Behind Blue Eyes: A Little Girl's Shame

I had other problems before I was molested. I had terrible school phobia for a couple of years before it started. If all conditions were good, I seemed to be alright – something like a normal person. Something would always tip the scale, and to be out of balance even a little, I felt like the side of the balance I sat upon had fallen into the depths of the earth. And I just “knew,” in my little five year old brain, that there was something very dreadfully and inherently wrong with me. I was different in a very bad sort of way. Though my heart’s desire was to be perfect, I was helplessly, hopelessly bad. I already knew the language of shame.

I was drudgery for her and the bane of her existence. She’d wanted a boy to name “D…” I screamed for months, drove her mad with sleep deprivation, and these were only my first actions that would slowly kill her alive by ruining her life. I was helpless to do anything other than ruin my own in turn. She would… I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. I loved her and tried so hard and failed so miserably always. And I loved her, and I know that she loved me. That’s what makes it so hard. That’s why I hated myself for so long. The love was there, and it wasn’t for lack of love. It was life that had been unfair to her and unfair to us. Unfair to me.

But the sexual abuse certainly didn’t make things any better. I seemed to need absolutely no help to feel horrible about myself. With all the mixed and confused feelings of an eight year old little girl, there were things about it that were… well… frozen. I can’t move and I can’t escape… Going back to the memory, a journey that feels like walking down a dark spiral staircase that is narrow, takes me to the place where it happened and happened and happened again. And I feel… dead. I feel dead calm and it is dead silent. I am powerless to do anything. I wiggle away and can’t get away and I remember being afraid. Then nothing. I remember, but I think and I feel nothing when I try to remember when I was just a little girl. I feel dead, like my life and my body were nothing but flat photographs. I wonder what my face looks like as I write this? I imagine that it looks dead, but an emotionless, sad kind of expression. Death would have peace and comfort, but that is not like this. My death is empty nothing

I just wish that I could go on feeling nothing… But feeling comes back. It hurts deep and vaguely in my belly…. Then it is like cramping very low in my stomach…it feels empty as if my body is not there at all, but hurts around the edges of the emptiness… Sick, sick, sick… I’d rather feel nothing. When people ask me now why I didn’t tell anyone then, I don’t remember any thoughts. I remember the familiar pain that travels and takes over my tired, disgusting body that doesn’t even feel like my body anymore. I’m too afraid to really remember and too sick to really forget. I don’t remember thoughts or details, especially in the beginning. I remember feelings of sickness and almost like my soul died inside me with my body still alive, going through the motions of life. The world never stopped going on around me, but I did. I felt dead. No one listened. No one heard.

Little girls should be good and kind. They should be seen and not heard, packed full of sugar, spice, and nice. They should have no needs, and they should be helpful. What’s the use, then? I’m ruined, so I just don’t think about it, and I don’t know what I’d say. Do dead girls talk? Little girls should love everyone and only feel good feelings toward others, particularly adults that they should respect. Only love. Love your enemies and bless everyone, especially those who hurt you. Heap burning coals on their heads by loving them. I think of the red hot coals that burn in the furnace in the winter. I don’t want to burn anyone. Well, at least he loves me. I have to love him and respect him as my elder. I have to obey authorities and they know better than little girls, especially very horrible little girls. Oh, but I hate… the smell of him? The… I can’t even tell you... I feel horrible! Something is very, very wrong. Good girls don’t get angry. Maybe good girls die instead.

Then I became pretty compulsive. Obsessive. Driven. Restless. Lusting after justice and wanting to understand the truth about what was right and wrong. I would determine to do the right thing, and then I would be whole. They would see that I meant well. That would make it okay if I could just… Oh, compulsion soon rules me with an iron fist. I feel lust, but it is lust for justice for others who are mistreated, and maybe I’d find a little for myself.

I didn’t need any help feeling terrible about myself before the death that part of who I was. I don’t even remember who I was or when I was innocent. I only remember feeling very bad and always guilty from the very beginning. Everything bad in the world that happened around me happened because of me, but the world never took notice of my death. And then I woke up to anger, but I couldn’t let it be anger because anger was bad. It was anger I wasn’t ever allowed to have. Inconsistencies brought more anger, and anger brought more shame. That brought more compulsion that seemed to operate in slow motion.

