A Pretty Bird in an Ugly Cage

I wrote this piece a number of years ago for a dear friend in recovery from a devastatingly abusive marriage to a minister.  Recovery from any form of abuse is difficult and it takes time--the amount of time differs for each individual.  As I have walked through my own days of recovery I resonate with this piece even more.  The abuse we know often seems safer than the freedom of the great unknown.  My hope for each of us is that we find our wings and begin to do what we were created to do--FLY!
 
She didn't know that marriage to Prince Charming would come at such a cost to her freedom.  She was accustomed to flying and the bars of the ugly cage he had prepared for her were shocking and frightening.  She learned to survive in his ugly cage by singing prettily to soothe his rages and by dreaming of what it was like to fly.  She remembered the feel of the wind beneath her wings and the exhilaration of freedom to choose her own destination and destiny.  But dreaming and singing were all she could do because the bars restrained and constrained her world until each day's goal was just to survive somehow, the ugliness and meanness of his bars and tether.

Her freedom from the ugly cage was costly but she paid the price and relished the opportunity to fly once more.  She thought about the myriad of choices facing her and the many destinations that she now could freely set course for.  But the choices and options overwhelmed her; somehow life was simpler in the ugly cage--just sing, dream and long for what could not be realized.  The paralysis that confinement had taught her did not drop off as easily as the door to the cage had opened.  Sometimes when no one was watching she ventured back into the cage and slept in the comfort of its confinement.  The world was large and while she now had the power to make her own choices and to determine her own destiny, that choice was frightening and the cage offered comfort.

So, like the circus elephant that tethered as a babe learns to walk only in the circle his chain allows and does not venture farther than that tight circle once the chain is removed, she flies but in small circles.  There is safety and security in small circles because it is easier to flee back to the safety of the cage.  Flying longer distances away from the cage means potential danger and risk and that is too frightening.  Where will she sleep?  What if she cannot find food?  What about the predators out there looking for pretty birds?

So she spends her days longing for the exotic lands that beckon her; she dreams of the possibilities but continues to feather her nest in the shadow of the ugly cage.  When opportunities come to test her wings once more and to really soar, she finds reasons to stay in the shadow of the cage.  She spends her days singing prettily and flitting about another cage of her own design, still dreaming of the possibilities and desiring to fly but continuing to tether herself.

How I long for the pretty bird to fly once more; to decide on a destination and to set her course.  I long to see her stretch her wings, chart her course and rid herself of the weights that she has designed to keep herself grounded.  She was not meant to live life in a cage; she was designed to fly.  She has the freedom, she has the ability, she has the longing but she is still flying in small, tight circles around the ugly cage.  The dynamic her "Prince Charming" began continues to work even though he is no longer present.  Fly little bird, fly.  Throw off the tethers; stop just dreaming about life's destinations. Spread your wings and soar.

As an addendum--the friend who inspired this is flying--she is soaring in the glory of freedom and I count it a privilege to have her in my life.

Living Loved

With the New Year just days away, I've been thinking of my word/phrase for 2016.  I inadvertently stumbled on the practice of naming my year in 2012 as a way to remind myself that though my marriage was breaking up that I had not been, was not and never would be "alone."  So 2012's word was "Never Alone."  After my world exploded and I began the task of rebuilding and recovery, the building blocks of starting over became paramount so 2013's word was "Provision."  In 2014 I focused on three words "Prosper, Transform and Delight," while I sought "Healthy Connections" in 2015.

Reflecting on the past twelve months my focus on creating healthy connections is amusing to me at this point in time.  At the time of choosing the year's focus, I had just re-entered the dating scene after over three decades of being married and was realizing just how easy it is to get sucked back into toxic relationships.  It still amazes me that at the end of 2015, I am remarried to a man without addictions and am enjoying an incredibly healthy marriage--not perfect but healthy.  My remarriage has required additional adjustments for my children but we are all finding our way in a new blended family.

One of the challenges of remarriage and a healthy connection with my spouse is accepting the reality that I am loved just as I am.  So I am naming 2016 the "Year of Living Loved."  Living loved is more than knowing that I am loved; it is living as someone who is dearly loved.  The difference is greater than the 18 inches or so between my head and heart.  Living loved means that I no longer hustle for acceptance; it means that I do not base my worth or value on what others think of me or on what I do.  Living loved is operating out of a system of grace and favor rather than tit for tat or quid pro quo.  Living loved means that my striving can cease; I simply rest in the fact that I am loved--nothing more and certainly nothing less.

