Brownie and Ice Cream, Source https://flickr.com, Author Veganbaking.net
“The day for building your walls will come, the day for extending your boundaries” (Micah 7: 11).
A commentary in The Woman’s Study Bible makes an essential distinction between guilt and shame:
“Guilt is a God-given emotion that occurs when a woman’s mistakes and faults are brought to her own mind or publicly exposed…
Shame, however, says that the person herself is bad…that she is hopelessly defective, unlovable, inferior, and worthless. Shame begins externally with a subtle implication through silence and neglect or verbal denunciation through words of abuse. When such messages are repeated often enough, whether through words or actions, they become internalized into a false belief: I must be bad to deserve such terrible treatment. This becomes the core identity and the basis of thousands of future, flawed choices for the one suffering from shame [1A].”
The Study Bible goes on to say:
“Healing of shame begins when a woman identifies the lies she believed about herself…
Sometimes [however] the victimizing acts done to a person may be so shame-producing that she is still emotionally bound by that shame, though she understands mentally her [true] worth in God’s eyes. In these situations, she must bring her shame…to Jesus. Ultimately, only He can bring full emotional cleansing and freedom [1B].”
This is not easy for me, even today. It is an ongoing process.
As victims, we are not the guilty parties. However, it mistakenly feels that way. Therefore, we punish ourselves. Self-deprivation is one means.
Self-Deprivation
The victims of abuse will often deny themselves the essentials. Some children will not wash. They feel dirty and, at an unconscious level, want the world to know. Other children become obsessed with cleanliness, as I did.
Since expiation cannot be accomplished (it is the wrong party being punished), the behavior is difficult to overcome.
My sister and I have more than once bought for each other the blouse, skirt, or coveted bangle we could not bring ourselves to buy. As a result of her early trauma, my mother could not choose between chocolate and vanilla ice cream.
“Which would you like, Ma?”
“Either one is okay.”
“Really, it’s no trouble. I have both.”
“You choose.”
“Do you want both, Ma? A little of both, maybe?”
“Doesn’t matter. You choose.”
This excessive desire to please on my mother’s part may have been the result of codependence. But self-deprivation, also, played a role. We kept for years in a plastic bag at the back of the refrigerator, behind the vegetable bin, a small fox stole my great aunt had given us. It was, after all, too good to wear.
I have, myself, slept on the couch because there were new sheets on the bed. Clothes are somehow more perfect hanging in the closet, clean and untouched. New lingerie can stay in the drawer for months. I have difficulty even today allowing myself the small luxury of a manicure.
There are echoes of my grandmother in this.
I can count on one hand the number of full-fledged vacations I have taken. A friend called mine “Waldherrian” vacations. These are never actualized: all fantasy, no fun.
The best of my vacations — to England — was actually arranged as a surprise by my mother and sister for my 30th birthday. To her great credit, my mother, also, paid for a school trip to Italy which lingers sweetly in memory.
When my grandfather died, college friends called with their condolences.
“We were so sorry to hear, Anna. Is there anything you need? Anything we can do?”
“No, thank you. Not really.”
“We’re calling to find out where the wake is being held.”
“The wake? You want to come to the wake?!”
“Of course. We want to be there for you.”
“It’s all the way up in the Bronx. I don’t want to put you guys to all that trouble. Really, you don’t have to come.”
“But we want to. Everyone’s here. Everyone. Dressed and ready. We just need directions to the funeral parlor.”
“Thank you. I’m grateful. Truly I am. But it’s better if you don’t.”
And so it goes. Our instinct is to deny ourselves comfort in any form. Continue reading
ANNA WALDHERR A Voice Reclaimed, Surviving Child Abuse 