Blessedly Meek or Miserably Timid?

 During my childhood, I wanted nothing to do with violence. I had zero interest in treating others the way I was being treated.  I wanted a "normal" life in which people were kind to one another and listened to one another.  Unrestrained anger wounded me. I didn't want to be a wounder. I was shy and timid.  Not only wasn't I aggressive, but I was also not assertive. The few times I chanced more assertiveness, I was informed verbally or silently that such behavior would not be tolerated.

Then, at 19, in my sophomore year of college, I married a man that I believed to be different.  Surely, with him, I could build a kinder lifestyle.  Unfortunately, I was wrong.  It wasn't possible to have the home life I envisioned because I had married an abusive psychotic narcissist.  I had tried to marry someone different, but I hadn't done any healing from my childhood traumas, and I didn't recognize the warning flags.  And, of course, he kept as much hidden as he could during our brief dating and engagement period.  In our home life, he was aggressive and manipulative, while I was timid, passive, and shut down in a tenacious state of denial and disassociation.  I was an easily frightened rabbit.

Photo by David Bartus

If I had considered it in those years, I would have assumed I was humble and meek.  I didn't think much of myself at all. I thought I was inadequate and powerless.  Accommodation, withdrawal, and numbing my emotions were my go-to's. I hardly ever tried to exert effort over what I wanted. I was passive. I eventually learned that such passivity doesn't yield good fruit.

When I first saw these things clearly, I judged myself.  But I shouldn't have been so harsh with myself.  I was reacting to my environment.  I was struggling to survive.  Abusive people are good at tearing down the confidence and strength of their victims.  They are experts at reducing even strong people into fear-reactive people.  They want to control you, and that is easiest if they threaten, coerce, and punish you in fear-producing ways.  Even healthy people can be torn down easily by practiced abusers.  The victims who don't respond with timidity and passiveness may themselves turn violent, or may become extremely bitter, or become dependent on substances.  Abuse and its victimization are terribly dehumanizing.  It is only with the help of God and the support of others that we can exit abuse and recover from it. 

As I was recovering from abuse, learning the definition of the pertinent words helped me to decide which traits to hold on to and which traits to let go of with God's help: 

• Being Timid means showing a lack of courage or confidence and being easily frightened.  I was excruciatingly timid in the past, and I still experience timidity creeping back into my attitude at times.  I learned through my Bible that God doesn't encourage timidity.  The timid servant in Jesus' parable, who wouldn't invest his master's money because he was fearful and distrustful of his master, did not please the master (God).  I had to ignore my timidity in order to initiate a restraining order, a separation, and a divorce.  I still felt plenty of fear, but I took courage and did what must be done to ensure the safety of my children (and myself). 
• Being meek means trusting God, being gentle and submissive to God, and having the strength to endure suffering without resentment. I grew more and more meek as I trusted in God, as it was a fruit of faith in Him.  It was a good thing, and it is why I could draw on the courage that comes with trusting God to take action to better my children's lives. 
• Being passive means holding back (all that restraint I used so much in my abusive marriage), yielding to external influences, and tending to choose inaction when action would be the better course.  Sometimes, being passive can be prudent, but a life characterized by passivity is a life without healthy boundaries and conscious, proactive decision-making.  Entrenched passivity got lots of use during abuse but is no longer helpful for how I want to live my life.  The domestic violence center helped me with this trait right away by pointing out that I could make choices for my own life.  I had spent so much time under another's control that I had lost much of my freedom to choose. 
• Being humble means having modesty, acknowledging one's dependence on God, and being willing to put others first with acts of service and goodwill.  Again, the longer I walk with God at the center of my life, the more I see humbleness growing in me.  I thought I depended on God wholly while I lived in abuse, but in truth, my fear of my abusers interfered with my complete dependence on God.  Ever since I left abuse decades ago, my reliance on God has grown and grown.  It's a natural result of studying His Word, praying to God, observing how He acts, and discovering who Our Lord is.  Practicing living God's way and allowing God to be the potter of our clay selves creates humbleness in us.  Being humble isn't believing we are useless and worthy of no love or respect.  It's about believing we are loved by God, valuable servants to God, cherished children of God who can contribute to the world by being ourselves as we cling to God and abide in Him.

