Victim or Advocate

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.