Learning to live as one dearly loved must begin in my relationship with my Higher Power.  If I can rest secure in His love and care, I will find value, meaning and purpose that are not tied to my striving, abilities or performance.  "Those who feel lovable, who love, and who experience belonging simply believe they are worthy of love and belonging" (Brown, Daring Greatly). Most of us do not feel worthy of love and belonging--it is not a message that is necessarily communicated to us by families of origin (though in an ideal world it would be), employers or even friends.  We humans are fickle, judgmental and prone to criticism and idealism.  Our love is often conditional, even when we are trying to love unconditionally.

But God's love is unconditional, lavish and bigger than our misunderstandings of Him (Jacobsen, p. 185).  I recently spent a week with my adorable granddaughters and was reminded again of just how much I love them and how fiercely protective that love is.  Living loved means that I "awaken to each new day confident that the Father delights in me like a parent over his newborn child" (Jacobsen, p. 181).  It means living with "eyes wide open, looking for ways in which Jesus is making Himself known" to me each day (Jacobsen, p. 183).  It results in a quiet trust that no matter what may come, I will be ok because I am loved.

Learning to live as one dearly loved means that I can accept my faults and failures without a need or urgency to defend, explain, rationalize or minimize.  Jesus taught us to love others as we love ourselves (Mark 12:31), however, the problem in our world is that so many of us do not love ourselves so we cannot possibly love others as they deserve to be loved.  By learning how to love my flawed and imperfect self--by extending grace and mercy to myself and silencing my inner critic, I will be better able to love those around me, to offer grace, kindness and a nonjudgmental acceptance.  I've noticed in recent months that my heart overflows with love for others and it seems to be directly correlated to the measure with which I love myself.  What may seem selfish and self-centered is actually a prerequisite for reaching out in love to others.  Living loved is not just for me, it seems.  It benefits others as well--imagine that!

The world is a hate-filled place these days with politicians, clergy and the media spewing hate-filled messages intended to further polarize and divide us.  It is time for us as a people to embrace love--love for our Higher Power, for ourselves and for those around us.  We can only love our broken world to the extent that we allow ourselves to be loved by One greater than us and to the extent that we love ourselves.  I am choosing to live loved in 2016.  Will you join me?

* He Loves Me:  Learning to Live in the Father's Affection, Wayne Jacobsen

What Happens in Childhood Does Not Stay in Childhood

Childhood is a relatively short period of time compared to the average lifespan.  And yet so much of  what happens during those formative years impacts the individual for decades.  A landmark study that actually began in 1995 illustrates this convincingly.  It is known as the Adverse Childhood Experience Study and is "one of the largest investigations ever conducted to assess associations between childhood maltreatment and later-life health and well-being.  The study is a collaboration between the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and Kaiser Permanente's Health Appraisal Clinic in San Diego."  Source

The ACE Study has followed over 17,000 enrollees in Kaiser's health plan who underwent a comprehensive physical exam as well as completed the ten-question ACE Test.  Data from the study revealed "staggering proof of the health, social and economic risks that result from childhood trauma."  Source.  ACE scores can range from zero to ten, with ten reflecting the highest number of adverse childhood experiences by category.  It is important to note that the ACE Test does not account for the total number of adverse experiences in each category throughout childhood but rather the number of categories of adverse experiences an individual encountered.

The ACE Test asked participants about ten types of childhood trauma:

• Three types of abuse (sexual, physical and emotional)
• Two types of neglect (physical and emotional)
• Five types of family dysfunction (having a mother who was treated violently, an alcoholic or drug addicted household member, family member imprisoned or diagnosed with mental illness, divorce or separation of parents)

The study revealed that childhood trauma is far more common than previously believed and that the consequences of the trauma last a lifetime.  Individuals with an ACE Score of 4 had increased prevalence rates for the following behaviors:

Source 1   Source 2 

 
Clearly, what happens in childhood does not stay in childhood.  We focus a lot on the horrendous impact of child sexual abuse and molestation, as we should.  But there are other harmful experiences that negatively impact a child for life that we should be just as concerned about.  Improving the quality of the parents' marriage, making sure mom is not treated violently, dealing effectively with depression, addiction and other types of mental illness that may be present in the family as well as having a zero tolerance for abuse and neglect of any kind are all incredibly important aspects of a child's life that we need to pay critical attention to.  We can never give up on the important task of ensuring that our children have safe, healthy environments so that they can enjoy a long and productive life.

