forgiveness can wait

I wanted to take the time this weekend to write something about forgiveness but it's not going to happen just yet.

The reason? Well, I saw a few people today at my son's school fair. People from my old church who used to be close, who I would turn to in times of crisis. People who trusted me in return. I walk past one couple and it's as if we've never met. My heart rate rises as we approach. How should I act? Should I smile or say "Hi" or would that make it worse? At one point I brave a look, determined to smile and be friendly but their faces were turned the other way....I can't tell if it was deliberate or not. I don't imagine they are feeling any better about it than I am.

Another couple are more approachable. Our friendship spans over two decades. We used to share everything....except my belief that I was bullied by the church leader, they have told me they see that one differently. Recently they became assistant campus pastors in my previous church, a position that wouldn't be given to anyone questioning the senior leaders. I find it much harder with them. We are polite, avoiding the gargantuan elephant wedged between us. After a few minutes I feel the familiar weight of grief mingling with fear and confusion. Any longer and my emotions will flashback to those last days in my previous church. I might burst into tears or beg them to understand me, which they can't...or won't. Hurriedly I excuse myself and slip away.

So now I'm home. I'm OK, but my brain is skittering from one experience to another. My emotions are tangled, unfathomable and my body is a little more alert than it needs to be. I recognise the mild symptoms of post traumatic stress and I know that within a few days, possibly even tomorrow, I will feel 'normal' again and it will be difficult to imagine this jumbled and spiky experience.

I won't be writing anything profound about forgiveness today, forgiveness can wait. Ironically that was the point I was going to make anyway.

saying sorry

Reading the same textbook* I referenced in my previous post I experienced another 'aha' moment. This time adult women were describing childhood memories of being made to say sorry. The researchers observed some common patterns, whereby an apology was deemed necessary by adults 'in order to restore power relations within the household' whether or not the child had actually done anything wrong.

The researchers also noted:-

...all the memories positioned the protagonists as being responsible for other people's well-being. By being made to apologise the girls were taught to accept responsibility for the effects that their actions had on others, even when these were unintended. Crawford et al (1992) proposed that this purpose is gendered, in that adult women tend to feel responsible for other people's emotional well-being even when they have no power to control it.

Now this is a tricky area. If I say something, intending to be helpful, and it turns out to be insensitive or hurtful to the recipient then I may still wish to apologise if that recipient brings it to my attention. It may also follow that I will feel some distress at having caused pain to another, albeit unintentionally. What I would not then expect however, is that same recipient to apologise to me for the sadness caused by bringing it to my attention (unless they had used violent or unduly aggressive means of course but that would be a different issue) They haven't done anything wrong. In fact it may have taken great courage to bring it to my attention, even more so if I hold any position of power or influence in that recipient's life.

And yet, this was my experience in church. When I raised the difficulty I was experiencing due to the behaviour of the leader he immediately turned the focus upon the pain he was feeling as a result of my 'accusations'. Others came to me, telling me how hurt he was, how disrespectful I was being. His daughter-in-law told me how upsetting it had been for her to even consider whether he was abusive or not. 

If I had repented and retracted my words as I had in the past, then I am sure that I would have been welcomed back into the fold, with regular reminders of my bad behaviour and the distress I had caused. 'Power relations within the household' would have been restored with me in the subordinate position. There were in fact times that I did express sorrow over how difficult the situation was for him. But eventually I realised that I wasn't responsible for his emotions, I was responsible for mine and my emotions were in need of safety, understanding and comfort which couldn't be found in that environment. Heartbroken, but taking responsibility for myself I chose to seek out healing and grace and I don't regret that choice at all.



* Introducing Qualitative Research in Psychology. 3rd ed. C. Willig (2013)

competing narratives

In a textbook* today I read the story of Beth. She had a turbulent childhood resulting in low self esteem. At the age of 11 she discovered a talent for playing tennis, employing a coach who developed a relationship with her before sexually abusing her in her teens. As an adult she participated in research which involved life history interviews. The researchers concluded that:-

As an adult, Beth struggles with the competing narrative constructions of a romantic love story, which portrays her as an equally responsible and willing participant in the relationship with her coach, and an abuse story, which portrays her as a susceptible minor who does not have moral responsibility for what happened to her....The researchers argue that the lack of narrative resolution means that Beth is likely to relive past experiences as a way of trying to make sense of what happened.

As I read I felt a tug of recognition and then the oh-so-familiar stab of guilt. Competing narratives, yes! I willingly threw myself into all things church, excited by the possibilities the leader appeared to be offering. He didn't force me to give so much of my time, energy and finance, I loved my church I was equally responsible, equally to blame, perhaps more so. But what about the power imbalance? He, the boss, the leader of a growing church, able to fire and hire at will, me, just emerging from 9 years as a stay at home mother, eager for something new yet uncertain about my abilities. What about the position of trust he held as a religious leader, the man 'appointed by God'? Did he not abuse this power and position?

And then the guilt. This woman was sexually abused as a minor, how can I compare my story to hers? How can I compare the church leader with the predatory tennis coach? Never mind that I've read numerous accounts of how devastating spiritual abuse can be, what right do I have to use Beth's heartbreaking history to illustrate my own?

But in spite of these protestations, I remain painfully aware of my own competing stories and my brain frequently relives this portion of my past in an attempt to forge a single coherent narrative. There are times when I think I'm almost there, then a trigger detonates crippling emotional flashbacks and the sense making process begins again. 

I think the kindest approach I can take right now is one of acceptance. To accept that I have been emotionally and spiritually traumatised and that this is part of the healing process. My narratives may need a few more bouts in the ring during the months ahead, but I feel hopeful about the eventual outcome.



* Introducing Qualitative Research in Psychology. 3rd ed. C. Willig (2013).