Survivors' Voices: Triggers, Part 2
Today I bring you more thoughts and stories from abuse survivors on the topic of triggers (you can find the first half of responses in Part 1 here), and wow, this one is powerful. I am honored that these women and men chose to be so honest and vulnerable, and I hope that their words help you better understand the long-term effects of sexual abuse.
I assume that all survivors know to prepare themselves for difficult and possibly triggering content when reading my posts, but I would offer a note of extra caution on this one, as a few of the submissions are a bit more graphic or emotional than usual. Please take care of yourself.
If you have experienced sexual abuse in the Catholic Church, I would be honored to include your perspective in future posts in this “Survivors’ Voices” series. You can find more information and express your interest here.
Reflections on Triggers
What’s so hard for me about triggers is I never know what they’re gonna be. Today I prepared myself hardcore for a meeting with a priest who, on paper, reminds me a lot of my abuser - but then in person, I was totally fine. Meanwhile, overhearing a particular song triggered me yesterday and sent me spiraling with bad memories for hours. It’s so frustrating not being able to prepare myself well.
For me, triggers are a punishing reminder of how powerless I felt during the ten years of clergy assaults I endured as a child. I cannot control when, where, or how these triggers (or the flashbacks they precipitate) arrive. Earlier this year, I was at my dentist’s having a crown replaced when I suddenly experienced an intense flashback of severe abuse that occurred in a similar chair while attending a Catholic boarding school. Less than a month before that, I was in physical therapy and was asked to do an exercise for my knees that required me to lay on my back, and move my knees outward with a three-pound weight on my thighs. Without warning, I suddenly and vividly re-experienced a particularly brutal rape by the Monsignor that occurred over 50 years prior, when I was ten years old. I am now 69 years old, and still deal with triggers and flashbacks frequently. It’s bad enough to face these at home, but when they blindside me in public, you can’t imagine how humiliating and debilitating they can be. Not only must I deal with the intense and vivid flashbacks, but then I have to explain to others why I completely melted down right before their eyes for no apparent reason. How does a survivor find any “normalcy” in life when they are still blindsided by triggers and flashbacks many decades after their abuse ended?
Participation in the Sacraments can be very triggering for me because they involve being around priests. At this point in my journey, I can't go to confession to any priest I don't know; even with priests I do know, I often have panic attacks. It is a catch-22 because I want so desperately to receive the grace of the sacrament, but I also want to reverence my emotional health. I hate that it is so hard. I rarely go to confession in the confessional because it is hugely triggering. Another strong trigger is when I see/hear about priests interacting with women (especially on social media) where it is obvious they have terrible boundaries; it makes me soooooo anxious for the women and also causes me to have flashbacks of my own experience.
As a child I was triggered constantly, causing me to become silent at school. I tried to disappear into the air where no one could see me or reach me or blame me. As an adult I learned that my triggers were religious based. The dualistic god sunk deep into my heart. The lure of a loving god through songs, prayers, words, and kind teachers opened my heart wide for the slaughter, for intrusions of my body, mind and soul. Working through this, as an adult in the church, some of the triggers lessened, others were compounded, and I realized that being public about my abuse triggered church people. In leaving the church, I left responsibility for its dysfunction (and its triggers) to focus only on my own. It has taken a very long time and much work in self-awareness, but the small triggers I experience now inform and remind me of the devastation that happened to me and that happened, and still happens, to others. My brain automatically set up triggers to protect me. Knowing this led to reversing the self-loathing, self-guilt, and shame, bringing instead self-compassion and greater compassion for others.
Attending a funeral at my parish, to honor the life of a great priest and his over 50 years in ministry, I was triggered by seeing the retired bishop - who was the vicar for priests at the time of my abuse, who allowed my abuser to remain in ministry - as a concelebrant on the altar. My heart was racing, my mind was a blur, and I contemplated leaving the church. I sat with those feeling for awhile, until I realized this funeral was not about me, or my abuse, or how the church responded. In fact, this funeral was about the deceased, and to pray for the repose of his soul, and celebrate his life. With that in my heart, I was able to remain in the congregation.
When a trigger happens, such as hearing a church song I once loved, I allow myself to feel what comes up in me. It is not my fault my Catholic faith is gone. It was stolen from me. How can I believe in the Eucharist and know that a priest used his hands to abuse me?