More than thirty years later, I find myself remembering, remembering, while watching the Superbowl XLIV Halftime Show. The Who sings “Behind Blue Eyes,” and I remember when I first heard this song and understood what had happened to me. I’m flooded with memory and the feeling of waking up from my deadness as a young adolescent to feel shame and anger and even more disappointment. Townshend wrote this song as the anthem of an evil bureaucrat cog on a wheel in a totalitarian machine for a rock opera that no one could understand. They only ever recorded a few of the better songs from the opera. But I understand the anthem well. I like another remake of it that I saw on the “Gothika” DVD a few years ago, wept and sang the song for days thereafter. Like wringing a dishrag, I rang out my heart. I have blue grey eyes, I love the arpeggiated accompaniments in both renditions, the chords are beautiful, but the new one holds much more melancholy for me. Add the content of the “Gothika” film in context if you are familiar with it, and it might make even more sense. Everything about this haunts me tonight.

Behind Blue Eyes

No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
And no one knows
What it's like to be hated
To be fated to telling only lies

I am bad and sad, and no one knows. My eyes are blue and I look like a normal little girl, I think. But I am hated everywhere and my mother has claimed over and over that what happened to me at school today could not have happened. I know I’m not lying, but she doesn’t believe me. I either get laughed at or punished at home. When it becomes known that I didn’t lie, the vindication doesn’t seem sweet. I don’t remember them talking about me being right all along. If they apologized, I was so afraid that I don’t remember.

[Chorus:]
But my dreams they aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free

[When you are dead, you stop dreaming for awhile. Well, not really. I don’t know what you do when you are dead. I stopped having good dreams for a long time. I had nightmares, and my mother’s answer was to give me a copy of C.S. Lovett’s “Dealing With the Devil.” Oh, this is fantastic reading for a nine year old! (If you’re unfamiliar with what is known in evangelical circles as ‘deliverance,’ take a look at “Pigs in the Parlor” sometime. The book I read was a shorter, do-it-yourself version of that book.) My dreams were full of shame, being chased by floating baseballs that spoke condemnation that followed me… of dripping faucets that I could not stop… the dripping of my endless shame and inadequacies that never stopped.

My deadness was like the empty conscience in the song. Why didn’t I react differently? Why didn’t I seek out help? But who would have helped me? They didn’t believe me about how people pronounced their names or that I’d not done anything to “instigate” ridicule, save to act self-conscious. I would tell them this?

When I became a teenager and old enough to start processing what had happened to me, the overwhelming anger that I could not acknowledge made my conscience feel empty. I didn’t feel anything. I think that the shame deadened me. The deadness was emptiness.

I would, however, sometimes sing my own version. Well, I found myself singing my own version…

“BUT my dreams they ARE as BROKEN

As my HEART now seems to be…”

I have hours, lonely hours, with my secrets and my shame. My love is a lust for justice that is never satisfied despite all of my striving. That sounds much to me like “vengeance that’s never free.” Love is about performance. I’m trapped and helpless.

No one knows what its like
To feel these feelings
Like I do, and I blame you!
No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through

My parents don’t know because I fear my father would murder the man in anger. He wasn’t born again then, and he could go to jail, to the electric chair, and then to hell. Then that would be my fault. It is all my fault. But, then I awaken to the first blushes of womanhood and talk of purity, and I know that I am hopeless. Anger tries to find an outlet, but I hold it down until I can crush myself no more. Until I am old enough to drive away in a car. Until I am old enough to pay my own way well enough to leave. None of my pain and woe can show through, and I do bite back hard. I bite back through striving to be good, and I am still never good enough. I developed a lust for justice. One day, I must be able to prove that I have not been as horrible as they think. And then the panic that I used to have that if people looked at me a certain way, they would see what had happened to me. If they saw me naked, they would know. The more of me they could see, the more they would be able to tell. But I had to see to it that none of my pain and woe showed through.

Anger comes, and I am still struggling with it today, watching the Superbowl in 2010. Anger is a sign to us, not a sin. It tells us that we’ve been threatened or that we are in pain. It is protective. But I had no right to protect myself, and the double messages and double meanings swim in my head. Anger at me, at my mother, at my father. And at him. Though I didn’t really mean it, for awhile I’d hoped that the man was rotting in hell because of what he’d taken from me, but I’d given it willingly because I had no option. But I don’t really want to see anyone in hell, yet this blame rests with him. And the blame of who I am to my parents rests with me.

Then came my realization of spiritual abuse. My self had been shaken to the core. I’d been unfaithful to God by serving the church and the acceptance of men in the church. Idolatry. Idolatry of seeking my parents’ approval. Idolatry of acceptance. Idolatry of perfectionism. And my anger reared its raging head. I couldn’t choke it back or “bite back” on it anymore. I’d stored a whole lifetime of it, and this receptacle was full.

No one knows what its like
To be mistreated, to be defeated
Behind blue eyes
No one knows how to say
That they're sorry and don't worry
I'm not telling lies

The isolation that comes with this kind of thing is horrible. I have blue grey eyes and things look pretty normal on the outside. But the traumas happen while the world keeps on moving around you, like in some movie special effect. I’m in this world but I’m walking in a universe just a few breaths behind the real one. I’m isolated in defeat and unjust treatment. To be mistreated, to be defeated, behind blue eyes. I remember once saying to someone who was encouraging me to take better care of myself that it seemed like “spraying perfume over a cesspool.” They looked at me in shock and surprise… because no one knows what it’s like…

For a very long time, I’d hoped that those who had hurt me so deeply by rejecting me and expecting me to be perfect when I was tiny and helpless would come and say they were sorry. I wanted and needed comfort. But my story fell on deaf ears that couldn’t even process the horror of it. They don’t express sorrow for me – but they accuse me of more lies. It’s no different when I’m 23 or 33 or 43 than it was when I was five. “We don’t understand, we are uncomfortable with what we don’t understand, so the path of least resistance for us is to call you a liar.” The bad one. The sad one. Behind blue eyes that fill with tears until no tears even come anymore. But I’m not telling lies.

[Chorus:]
But my dreams they aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free

No one knows what its like
To be the bad man,
to be the sad man
Behind blue eyes.

I’d hoped for a long time that all I would need was prayer and my Bible to heal. And then the Holy Spirit. Then maybe some deliverance. Then, if I mastered spiritual warfare. Then, maybe, if I could get friends who would love and help me. If I could just get out of the house. If I could learn more of the Bible. If I married. If I could have a baby. If I could get far enough away from it, in time…

Some of these things did heal me, but I could not do it on my own. Some of the deep pain required someone who could love me through sessions of talking about my pain and my grief. I found a therapist who showed me the comfort that she’d received from others in the Lord. She encouraged me in love. She taught me and helped me find the way out of the Valley of the Shadow and the long, dark night of my soul. My faith in Jesus was enough to heal me, but I needed another to come along side of me. I needed someone to sit valiantly and patiently beside me while I vomited up the grief and sadness and pain of my dark night. I needed Jesus to extend love to me in a very specific and expert way, and He did that through someone else. The Lord will help you find healing. It doesn’t happen overnight, but it comes in time and through looking into the mirrors that other people provide us in their loving honesty. It comes through His Word, given to us so we can see what He sees in us.

Tonight I’m haunted. I don’t live in shame anymore because I’ve finally started to learn about the courage of unconditional love that I’ve begun to learn to extend to myself. But Superbowl Half-time has me teary eyed a little, grieving the things I barely remember having but feel a full portion of the grief of the loss. I feel heavy in my body, but not sick. Just sad. And it is sad.

I pulled up this video after half-time. Then I journaled. I didn’t weep on the outside, and I felt sad on the inside with a sense of sweetness to realize how much I’ve healed. Now I am weary and will sleep. Tomorrow is a new day and I will rejoice in it. I will look to find the joy in the morning. And the sadness will go to sleep for a few years until I’m reminded of this song and the sad memory of loss that it brings to my mind. I will remember and grieve and feel the sweetness again.

