83-Linda
I suspect that most people think that counselors have it all together and know what the heck they are doing; otherwise they couldn’t be counselors, right? That is certainly the way we view doctors and ministers and other professionals. Aren’t there rules and laws and certification boards that keep incompetent helping-professionals out of the profession?
Linda called in to my office one afternoon and, in a hesitant, hitched voice, asked to speak to a counselor. What I thought would be another call-in after a busy afternoon for me, I readied myself to talk about Al-anon with a concerned family member or empathize with another crack addict about how bad the drug was and how the weekend was coming up and it would be so hard to stop right now.
But there was a very upset woman on the other end of the phone, speaking in little girl’s voice: “I am so scared for my little girl, she’s just turned 13 and the boys are calling every day and wanting to come by the house and TALK to her”. Silence. Then,”I don’t know what to do.”
Well this didn’t make any sense to me. Why would she be so upset about the natural progression of life with kids? I invited her to come in the next day and I guess her internal radar found me to be harmless so she agreed and walked into my office the next afternoon.
Linda was a large African-American woman about thirty-five years old and who held herself with timidity usually reserved for children and the very old. She looked at me surreptitiously when she thought I wasn’t looking and the rest of the time she seemed to look beyond me, never making eye contact.
“It’s these boys, circling my little baby girl like vultures waiting for their prey to die”. Interesting analogy to use for mating rituals, I thought, using death and predation at the same time, what Freud would make of that!”
“I just can’t stand it anymore”.
The problem that clients bring into counseling is never the actual problem, according to Virginia Satir. But most clients will tell you what really is wrong, indirectly, within the first five minutes of the first session if you let them. So I waited.
“ Her father is no help at all, he thinks it’s funny… when he isn’t drunk” (wait for it…) “And I am so afraid one of them will try to have sex with her and hurt her” (that could be it but wait a while more…).Silence. Tears. Silence. (wait for it…)
“When I was her age no one protected me and I am determined to protect her with all of my mite!”(There it was, did you see it? Failure by a parent to protect her…but protect her from whom, from what?)
Linda looked directly at me now, unable to defend her pain anymore, willing to take the leap of faith of trust because the alternative pain was unendurable. Her tears came from someplace deep inside her, from somewhere long ago. We spent the balance of the hour letting off some of the pressure she had held in her heart for thirty years.
Turns out Linda had been sexually abused by a grandfather whose body had died recently but whose actions lived on and on, actions that became an infected splinter of pain in Linda’s heart, and it had worked it’s way in deeper and deeper over the years. She had guarded the secret well, kept her promise to the old man to never tell a soul. How could she tell it anyway, then everyone would know what an evil person SHE was.
So she kept all the anger and pain and anguish inside and, over the years, a false person grew up around the wound. She showed only the false person to the world for so long that eventually that it was all she knew. And her real self, that laughing little girl from long ago, became no more than the shadow of a memory from a long forgotten tale.
“help me” she said in the little girl’s voice that sounded so out of character coming from the grown woman before me. I did not know how to help her at that point in my career and what is worse, I did not know that I did not know how to help. So I pressed on with forming a therapeutic relationship based on unconditional positive regard, and I researched the subject. The first gift Linda gave me was the desire to know how to help people with unresolved sexual abuse issues.
I read The Courage to Heal, I questioned colleagues, I searched the Internet. And as time went by I came to understand survivors as people who had adjusted and reacted to insanity in predictable and understandable ways. Linda was injured both by her grandfather and by the mother who failed to believe her when she finally got the courage to tell on him.
Picture the scene in your mind for a second. A skinny and shy seven year old is looking up at her mother from behind a peanut butter and jelly sandwich one sunny and hot afternoon. After a long silence she speaks:
” Momma, Grandiddy touches me”
….. and Mother absentmindedly says “what?”
“He touches me in my privates and I …”
SLAP. SLAP “don’t you ever let me here you talk like that again you filthy little girl, hush now unless you want some more.”
And she hushed up…until she told it in my office.