But what about those of us who are already grown?  We may recognize and acknowledge that the environment in which we grew and developed was toxic and we may already be struggling with some of the consequences that the ACE Study revealed.  Is there hope?  YES, there is.  Simply acknowledging that what happened in childhood happened to us, that we did not cause it, we did not deserve it and we were powerless to prevent it, begins the process.  We change the questions from "What's wrong with me?" to "What happened to me?"  There is power in naming our experience and acknowledging it as trauma.  And by dealing with the trauma, with the help of qualified individuals, we can change the outcome--we can minimize or eliminate the potential health and behavioral risks that our ACE's have created.  We commit ourselves to practicing good self-care, mindfulness and gentleness with that frightened, traumatized child within.  By re-parenting our inner child, we ensure that what happened in our childhood stays back there and does not continue to impact our present or our future.

Our goals when it comes to childhood maltreatment are twofold:  we must do all that we can to change the culture of violence, exploitation and maltreatment that exists today so that tomorrow's children fare better than yesterday or today's.  And, we must commit ourselves to caring for our first child--ourselves--and to healing those hurts of yesterday.

Reflections on Trust Post Betrayal

Under the best of circumstances, trust is hard but after a betrayal it is significantly more difficult to attain or to retain.  Recently, I set out for the park because my almost-three-year old granddaughter loves to go to the park and I love to make her happy.  I had never been to this particular park but her parents assured me that she was a great little navigator and could lead us right to it.  As we set out, I realized that I was placing the safety and security for both of us in her tiny hands--I hadn't a clue where we were going and the weight of that slowed my steps and caused me to cling to her just a bit more tightly.  But sure enough, she led us straight to the park where we had a lot of fun together.  While I was pushing her on the swing I contemplated yet again this thing called "trust."

Webster defines trust as the "belief that someone or something is reliable, good, honest and effective."  Trust develops in infancy and is rooted in those first attachments with parents who consistently provide for the helpless child's survival and relational needs.  Childhood and adolescence offers multiple opportunities to learn that not all are trustworthy and to gain the tools to navigate the experience of broken trust.  However, if we have experienced "good-enough" parenting, we approach friendships and intimate relationships with a level of resiliency and an innate ability to trust.

But what happens when we have experienced a devastating betrayal of trust in a close relationship?  Is it possible to trust again?  These are critical questions because trust is essential in any relationship but particularly so in an intimate one.  Part of learning to trust again is learning how to hone in on indicators of deception.  Evasive "dodging" of poignant questions, "fuzziness" on key details and a tendency to fudge the truth on non-essential information are warning of potential deception.  My ex-husband and I once argued for hours on what constituted a lie.  It reminded me of Bill Clinton' famous "It depends on what the meaning of the word 'is' is," during his impeachment hearing.  To me, deception involves intent to deceive; my ex preferred to focus on technicalities, insisting that if it was technically true, even if the intent was to deceive, it was not a lie.  Deception destroys trust and those who have been betrayed are profoundly impacted by even the slightest "white lie."

A recent article in the on-line edition of Psychology Today addressed the epidemic of deception that exists in our culture and the impact that it has on an individual and on their ability to trust again  The author points out that deception "contaminates your entire sense of self.  It throws you off-kilter, makes you question your perceptions . . . [you] lose faith in [your] ability to determine what is real and what isn't."  Source  And compounding the betrayal of trust that deception creates is our culture's penchant for embracing the sinner and blaming his victim for falling prey to his deception.

We love the "bad boy finds Jesus" scenario and are quite happy to give perpetrators a second and third chance.  A "repentant" offender or perpetrator, is often welcomed back into the embrace of a church or community.  Like the wayward prodigal, his "return" is celebrated, his sins forgiven and he is restored.  His victims, however those he deceived and defrauded find that they are often blamed for being gullible and naive--for falling for the offender's lies.  This societal attitude taps into the inherent shame, embarrassment and humiliation a victim feels, fuels self-doubt and pretty much guarantees that she will remain silent about her betrayal.

Daring to trust again after profound betrayal is essential to wholehearted living and loving but it
involves the fiercest of battles.  The process of trusting again can feel like what I experienced recently when trying to return a rental car in a strange city.  I drove through dense fog and darkness relying solely on the step-by-step instructions provided by my smart phone.  Trusting again is taking that giant leap of faith, believing that there is still good in the world, that small electronic gadgets or almost three-year olds may know something that we don't We step out in faith that may feel blind, keeping an eye on the horizon looking for familiar "landmarks" (aka indicators of deception), listen to our gut, and cautiously move forward--one step or one mile at a time.  And hopefully, the destination that we arrive at is a relationship that can restore our broken trust and help to heal our wounded hearts.

