Survivors' Voices: Anger, Part 2

Thank you to all the victim-survivors who have shared their reflections on anger this month, especially one person who is contributing to this series for the first time.

(If you have experienced sexual abuse in the Catholic Church, I would be honored to include your perspective in this “Survivors’ Voices” series. You can find more information here: An Invitation for Survivors.)

In case you missed it last week, you can read Part 1 here.

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• Unfortunately, I did not know who to turn to as a child, so I turned my anger inward. I thought: “I must have done something wrong. I was to blame. What did I do?”. The anger led me to a very dark place which led me to some harmful and destructive choices. To this day, I watch for the warning signs of revisiting that darkness. It took me time, a lot of prayer, and soul-searching to realize that his actions had nothing to do with me as a person. I have come a very long way. I like and enjoy the person I have become. It is truly only by the Grace of God that I am here today.

• I have come to see my anger as an act of self-respect. So when I am told that in order to heal, forgive, etc, I need to let go of anger, I'm like... “no thanks, I like it actually.” I think more survivors need to hear that.

• My therapist told me a long time ago that I won’t be able to fully process what happened until I can get angry about it. That’s so difficult for me. I loved my abuser and, at least on one level, he’s a gentle, giving, sensitive man. I adored those things about him. His duality of personality is mind-bending for me, even though I personally know both sides of him. The way he has groomed the entire community to tolerate his evil behavior creates a culture around me that makes my anger discordant with my environment. He is still a local pastor and is the former superior of a religious order with whom I have unavoidable regular contact. The enabling culture he has built, added to my conditioning to placate my abuser in order to not escalate the abuse, leaves me hoping that anger is something I will one day achieve.

• Anger - and its cousins rage, resentment, and revenge - have been constant companions since my abuse occurred in the summer of 1963. They manifested in various ways throughout my life; they were always just under the surface of my happy-go-lucky façade. I could never get close to you or, even worse, allow you to get close to me, because I could not trust you. That damn priest took away my ability to function in society, to be able to really be in a relationship with someone else - whether that was an intimate relationship or a friendship. The sexual abuse impacted me at deep cellular level and I never knew it; however I see that now in hindsight. Anger, rage, resentment, and revenge were catalysts for me pushing people away so they would not really see ME; because if they did see me they would definitely not like me and certainly not love me.

• Anger can develop as a means to protect our sensitivities, our hurts and suffering. Anger can also be used to control a situation, a person, or an outcome, especially when there is an imbalance of power. I was frightened into silence by my abuser’s persona of God. When that abuser became angry, an angry god, I was marbleized, completely frozen in fear. Even after I grew in health and healing, I continued to be immobilized by angry priests. Writing this, I wonder if I could respond to an angry priest today.

• As with most things in life, anger holds the power to be very hurtful and destructive as well as an intrinsic teacher. In the past, my self-righteous, justified anger and angry actions hurt so many other people. Today I have tools and practices that allow me to see the anger when it is starting to fester, and yes, maybe even stay in it for a while. But within two to three hours I come out of it because I am looking at it from a new perspective. As Chuck Chamberlin would have said, I am looking at my abuse with a new pair of glasses. It is surprising how empowering that has been.

• I think what I'm most angry about is that this is my story at all. I did not want this to be my story. I don't like my story. I wish I could remove the abuse from my life, but it is woven into the weft and weave and it affects the color, texture, and design of my life in unexpected ways. Sometimes I find grace in the way that this unwanted addition to my life challenges me to be more patient with myself and more open to God, but I never feel that grace without some anger. Why couldn't I learn patience and openness through love and not through abuse?

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Thank you for reading, and please consider sharing this post to help others understand.

~ Sara