Breaking the chain - it ends HERE.

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WARNING: This blog is written by an adult survivor of severe childhood abuse. While specific graphic details are not offered, it is entirely possible that this material may be uncomfortable for some readers. If you have any doubt as to whether this may “trigger” you or make you feel unsafe in any way, please STOP reading and click elsewhere. If, while reading this or at any other time, you find yourself feeling unsafe or contemplating hurting yourself, please IMMEDIATELY contact a crisis line or mental health professional. Please – be safe, and be well.


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I’m a big believer in focusing on what’s good about life, and I generally have a low tolerance for people who whine. In any situation, there is always something for which be thankful – usually several things. Hidden blessings are numerous and ubiquitous; a shift in perspective is all it takes to find them.

Some people, though, take “positive attitude” to the extreme, and will tell anyone who’s survived some kind of harrowing experience or heartache that they’ve “created it for themselves.” Blame-the-victim mentalities are annoying at best, and emotionally abusive at worst. Would these idiots actually dare to tell a young child who’s just lived through horrific abuse at the hands of a caregiver that “It’s your own fault Daddy raped you?” I mean, for the love of all that is sacred, have some compassion and humanity!

Growing up, I endured horrific abuse the likes of which even most CSA survivors can only begin to imagine. The abuse was emotional, physical, and sexual – spiritual too, now that I think about it, for the intent behind the abuse was to destroy my very spirit, the spark of my Being. I am grateful to have survived these events, but suffice it to say that they made a lasting impression.

Of late, there seems to be an upswing in reported child abuse. More stories than ever are surfacing in mainstream media, and the good news is that the abusers within these stories have been discovered – although, in many heartbreaking cases, too late to help the child(ren) whose lives they egregiously destroyed. Lately, I have to avoid broadcast news entirely, because there are so many stories that trigger the horror of my own past, and I find myself unable to move forward.

I recently had an exchange of messages with an acquaintance on Twitter. This individual is a courageous advocate for children who have endured abuse, and I respect their work in this area. But the contention was made in a public Tweet that those who are abused inevitably continue the cycle, and go on to abuse children themselves. For me, that comment was horrifically painful to read, and I found myself very angry…

When I was a child, my mother – the physically abusive alcoholic despot who constantly told me how much she hated me – was the FUNCTIONAL parent. My stepfather, I’ve come to realize with time and research, was a psychopath. The term “recreational child abuse” is one I heard for the first time in the last few years, and it applies perfectly to Frank (my stepfather). For some of us, reading or watching TV can be a way to unwind after a long day. For people like Frank, their primary source of entertainment is the raw pain of other people – and the younger and more innocent the victim, the better.

Years and years of therapy over the intervening decades, as well as my own in-depth spiritual studies and search for deeper meaning, have yielded insight and perspective. I cannot change what has happened, but I can change how I live in the “now.” I offer myself as a compassionate friend to those who need one, and I laugh often in the face of adversity.

Still, the reality is that I have been permanently shaped, to some degree, by the events of my childhood. The trauma was so severe that I have had to change therapists on more than one occasion, because the professional involved simply could not handle the intensity. I ended up holding back, worrying about whether my therapist was okay, and in the process, restricting my own healing process. I have since learned how to better handle these kinds of details, but I am still very mindful about how toxic even the memories of these events can be.

When my children were younger and still at home, I did as much as I possibly could to shield them from the ripples that inevitably moved through my life (and thus theirs). I worked very hard at being loving and patient, even in the face of their special needs and my own frustration. I did a credible job of being a loving parent – or at least I hope I did. I tend to be pretty hyper-critical of my own parenting abilities. It’s as if on some level I am expecting myself to make amends for my own mistakes (a valid expectation), but also to make amends for all that was done to me by my own parental figures (NOT a valid expectation).

For a long time, I had virtually no skills whatsoever in the area of self-care. I made the subconscious decision that my own well-being was not important, and in so doing I ran myself ragged and ended up without much to offer anyone. Eventually, I crashed – HARD. Unable to work or function in any way, I had to rebuild my life, my sense of self, and my understanding of The Meaning of Life… or something along those lines.

Ultimately, this ended up being a precious gift, because while the doorway to the future I’d envisioned closed, windows to new possibilities opened, and I was able to pursue those things that truly interested me, not just those things that yield another paycheck. I was finally allowed the luxury of pursuing the spiritual journey that had called to me for so many years. I realized that not only did I not have the answers, I didn’t even have the right questions! Several years later, there I was - a multi-cultural shaman, Reiki master, ordained clergy, trained Peer Counselor, and more. But, ultimately, the more I learned, the more humility I acquired. As I've studied, learned and grown, I've realized just how more there is to do in all three areas.

And, just as the Zen master chops wood and carries water both before AND after enlightenment, I find myself dealing with day-to-day realities that sometimes are painful. Yes, I have much more insight now, so in that sense it’s easier. But I’m also more attuned and open, and so it’s possible for the grief to overwhelm me. I’ve learned that it is a far wiser choice to let the tears come, to grieve… And then to move on and take action in those areas where I can effect change – usually within myself, and with my own actions.