emerging. When it came to any statement involving perceptions of myself, I automatically marked down the worst number it gave me. I thought about that during the few minutes I had to myself before Dr. J came to get me. One thought in particular kept coming to the forefront of my mind: no matter how often those around me tell me how great or sweet or loving I am, I cannot see myself as being worthy of the compliment. There's always this niggling voice in the very back, darkened corner of my mind that asks, "Are you really all that great? Or are they just saying it to be nice?"

As Dr. J and I sat and talked, he began going over some basic questions to see where I stood in my life. After just a few minutes he sat back and said, "Well, Laurie, I'm not quite sure why we're here talking today." Oh no! This really WAS a waste of his time! Luckily he didn't stop there :) He asked what ultimately brought me in and I began to describe to him all that had been happening lately with my depression, my struggles at not being able to fix things for everyone, and how much I wasn't able to handle stress in my life. Then I told him what I hoped to get out of our sessions: when the depression triggers would start and I could tell things might go downhill quickly, I wanted to know the tools to help myself before the depression took over.

After quite a bit of talking he began to tell me about Cogninive Therapy, something he wanted to try with me. He said there were three different areas involved in treating depression. I've already tended to one with medication. The other two involve environment and attitude. All three sections affect each other. They interlock. If one begins to falter, the other two will soon follow. Conversely, if one is in the depths of depression and begins working on just one area, the other two will begin to get better.

I could see some truth in that. I've been on medication for about a year, and while most of the time I'm doing really well, I still struggle. As I listened to Dr. J I realized it's because I've only changed one area without focusing on the other two.

He recommended a book, "Mind Over Mood," by Dennis Greenberger and Christine A. Padesky. It's a workbook he said had helped so many of his patients, and he felt as though it could help me as well. He gave me an example of how our initial thoughts in any situation can influence our mood.

Think of a man who hears a crash in the middle of the night. If his first thought is, "Someone's breaking into the house!" how is he going to feel? Frightened, anxious, etc. His body will react to these initial thoughts. Now what if this same man hears a crash in the middle of the night and his first thought is, "Darn cat!" what might he feel? Annoyance, irritation, etc. Two very different thoughts creating very different reactions.

Cognitive Therapy is supposed to help me recognize the trouble thoughts and replace them with others that will have a healthier impact on my body and mood.

I just picked the book up today. It cost a bit of money, about $25, but what I really like is all the worksheets they want you to do are recopied into the back of the book in case you need to make copies.

I go in for my next appointment next week. I'm hoping to have gone through the first chapter by then, but I don't want to rush through the book. I want to take this slow enough to really understand what I need to fix so I can be a much happier, healthier wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend.