I am Jim

A Glance Back

    When I started this blog, I had no idea what form it would take.  I recall the times I was in therapy, frequently I would enter a session not really knowing what the topic would be also. In those sessions, either group or individual, I would just work on what was "on top" for me, whatever happened to be on the forefront of my consciousness. So has been the way I have chosen topics for this blog.

    Somewhere in the core of my being, I know this blog has been a very important part of my journey through life.

    This blog has certainly touched some of those people who I most cherish in life. For example, one of my children has saved every post, and preserved them for the time his children are 'old enough', so that those children will be able to "read about and understand what kind of man their grampa is."

    Some people who were children growing up in my childhood church in the same era I did have contacted me, grateful that I was able to help them make sense of what happened in their childhood.

    More than one of my younger siblings have told me that, since reading my blog, they feel "whole" for the first time in their life.

    Those in my family of origin who were instrumental in allowing childhood sexual abuse to continue unabated do not look on this blog so fondly.

    I am looking back at my journey through life since about 1990, and trying to pick out some of the 'vehicles' that I used to traverse my road. I see that indeed I used a few different 'vehicles' to propel myself over my journey. Or, a different terminology I often use is 'tools.' What 'tools' do I use to help me through life's journey. The thing about 'tools', is that we acquire 'tools' to help us through difficulties, and then we learn how to use those 'tools', become more proficient at extricating ourselves from the pitfalls we find ourselves mired in.

    Some 'tools', or 'vehicles' work for a while, and then appear to not work for us anymore. I guess it's kind of like taking a journey across the continent of North America in the year 1700. A canoe may be a great vehicle for a part of the journey, but surely not while crossing a large prairie. Or we may encounter such a snowstorm or harsh winter at the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, that we just build a shelter and rest for several months.

    So I have experienced my healing journey at times. Camped at the foothills of a seemingly insurmountable mountain, that I had to just sit and rest. Perhaps the time was not right to cross the mountain, or maybe that mountain was not to be on my journey, I needed to change course.

    Anyway, I am trying to identify some of the 'tools', or 'vehicles' that I used.

    I sure enough used my childhood religion for a while as a 'tool' to carry me through life's journey. I found out soon in 1990's, that religion just was not going to get me through the journey of recovery that I needed to undertake, although perhaps for some people it works. I entered therapy, and that carried me for quite some time, in fact it is always an option for me currently. In looking back, perhaps I was using religion as one uses a canoe to travel on water, but then my journey took me over the great prairie, but I kept on dragging that canoe (religion) along with me, even though it wasn't much use on my journey. It has been perhaps two years now since I awoke one day and found I no longer had that canoe (religion). Note, I make a huge distinction between religion and spirituality.

    In addition to therapy, organized group therapy was certainly a great vehicle for a while, to help me on my journey.

    Being a member of an international survivors group was certainly a wonderful vehicle for me.

    Reading books about recovery and life issues has been and continues to be a great vehicle to help carry me on my journey.

    Helping to pay for another's therapy was a way forward for me for a while.

    Volunteering my time to assist other survivors was a way forward. And now when I listen to and encourage to heal some of those who are very dear to to me, it is just like reaching to the small child within and helping him to heal.

    Volunteering my time and professional expertise to help build  the Zacharias Sexual Abuse Center  in Lake county, Illinois was a healing experience.

    Speaking of sex abuse issues, in public and private settings, has been and continues to be a great vehicle.

    I recall attending a Survivors Conference, this was when I was 'on fire', survivor issues were very intense for me at the time. Anyway, I was talking to a couple people there who had previously attended similar venues, and they were saying that a few years ago they were 'on fire', just as I currently was. I recall thinking that, "how is it you are not still the same, why aren't you keeping up the same intensity?" But of course I found out, their journey, like what happens to all of us who move forward, had simply taken a different turn.

    So has been my "healing journey". Several vehicles spread out over a couple decades. And it is kind of nice, looking ahead, not knowing what type of "vehicle" I will find myself in, in the future.

    But past experience tells me that it will not be the identical 'vehicle' I find myself in currently.

    I am thinking back to what I understand about the "Law of Attraction", and I think about the energy this blog has created, in my personal life, and I wonder if this blog has run it's course of usefulness for myself.

    There has been much positive. However, due to the inflammatory nature of the topic of childhood sexual abuse, this blog has brought a lot of negative energy also.

    I do not know how long I will keep this blog open, but I do know that I, on my life's journey, will not remain 'stuck' in one place. Sometimes I go on Facebook, and look at my cousin Susie's pictures and words from Rumi, and I think, that is where I want to be. And I find I can not be both on this blog and there where Rumi is pointing at the same time.

I am Jim.

 

 

 

 

 

Peter Pan

    Most of us have heard of Peter Pan, maybe seen the play, or read the book, or watched a Peter Pan musical. Once one of my daughters played a part in a school play of Peter Pan, I think she was Wendy.

    When Wendy went to Neverland with Peter Pan, the Lost Boys were overjoyed in that perhaps Wendy would be their mother.

    Do you remember the Lost Boys? These were not Michael and John (Wendy's brothers), I am speaking of the Lost Boys who lived on Neverland. Boys with names like Tootles, Nibs, Slightly, Curly, The Twins.

    Notice there are no Lost Girls. Just Lost Boys.

    Do you know why?

    To find out you may have to go back to J.M. Barrie's original, "Peter Pan, or The Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up". Or just read a bit further.

