Overcoming Sexual Abuse » verbal abuse

Standing Up For Myself: Reclaiming My Self-Worth

Guest Contributions — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 15:48:51 +0000

by Penny Smith

Sometimes in the healing process it feels like I’m not making much progress. Then something will happen that helps me see just how far I’ve come. That was the case recently during a run-in with some abusive people.

They tried to dump a lot on me—criticisms and false accusations. In the past, I would’ve taken it, absorbed it, begged for forgiveness and ended up feeling even more worthless.

They echoed the voices from my childhood: “You’re no good and never will be. No one truly loves you. No one would believe you if you told. You are just bad.”

Those are just some of the things my abuser told me over and over again when I was a child. Those lies and many others were reinforced by other abusers. They were designed to make me powerless, to keep me under their control, and that’s exactly what they did.

Even after I became an adult, I remained powerless. Those lies were so ingrained in me that I was constantly trying to be “good enough”—trying to prove myself worthy of love, which made me an easy target for more abuse. It didn’t matter what was asked of me, I would do it whether I wanted to or not. I thought if I said “no” I wouldn’t be loved. I was desperate to try to keep people happy so they wouldn’t leave me. I was willing to be the scapegoat and to accept whatever abuse was hurled at me. I had been taught that this was what I deserved and I believed it.

The power that each of us is born with, the power that inherently belongs to every human being, the power to stand up for myself, to say “no”, to believe that I had worth just because I was me, had been robbed from me.

When I finally faced up to my past and began the healing process, I know I didn’t have a very good opinion of myself. Actually, that’s putting it mildly–I hated myself. I still viewed myself through the eyes of my abusers and I desperately wanted to know who I really was.

Through each step of my journey, each little victory, I’ve reclaimed myself little by little. The lies that made me feel worthless and powerless were exposed. As I realized more and more that what I’d been taught by my abusers wasn’t true, I also began to see that I have worth—not because I’ve earned it but simply because I’m me.

The first time I told someone “no”, I was terrified. I felt like I was breaking some kind of law and I kept waiting for the repercussions to come crashing down on me. When nothing happened (other than losing a “friend” who wasn’t truly a friend) I was elated. For the first time in my adult life, I realized that I was allowed to say, “no.” The more I continue to heal, the healthier my view of myself becomes.

With this recent attack, I took back more of my power. They tried to attack my hard-won sense of worth, name called, questioned my parenting skills, berated me as looking for pity because I’m facing my abuse and then they finally got frustrated enough to tell me I’m crazy and have “gone off the deep end.”

I felt like poison was being spewed at me but at the same time, I was surprised how calm and rational I was able to remain. I refused to accept the abuse and told them as much. I was able to stand up for myself in a way that I never could have before I began to heal. I could see that what they were doing to me wasn’t my problem. I didn’t ask for it or deserve it. I was just the current target but, they soon discovered, no longer an easy one. As difficult as it is to realize that some people can no longer be in my life, if they can’t give me the basic respect that I deserve as a human being—they don’t belong there.

I am the first to admit that I still have a long way to go. I have breakthroughs and setbacks. In times like these I can see that I have made progress and it feels good. I am no longer powerless. I am exposing the lies for what they are and in the process, reclaiming my self-worth. I didn’t deserve to be abused then and I don’t deserve to be abused now. I am worth just as much as anyone else and that knowledge gives me the power to reclaim my life.

Have you ever felt this way? I welcome your thoughts. Please comment below and don’t forget to subscribe to the comments so you can continue to partake in the discussion.

Penny Smith is a frequent contributor to Overcoming Sexual Abuse, especially through her heartfelt poetry. Penny uses her creativity in many areas including cake decorating, sketching and floral arrangements. She balances her recovery with being a busy wife and mother of three precious children.

