Survivors' Voices: Love
One of the things I have learned from walking with abuse survivors is that even simple words can land very differently depending on a person’s past experiences. “Faith” and “hope” are among those words that can sound beautiful or painful, depending on who hears them. So is “love.”
I found it very difficult to listen to words, especially in the liturgy, that had the word “love” in it because of how the word had become distorted in my perceptions of it. What helped is understanding that there are different forms of “love” including abusive love, mistaken love, false love, infatuation and blind “love” - the love that takes and doesn’t give. The word love lost its meaning until I understood that love without justice is not love. “Love” can be destructive if it is centred on the ego, what the individual can get from it for their own self-satisfaction. It is abusive if it uses a person without consideration of consequences, and long-term consequences. Love is NOT a feeling. Love is a sacrament, a vow that can reveal the nature of Christ. It is NOT self-sacrifice for the sake of “forgiveness” or continuing relationships that perpetuate the abuse.
The effect of the abuse on my life was a sickening feeling at the word ‘love’ and an avoidance of hurt, like avoiding putting my hand onto a hot stove plate to get burnt.
My ability to give and receive genuine love was affected by my abuse in several ways. On the receiving side, I often felt unworthy, suspicious, or braced for the “catch” behind any tenderness, so I would either pull away or stay half-present. On the giving side, I could pour myself out in care for others, but it was frequently driven by fear, hypervigilance, or a need to manage their emotions, rather than by a relaxed, free gift of myself. Therapy, somatic work, and safe relationships have slowly helped me separate love from abuse, so that nurture, safety, and respect no longer feel foreign or undeserved.
One thing that has been entirely ruined for me is the imagery, as in Song of Songs, of erotic love as a metaphor for God’s relationship with the church. It’s not that I reject the place and intent of this part of the bible. But I have had to live through the perversion of those passages, and have deeply hurt by these perversions. In the aftermath of the abuse I experienced, I have learned that other outwardly “saintly” or “holy” abusers in other times and places also employed these images and passages in their deception, manipulation, and abuse.
Being held by my spouse as I disclosed the forty year secret of witnessing my best friend being abused was the most loving thing anyone could have done for me. It was during this moment that I knew no matter how often I share the story, I will be held in a safe embrace by the one who chose to share his life with me.
I describe love as understanding a person well enough to do what they need to get through painful and damaging experiences. This can be doing or saying the right thing. It can also mean helping the person just enough so as not to take away their sense of self assurance.
Of course, on the surface I feel the love of my wife, children, friends and others in the community. Beneath the surface, I don’t always feel that I deserve to be loved. The trauma of my childhood sexual abuse is a dark cloud over every single relationship in my life.
Love is a tricky word for me. My parents did not discuss or demonstrate love through hugs or words, so when my uncle began using physical affection and “I love you” to groom me at age five, I craved that attention and cooperated with his advances and molestation. The Monsignor, who was supposed to help me recover from the two years of uncle abuse, also used affection for grooming me. He spoke of Jesus’s love for me to rope me in, and Jesus’s disappointment if I did not cooperate. In the novitiate, I was told I was going to be Jesus’s wife, and I’d better learn what Jesus wanted in the bedroom if I wanted to make Him happy. That priest forced me to keep “practicing” over and over then told me that Jesus could never love or want me because of my bedroom “failures.” By the time I started dating after fleeing the novitiate, my entire idea of loving and being loved was completely twisted, which made my dating years treacherous. I found true love at age 30. We had 40 wonderful years together before he died from cancer. The last stage I learned was self-love. That required processing of the deep shame and self-blame that lurked in my subconscious mind, but I eventually mastered that, too.
Any experience of love in my life has been quite guarded. As a child, I longed to feel loved and cared for. So, when the priest hugged me, I welcomed it. Unfortunately, that love became shameful and even criminal. I believe it is only through the unconditional love of God that my very hardened heart has been opened. Today, I know the blessings of love and care in my life because of some remarkable, understanding, and patient people.
May we each come to understand and experience genuine love - and stand up against all the ways perversions of love are used to harm and control.
~ Sara
Could l talk with someone?
I feel like what was shared about this topic, in particular, is an example of what the Church can learn from survivors. They are doing the heavy life-long work of diving deep to understand Truth in a way that most people never do. Thank you all for what you shared. Know that I sorrow for and with you.