Love Shouldn't Hurt

 

WEDNESDAY, MAY 22, 2013

Love Shouldn't Hurt

Some people who have felt the deep scars of inadequacy after being abused may take longer to heal and recover, whether spiritually, physically, verbally, sexually, or mentally. Still, it should never hurt when you love or are loved. This truth took me many years to figure out.

Being abused as a child leaves open wounds that can take years to remove, and in many cases, those open wounds never completely heal. As the years pass and the abuse continues, the victim often molds into the life they've been accustomed to. In other words, it becomes NORMAL the perpetrator is in control, and he/she wins the battle.

Constant hyper-critical words can invalidate or erase the occasional words of affirmation the victim may hear.

EXAMPLE: I was told I was ugly, too skinny, too stupid, and ignored when trying so desperately to be heard and acknowledged as a child/teenager. As a result, I went to school every day believing it was true--So I was not a great student.

I remember a couple of times being validated by teachers I will never forget:
In first grade (yes, I remember this far back), Mrs. Davis told me the winter tree I had drawn was the "Best" she'd ever seen--another example was Mrs. Fish, my 2nd-grade teacher. We were given a project to draw an insect and label the parts and the anatomy. I spent hours on it; Mrs. Fish loved it so much that she asked if she could keep it and use it for future students to see. She wanted to frame it and hang it in her room. I will never forget that moment. Those two compliments got me through elementary school.

One time in middle school, I can remember my mom telling me one day, "Monya, you have the great ability to forgive, forget and move on" I really don't remember why or the context of the entire conversation, all I remember is how it made me feel, she noticed me, something about me she liked.

I remember this so vividly, exactly where I was standing in our living room and even what I was wearing. Those words of affirmation, although brief, validated me. Those words have stayed with me for life. I absolutely do not blame my mother. Now, as an adult, I realize she was doing the best she could do, and who am I to decide what another person's "best" is?

Even though I had never heard "I Love You" until I met Eric's mother. Those three little words are worthless unless you can show them. So, even if I had heard those words as a child, I think it would have messed me up even more. A person who smacks their wife or kids around one day, then the next day says, "I Love You," does not know what LOVE is. This behavior is painful and confusing. 

I can honestly confess that I can't remember loving myself until I started my cancer journey. The chronic betrayal I endured for years forced me to stop loving and trusting myself. Irreversible damage was done---I am a typical "textbook" victim of abuse; it is typical for the victims to feel unnecessarily guilty. My main concern as a child was my mom. If I told her what was happening when she was not home, one of two things could happen:

1. She'd leave him and be forced to suffer through another divorce
or
2. He would kill her, me, or my sisters (the textbook threats of a perpetrator)

Either way, these choices were not an option for me because I would have caused this awful pain my mother would have to endure. I can't believe I thought this, as most abuse victims do.

My biological father, Colby, indulged in drugs and alcohol in the '60s. My mom was so young and "in love" that they were high school sweethearts. His family loved her; he was "in love" with her, and they married very young. One night in a drunken/drugged rage, he hit me upside the head, broke my eardrum, and then passed out on the sofa. When my mother came home from work, she found her three-year-old little blonde girl sobbing, holding my ear, blood running down my arm, and she immediately took me to the ER. From that point on, throughout my childhood years, I endured many, many surgeries trying to repair the damage. To this day, I am deaf in my right ear. My mother divorced Colby. It was devastating to him and his family. They were a large family and loved my mother so much that my aunt told me it was like having a death in the family. Over the years, they tried their hardest to keep a relationship with my sisters and me over the years, but it was difficult. Colby went to prison and remained there until I was at least eighteen. Honestly, I didn't really remember him growing up. I remember when I was fourteen, thinking, "where is he? Why isn't he protecting me?" When I was eighteen, he came back into my life--he scattered those connections with me for years apart.

Finally, one day, when I was visiting my grandmother (his mom) in Eagar, Arizona. I decided to visit him in jail. I drove to see him and told him exactly what I thought of him; it was not a pretty sight; anyone within ears could hear. When I finished, it felt too good--It was like I had finally released every negative thought I ever had of him. Interestingly, the issue of my deafness and my ear problem never came up--I was way past all that, it was part of my life, and I really was so young I didn't know any different. I found out that no matter how much I told him I had forgiven him for that one act of violence, he could never forgive himself for what he had done. He was a sensitive man when it came to "his girls." He tried so hard to stay sober. Still, when he did, he would call me, and the wounds would open again for him. The drinking would start all over again--sometimes forgiving ourselves is the hardest part of the Atonement of Christ. It was a complicated process to watch him go through. When he took his last breath, he worried about me and the pain he had caused me. Knowing our Saviors, Atonement tells me he has been forgiven and has now moved on to dwell in a better place than he did on earth.

Do I think he loved me? Yes, I do. His behavior was random and not perpetual. The drug and alcohol abuse was more powerful and controlled him to the point of not being physically able to raise three children and be an effective dad. BIGGEST REGRET OF HIS LIFE.

I know this may sound contradictory to everything I just posted about "love not hurting," but there is a difference. Although Colby could not be an active, responsible father in my life, he recognized his faults and asked for forgiveness, admitted to his wrong behavior, and yes, he loved me.

My bottom line is that families, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and grandparents say things that HURT--I have done it as a mother and wife. Does this mean I don't love my children or husband? Of course not. However, words can leave a scar that will not wound. When this happens, put your arms around that person, tell them you are so sorry, that you love them and would never want to hurt them and move on. This is not chronic abusive behavior. This is family life--and not always at its finest moments--I will never blame my childhood on the mother I am today; I am old enough to know right from wrong and take responsibility for my actions.
I am grateful for those life experiences that brought me to where I am today. Boy, I have so much more to learn. All I can hope is that the next generation will be better than I was.