Several years ago I was reading a book written by a brilliant man by the name of Dan Allendar. The book is The Wounded Heart, and it addresses the healing of the soul for women who have been sexually abused. A friend of mine was dealing with this issue and I was reading it in support. I was struck by a passage that I cannot quote here as I do not know what has happened to my book, but the basic idea was this: When you live from a place of Truth and present it to others, you will either be an aroma of life or an aroma of death to others.
First of all, that is quite the place to live in! Second of all, what a raw moment in time!
I cannot claim to completely live my life from a position of truth, but it is my goal and my hope to live there as often as I can. But let me tell you, in the work I have now embarked on, that intense wrestling of the soul to choose life or to remain in a dark place is sometimes painfully visible.
It is the same basic story, though unique to each individual; some dark evil has been committed against them. Very frequently it is the crime of adults against children, hugely inappropriately carrying out sexual desires that ravage the souls of their victims. The little boy or girl will never be the same. Each will have to make large decisions as they mature that will determine just how damaging the abuse will be to their lives.
Shonda (name changed to protect identity) sat in the office, asking for help with her anger. She said she is tired of being so angry, that it is preventing her from achieving her goal of moving up from medium custody and into the general population. I asked her what she was so mad about. She told me that when she was 5 years of age, her 11 year old sister brought home her 14 year old gang member boyfriend. She doesn't know why she was left alone with him, but he got to her and molested her. She did not tell her mother, but she did tell her sister. Though her sister stopped seeing the boy, she did not offer compassion and sympathy to her sister. At this point Shonda chose to protect herself with hate and with aggression. By the time she was in middle school she was fighting. By the time she was supposed to be in highschool she was in and out of juvenile detention centers. And now here she sat in prison at the age of 21, serving an aggravated sentence and not being able to stay out of trouble while incarcerated. Her soul was tired. Fighting was no longer working for her. She wanted peace but didn't know how to attain it.
As we talked, she was able to express her sorrow with the loss of relationship with her sister. She was ready to forgive, to move forward, but had no idea how to begin. She did not know where her sister was, nor did she know how to reach her. Sadness and regret filled her eyes.
I broached the idea of forgiving her abuser. Her eyes hardened immediately. She stated "I cannot forgive him". I attempted to empathize with her about what happened to her. It's hard sometimes when you haven't experienced it yourself, and forgiveness has it's time and place. However, I encouraged her to consider forgiveness. I scheduled her for a follow up appointment.
The next time we met she was forthright. She stated "I tried, Miss, and I can't forgive him". I again explained to her how unforgiveness keeps the abuse tied to us, that it keeps the offense tied to our souls and therefore angry and bitter. I gave examples, I explained as simply as I could what it would be like for her to let this go and find peace. I saw her eyes begin to lighten ever so slightly. I had hope that she would understand, that she would choose to forgive. I explained that forgiveness is a choice rather than a feeling, and sometimes we have to work really hard at this choice, but forgive we must. Her eyes brightened a bit more. Then I sat quietly. She lowered her eyes for a few moments, then raised them again. The hardness had returned, resolved to hold her abuser accountable. "Miss, I can forgive my sister, but I can never forgive him! Never!". My heart went out to her. What a brutal thing to have happened to a 5 year old. There but for the grace of God go I! I did not judge her. But I sorrowed for her. I again encouraged her to keep trying to forgive. She left irritated, undoubtedly feeling like I was asking too much of her. And perhaps I was at this time and place. I hope that some day she will be able to forgive and move on in her life! The story isn't over.
It is so humbling to work with these women. I sit in my chair and I counsel. I tell them things that I'm not so sure I am willing to do myself. I hear myself encouraging them to forgive. Have I forgiven all the offenses in my life? I can think of a few incidents that still bring up anger, irritation, frustration. Will I choose to forgive? Will I this day choose life? Or will I continue to let my pride dictate my choices?
My hope and prayer is to be an aroma of life. Forgiveness must prevail! I've got some work to do.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Making a difference
My job with the 'juvies' was nearing an end. The company had committed to the facility being a place for doctorate students completing their internships, so myself and the other master's level employee were informed the job would end in August. I feel confident that the Lord orchestrated the new job with the prison, but of course I was anxious and nervous to get the job.
My future boss called to offer me the job, but he made a comment first. He stated "you seem to me to be the type that needs to make a difference", the inference being that this population is difficult and I may not see much change. I told him that it is true that I need to know I am making a difference, and I would like to take the job and see what happens.
It's been 16 months. It is true that a majority of these women are not interested in change. They are interested in power, in control, in manipulation. They have bought in to returning evil for evil, to 'make you hurt like I hurt'. But that doesn't represent all the women incarcerated.
I have had quite few women come into the office truly seeking help, wanting to change and no longer be held captive by their broken souls. One woman comes to mind, and I would like to share it with you.