Getting To The Truth: The Role Of Truth In Our Recovery

osa — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 17:40:27 +0000

by Christina Enevoldsen & Darlene Ouimet

Abuse misinforms us about our identity and our value. Recovery is the restoration of our true selves. Find out how we uncover the truth in this ten minute audio discussion by Christina Enevoldsen and Darlene Ouimet.

“I became my own advocate and I believe that’s the only way we get to the real truth. I had to look at that situation and I had just accepted that she hated me because I was not an attractive child or I was some kind of a child that made this adult hate me. But was I REALLY doing something as a child that was so irritating to this teacher that she should threaten to cut my hair off or give me zeros on my test? She was humiliating me in front of the whole class. Was that really right? NO, the truth is that it wasn’t right and I wasn’t the one who was wrong. That was a big deal in the way I saw myself—whether I was important or not, whether I was loveable or not, whether I was worthy of love and protection or not. I grew thinking I wasn’t worthy of love or protection, that the defect was in me and I had to turn that around. And our abusers are not going to do that for us. We have to do that for ourselves if we are going to recover.”

Getting To The Truth: The Role of Truth in Recovery

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.

Darlene Ouimet is an inspirational speaker, certified professional life coach and mental health advocate. While speaking in mental health seminars about her complete recovery from dissociated identity disorder, chronic depression, and a lifetime of low self-esteem, Darlene realized that her journey to wholeness had a unique kind of impact and she embraced a new life purpose—to deliver this message of hope, healing and full recovery to a hurting world. Darlene authors a high traffic blog called “Emerging from Broken—from surviving to thriving on the journey to wholeness.”

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Finding My Lost Childhood After Sexual Abuse

Christina Enevoldsen — Sun, 15 Aug 2010 17:11:50 +0000

Christina Enevoldsen

by Christina Enevoldsen

I could never take a vacation for more than four days. I didn’t understand how people could be happy just “wasting time” or how they could prefer fun and games over tangible results. Hard work was my fun.

It was frustrating when my son and daughter were young and I tried to get “important” things done while they wanted me to watch their new ball-catching skills or to admire their fingerpainting. As they got a little older, I learned that good parenting required nurturing a child’s emotional needs, which meant “entering into his or her world”. I really wanted to be a good mother, so I did my best to engage in play, to enjoy the moment. But all the time, I watched the clock and thought, “I wonder if they’ve had enough”.

In their teen years, it was easier to relate to my children and enjoy our activities together. By then their interests were more serious and adult-like. I was also learning the balance between work and play for my own benefit. I adjusted my schedule in an attempt toward balance, but recreation was stressful; my thoughts drifted back to, “I wonder if I’ve had enough.”

My children are grown now, but a few months ago a friend expressed the challenges of balancing her role as a mother of children still living at home and working toward her goals. I felt relieved that I didn’t have that challenge anymore. In the midst of that thought, a little girl’s voice interrupted me, “I’m still here.” I immediately knew it was my inner child. I still had a small child at home.

On my healing journey from childhood sexual abuse, I’ve been very aware of my inner child. She was the one exposed to adult experiences and left with the adult responsibility of protecting herself. She never got a childhood. She was never allowed to express herself. Her pain, fear and anger still awaited expression, but so did her playfulness. Part of my healing is to nurture her—nurture that stifled part that missed the carefree abandon of play and the wonder of discovery. Her little voice was tugging at my skirt, reminding me of her presence, asking me to consider her needs.

One of my greatest sources of pain is to know how many times I turned down invitations to play with my children. Finally listening to my own inner child, hearing her longing, gave me some idea of how much it must have hurt them. Even so, I knew if I could go back to change things, I’d still be the same person I was then–driven toward accomplishment. My years of attempting balance didn’t do anything to relieve me of this inner struggle. I was way overdue to confront whatever it was that was keeping me there.

I saw myself as a two-year old. My parents were caring for my infant brother and I needed something. They laughed at me and said, “Do you think you’re the only one who matters? You’re not the center of the universe.”

