BROKEN

(I want to correct an error in my first post. The material we use in our sexual abuse recovery groups is entitled "In the Wildflowers" not "In the Wilderness". Thank you, Sidekick, for keeping me straight.)

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"Even when I am old and gray, do not forsake me, O God, till I declare your power to the next generation, your might to all who are to come." (Psalm 71:18)

"...You are my witnesses", declares the Lord, "that I am God." (Isaiah 43:12b)

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In the fall of 1976, I sat at my desk checking my students' papers while they were at PE.

It was something I never tired of doing as it gave me insight into their progress and provided an opportunity to  write encouraging notes to them. I glanced at the clock and noticed they would be returning in about ten minutes--just enough time to finish the last two papers and take a quick bathroom break.

As I started to check the next paper, I suddenly burst out sobbing uncontrollably. It frightened me, and as soon as I felt I was under control, I hurried  to the teachers' lounge to wash my face. I was relieved when I found the lounge empty. My face was red from crying, but there was nothing I could do about that. The students' faces would be red from running, so maybe they wouldn't notice.

If they did, they didn't mention it as we began our Science lesson. The tears were gone along  with an odd desperation that I had experienced while sobbing. I was able to maintain my composure for the rest of the school day. But it was a tenuous composure at best.

That night we had a PTA meeting scheduled. I really didn't feel up to attending but knew we were expected to be there. As I entered the lunchroom and  looked at the packed crowd, I was overwhelmed with fear. I took a seat beside my friend and determined to fight whatever this was. But, the longer I sat there, the stronger the panic became. Finally, I literally got to my feet and ran out of the room and called my husband to come and get me. I was in no shape to drive.

When we got home, my husband asked what was wrong. I felt silly, for  I had no answer for him. I didn't know what was wrong. I only knew  that when the panic came, I had to run--get away. I didn't know that what was happening had a name. But, I was experiencing panic attacks. My doctor told me a few years later that when I began  to have a panic attack I should just say to myself, "Now, this is all in my head." I tried that only to find that a person experiencing a panic attack doesn't listen to reason. It's just sheer terror. If you've experienced them, you know what I mean. If you haven't experienced them, be very grateful.

For the next eleven years, I held myself together enough to continue teaching and living a "normal" life at home. I still had occasional panic attacks and various illnesses that the doctors could never pinpoint. I felt odd and often wondered why I was different from everyone else. And, finally the strain became too much.

In the fall of 1987, I was hospitalized for severe depression. In February of 1988, I broke emotionally. The doctor said I was suffering a "near nervous breakdown". I think he was being kind. For  the first time in my life I was truly helpless. I couldn't even stand in church and hold a songbook.

I had reached the end of my own strength  in trying to hold my life together. I was broken emotionally  and physically--unable to continue teaching or even fulfill my duties as a wife and mother. Brokenness is a horrible feeling, but in reality it was just where I needed to be.

 For years I had denied the truth that a childhood trauma of sexual abuse had affected me in any way. Actually, it affected every area of my life--physically, emotionally, spiritually, and above all, relationally. Every person I loved had also been affected by my decision to live in denial.

I confided in my doctor. He looked at me and said, "Now I understand you." He said I needed help he couldn't give me and made an appointment  with a psychiatrist. She was a very understanding and compassionate woman to whom I owe an awful lot of gratitude.

The Bible tells us that God desires truth in the inward being. I knew I had not lived by His desire. But, now I wanted that above all things. The time had come for me to face that truth and allow God to teach me how to live with it.

I was about to begin what I call a terribly/wonderful journey to emotional healing. It was a long and often painful journey, and many times I just wanted to quit and go back to living in denial. But, the spark of hope that had been ignited kept me from giving up. And the thought of going back to living a life of what, to me, amounted to a lie, was not something I could any longer do.

My best friend had looked at me one day and said, "Betty, you are the falsest person I've ever known." I was hurt, but more than that, I was clueless as to what she meant. It would be several years before  I could see in myself what she saw that day.