Purge me with hyssop and I will be clean

Wash me and I will be whiter than snow

Ps 51

Women Are Not Sex Objects

Another entry from Adele Hebert,
Independent Scholar.

There are numerous occasions recorded in the Gospels where women are treated as second‑class citizens, even as sex objects, and it was expected that Jesus would do the same. One such occasion occurred when Jesus was invited to dinner at the house of a skeptical Pharisee (Lk 7:36ff.) and a woman of ill repute (harmatolos, a sinner) entered and washed Jesus’s feet with her tears, wiped them with her hair and anointed them. The Pharisee saw her solely as an evil sexual creature: “The Pharisee ...said to himself, ‘If this man were a prophet, he would know who this woman is who is touching him and what a bad name she has.’” But Jesus deliberately rejected that way of thinking. He rebuked the Pharisee and spoke solely of the woman’s human, spiritual actions; he spoke of her love, her unlove, i.e., her sins, her being forgiven, and her faith. Jesus then addressed her (it was not “proper” to speak to women in public, especially “improper” women) as a human person: “Your sins are forgiven.... Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

A similar situation occurred when the scribes and Pharisees used a woman reduced entirely to a sex object to set a legal trap for Jesus (Jn 8:2‑11). It is difficult to imagine a more callous use of a human person than what the “adulterous” woman was put through, by the enemies of Jesus. First, she was “taken” in the act, then dragged before the scribes and Pharisees, finally brought before an even larger crowd that Jesus was instructing, “making her stand in full view of everybody.” They told Jesus that she had been caught in the very act of committing adultery and that Moses had commanded that such women be stoned to death (Dt 22:22ff.). “What have you to say?” The trap was partly that if Jesus said Yes to the stoning he would be violating the Roman law, which limited capital punish­ment, and if he said No, he would contravene Mosaic law. It could have been to expose Jesus’s reputation for kindness toward, and championing the cause of, women in opposition to the law and the condemnation of sin.

Jesus, of course, eluded their snares by refusing to become entangled in legalisms and plots. Rather, he dealt with bth the accusers and the accused directly as spiritual, ethical, human persons. He spoke directly to the accusers in the con­text of their own personal ethical conduct: “If there is one of you who has not sinned, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” To the accused woman he spoke with compassion, but without approving her conduct: “‘Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?’ She said, ‘No one, Lord.’ And Jesus said, ‘Neither do I condemn you; go and sin no more.’”

Regarding the status of women, the woman being caught in the act of adultery, according to the Law of Moses must to be stoned to death. But since the type of execution mentioned was stoning, the woman must have been a “virgin betrothed,” as referred to in Dt 22:23f. It states both the man and the woman must be stoned, although in the Gospel story only the woman is brought forward. However, the reason given for why the man ought to be stoned was not because he had violated the woman, or God’s law, but “because he had violated the wife (property) of his neighbor.” It was the injury to the man (not the wife or betrothed) that was the great evil. Jesus defended her; he did not condemn her; he declared her a person, definitely not the property of a man.

Adapted from Leonard Swidler

Biblical Affirmations of Women

About Apologies that Aren't

Following some correspondence with Voddie Baucham, I posted this information about apologies on the Under Much Grace Blog. The information on apologies can be helpful when working through forgiveness, and I think this is a good place to start on the subject.

What exactly is an apology? The word originates from the Greek (and the Latin) word “apologia” which literally means a "plea" or “a speech in one’s own defense.” This straight definition more closely resembles the meaning of the word “apologetics” which we use to describe giving an account of one’s faith and the hope within us, with both meekness and patience. It also corresponds with the third possible definition that the Oxford Dictionary lists: “a justification or defense.” But in terms of asking for forgiveness (the process of repentance for causing an offense), what the Oxford describes as “a regretful acknowledgment of regret or failure” and how we most commonly use the word, using a defensive approach usually proves to be a poor one.

In terms of asking for forgiveness, using just the Oxford dictionary’s first description alone, an apology includes a few components – something that gives it meaning and substance.

