To be a victim or an advocate, the accuser or the
defender: that is my conflict. Emotions are roiling around in my gut till I
don’t know which end is up. I think I
think too much. I think that is why I
keep my mind constantly busy planning my next project or the next meal I will
prepare or the next party I will throw.
If my mind is busy thinking of what ingredients I need to gather and
purchase, how many stores I need to visit to do so, and of all the steps it will
take to create the most complicated dish I can think up, then my mind is not
free to wander. It’s not free to ask
questions. Am I a victim or an
advocate? Is my job to be the accuser or
the defender? I keep my mind busy with
the details of our next meal in part to keep myself from pondering these
questions.
What if I went to the Asian Market, one store, then purchased
a salmon fillet, a head of cauliflower and some brown rice. Then what if I came home and prepared these
three ingredients simply. First, I add 1
cup of brown rice and 2 cups of water in a pot, bring to a boil, cover and
simmer for half an hour or so until the liquid is absorbed. In the meantime I cut the head of cauliflower
into ½ inch slabs, drizzle the slabs with olive oil, salt and pepper and roast
them in a 450 degree oven for 20 minutes, turning after ten minutes. Then I sear the salmon in a screaming hot
cast iron skillet for 3 or 4 minutes each side, no oil, no seasoning, simply
salmon. This meal is extremely simple. It
is also beautiful, satisfying and healthy.
Why complicate things by adding steps and techniques and seasonings?
As a child, I was incested by two men in my family. Two men that should have protected me took
advantage of my innocence. No, not
together. They didn't know about each
other. Though the time span of the abuse
overlapped a bit, it happened at different times. I have been in years of therapy dealing with
this issue. It has colored and shaped my
life in more ways than I can imagine.
Not all bad. I am more
compassionate for my experience. I have
delved into my very soul with introspection.
I have learned not to judge other people because I don’t know their past
experiences or current motivations.
Recently, I have been following an issue with a local church
that I sometimes attend. There is word
of a registered sex offender who wants to be a part of the fellowship of this
church. There are numerous folks, members of this congregation, who have
suffered at the hands of sexual predators in one way or another. As a fellow survivor, I know the pain these
individuals’ experience. I know the
anxiety, the anger, the fear and the hurt.
I know the cold sweats, rapid heart beating, sleepless nights. I understand the distrust of anyone who in
any way reminds you of your perpetrator.
I get this, I really do.
I also know that none of us is perfect. Think of the very worst thing you have done
in your entire life. Imagine being
judged by that one act for the rest of your life. All anyone will ever know about you is that
one slice of yourself. I think that
would be a horrible fate. No chance for
repentance, no opportunity to redefine yourself.
The ambivalence I feel about the circumstances surrounding
this church right now brings back the ambivalence I feel about my two
perpetrators. In my early 30’s, I was
able to confront both men, bringing light to the darkness of their deeds. The first man wept. He took full responsibility for his
actions. I felt his pain as he
apologized. He owned what he had done so
many years ago, no excuses, just sorrow.
In the short time before his death a few years later, he and I were able
to develop the beginnings of a healthy relationship.
The second man’s reaction was so different. He did not accept that his actions were
bad. He said that all he did, he did out
of love. He blamed Oprah for everyone
getting so upset about things now. He
took no responsibility for his actions.
He in no way owned the effect that he had on my life. His biggest concern was who I might have told
about “us”. Today, I have nothing to do
with this man, it is not safe. Not that
he could physically do anything to me now, I would not allow it. It is not
emotionally safe for me to associate with this man.
I am left with ambivalence that feels like the conflict of
two red hot boulders churning over again and again in my chest. To think on it creates a cyclic avalanche of
emotion. So my mind tries to go to
something else, something safe. Like
household chores, or shopping, or what’s for dinner?
Recovery is like peeling layers off an onion. After every layer, it feels like you have
made it, the great epiphany. Then as
time wears on, you realize there is more work to me done. That is where I am today. Uncovering this great conflict inside me of empathy
for my fellow survivors and sympathy for the perpetrator feels like the final
layer of recovery. Realizing the
busyness of my brain feels like a final mountain to scale to finally achieve
complete happiness.
