Risking Intimacy

Telling one of my aunts opened up a whole new level of closeness in our relationship, as she shared with me the family legacy and tradition of horrific abuse. I had an idea that the pain ran that deeply for so many generations, but I hadn’t known how raw and fresh her own wounds still were. Instead of a time of self-revelation, I ended up listening to long-buried pain from her own childhood. I love her so much, and we both pondered why some of our other family members cling so strongly to their denial. What we decided together was that if it isn’t essential to acknowledge abuse, some folks simply need to turn their attention to other things.

So I took courage in her response, and told another aunt. This aunt became another source of strength for me, and both of my aunts became friends and confidantes who really admired and respected my healing journey. “If only I had known,” they both said. “I would have gotten you out of there.”

I told my closest friends, and almost every time, they responded with their own stories of abuse or of abuse in their families. I had one friend who said, “I don’t know anybody who has sexual abuse in their lives.” It surprised me. Hadn’t he met his wife? She had been abused for years, but she’d never told her husband. It simply felt too impossible to make him understand that she wasn’t Walking Wounded; she had survived, and adjusted, and learned to enjoy life and love. He wasn’t a safe person to tell for her.

Another cousin affirmed my memories, and then another. We each have found our own ways to heal and deal. So my best advice for anyone who’s looking at the possibility of sharing painful truths would be the following:

1.    Choose carefully,and tell someone who’s likely to care and understand and be supportive as your first person to tell – but even then, lower your expectations. You probably will not get the affirmation and attention and love that you seek; if you mess with someone else’s denial, they will withdraw most of the time. So choose carefully, and be ready for a response other than the one you want the most.

2.    Give them time. It takes a long, long time for some people to process the thought that someone they’ve known, even tangentially, perpetrated crimes against a child.

3.     Consider writing it down for yourself, but don’t send it in a text or in any way that can be shared with others. You don’t want to deal with a twisted misrepresentation from someone who needs to rely on denial for their own balance and tender survival.

4.    Be gentle. Be kind. Share with compassion for the person receiving the information. And ask first. Ask, “May I share something really difficult about my past with you?” Ask first. Allow them space and grace to say no, and don’t share any graphic details on first sharing.

5.    Consider your own motives and expectations, and be clear about what you seek in sharing. Not everyone needs to know all of your business. Not everyone cares to know. Make sure that you take deep breaths and feel strong before disclosures. If possible, have a trusted support person ready to process the experience with you afterward.

6.    Never, ever, ever share about another person’s abuse without that person’s express request – not permission, but actual request – that you do so. Never, never, never. It isn’t your story to tell, unless there’s a clear reason that will protect or help that other person. We each own our own stories.

7.    When you speak out, you often will be asked about the experiences of other family members. Here is the only appropriate response, in my opinion, spoken in the kindest possible way: “I don’t share other people’s stories. We each have the right to define and discuss our own lives.”

8.    Courage, courage, courage. When you choose to disclose, you’re choosing to open up to intimacy. Not everyone has your bravery. Accept that others might not be on the same healing path, and love them anyway, as well as you can.