What I came to understand is that she blamed herself for the abuse she received at age seven at the hands of a sixty two year old grandfather and the neglect of a thirty-five year old mother. Kids are so vulnerable and egocentric and they know that their very survival depends on the good graces of the giant adults around them. And when a trusted adult hurts them, threatens their life, the world becomes too scary a place in which to survive emotionally. The fear is too great to adjust to.
So they blame themselves and believe themselves evil and bad. Because their bodies responded. Or they were too scared to tell. But mainly it is because they know that they at least can control themselves, and feel safer. In fact, as adults, they do all sorts of wacky things to gain a sense of control and predictability over their lives. They get obsessive about cleanliness. Or control men. Or punish men and themselves with sexuality. And they marry into that same insanity of drunken power and control because it is predictable and appears controllable.
As I fumbled my way through counseling with Linda I came across a Bonnie Raitt song called Circle Dance. And I played it for her in the office one day. And one day I followed the suggestion of a trainer and had her bring a picture of herself at seven years old to our session. As we sat there and looked together at the skinny little black girl that she was on that day long ago, the tears flowed. Tears of sadness for sure, but joyful tears as well. Because that little girl was still alive inside Linda, had come alive again during our sessions, and Linda had begun to heal the wounds that had been inflicted on the little girl, so small and light, who smiled back at us from that old and worn photograph.
I learned so much from Linda and the gifts she gave me that summer continue to help me help others with these issues today. I learned that only the most courageous and the most pained people ever decide to even begin to heal these wounds. They are survivors, not victims. I learned that healing is a slow process that cannot be hurried. I learned that the work stops and starts again with a will of its own. I learned about the effectiveness of exercise, affirmations, journaling, containment strategies like diaphragm breathing and thought stoppage and the power of supportive people and self-care activities And I learned that unconditional positive regard is the only environment in which healing can occur. Someone has to care about the survivor and model that for her so that she can again care for herself.
Linda died a couple of years ago. But she learned to drive an automobile before she died. And she left her abusive and drunken husband of many years. Her daughter is now twenty-three and has a child of her own. Before she died, Linda learned how to protect her daughter and she told her secret to the family, told it in a loud, strong and unwavering voice, so that her daughter and granddaughter could grow up safe and protected.
And when another little girl came to my office the other day and looked at the wall behind me and hesitantly asked me for help, I knew what to do for her. I had learned the steps for helping her from Linda. And I thought about the lessons Linda had given me about courage and persistence and patience. I could see in my mind the picture she had held out to me, the picture of that skinny little girl, smiling back at me from a past so full of hope and promise, and I smiled and nodded at the young lady across from me. Then we began the journey.
Dave Seward
March 2003
"The Courage to Heal" by Ellen Bass and Laura Davis
This book is the 'bible' of sexual abuse recovery, but please be sure you have a support system before starting this book, it will get to the heart of your issues and if you're not ready it could throw you into flashbacks, memories, and panic attacks. You should have a therapist or at least educated family members/friends who can help you through this difficult time. There is also a workbook; you can start with, if you're not quite ready for the whole book.
Circle Dance
I don’t' know why it should be so hard
Givin' up this circle dance
Worn out steps from long ago
don't give love a chance
It's a bitter heirloom handed down
these twisted parts we play
I'm not her and you're not him
It just comes out that way
Can't go back to make things right
(though I) wish I'd understood
time has made things clearer now
We did the best we could
I'll be home soon, that's what you'd say
And a little kid believes
After a while I learned that love
Must be a thing that leaves
I tried so hard just to hold you near
Was as good as I could be
Even when I had you here
You stayed so far from me
Can't go back to make things right
(though I) wish I'd understood
Time has made things clearer now
You did the best you could
Now that this has occurred tome
I just wanted you to know
I've been too faithful all my life
It's time to let you go
Disclaimer:
I made all these people up, they aren’t real, and besides I changed their names too. And therapy doesn’t go like this, I made it all up to make me and the fictional client’s look better than we ever could be. It takes hour after hour after hour of therapy to get to one of the “aha” moments captured here and I don’t write about the countless sessions that I spent being clueless and bewildered and not helpful at all. And besides, I made all this up anyway.
Dave
No comments:
Post a Comment