One of the bravest things I’ve ever done was to sit down with my abusers and confront them with the truth. Of what it was like for me. What it made me feel like. What it had done to me.

Confrontation does not come easily to me. Speaking what is on my mind can take a lot of effort. I’m too nice. Too kind. Nice to the point of taking abuse and misuse and somehow believing it an act of service. A sacrifice god was calling me to make. As if my life, needs, wants, and dreams didn’t matter and were selfish to dwell on.

It wasn’t until I was in my 20s, and had physically left the situation, that I realized just how toxic it was. How harmful to my being. That what had gone down was wrong. So very, very wrong.

how the church normalizes abuse

The church taught me that being nice and serving others was more important than allowing myself to be safe. It left me alone to deal with responsibilities that no child should have to deal with. It created a community of belonging that was, in fact, isolating. While it painted the picture of a loving and safe place, it created zero space for victims to be aware that what was happening was not normal. That they could and should speak up.

It was a silent community, where belonging was purchased with silence. Always be nice. Keep serving. Don’t make waves. As long as the church coddles abusers and hushes the victims, it will remain a toxic place. One that isn’t safe for victims and, for those who do speak up, that confrontation can be re-traumatizing.

When I began to wake up to the truth that my life matters. That the things my soul had always longed for were, indeed, good things. That it wasn’t my job to take care of those who had wronged me. It was like straining against the cocoon, working with all my might to tear open a tiny hole and begin to slip out. Unsure of what was outside that cocoon, yet knowing I could no longer stay inside. Hope began to fill my tiny bruised wings. I had never flown before. Been told all my life it was dangerous. Yet there I was. Tiny little broken thing, that knew it would die if it did not fly. Slowly but surely I began to find the words to wrap around the pain and slowly pull it to the surface. Let the light fall on it fully.

Abuse and trauma

Oh, to grasp the breadth of your pain and suffering! To even start to acknowledge the truth of abuse and trauma is a frightening thing. If this is where you are at, dear one, stay strong and carry on. Stay with the process. The only way out is through. You cannot bypass grief. Steady on. You will find the path through.

One thing about abuse and trauma is that it muddles the brain. We get stuck in toxic places. Not because we want to be there, but because we don’t know how to move on. This is not our fault. The younger we are when we experience any form of trauma, the more likely it is that we will come to believe that toxic places are normal and must be survived. If we have had no one to tell or show us otherwise, we believe that it’s our fault and maybe it will stop if we try harder. To be kind. To be perfect. Or whatever else is required. Our response to pretty much everything in life becomes skewed. And we have no real idea how to make it stop.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the night I sat down and spoke my truth. I was still a tiny broken thing, that knew it would die if it did not fly. A bundle of nerves. I had thought long and hard about what I would say. Talked and wept for hours with my husband, who gave me a solid shoulder to lean on and the strength I did not have alone. What I did not realize, is that confrontation can be re-traumatizing.

when confrontation is re-traumatizing

I honestly don’t remember too many details of that night. The confrontation was re-traumatizing in many ways and I know I have blocked much of it out. Some of the details are fuzzy but I know I gathered my courage and spoke my truth. I didn’t back down. Didn’t change my story to make them feel good. Didn’t take my words back and replace them with a nicer narrative. I stuck with the truth for the first time in my life.

It. Was. Not. Well. Received.

Don’t ever change the truth of your narrative to make someone else feel better.

In fact, it wasn’t received at all. It hit a wall and was re-formed into nasty little darts that were thrown back at me. But I stuck with the truth.

Don’t ever change the truth of your narrative to make someone else feel better. Looking back I’m pretty darn proud of that younger version of myself. I may not have had the perfect words to use. And I definitely blocked some of it from my memory. But, dang! I told the truth!

Never should on yourself

To be honest, I’m wrestling with several current-day issues. Wondering when confrontation is a good thing and when it’s just someone else’s hope for reconciliation. I spoke my truth once, and it wasn’t magical. It hurt. The response sucked. I spoke the truth about abuse and a lot of people were angry with me. And while it feels good to have been so brave and daring, so truth-telling, the only thing it did was make my wings a little stronger. It did absolutely nothing for the relationship.

So I am letting myself off the hook when it comes to confrontation. I’m giving myself permission to not have to explain everything. While I am committed to truth-telling, I am also committed to caring for myself. And that can be a delicate thing to balance. If and when I need to speak up, for me, I will do that. But I will not should on myself. I will not sit down and speak my brave and beautiful truth just because someone else thinks I should. If I want it for me, I will. But I am wise enough now to know that sometimes confrontation can be re-traumatizing.

It’s taken me decades to learn to trust my judgment. To honor the divine wisdom that was there all along but had just been smothered by the toxic system I found myself in. That ancient wisdom is slowly filling in the gaps where toxic structures once stood. Her voice can be trusted. And she will never should on me. When I follow her voice, I know it is towards freedom.

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