"Heavenly Father, please help us to keep releasing timidity and passiveness as we heal from abuse.  Help us have self-compassion as we recognize which coping behaviors we used to survive.  Help us be courageous daughters and sons who keep growing in trust and dependence on you.  Let us evermore become your people who shine with your love and truth.  Amen."

Comments Welcomed

Timidity and passiveness are two of many possible coping traits. Let us shed our shame and talk about this reality with safe people.  Please feel free to comment.

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Walking on Eggshells

Photo by Jill Burrow

Walking on eggshells 

 Do you know how hard it is to avoid stepping on

 glass fragments when they cover the floor

 and hide in every corner? 

 Ever get in trouble for the mundane? 

For putting steak sauce on steak,

For speaking at the table or being too silent?

You never do anything right according to your mate.

Ever find your head spinning? 

Because what you thought you said

Is not what the other says you meant,

Your intentions are continually recast. 

Ever doubt yourself daily?

You really did think you were too cold 

But He says that you're not,

 You're always wrong about what you think and feel 

 Ever feel trapped? 

You can't get away,

There is no safe exit,

 Your freedom is taken away.

 You love this person,

 But you can never please them for long;

 You always mess up without knowing quite how.

 Your love isn't ever enough. 

 You're walking on eggshells,

 Tiny pieces of broken eggshell cling so,

You hoped you could tiptoe through the shells

 Somehow, someway--but you can't!

This poem is about an old feeling that filled my life for years. I am so grateful to have been abuse-free for years now and no longer walking on eggshells!

You don't have to remain stuck if you're trapped in a no-win relationship that harms your safety. Others, including me, have walked away from abuse and created a new, beautiful life. You can get help and escape to a safe environment. The first step is to recognize how you've been living and what it is doing to you and your kids. 

If you, too, have been recovering and healing from abuse, I hope you, too, celebrate being able to walk freely and safely now.

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Why Did God Allow Me to be Abused?

God, where were you
when my innocence was shattered
when my complete trust broke
when my self-doubt began

I know you hate evil.
I know you are powerful;

So why, oh why
Did you not rescue me?

It's a cry all abused victims try to bury or to challenge God with. Why? Why were we on our own while an abuser robbed us of dignity and safety? That "why" rips at the heart and mind. We may feel rage or fear over that question. We may feel quilt that the question even arises. 

God sees us and understands our pain. He cares deeply for us. He cries with us. Just as Jesus cried over Lazurus' death and the pain of his surviving sisters. He did not lash out at the sisters for their feelings of grief or over their awareness that he could have prevented Lazurus' death. They were hurt that he did not come promptly and heal their brother. He even could have raised his friend's body from the dead if he had come more quickly. He had done it before. He had raised the Centurion's daughter from the dead on the day she died. Why hadn't Jesus altered the circumstances to deliver his faithful follower and personal friend from the grip of illness? The sisters wondered about these things. They knew what God was capable of. Jesus cried with them but didn't answer the why question. But he did heal his friend, raising him from the dead. 

It can feel like we're all alone, damaged, and barely hanging in there.

Photo by Vlad Chețan: https://www.pexels.com

God gave humans free will. Free will means that the abuser has the freedom to choose to abuse others. It is a very wrong, sinful choice, and there will be consequences for the abuser. God's justice is fierce for the unrepentant sinners of violence. We may not see the punishment of the abuser in our lifetime, but God will not forget, and his righteous judgment will prevail.

But why doesn't God rescue all abuse victims out of the control of abusers? He could. But he doesn't. When my wounded heart cries out with, "Why?" I feel God's comforting presence, not His condemnation. 

To ride out the storm of feeling hurt and betrayed, I have found it helpful to review what I do know:

1. God loves us.
2. God is not surprised by what happens in my life. He sees and understands my pain.
3. God knows that he can work ALL things for good in the life of one of His followers.
4. God can heal the deepest emotional wounds.
5. God hates sin and what pain it can cause others.
6. God is tender with the wounded and oppressed.