I felt shame for needing. My parents’ response told me I didn’t matter. Since I didn’t matter, I had to do something so people would want me. I needed to produce tangible results to prove I was important. It became the way I earned my right to live on the planet.

My parents may not have filled my needs, but I’m not bad for having needs. No matter how I am treated, I am important. My value doesn’t come from anyone else; their opinions don’t change my value. My value does not go up or down based on what I do. I am valuable because I exist.

Knowing that truth released the kid in me. I’m liberated to have fun and be silly. Now I’m happy to cooperate with my inner child and provide her the playful expression she never had. I read Nancy Drew books and play Charlie’s Angels at the store with my friend. I give in to spontaneous urges to jump on the bed or spin across the room or doodle in my coloring book or make up funny endings to classic stories. Fun is FUN!

[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 Christina Enevoldsen

Christina Enevoldsen — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 18:56:29 +0000

Christina Enevoldsen

I feel like most of my life has been an effort to wake up from a nightmare. I had a desperate need to escape to the light of day, to free myself from the strange dreamworld of an alternate reality.

I don’t remember thinking about sexual abuse until I was about fourteen or fifteen. I was dating a boy and told him I had been raped. It seemed strange to me since I didn’t have any memory of being raped and hadn’t planned to say that. It came out of my mouth before I really thought about it. In hearing that, I realized I had the feeling for a long time that something awful had happened to me and that I felt dirty.

When I was in my early twenties, I drove past a preschool in a neighborhood close to where I lived as a young child. Suddenly I knew I was sexually abused. It’s not as though I was abused at that preschool, and I didn’t remember a specific instance, but I knew it was a fact, not just a feeling.

I was married with two small kids by then, but when I visited my parents, my mom and I stood in the kitchen and I told her that I was sexually abused. She responded without interest, as though I never said a word, but my dad yelled from his chair in the next room, “No, you weren’t!” Okay, end of discussion.

For years, I couldn’t remember anything specific. I knew that it was my dad who had abused me. I don’t know how I knew, but I knew. But also thought I might have been abused by others. I had the feeling of being passed around.

Although I didn’t have any specific memories, I could identify some of the effects of the abuse and began to address them. I knew I had problems saying no to men, that I acted in a very seductive way, that I was full of shame, and had difficulty setting boundaries so I tried to deal with those things.

Years passed and my twenty-one year marriage to a man who was verbally and financially abusive ended.

Five years later, I was happily and safely re-married and then everything changed. My twenty-four year old daughter, Bethany, called me one night to tell me she wanted to report her father, my ex-husband, for sexually abusing her. While doing my best to support her, I started having graphic flashbacks and dreams about my own abuse. I started seeing my childhood memories in a different light. All along, I thought I had no memories of my abuse, but it slowly occurred to me that what I thought of as normal father & daughter activities were in reality acts of sexual abuse.

My father not only abused me himself, but also traded me to other men. There were sex parties where young girls were exchanged. When I was about eight or nine, my dad bragged to a group of people that I would make a good call girl. He said it like that was a good thing. They all laughed. Around the same time, my dad lost his job and a wealthy neighbor helped to keep us fed. I was sent to the neighbor’s house, either as a favor or as payment for the food he gave us. The neighbor raped me with a pool stick in his basement. I walked home alone, hoping nobody would see what a bad girl I was.

One of the biggest fears I’ve had my whole life was that I would end up as a prostitute. I didn’t feel as though I had any choice. I was locked into that future and there was no escape. Remembering what my father did was difficult, but at least I knew I wasn’t crazy for fearing something that seemed so irrational. My body being traded was part of my past, but since I’ve faced the truth, I don’t fear it anymore.

I’m still on the healing journey, but I’ve woken up from my nightmare and have learned to shine the light on my past. As I’ve faced the truth, my life has drastically changed. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I love myself. I have healthy relationships. I’m able to look at my future with excitement. The worst part of my life is over. I’m an overcomer.

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