• Failure
• Acknowledgment
• Regret
  

Both parties must acknowledge that the offending party committed an act that either failed to meet a certain standard or resulted in some undesirable outcome. The person offering a sincere apology must be specific about this action and the outcome, because the rest of the apology builds upon this foundation. That is why general, blanket apologies which do not make clear that the offending party understands what they’ve done lack substance. An apology teaches each party more about their own boundaries and the boundaries of others, hopefully effecting some lasting change for the better of both as a result of the learning process. If there is no identification of the specific failure, can there be any way to avoid repeating it in the future?

Many weak apologies avoid assignment of responsibility for failure, because it is a painful and disappointing process to do so. Our human nature tends to discourage an objective view of ourselves, complete with all of our faults. Taking responsibility for failures points out to us that we are flawed, inadequate, limited, and sometimes, powerless. And sometimes that acknowledgment of our responsibilities reveals the dishonor in our own hearts. Apologies become even more difficult when circumstances beyond one’s control contributed to the failure or offense, particularly when the person responsible for starting the chain of events never intended and could not foresee the end result of the negative outcome. When a person behaves responsibly and another suffers harm or offence as a result, the offending party comes face to face with the limitations of their humanity, and this can challenge beliefs such as the idea that “Life is fair,” or “I am a basically good person that is in control of my environment.”

All apologies must include some expression of regret. Regret poses an even more difficult aspect to measure, though it is also an essential element of a true and sincere apology. Sometimes apologies are offered with all the right components, but sometimes, the party offering them can only be making the effort for their own personal gain. If they experience negative consequences as a result of their actions themselves, if the offer of apology proves to be just a public show to promote a certain persona of themselves to others, or if the party has been compelled against their natural inclination to make amends by some outside influence, then the apology can be more offensive than the original act of offense for the one who "sees through" the ingenuous apology. These insincere apologies only draw attention to the lack of care, respect and consideration that the offending party holds for the offended. It only intensifies the injury.

As it is often difficult to measure regret, it is here where one’s actions often speak louder than our words when conveying an apology. Efforts of restitution speak powerfully to the offended on behalf of the one who committed the offense, as true regret includes a desire to restore the other party. An effort to make restitution serves to seal an apology and can become a measure of the apology’s essential element of regret. Timing and the manner in which one offers an apology also adds to the effectiveness. The person offering an apology must show contrition and contrition regarding the right elements, as apologies should never serve as license to commit the offense again. Without contrition, there is not impetus to avoid the act in the future.

Read the whole post HERE.

Learning to Say "No"

OK to say NO!

By Adele Hebert

Jesus used images concerning the end of time. Both men and women are in these stories; both must be ready; both treated equally. Both involve hard choices, even saying NO!

What sort of servant, then, is faithful and wise enough for the master to place him over his household to give them their food at the proper time? Happy that servant if his master arrival finds him at his employment. I tell you solemnly, he will place him over everything he owns. His master will come on a day he does not expect and at an hour he does not know. (Mt 24:45-51; Lk 12:42-46 says female servants as well.)

Immediately following is the second story, about the wise and foolish bridesmaids. Jesus took great effort to illustrate the same point, this time focusing on women. The big difference is that the women in this parable use their voice. This is a powerful lesson for women. They are not simply told what to do. In fact, they do not obey. Jesus gave women dignity, always defended them, and taught them about boundaries, not to allow abuse.

Jesus NEVER once told women that they had to submit to anyone. The word submit does not occur in the Greek; the actual word is Support. There is much confusion concerning submission. We want to do the right thing, but we don know where to draw the line. Often, we don draw any lines at all, or the lines that we do draw are way past the safety zone. We realize it when we are over our heads in trouble; then we get depressed and don know why. So where are the lines to be drawn that will keep us safe, walking in truth, and in the center of God's will? The word submit is still used to keep women in bondage. Without knowing these boundary lines, we allow others to use us. Jesus ADVISED women to use boundaries.

Ask yourself, would God want me to do this? Women, this is the boundary line! We have been taught that we are to blindly obey our spouse, but that is not from God. So we obey out of fear. We obey to keep the peace. But Abraham made Sarah lie. Ahasuerus wanted Vashti to show her beauty; she rightly refused. God gave us His Word so we will not be deceived. The Lord would not have us do anything ungodly or under coercion or manipulation. You are NEVER to submit to abuse. Here Jesus tells women they SHOULD say NO!

Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five were wise: the foolish ones took their lamps, but no oil, whereas the wise ones took oil as well as their lamps. The bridegroom was late, and they all grew drowsy and fell asleep. But at midnight there was a cry, he bridegroom is here! Go out and meet him. At this, all those bridesmaids woke up and trimmed their lamps, and the foolish ones said to the wise ones, ive us some of our oil: our lamps are going out. But they replied, NO, there may not be enough for us and for you; go to those who sell it and buy some for yourselves. (Mt 25:1-13) At times we Need to say NO. One of the most crucial lessons for women in the whole bible is right here. Jesus gave women permission to say, NO! Check out another woman with boundaries and a voice Lk 1:60.

*NO! an extremely valuable word for women*. Jesus gave women the right to say NO to stand up for themselves, for what is right, to protect themselves. Jesus Advised, even Encouraged us to say No!

Women, get boundaries or you will get used!


Adapted by Stephen Gola and Leonard Swidler.

Asking God For Help With Forgiveness

A Christian perspective on forgiveness ~
From Dr. Stoop’s “Making Peace with your Father”


Pages 238 -239:


God knows our pain, our loss, our disappointments. He longs to heal our brokenness. He could do so instantly – but then we would not learn the lessons that are vital to our healing. For most of us, His promise to heal our broken hearts will be fulfilled over a period of time.

The writer of the letter to the Hebrews assures us that “this High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses...So let us come boldly to the throne of God and stay there to receive his mercy and to find grace to help us in our times of need” (Hebrews 4:15-16). We can stay there as long as we need to in order to experience the fullness of God’s healing grace.

As you work through the process of healing... invite your loving heavenly Father into the process with you. Allow him to heal your shame and guilt. Bathe each step you take in prayer. Ask God to empower you to follow through on each step and to endure the pain and hurt you experience. Ask him for the courage to risk making changes, both in your behavior and in your expectations. Ask him to give you the grace to forgive, so that you may be released from the bondage of the past.

Then ask him to give you the robe of honor, the ring of authority and the shoes of a beloved son or daughter. Let God show himself to you as the Father to the fatherless.

He has already made peace with you. He is waiting for you to come home.

Excerpt from
Dr. David Stoop in
"Making Peace With Your Father:
Understanding the Role Your Father
has Played in Your Life – Past to Present"
Regal, 2004 (originally Tyndale, 1992)

Ideas About How To Approach Peacemaking

A Christian perspective on forgiveness ~
From Dr. Stoop’s “Making Peace with your Father”


Facing the Truth

pages 189 - 232:


Step One:

• Identify the Symptoms

Step Two:

• Get the Facts

Step Three:

• Identify Family Secrets and Family Myths

Step Four:

• Speak the Unspoken

Step Five:

• Rewrite History

Step Six:

• Process the Losses

Step Seven:

• Wait

Step Eight:

• Forgive

Step Nine:

• Invite Others to Share Your Journey

Step Ten:

• Explore New Roles

Step Eleven:

• Redeem the Past

Excerpt from
Dr. David Stoop in
"Making Peace With Your Father:
Understanding the Role Your Father
has Played in Your Life – Past to Present"
Regal, 2004 (originally Tyndale, 1992)

The Terrorizing Father

A Christian perspective on forgiveness ~
From Dr. Stoop’s “Making Peace with your Father”




Pages 181 - 182:




Additional Losses from the Terrorizing Father:


1. The child often experiences deep fear that turns into despair.


2. He or she may lead a life of denial in which all emotions are buried.


3. He or she may surrender to helplessness and adopt the identity and lifestyle of a perpetual victim, constantly immersed in fear, guilt and depression.


4. He or she may become angry and defiant in an attempt to obliterate a deep fear about life.

Excerpt from
Dr. David Stoop in
"Making Peace With Your Father:
Understanding the Role Your Father
has Played in Your Life – Past to Present"
Regal, 2004 (originally Tyndale, 1992)