Overcoming Sexual Abuse » manipulation

The Wolf in Shepherd’s Clothing: The “Benevolent” Abuser

Christina Enevoldsen — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 22:03:35 +0000

Christina Enevoldsen

by Christina Enevoldsen

In the dark children’s tale “Hansel and Gretal”, a young brother and sister are abandoned in the woods by their father at the insistence of their step-mother. She convinces her husband that the whole family will perish unless they reduce the number of bellies to feed. Lost and starving, the children find their way through the forest to an isolated cottage made of candy and gingerbread. While the pair greedily feast on the house, an old woman opens the door and promises them warm meals and soft beds if they’ll come inside.

The children are happy to be welcomed, but are unaware that the old woman is really a witch who lures children inside to eat them. Hansel is locked in a cage, while Gretal is made a slave. In the end, the children become aware of the hag’s scheme and push her in the flaming oven intended for them.

Many survivors of neglect and abuse live a version of this story. We’re starving for love, acceptance, a sense of belonging, and relief from our pain. We encounter a seemingly kind-hearted soul who claims to want to help and support us. Desperate to lean on and trust someone, yet without the discernment to see the truth, we often end up in another dangerous situation. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Or oven.

My version of this started in church. As a victim of childhood sexual abuse by my father and neglect by my mother, I never felt like a part of my family of origin. I escaped my parents by jumping into marriage when I was seventeen. My husband was an abuser, too. Going to church was a way for me to fit in somewhere. I landed in the large women’s ministry and started volunteering right away. Almost immediately, an older woman, the group’s leader, took me under her wing to mentor me. I was flattered by her attention and belief in my potential. I loved to spend time with her, soaking up everything she taught me. It wasn’t long before she made me her assistant and brought me into her ‘inner circle’. It was a privilege that I was ecstatic about. I thought, “Finally, I’m worthy of love.”

The position required long hours and I spent more and more time away from my young children. This woman monitored my personal life. She had a subtle but unmistakable way of telling me when she didn’t approve. She pointed out other people’s flaws as a way to ‘teach’ me what to avoid. I knew from the way she spoke of them that I did not want to earn her disapproval. She called those people, “wolves” or “not faith”. If ever I raised an objection, she had a simple way to rebuff me. She’d “pray about it” and return with God’s approval on her own plan. That left me feeling unheard, but I couldn’t argue with what God supposedly said.

I never saw how much of myself I gave away and how much that woman used me to make herself look good. She manipulated me to get what she wanted and justified whatever she did by citing ‘the greater good’.

She exploited my hunger for a mother’s love and dangled her approval like a carrot. I gave up so much for nothing. In the end, when she didn’t need me anymore and I stood up for what I believed in instead of parroting her beliefs, she dropped me like a hot potato. That woman was my mother.

Abusers like that seem to be on the prowl for lost survivors. They come in various forms such as parents, therapists, support group leaders, teachers, mentors, or pastors. The seemingly benevolent helper plays on our insecurities and fears and enslaves us to the very thing we are struggling to be free of. “Benevolent” abusers have common methods for gaining power over vulnerable survivors:

Eat my Gingerbread House

Showers victims with attention, validation, affection, and acceptance
Is charming and overly sweet
Pretends to be all-giving and self sacrificial

Come into my Cottage

Offers protection from real or perceived danger ‘out there.’
Has an “Us vs. Them” mentality; ‘We’ are good and ‘They’ are bad
Loves to create a crisis to be able to come in as the savoir or authority.
Has an “I know what’s best for you” attitude, “I’m the expert”
Undermines the victim’s confidence and ability to protect or care for themselves
Creates an atmosphere of status–to belong is to be part of the elite
Nurtures dependence by finding fault with anyone who would raise questions

Locked into my Cage

Knows what’s best and because he/she cares, victims are obligated to listen
Coaxes victims into relinquishing their power for the “greater good”
Is all-consuming and victims lose their individuality
Expects excessive service to keep victims too busy, exhausted and invested to question anything
Discounts the victim’s needs and desires; it’s no longer what the abuser can do for you, it’s what you can do for your abuser
Withholds approval and sets the bar just out of reach
Creates a hierarchy so victims keep working for a higher level
Expects cheerful obedience
Condemns desire for praise, appreciation or reciprocation since “it’s an honor to serve”
Expects blind submission; victims are not permitted to think, feel, or choose for themselves
Increases his/her expectations and constantly changes them to keep the victim off-balance
Doesn’t provide a structure for airing of conflict, disagreement or questioning
Uses top down communication and doesn’t hear the perceptions and needs of others
Focuses on ‘don’ts’
Uses labels to discount anyone who opposes him/her so they are dehumanized and easier to dismiss
Doesn’t permit personal growth; victims must play assigned role

