photo © 2008 Sarah Le Clerc | more info (via: Wylio) When I was a kid, between the ages of 7 and 10, I lived at 6642 Kirkley Ave, McLean, Virginia. My road was low lying, running parallel to a creek that ran along the bottom of our yard. The main road also ran parallel to my road and it was elevated compared to us. Three roads ran perpendicular to my road joining us to the main road and I cycled down them, scaring myself. They were breathtakingly steep, perhaps 1 in 5, it was exhilarating.
This is my memory of my house. Is it true? Absolutely, I would think. I would swear to it and get very indignant if anyone contradicted me. But then I went to visit the house when I was older, and I was shocked to find that the slopes that I so bravely cycled down were pathetically tame.
I guess we all have this experience. The things we remember as children turn out to be smaller, milder, tamer when we see them through the eyes of an adult. We come to doubt our childhood memories.
So what do we do with half remembered fragments of ‘something’ that points towards abuse? Well we doubt them. But they call to us – nag us...
I was asked how to recover memories of abuse in the comments of a post entitled ‘Recovering from Abuse – Remembering’, the commenter says:
Years ago I had a couple of panic reactions to situations which caused me to suspect that I had been abused. Since then some bits of memories have come back to me that would back that up and something else said by a family member also points to that conclusion. I just feel it's all so vague and sometimes I feel inconclusive. I know I'll probably never remember every detail and that probably wouldn't be helpful anyway but I feel like as you say it's a jigsaw with missing pieces. I just wish I could find enough pieces to give me an idea of the overall picture so that I could deal with it.I remember this very well. For me it was agonising – having tiny shards of memory – like, for instance - a hand over my mouth that also blocked my nostrils so I was wildly trying to breathe, my heels pedalling wildly, digging into my mattress to get some purchase so I might get away. With the shard of memory was the emotion associated with it – sheer terror.
If remembering is the first step towards healing how can I make that step? Just now I swing between trusting that God will reveal things to me when the time is right and feeling like I have to know now in order to move on.
What do you do with that? For me, I had to know. I am lucky enough to have had two Spiritual Directors who have helped me, one after the other – they took pity on me in my agony and sacrificially decided to accompany me in the pursuit of finding out the truth.
They were both very aware of the accusations of False Memory Syndrome that had been a feature of child abuse cases in the States in the 1990s. So they were cautious, but still wanted to help me.
The first helped me using prayer. We would settle into a very deep silent prayerful state and then she would ask me if Jesus was there. It was a sort-of Ignatian prayer, which is the type of prayer I do at the end of the day – walking alongside Jesus through the memories of my day – through the highs and lows, coming to peace with it all.
So I had many sessions when we prayed and I walked alongside Jesus through the memories. I could remember more than I thought – I believe the memories were blocked by stress and tension – and as I was with someone I trusted, in a relaxed state of prayer, hanging out with Jesus, it was easier to remember. In particular, it helped me remember the splitting, the way I willed myself to be outside the room, and I actually achieved it psychologically – I was free, the other side of the window and in the night sky, completely unaware of what was happening in the room.
I thought it was all behind me, and it was for a while, but then another shard or two of terrifying memory appeared that I couldn't make sense of...
So the second Spiritual Director did something similar to the first – she used a technique to help me relax, and then in a relaxed state I could enter through a door, and the door led me into whichever memory I wanted to go to. I probably could have remembered more if I had allowed myself to keep going back, but it was too frightening, and eventually I understood enough to draw a line under it all.
Do I trust the memories? Not every one of them entirely. However, almost everything I have written about my childhood home above did turn out to be accurate. I believe my memories are broadly true because
- there are some vivid bits,
- they completely explain the wacky phobias I have,
- I was a very psychologically poorly child indeed and my symptoms are in line with what happens to children who suffer sexual abuse,
- I can remember the re-abuse, and I was very knowing indeed, I had clearly done it before,
- the behaviour of my abuser towards me as a child and as an adult is in line with him having abused me.
It wouldn’t stand up in a court of law, it doesn’t have to – but the recovery of enough shards of memory was a way of me getting the healing I needed.
