abuse

Speaking Up Can Be Messy

The young woman behind the counter at Sunglass Hut did not deserve my wrath. Unfortunately, I only realized this days after I’d stalked out of the shiny store in a huff. At the time I told myself I was justified. I mean…I deserved respect, didn’t I? 

I posed some version of this question to my therapist, Carolyn, as I recounted the story a few days later. Arms crossed and urgency in my voice, I still felt resentful about this brief interaction at the mall. Carolyn cocked her head in that small way she had of letting me know my judgment was off. 

I was in my early twenties (still new to therapy and it’s jarring reality checks) and I carried a chip on my shoulder that sometimes got knocked off when I felt disrespected. It wasn’t always warranted, though. I know now that many of my perceived slights were stand-ins for actual affronts that occurred in my past. I cringe thinking about the shop clerks and salespeople who put up with my misplaced frustration and anger. Not to mention my ability to personalize corporate policies.

The Sunglass Hut confrontation started with an erroneous belief that I had the right to receive a replacement pair of sunglasses. The chain advertised a warranty from which I somehow got this impression. My shades, which I had purchased at full price on a young person’s budget, were in rough shape from frequent use and a general lack of care. Chalk it up to a shortage of life experience or an unrealistic sense of entitlement, but I walked into the store confident that they would honor my request for new glasses. 

My confidence turned to outrage when the self-assured employee looked over my glasses and asserted with a raise of her eyebrow, “I can’t replace these glasses. They look like they have been abused.”

“Abused?!” I asked. I felt my body temperature rising. It struck me hard, this word that felt so unnecessarily strong. Perhaps even accusatory. “They’re not abused,” I answered. My throat tightened. “I just used them normally. I can’t believe you’re not going to honor your own store’s policy!” I stood in front of her, trembling, and waited for her response.

“Sorry,” she said. “We can’t replace these.” She held the sunglasses out to me across the counter. I snatched them from her hand, turned on my heels, and marched out of the store. 

Back in Carolyn’s office, she listened to my righteous retelling and affirmed my general desire to speak up on my behalf. She also pointed out that in this instance, the shop worker was simply doing her job and following the store’s rules. My anger, she explained gently, was misplaced. The woman did not deserve the way I had treated her. It was hard to hear at first but she was right, of course. I did deserve to use my voice, that much was true. The problem was that I’d aimed my feelings at the wrong person, and for the wrong reasons. 

There has probably always been a mixture of a fighter and a people-pleaser in me. Before I’d been through serious therapy I had shaky self-esteem at best and the fighter side of me could sometimes be unkind. In those moments I said too much, too fiercely, with too little thought for the other person. I remember this with regret now. I also find room to forgive myself. As I often explain to my clients, when we begin to practice asserting the right to stand up and speak with conviction, our early efforts often come out messy. 

Growing up feeling stifled, silenced, shut down, and shamed, it takes a leap of faith and courage to override this influence and say your peace. For girls and women, there is an extra layer of social expectation that we “be nice,” stay quiet, and behave ourselves (whatever that means). Early attempts to buck our conditioning will likely come out clumsy and with too much force behind them. We might act like a bull in a china shop and that’s to be expected. The goal is to learn from our actions and take responsibility for them. There truly is no shame in making mistakes. 

In my effort to do some light fact-checking for this piece, I googled “Sunglass Hut Warranty” and read up on their policy. The website states, ”This warranty does not cover: scratches on lenses; damages caused by accident, abuse, neglect, shock, improper use or storage of the product; unauthorized modifications or repairs and normal wear and tear.” 

Huh. 

So it seems the store employee’s use of the term “abuse” was appropriate after all. She was simply naming a specific factor she was required to evaluate. Good for her that she chose not to sugar-coat her assessment for me. I suppose she could have been gentler about it, but that was not her responsibility. And I would be a hypocrite to expect that, given my own gloves-off approach. 

It must be said that the weight of the word “abuse” is not lost on me here. I realize, of course, that the mistreatment and abuse I survived in childhood was at the root of my misguided anger. Carolyn helped me see this. With empathy, support, and the trust she earned during our years together, she led me to explore the effects of my traumatic experiences with understanding and self-compassion. Through this work, my deep-seated shame began to lift and the unresolved anger gradually lessened. 