To protect her identity I will call her Shirley. The first several months she would sit in my office, withdrawn into herself, shaking, rocking, crying frequently, and fearful that she had 'gone crazy'. After a few sessions she began to talk more freely and started to share her story. She only shared bits and pieces. She said that her father always called her 'that crazy girl', and she looked at me with eyes that were pleading for an answer. Three separate times after intense sessions she would communicate with my boss and say that I'm not helping her and asked to change therapists. She was having difficulty with the depth of the sessions. The third time this happened I felt our therapeutic rlationship could handle a confrontation on her ambivalence, and after that confrontation she began to really dig in.
Over time she described a childhood of violence. While it also affected her sisters negatively, Shirley chose a dangerous response. One day when she was 12 years old, her mom, herself and her sisters went to a party. The parents were not together at this time,but had not ended the relationship. Her father was at the party and became enraged about something that happened at the party and followed them home. He started beating on the mother in a violent rage. Shirley's sisters ran to the bedroom to hide, while she did just the opposite. She went to the kitchen and got a frying pan, came back into the room and hit her father on the head, then ran for safety, locking herself in the bathroom. Her father came after her, demanding she open the door. She made a vow in her heart that very day and said it strongly to her father. "You lay a hand on me I'll kill you!"
And that set her up for her own life of violence. Here she sat in prison with a long sentence, having fulfilled her vow on a boyfriend. She has children of her own, and they are without their mother. She won't be there for graduations, for marriages, for the birth of grandchildren. Two of her children are doing well. One is struggling and on his own road to trouble. The cycle continues.
It's been over a year that she has been coming for counseling. As she tells her story, as she understands why she has felt so 'crazy' all these years, as she owns responsibility for her choices and makes new ones, change has come. With the help of medication she is much less anxious. She still cries frequently, but it's not the desperate tears of half a year ago.
She recently had a setback, getting mixed up in a relationship that became 'messy'. She reported that in the past she would have been feeling suicidal. Today she testifies that, though this has upset her, she has hope in her future, something to live for, and the years ahead seem bearable. She has much work to do, but states she now knows she's not crazy, just wounded, and has made changes to her life.
I fully believe that hope is a choice. Some will find a silver lining in every garbage heap they encounter. Others will find a garbage heap in every silver lining. Anyone wanting to choose hope can change, and change significantly, even while, literally or figuratively, sitting in a prison.
My future boss called to offer me the job, but he made a comment first. He stated "you seem to me to be the type that needs to make a difference", the inference being that this population is difficult and I may not see much change. I told him that it is true that I need to know I am making a difference, and I would like to take the job and see what happens.
It's been 16 months. It is true that a majority of these women are not interested in change. They are interested in power, in control, in manipulation. They have bought in to returning evil for evil, to 'make you hurt like I hurt'. But that doesn't represent all the women incarcerated.
I have had quite few women come into the office truly seeking help, wanting to change and no longer be held captive by their broken souls. One woman comes to mind, and I would like to share it with you.
To protect her identity I will call her Shirley. The first several months she would sit in my office, withdrawn into herself, shaking, rocking, crying frequently, and fearful that she had 'gone crazy'. After a few sessions she began to talk more freely and started to share her story. She only shared bits and pieces. She said that her father always called her 'that crazy girl', and she looked at me with eyes that were pleading for an answer. Three separate times after intense sessions she would communicate with my boss and say that I'm not helping her and asked to change therapists. She was having difficulty with the depth of the sessions. The third time this happened I felt our therapeutic rlationship could handle a confrontation on her ambivalence, and after that confrontation she began to really dig in.
Over time she described a childhood of violence. While it also affected her sisters negatively, Shirley chose a dangerous response. One day when she was 12 years old, her mom, herself and her sisters went to a party. The parents were not together at this time,but had not ended the relationship. Her father was at the party and became enraged about something that happened at the party and followed them home. He started beating on the mother in a violent rage. Shirley's sisters ran to the bedroom to hide, while she did just the opposite. She went to the kitchen and got a frying pan, came back into the room and hit her father on the head, then ran for safety, locking herself in the bathroom. Her father came after her, demanding she open the door. She made a vow in her heart that very day and said it strongly to her father. "You lay a hand on me I'll kill you!"
And that set her up for her own life of violence. Here she sat in prison with a long sentence, having fulfilled her vow on a boyfriend. She has children of her own, and they are without their mother. She won't be there for graduations, for marriages, for the birth of grandchildren. Two of her children are doing well. One is struggling and on his own road to trouble. The cycle continues.
It's been over a year that she has been coming for counseling. As she tells her story, as she understands why she has felt so 'crazy' all these years, as she owns responsibility for her choices and makes new ones, change has come. With the help of medication she is much less anxious. She still cries frequently, but it's not the desperate tears of half a year ago.
She recently had a setback, getting mixed up in a relationship that became 'messy'. She reported that in the past she would have been feeling suicidal. Today she testifies that, though this has upset her, she has hope in her future, something to live for, and the years ahead seem bearable. She has much work to do, but states she now knows she's not crazy, just wounded, and has made changes to her life.
I fully believe that hope is a choice. Some will find a silver lining in every garbage heap they encounter. Others will find a garbage heap in every silver lining. Anyone wanting to choose hope can change, and change significantly, even while, literally or figuratively, sitting in a prison.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