The worst part about triggers for me is the physical experience that is difficult to manage. Certain smells or sounds or prayers will cause a full body reaction: my heart starts racing, my mind feels like it is racing out of control, and I feel like I’m “going crazy,” especially when I can’t get the racing thoughts to slow down. This results in copious tears and difficulty breathing; it is challenging to slow down. I have learned over the years that these experiences may feel like they last “forever,” but they actually stop in a matter of minutes. But it is exhausting! What has helped me is not fighting against the feelings and just allowing them to happen. I can say, “You are ok. You are safe. This is going to pass.” If I am with someone I trust, I ask them to give me a hug or hold my hand. If I’m alone, I wrap myself tightly in a blanket so I feel safe. If I’m in public, I go to a bathroom or sit in my car with the AC on high, blowing on my face. (Pro-tip: don’t rub your eyes! That makes them puffy and red. Just let the tears fall.) I also breathe through it if I can. When it’s over, I sit with my eyes closed and focus on breathing. I used to get frustrated and mad at myself for reacting so strongly or not being able to control my emotions. I’ve learned to be gentle with myself. Self-shaming only makes it worse.
My husband knows never to surprise me or grab me from behind. He did that once and I reacted with rage and vitriol. (The priest who abused me grabbed me from behind and would not let me go even as I screamed and pounded his forearms.)
I think a lot of times it is hard to understand that triggers are like a switch - all or nothing. Once the switch gets flipped, the emotional response is full on; there is no way to moderate it. You can learn to recognize and recover more quickly, but you can’t really learn to not have them or to decrease the intensity. And triggers can be anything - sensory things like sights, smells, the feel of something - but also relationship dynamics, emotions, experiences; those can be harder to understand and sort through.
Some things I know are going to trigger me - someone coming up behind me, a priest I don’t know at mass - but I think the the hardest triggers are ones I don’t see coming, that I don’t at first understand. I’m just going through my day, and then I’m having a huge emotional reaction to something. It’s sometimes really hard to discern that that response is not really about whatever is happening in the moment, but really is a trigger of the trauma. It’s really disorienting; it makes me feel super crazy. But it also helps me understand and be compassionate to other people. When I see one of my employees having an intense emotional reaction that doesn’t seem to fit the situation, I can see the pain and trauma behind that response. And when I can respond to that, more than to the behavior itself, I think that’s really meaningful and healing.
One evening during a recent visit with my daughter with her, she got out some old music books that used to be mine when I belonged to a charismatic group. These books were used by a guitar group I used to be in for a weekly Sunday Mass. I told my daughter how these songs would trigger old memories of being in Church or prayer meetings and what peace I felt years ago singing these songs in a community. The prayer group I belonged to at my old parish sounded like angels singing; the singing and music was the big draw for me. I felt connected and happy during the singing. When I hear these songs now, I long for those good feelings. How can I like these songs now with my childhood faith gone? I decided that I can still love these songs as the God of my understanding hears all songs of faith. So I have Apple Music and have downloaded many of the songs I love and I listen to them on my walks. While my daughter and I turned the pages of these songbooks, we sang most of them and it was a very special time together.
It is so hard when my faith and the Church, whom I love, become triggers for me. Various components about the faith and even the Sacraments were used as a means of grooming. So now I have to deal with flashbacks in Mass, anxiety attacks going into a confessional, and even triggers from certain scripture verses. This is why, when my abuser weaponized the faith, it truly raped my soul of something I will never get back.
A few years back, my family and I went to see the movie "Marley and Me.” It’s a charming story of a beautiful family with two children and their dog, Marley. The movie shares Marley's life and how he impacted their lives through all the good and bad things that happened to the family. The family gets older and Marley does too, until he passes away from old age. Seeing this, in such a compelling, visual, dramatic manner on the big screen, triggered me to remember and feel all of the loss of the innocence of my youth due to my childhood abuse. In the theater, sitting with my family, I cried and cried and cried. Actually, I sobbed.
Dear friends, I appreciate you taking the time to read this post and to open yourself to the voices of survivors.
If you found this post helpful, could you please consider sharing with others and inviting them to subscribe to this blog? I am increasingly convinced that lifting up the experiences of survivors is one of the best ways to change minds and hearts in the Catholic Church. I would appreciate your help with this mission.
I have a special follow-up on this topic planned for next week, so stay tuned for that. In the meantime, please keep all abuse survivors in your prayers.
With gratitude,
Sara