I think I am lucky in many ways - lucky that some of the shards of memory returned, lucky that I had the opportunity to take the recovery in two bites - first the re-abuse and then the first abuse, lucky that I had such wonderful spiritual directors, lucky that I am a Christian and have had a sense of God's love and sense of being held.
Not everyone gets the help that I have been given. I wish they did.
4 comments:
I remember a good deal about the repeated abuse I suffered, but I am so scared of the recollection that I strenously avoid the subject in my head. It has utterly destroyed so much of my life, but not every part. Whilst I used to try to recall it in therapy (which was largely attrocious) I discoverd that, for me it was a reliving of the moment, and that was not good!
On this one, I don't have splintered memories. I can remember vividly the times of physical abuse. The pain, the fear, the humiliation and the sheer frustration that I had no power to resist it.
I buried these memories in the depths of my consciousness, but it was always there, nagging away. I'm sure that it affected my whole life.
The abuser, my father, was no respecter of persons. Beside abusing I an my sister, he had a girlfriend, who lived with us from time to time, but they had arguments and I can vividly recall him striking her in front of us. She left him time and time again, but always came back. This was domestic violence, she was the victim and to the end of his life, she still loved him, despite his treatment of her.
The outcome of witnessing this violence, affected me deeply, I could never abide someone mistreating someone, weaker or more vulnerable them themselves. It caused me to get into fights at school if I saw someone being bullied, and, when in my first marriage, my spouse offered me violence, I was totally unable to retaliate, so ended up suffering from domestic violence myself. The cycle of abuse in someways perpetuating itself.
I subsequently did some training in recognizing and dealing with cases of domestic violence as part of my role as a Welfare Officer in the Armed Forces, and was surprised to find that those conducting the training, concentrated on male-female violence and seemed to think that female-male violence was non-existent? This showed me the limited perception of domestic violence in some people and institutions.
When carrying out my role in welfare, I came across cases of domestic violence and abuse and was able to put my personal experiences to one side and deal with it objectively for the sake of those involved. However, I knew my own vulnerability, which could so easily have allowed me to take the side of the abused. This was a strain, and I know that at times I was raging inside when listening to what had been done to someone. When this happened, I had the sense to hand the case on to someone else to deal with as my objectivity was compromised.
Where does this leave me now. I know that it is a life experience that I would have preferred not to have had. But I am reconciled to it. It also seems to me that the insight it gives, is something that you take with you and allows you to be alongside others suffering, but without projecting your own hurt into the situation.
The other thing I realise is that you cannot deal with these things on your own. You need to seek the necessary help and support and to collaborate with it fully if you are to be allowed to recover and to move on. I know that I responded fully when it all came out and everything described here int the past few posts has gone over, examined, the background and causes suggested to help my understanding of the past and to put it into context.
I am at peace with the whole process, and I have great hope that this, as part of my life experience, will be useful in the pastoral care of others when needed.
Hey Lesley, thank you for taking the time to answer my question. I really appreciate it. I've always been a bit wary of trying anything to recover the memories because of the whole false memory thing. It makes me doubt the memories I do have. However I know I never asked for any of this- it all just came to me out of the blue. If I could put these memories and suspicions out of my mind I would. I think the fact that they have persisted for so long means there's something behind it all.
It's helpful to hear about your experiences and I have always felt the only way it could be resolved for me is through prayer.
I too am so grateful that I am a Christian and that God is with me in this. I don't know where I'd be if I couldn't at least have that certainty. While this whole thing has been so difficult I know my faith wouldn't be what it is today if it hadn't been for this experience.
@MrC I hope that you get to a place where you feel a greater level of peace than you do now. I guess my experience was I had to re-live it to get to the other side. But your journey will be different to mine.
@Anon It sounds like you have had some wonderful support, and some lousy lousy experiences!
@Anon You are welcome. I found it the end that the endless self-doubt was futile - it was the information that my subconscious was asking me to deal with.. to some extent the exact details are irrelevant.. it is about trusting yourself and dealing with the pain your subconscious is needing you to address.
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