A Tale of Two Granddaughters

In a few days I will be getting on a plane and flying to an adjoining state to meet my newest granddaughter.  She, like her sister, arrived on a Sunday morning after a somewhat frightening pregnancy.  Unlike her sister, she weighed in at a whopping 7 pounds, 9 ounces and was screaming from the moment of her birth.  My son and daughter-in-love christened her "New Life," a name quite appropriate to where our family is in the healing journey.

"Grace" announced her imminent arrival just days after our world and our hearts exploded into millions of fragments.  Our family was forever changed but Grace came to remind us that as long as there is breath, there is hope.  Her coming was prophetic, though we did not know that at the time.  She announced the promise of a future to our family at a time when our past was disintegrating before our eyes.  She brought joy to our hearts and continues to be a constant reminder that grace is an undeserved and unexpected favor.

I must admit that when our family experiences a significant event, I still experience conflicting emotions.  Though I am happily remarried and very grateful that pedophilia and addiction no longer color my world, a new grandbaby is a poignant reminder of what we have lost.  Life is not the way I envisioned it would be at this point; my kids no longer have an intact parental unit.  My children's father and I will not share in this part of the journey that we began together; our paths have diverged, if ever they were really united.  So it is a bittersweet time.

The conjoined twins of pedophilia and addiction strike at the heart of everything that is good and sacred about the vows we make to one another.  They destroy truth with lies, fidelity with betrayal, and love with self-interest and self-gratification.  Survivors flail about in the debris of the destruction they bring, trying desperately to make sense of the senseless.  There seems to be no end to the suffering and pain they inflict on those closest to them, their primary and secondary victims.

But grace promises that there will be new life.  Grace proclaims that this is not the end of my story, that there is life beyond the devastation and destruction.  Grace points to a newness of life--a life that can be marked once more by truth, love and fidelity.  Grace provides the space for a resurrection to take place.  And our family is currently experiencing this resurrection:  new relationships (including remarriage), new jobs, new homes, new dreams, new adventures, a restored sense of hope for the future and a new baby, appropriately named "Life."

So this weekend as I tickle "Grace" and cuddle "Life," I will express yet another prayer of gratitude.  My two beautiful granddaughters are tangible proof that life is good, that hope is alive and that we have more than survived, we are thriving.

"To Thy Own Self Be True"

A scene from one of my favorite movies comes to mind when I think about this famous quote from Shakespeare's play Hamlet.  In Runaway Bride, the main character, Maggie, just cannot make it to the altar though she tries many times with different fiances.  As the daughter of an alcoholic father, Maggie has learned the art of disconnecting from her needs and desires in order to become what significant people in her life want her to be.  Each fiance likes his eggs prepared a different way so in complete conformity, Maggie orders her eggs prepared in the same fashion.  She has lost that essential part of herself, which is why she can never commit to another.

The process of discovering or rediscovering one's true self--not the self defined by relationships, prescribed roles or occupations--is the core of recovery and healing.  It is finding the answers to questions such as "Who am I?" "How do I want to be in this world?" and "What do I really want to do with this life I have been given?"  Answering these questions is not as easy as one would think--it can be pain-staking and grueling but the answers are found only by being completely honest and authentic.

To live a fully authentic life means that we demonstrate both an outer and an inner authenticity.  Outer authenticity requires a congruency between what we say and do with what is really going on inside of us.  Our words and behavior line up with our true self.  Inner authenticity involves knowing ourselves and maintaining an awareness of our inner states--our values, beliefs, emotions, thoughts dreams and fears.

I am discovering that it is one thing to live a fully authentic life while a single woman and another entirely as a married individual.  I've lived my entire life trying to measure up to the standards and value system of others and trying to conform and contort myself into shapes that fit the expectations of significant people in my life.  Capitulating to the belief or value system of another is as familiar to me as the back of my hand--it is my default setting.  I value my relationship with my spouse and want to please him so it is incredibly easy for me to abandon myself in favor of whatever idea or notion he espouses.  Not that he requires or even asks this of me--this is something entirely within me that still needs healing and transformation.