I still get mad sometimes, of course. Despite its bad rap, anger is a useful emotion. It helps us recognize threats and drives us toward useful action. When we begin to speak up and express our thoughts and emotions more fully, some of us start by getting angry at, and fighting, the wrong people. That’s human nature and nothing to be ashamed about. It’s also our job to recognize the problem and consciously direct our anger at real threats instead of perceived ones. With patience, practice, and (ideally) support to work through the very real reasons behind our emotions, we get better at knowing the difference. 

It took me a while and the journey was winding and messy. But today I feel far more comfortable advocating for myself, my loved ones, and my beliefs with confidence and compassion. I have learned how to stop paying the hurt forward. Instead, I know how to speak up productively, with the right people, and at the right time. I also take better care of my sunglasses. 

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The Sixth Sense Effect

I call it the “sixth sense effect”. Once you wake up to the realization that a relationship has been abusive, you replay the scenes of your life with that person (or people) through the lens of this newfound information and a growing understanding of what you lived through. It’s a splash of cold water in the face, for better and worse. Again and again, you go back through your memory and you see what now seems obvious–but was once desperately confusing and emotionally torturous for you. 

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Scapegoats are the Strong Ones

Being stuck in the role of the scapegoat is a lonely experience. Your place in the group never really feels secure. You live with a constant sense of being blamed and shamed–even if you can’t point out exactly how, or why it happens. You have probably been told that your feelings are wrong so many times you‘re not sure which end is up or whether you can trust your own instincts. But still, in your gut you know things are not right. 

That’s why you chose to speak up in the first place: to bring issues out in the open and hopefully address them together. Sadly, it’s also why you’ve been cast as the scapegoat by those who are hell-bent on denying difficult truths and maintaining the current power structure. As the scapegoat, you are subject to ostracism, victim-blaming, scolding, and shaming. And for some, a campaign of lies and half-truths weaken their perceived credibility both in and outside of the group. It is a painful way to live. 

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Fear, Loss, & the Grocery Store

The following is adapted from a bonus Truth & Consequences podcast episode recorded during the Covid-19 quarantine. I post it here because it addresses retraumatization and the resurfacing of past trauma and loss.  

If you have a few extra minutes this week, I’d like to share a story and some thoughts with you in the hopes that you’ll find it useful. It’s a story about going to the grocery store. Something that used to be an annoyingly frequent chore, at least to me, but has now become a whole different experience for a lot of us…of course, that’s IF you’re actually still venturing out to buy food in person.

Because our world has changed.

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Dear Second Wound, I am a survivor of sexual abuse. Why wasn’t I believed?

Dear Survivors,

You 100% deserve to be believed.

Though it’s nearly impossible to gather accurate statistics on false reporting of sexual abuse, we do know that it’s rare. If we look at sexual assault reports made to law enforcement, research tells us that false reports make up about only 2 to 6 percent of cases. It’s probably safe to assume the number is at least this low in sexual abuse cases.

Let’s be realistic. Survivors have very little reason to lie. As one survivor pointed out, “A small child couldn’t make that stuff up”. So then…why are so many survivors doubted, questioned, and outright disbelieved? Even when we ARE believed, why is our trauma so often minimized, brushed under the rug as if it doesn’t matter to anyone but us?

There are many reasons that explain the heartbreak of disbelief and minimization. I’ve done my best to explain them here.

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Reasons Family Members Side with Sexual Abusers

[Originally published on PsychCentral on November 24, 2018.]

Living with the emotional effects of sexual abuse is painful enough. Unfortunately, many survivors open up about their abuse only to find that their family members’ reactions toward them are just as painful — if not more so — than the original trauma. It may shock some people to learn that family members often choose to side with sexual abuse perpetrators and against their victims, especially if the abuse was committed within the family.

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An Open Letter to Messengers of Estranged Relatives (As seen on Elephant Journal)

[Originally published on Elephant Journal on September 10, 2018.]

Becoming estranged from a relative is a sad and difficult decision, one that is usually made with grave consideration and based on the belief that the emotional cost of continuing contact is simply too great to bear. Most people wish there was another choice they could make, especially when the family members are their own parents.

Yet, there are probably far more people in this situation than most of us realize. We tend not to talk about estrangements much. Naturally, we hope to avoid the general awkwardness and potential judgment of others. Perhaps there is a dark side to families that we would prefer to keep private.

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