Throw Away the Key

Expects a lifetime commitment and those who leave the control of the abuser are criticized and ostracized

All my life, I jumped from one abusive relationship to the next, each time believing that I’d finally found someone good, someone I could trust. I was running too fast from previous trauma to look carefully where I was leaping. Every abusive situation left me less confident of my own ability to care for myself. My need to take responsibility for my own life increased, but my desire to do so decreased. It seemed easier to turn my life over to an ‘expert’ rather than face almost certain failure by working out my own way.

I never liked the story of Hansel and Gretal, yet its moral has value that I didn’t understand for a long time. When the children realized they couldn’t depend on anyone else, they had to learn to depend on themselves. And they succeeded. They became their own unlikely hero. So have I.

Christina Enevoldsen is cofounder of Overcoming Sexual Abuse, an online resource for male and female abuse survivors looking for practical answers and tools for healing. Christina’s passions are writing and speaking about her own journey of healing from abuse and inspiring people toward wholeness. She and her husband live in Los Angeles and share three children and four grandchildren.

[read Christina's story here]

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Power Play: How To Recognize An Abuser

Christina Enevoldsen — Sun, 25 Jul 2010 22:04:45 +0000

Christina Enevoldsen

by Christina Enevoldsen

It was the first time in weeks since my husband and I had been on a date. Don held my hand and I rested my head on his chest while we waited in line for the planetarium show at Griffith Observatory.

The young couple a few feet in front of us caught my attention. The woman appeared to be about seven months pregnant and was struggling to reach the price sticker that her companion stuck on her upper back. The man with her seemed to delight in placing the sticker just out of her reach. Abuser. I immediately saw the scene play out in my head and cringed. They were both laughing, though she was noticeably frustrated. When the sticker fell off, he flicked her hair. She tried to smooth it out. He poked her in the stomach. She poked him back but he seized her arm and forced her to hit herself. When he let go, she grabbed his arms, but he easily broke free and gripped her wrists tightly enough to leave red marks. She gave up and he won.

It was easy to recognize the true motive behind the seemingly playful exchange. It was the same ‘game’ my ex-husband played. I’ve lived with abusers for most of my life and though I wouldn’t have called them abusers at the time, I’ve come to easily recognize the quest for power in everything they do.

My former spouse placed a high value on good food. Part of his image of a good wife meant being an excellent cook. I’m a good cook, though I didn’t know it when we were married. He convinced me I wasn’t very good. He pressured me into cooking, but he was constantly dissatisfied with what I made or how I made it. Sometimes, instead of eating what I made, he’d make something else. Other times, he’d take over the cooking as a ‘favor’ to me. He won no matter what. If I cooked, I lost because it wasn’t good enough. If he stepped in, I lost because I wasn’t a good wife.

That gave him power. I felt like a bad wife so whatever he did to me, I deserved it. In my eyes, he was tolerant of my inferior quality so I was lucky to have him.

I was terrorized by the way he handled our finances. I craved financial stability, but when I asked about our bills or bank account, he talked in circles. I felt stupid. He made major financial decisions without consulting me, yet dictated how I earned and spent money. When I refused to work for him, he shut down his lucrative business in retaliation. I was defeated and deflated, but blamed myself.

Being in a relationship with an abuser was extremely frustrating. It was like trying to figure out the rules to the game, but the rules kept changing. I knew our marriage had problems, but I thought I was the problem. No matter how hard I tried, it never helped. I always felt like the loser.

In a healthy relationship, there is equality and mutual respect. Both people work for the benefit of each other. There’s a desire for communication, cooperation, participation, understanding, support and validation. When problems arise, they are solved together. Compromises are made. In a healthy relationship, nobody loses because neither party thinks in terms of winning or losing; it’s not a competition.

But you can’t have a healthy relationship with an abuser. Abusers must dominate. Everyone is either a superior or a subordinate; there are no equals. Abusers have no sense of personal power so they gain power by controlling others. Their personal worth is achieved by one-upmanship. If you try to assert your own power with an abuser, he will escalate until he wins.