God's mission isn't to spare humans from pain. God's purpose isn't to deliver or rescue us from every

sinful deed enacted against us. God is focused on giving all non-believers the opportunity to receive His grace, forgiveness, and love. God is focused on building personal relationships with each Believer, growing deep faith and trust in the Believer's heart. The relationship is an eternal one in which

He is ever faithful.  And I have discovered over the years that what God does is more than enough. His love is more important than the painful experiences I have lived through. His presence in my life has become my greatest treasure.

Heavenly Father, please help us to give all of our wounds to you for your tender care. What we've experienced is so disturbing and painful that it can obscure our view of your loving availability. Please give us the strength to walk courageously through our healing process. Please comfort us when the pain of past abuse seems unbearable. Help us to trust you to help us. Amen.

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Helping Abused Kids Heal

Finding out that our child has been abused changes our life. It is a very emotional and bumpy road. No parent wants to see their children harmed. The pain of it is immense. There is no way to know how deep the pain is until you have to walk it.

I know that pain intimately. All my children had experiences with abusers. When two of the children courageously spoke up about their abuse, the others were empowered to share their stories, too. As a former abuse victim, this was my worst nightmare. We called the police to report the crimes and found counselors who were experienced in this type of trauma. Over 20 years ago, I spent over three years driving six children to counseling over 40 hours a week.  It was exhausting. It was a rollercoaster of hope, despair, and then more hope. Sometimes, I wondered if it was worth it and felt guilty for thinking such a thing.  The mental health and recovery of my children were my most important goals --but at times, I felt like I lived in a mental ward. After all, none of my children threatened suicide, cut themselves, or skipped school before I sought trauma counseling for them. I wondered if the hours in counselors' offices were helping the children to heal or whether it was making them worse. However, the psychologists reassured me that what we were experiencing was typical for the type of trauma that had been sustained; it was part of the process of no longer denying the pain. And so I trudged on and prayed that my children would find peace again. I prayed that God would work even through these horrible experiences for the well-being of my family.

Now, I can see that this counseling investment in the children's futures paid off abundantly.  My kids remembered what happened, and they always would, but much of the pain was released, and the internal wounds became more bearable. My kids have struggled with acting out at different times. Their self-esteem and trust-ability took big hits from the abuse. But with the counseling, my husband and I were educated on what to expect and were, therefore, more able to be there for our hurting kids. After they had processed their trauma with the help of a professional counselor in play therapy,  they began to feel much better. They started moving into the future again with new skills intact.

Meanwhile, as parents, we offered lots of support, including hugs, stable everyday routines, sitting with them, playing with them, running with them, or shooting basketballs when the stress was too high. We prayed for healing, and our family received healing.

Our children learned new coping skills from counselors that they carried into adulthood. My kids overcame a significant amount of shame and regained the ability to trust themselves and others. And I watched wounded children turn into compassionate children and later into kind, empathetic adults. I watched the whole family grow in understanding healthy boundaries. 

Photo by Pixabay

Counseling with psychologists who were trained to work with trauma patients helped my children to accept what had happened and grow from it. Niaveness was gone. Innocence was lost. However, positive self-care grew, compassion for hurting people deepened, and family bonds were strengthened. My kids became convinced of the truth--that abuse is caused solely by the abuser. The child who was afraid of his bed at night re-learned how to sleep in bed. The child who skipped school learned that his parents,  school administrators, and teachers cared for his well-being. The child who retreated into silence rediscovered her voice. The child who felt lots of fear found comfort with the support of siblings. The child who raged learned to take personal responsibility for his feelings and found new ways to release his normal feelings. The teen who felt like her world was shattered discovered that she was stronger than she thought. 

Photo by Suleman Mukhtar

As a family, we dealt with the abuse. Healing came. Our children are too precious to sweep things under the rug; we can use our courage to support them in their recovery process. When we do this, our children have a much greater chance of a rewarding adult life that is free of abuse. Children who receive no support may seem to "get over it," but really, they merely survive and carry the pain and dysfunction of unresolved childhood trauma into adulthood. That's not what any of us want for our children. So bravely confront what you never wanted to see happen to your child/children. It is worth every heartache, every penny, and every ounce of energy to ensure that trauma recovery takes place for your special little ones.

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