I'm impressed by some of the words that Steve Jobs shared with graduates at Stanford University six years before his death:

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life.  Don't be trapped by dogma--which is living with the results of other people's thinking.  Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice.  And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition.  They somehow already know what you truly want to become.  Everything else is secondary."  Steve Jobs

I have known the enslavement of living with dogma and the opinions' of others.  Recovery of my true self has involved a lot of emotional sifting, sorting and discarding.  Living out of my true authentic self means that I no longer espouse beliefs that I was told I had to embrace, nor do I conform to roles prescribed for me or affirm values that do not reflect my most cherished beliefs.  I am learning how to be me, an original work of art created by an Artist who specializes in capturing the true essence of an individual.  And like Maggie, it began with something as simple as deciding how I like my eggs.  I have learned that you need to know yourself in order to be true to yourself and that once you discover your true self you have to guard against abandoning or compromising that truest you.  And everything else is simply secondary.

Kicked Out of My Life

Among the items on my bedside table are two framed photographs of my only daughter--one taken when she was a curly-headed three year old and another when she graduated from high school.  As I glanced at them this morning while making the bed, my heart broke yet again.  For a number of reasons, I am in yet another cycle of grief--it rolls in unexpectedly and while it is not as intense or all-consuming as it once was, it still requires processing through the pain that betrayal and loss have brought into my life.  This morning as I held the picture of my curly-headed toddler, I grieved for the life that I've lost.

I resonate with the feelings of another betrayed wife who bravely pulled the curtain back on what infidelity and sex addiction really look like within the privacy of a marriage.  She writes, "Sometimes I feel like I am sleepwalking.  I don't recognize my life now.  I feel like it must surely belong to someone else.  It is a good life in many, many ways, but it does not feel comfortable in that I don't feel like it belongs to me.  It's like wearing someone else's clothes--the feel, the smell, the look is all wrong.  I don't know how to explain it."

Life post-betrayal is full of paradox.  While I am grateful to be living in truth and authenticity, free of pedophilia, and am deliriously happy with my new marriage, I am homesick.  I'm homesick for the familiar life that I no longer have.  My ex-husband's arrest on child pornography charges brought a tidal wave of change into my life, all at once.  I was anticipating some changes because six weeks prior to his arrest we had decided to divorce.  But his arrest dramatically changed those plans.  I did not know it then, but I was entering a period of imposed change.

According to Dr. Patricia Wiklund, imposed change results from a life-changing event that you couldn't predict, didn't cause, don't want and can't avoid (Wiklund, Patricia, Lesson One of e-course for women of child molesters).  Change that we anticipate and plan for is exciting but all change carries with it stress and loss.  Imposed change, on the other hand, is not planned for and does not result from a personal choice--another or circumstances beyond our control imposes it upon us.  Here is some of what I recorded in my journal five months after my life exploded:

"I guess I'm also realizing how much of my old life was cut off and thrown away.  I smashed a 25th wedding anniversary photo of us, threw away my wedding bouquet and our anniversary album.  These parts of my life have been consigned to the trash heap--so many years.  So many years.  So much of who I am and what I have lived for is now in the trash.  Where do I go from here?  How do I redeem this?"

And

"Life as I knew it ended five months ago.  Life as I anticipated it ended.  My budding career--my hopes and dreams--all died five months ago.  I don't know what or who I am or should or will be.  I am in a place I never wanted to be in--literally and figuratively.  A dusty, congested, barren place that I now call "home."  Maybe I enjoy seeing the barren hillsides surrounding this new home because they symbolize my internal world--barren, without life, future or hope.  I don't know--just know that I am waiting.  Waiting to see who I will become when I grow up--hoping I get to grow up before life's hourglass runs out of sand."

There were many layers to the grief I experienced when I wrote those entries and even today as I
write these words.  Loss has marched through my life in so many different forms during the past few years but of all the varied types of loss, that of imposed change is the hardest to contend with.  No one asked me if I wanted my door broken down or if I wanted my life displayed on the evening news for all to see.  I wasn't consulted about any of these changes; they just came.

So today, I honor the grief that has come yet again.  I allow it to wash over me and acknowledge that I feel like an alien in my own life--an undocumented, non-resident in a world that is no longer familiar to me.  And I vow to take this grief and make meaning of it by sharing the journey with others who similarly grieve.  It is time to tell the truth about pedophilia, sex addiction, infidelity and betrayal.  It is time to reclaim that which we have lost as a consequence of imposed change--ourselves.  It is time to own our story and to tell it with vulnerability, courage, and determination.

It is only when we dare to show up and allow our stories to be heard and ourselves to be seen that real societal change begins because it begins in us.  This is how we change a climate that sanitizes and minimizes the pain of sexual betrayal and loss.  We stand up and say "ENOUGH ALREADY!"