Wisdom from the Trenches

As we heal, we learn that sexual assault was never our fault. We are validated that we were truly victimized. We realize that our behaviors often directly stem from our trauma. We begin to understand why we are the way we are. If we stop our healing journey too soon, we run the risk of developing a victim complex, where not just the abuse or assault is not our fault – but nothing is ever our fault. We can become self-righteous, defensive, and easily offended because we are left believing we are victims (and not survivors) and become paranoid of being wronged or hurt by another person again. Because our behaviors are explained, we can believe they are justified and we can prematurely accept the coping mechanisms developed due to trauma instead of realizing that our coping mechanisms no longer serve us in a positive way and taking responsibility to change what has come out of it as a result. If we stop processing our trauma too soon, we never reach the point where we must come face-to-face with the reality that our own poor choices and behaviors are perpetuating an unhealthy mess in our lives.

Humans are flawed and complex individuals. Trauma victims are infinitely more complicated, but often see the world as simply black or white. When triggered, a victim will judge a person based on deep emotions at the time, subconsciously labeling that person right or wrong, good or bad…but never both. But humans are rarely all good or all bad. We are far more likely to be varying shades of gray. We are all an intricate mixture of our choices in life: some good, others not so good; some distinctly chosen, others not quite as deliberate; some hurtful to others, but that same person might help people as well.

As a trauma survivor, it is normal to view the world through a jaded lens. Our world is not the ideal place God created it to be. Each one of us is broken. We have all been hurt by someone, somewhere, at some time. Intentionally or unintentionally, we have all in turn hurt someone else. All of us. Even Christians who try their very best to be good people and follow God’s commands to the best of their ability fall short on a daily basis. We try so hard to be good people, to be the light in a dark and dying world. We fail because we are flawed human beings and our failures hurt those around us at times. We are all both “good” and “bad”.

With each step I took toward healthy living, I began to struggle with an uncomfortable dichotomy: I was a victim who was wronged through criminal acts inflicted upon me against my will…and I also wrong others with my own poor choices at times. It wasn’t my fault that I was traumatized. My behavior was filled with normal responses to a criminal in my past, but my understandable past behaviors were being incorrectly applied to present-day situations, filled with people who had not wronged me at that same level. Or, as is more accurately the case, filled with imperfect people who have hurt me in one way or another, but are not going to hurt me that deeply again because they have also learned and have grown. For instance, the verbal tirades that I used to keep me safe every time my rapist approached me in a threatening manner are not appropriate when disciplining a child. Emotionally distancing myself when forced to work in close proximity with my rapist helped me survive work on a daily basis, but nearly destroyed my marriage because it didn’t allow for emotional intimacy. I was a victim of a violent crime and, unintentionally, let unhealed wounds from my past hemorrhage all over those closest to me, hurting them in the process.

The Mississippi River has humble beginnings outside of Bemidji, Minnesota. Through time and space, what begins as a glorified trickle grows with each new water source that feeds into it and eventually becomes the massive, raging, destructive torrent seen in the South. Trauma is similar: there is a beginning and other hurtful life experiences continue to feed into us and exacerbate the pain until our memories threaten to drown us in uncontrollably deep emotions. My behavior had an explicable source, but I was thousands of miles and decades from that source – and my life experiences had grown to such an immense size, it seemed impossible to control the person I had become. Therapy helped me face who I was in the present, to see both the good and bad that was present-day me. But it was forgiveness that dried up the different ways life had added to my pain and suffering, so that my emotions could shrink to a more manageable size once again. This was work no one else could do for me, this was something I did for myself, most often without apologies from those who had wronged me the most.

Before I could even consider making amends for how I had hurt others, I had to first work on myself. Once the pain in my life was more manageable, I could begin to turn my attention toward healing relationships with others that I had damaged.

Tragically, in every instance where my own poor behavior hurt another individual (often unintentionally), I could not fix what I had broken. But I learned that I could validate that it had happened, I could acknowledge that I had played a part in it, and I could apologize for my responsibility. Just like my trauma, what had already occurred could not be changed. Time could not be reversed. Yet, everything shifted the instant I chose to take responsibility for me, to own what was mine to deal with and to forgive what was beyond my control.

One of the life lessons I learned through trial and error in the past decade is this: I can be absolutely right AND simultaneously wrong in any given situation. In other words, my behavior might be understandable and make sense to me, given my past or my perception of my present circumstances, and I can also be very wrong in how I deal with the situation at hand. I can be right because I know more than the other person or because my reasoning can be backed up by numerous Bible verses, but I can also be wrong because of my self-righteous attitude when I present the information to them. I can be right in knowing how I feel, but wrong about the underlying reason I am actually feeling that way. I can be a really good person, helpful to others, warm and caring…and I can lose my cool with my own child over something as simple as spilled milk on the same day. I am not, nor will I ever be, entirely and completely a good person and I am also not pure evil. I am a complicated mixture of accomplishments and failures, hurt person and hurtful person, good and bad. Just like everyone around me.

This revelation led me to another: When I hurt others (which I inevitably will throughout this journey we call life), I alone am responsible for how I proceed when I become aware that I have hurt someone. I can either respond angrily, flippantly, cold-heartedly, defensively; or I can take the opportunity to make amends for my very human flaws and shortcomings. A genuine apology is not so much the verbalization of three, little words, but an ever-evolving awareness and enlightenment about my personal weaknesses and failings that results in a pattern of personal growth evident to those around me. This personal growth will rarely be a perfect ascent to behavior that is ideal, but is more often imperfect, zig-zag line of progress generally made in a forward-moving direction. The intentional effort and authentic humility demonstrated through forgiveness is what provides the momentum for the relational healing process to be set in motion.

Granted, not all relationships in my life will be reconciled. Those that are truly toxic are best left behind. But not left behind in theory…left behind in practice. Brant Hansen brings up a great point in his book “Unoffendable” about leaving toxic relationships behind: “if you don’t forgive someone, you’re choosing to stay in relationship with them. They’re still playing a toxic role in your life. Forgiveness is freedom.” Forgiveness is a one-sided act. Forgiveness lets go of my perceived justification to exact revenge on another person. Forgiveness provides freedom from truly toxic individuals, so I can move on with my life and be fully present and healthy in my current relationships.

But for those relationships in the now that can be reconciled, relational healing is something I play an active role in every day because I am half of that relationship, so I am at least partially responsible for its success or demise. I participate in relational healing by dealing with my own past, in taking responsibility for my present behaviors, and with the extension of, and request for, forgiveness when – not if – either one of us displays shortcomings. Even though I have been hurt in the past, owning my behavior in the present is still my responsibility.