The game you play with an abuser is really war. He may make light of things, “I was only joking,” or “You’re being too sensitive” but each move you make to explain yourself or question him is seen as an act of hostile aggression. The abuser thinks in terms of defending his territory. Attempts you make to understand the situation is a challenge to his power. He rarely shares his thoughts, feelings or plans and you don’t get the clarification you ask for because in the abuser’s eyes, that would make him vulnerable.

I know this about abusers now. Although my ex-husband was the most damaging abuser in my adulthood, he wasn’t the only one. I’ve had abusive friends, bosses, coworkers, teachers, and pastors. Abusers come in all packages, male and female, large and small. I’ve found them everywhere I go and they all seek power. But they won’t steal mine anymore.

[read Christina's story here]

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My Story by Bethany Ruck

Bethany Ruck — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 18:58:50 +0000

My brother’s first memory was the adventure of crawling underneath the fence in our backyard to play with the neighbor’s dogs. I envy him. My first memory was of getting raped. I remember laying on the kitchen table with my open diaper covered in blood — an image that constantly repeats itself in my head. I was about nine months old at the time and my dad was scurrying around in panic trying to fix what he had done to me. After that horrendous experience my memories completely stopped.

My recollection picked up again at the age of four when I remember my dad pushing his penis against my genitals. He would ask if he could go inside as to imply that I had some sort of choice in the matter. The pain of him entering my vagina was too painful that I would cry until he stopped. This was an almost daily occurrence.

Then, life consisted of ample ‘father-daughter time.’ Whether by taking me to an empty parking lot or the open desert he went to great lengths to ensure no one would find out what he was doing to me. Most nights I would hear the jiggling of the doorknob into my room. Quietly, he made his way around to my bed and uncovered my body as I lay there with my heart nearly beating out of my chest. He took every opportunity he had as a time to indulge in his sick addiction.

Oftentimes, my father would suddenly pack my brother and me in the car and drive us to the nearest park in an effort to get a quick fix. My brother was let out of the car and told to go play while I was forced to straddle daddy’s lap. He constantly neglected my brother to focus inappropriate attention on me. Knowing my mom wasn’t too fond of the great outdoors, my dad planned frequent camping trips for just him and the kids. When my brother went off to play in the woods, I got molested. What seemed like the innocent fun of a camping trip was really just an excuse to get mom out of the picture. These were common occurrences until I was about twelve, when the abuse suddenly stopped.

When I was sixteen he used my parent’s temporary separation as another opportunity to get me alone. We were both sitting on his bed having a conversation about the troubled marriage. That’s when he just went at me, grabbing my breast. I was so shocked it was happening again that I froze up. Meanwhile he began the fondling. While paralyzed with fear he started kissing me. I’ll never forget the way his breath smelt of coffee and rotten teeth. All I could think was, “Make it stop! Make it stop!” But just like in any bad dream my cries for help were never heard.

Telling someone about the abuse was not an option. My life was unstable enough without being the cause of my parents’ divorce. When I was nineteen and my parent finally separated for good I wasn’t afraid to tell my secret anymore. I pulled my mom aside and told her what my dad had done to me all those years. My voice was finally heard. By this time it was too late to change the past, but not too late to change my future. When I decided to report my dad to the authorities I then made my voice known publicly.

A few weeks ago, I met with a friend I’ve had since second grade. After I told her what my dad did to me, she was shocked that she knew me while that was going on and had no idea. When I think about the much better her childhood was, I’m tempted to think it’s not fair. She didn’t have to suffer the way I did then or have to deal with the affects of abuse now. But I don’t have any control over what happened to me in the past. I was my father’s victim for long enough. I’m taking control of my future and I refuse to be defined by the past I did not choose.

I’m choosing a new path and while that path is filled with obstacles and residue, I’m finding that they are no match for the woman I’ve become. The very thing that tried to kill and silence me made me see that I can endure and thrive in spite of them. I’ve survived the worst. The journey has just started, but I’m determined to follow the healing path to the end.

Bethany Ruck is cofounder of Overcoming Sexual Abuse, an online resource for male and female abuse survivors looking for practical answers and tools for healing. Besides helping abuse survivors see the beauty within themselves, she enhances the beauty of others as a professional make-up artist and has worked in television, film and print.

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