    Peter Pan is set in London, evidently in a wealthy area, wealthy enough so that the families living there can afford to have a 'nurse', or as we say now a 'nanny'. So in the neighborhood, it would fall to the nurse to bring the small children out for fresh air, so the nurse would load up the child into a 'pram', or as we say a stroller or buggy. And off the nurse would go to places like Kensington Gardens, where they would push the prams and talk or gossip with the other nurses who were doing the same thing.

    And sometime a small boy would fall out of his pram. 

    And the nurse would keep on pushing the pram and talking to another nurse, and nobody noticed when a little boy fell out of the pram. Then the nurse whose charge fell out of the pram would keep on walking, and eventually go back to the house she worked at. And sometimes nobody noticed that the boy was missing.

    Not even the boys mother or father.

    And, if the boy went 'unclaimed' for seven days (a bit fuzzy here, not sure where they were while waiting to be 'claimed') he was whisked off to Neverland, where they were to live with Peter Pan.

    Peter explains that there are no lost girls, because girls are much too clever to fall out of their prams and be lost. And even when a baby girl occasionally fell out of their pram, the nurse right away noticed that she fell out and picked her up, made sure she was alright, and tucked her back in the pram.

    The point so far is that society pays a whole lot more attention to little girls than little boys.

    Of course, J.M. Barrie wrote the play in 1904 and the novel in 1911. Has society changed a whole lot since then?

    For confirmation of how much we have moved past not noticing boys as much as we notice girls, we can just go to the mall to do some shopping.

    For children's clothes.

    When our children were small, on occasion I would get dragged into a local clothing store, I think it was "Jack's Clothing for Women & Children", or something like that. About half the store was women's fashions, half for children. In the children's department, I would guess it was ninety percent clothes for little girls, and just a few racks of boy's clothes.

    And this is not in any way a reflection on the owner of the store, nor a reflection on the person at that store who purchased the clothing and set up the displays. I have no doubt that the sole purpose of that store owner was to make a profit, and stock what people wanted to purchase.

    So the display, ninety percent girls, was a reflection on the customers who shopped there, or shall we say society as a whole.

    We as a society notice girls, boys tend to be overlooked, or get less attention.

    And that can have huge ramifications for a boy who is sexually abused as a child.

    If a parent spends more time 'fussing over' or dressing a girl, what will the brother come away with? Perhaps that he is not as important? Or that no one cares? Or that no one notices him? This type of thought probably does not occur on a conscious level for a young boy, but somewhere deep that he is not even aware of. The young boy may believe that he is not important, he is not noticed, and if that thought ever makes it to a conscious level, the boy will likely blame himself. He will be just as much a Lost Boy as if he lived in Neverland.

    If a parent spends more time 'fussing over' a girl, just by being in close proximity, that parent has a much better chance of noticing there may be something terribly amiss, as in recent sexual abuse.

    There are many types of sexual abuse that boys suffer. Four come to mind to list here.

    Man on boy childhood sexual abuse.

    Women on boy childhood sexual abuse.

    Girl (older or more powerful or 'experienced' or in a position of authority) on boy childhood sexual abuse.

    And finally, what I believe is by far the most common: boy (older or more powerful or 'experienced' or in a position of authority) on boy childhood sexual abuse. Lets just call it here 'boy on boy' sex abuse.

    Boy on boy sex abuse can be very difficult to 'disclose' for many reasons. Including all the reasons that any sexual abuse is difficult for someone to disclose about. But lets take a look at some reasons that makes boy on boy sex abuse difficult for the victim to disclose.

    Frequently the offender is someone within the victims sphere of peers or friends. And very frequently the offender will be the victims cousin, brother, or uncle. In large familys such as are present in my former religion, the First Apostolic Lutheran Church, ones uncle will frequently be about the same age as or even sometimes younger than oneself.

    Frequently the offender is someone who is well liked by the victim, even looked up to.

    Sometimes the offense is committed in group fashion, the younger boy is abused by more than one boy all during one 'session.' This makes it extremely difficult for a boy to disclose, not only while young, but also when reaching adulthood. Especially so as is frequently in my former religion, it is not only common, but probable that those very boys that abused the victim will still be in the same social circle. And given all the homosexual connotations involved in boy on boy sex abuse, it becomes difficult to even think of beginning to heal from the abuse, much less disclose and point out as offenders well respected friends, relatives, church acquaintances, Sunday School teachers, Church Board Members, Preachers, etc.

    Frequently the abuse can be very confusing for the victim, to the point of the victim may be lead in such a way that he, at the time of the abuse, feels he is a willing participant, and not a victim at all. He only begins later to realize that he has been victimized when he feels so much shame and regret, even anguish or terror while recalling the abuse.

    So the above list is an attempt to understand what makes boy on boy sex abuse so difficult to heal from. But the most important, and who knows, maybe the most common reason follows:

    Let's use as an example a ten year old boy, and lets say he is abused sexually by an uncle two years his senior. And for this purpose lets say the abuse continues off and on infrequently for a year and a half. And then one day, the abuse takes a different turn , in that the uncle brings in another victim to the circle, let's say a boy who is the youngest of the three present by a year. And the two older boys sexually abuse the younger boy. So now, the boy in our example is not only a victim, but he knows he is an offender. And lets say that over the next two years that boy finds a younger boy to commit a boy on boy sex act with. So in our example, in the course of less than four years, the boy has had sexual contact with perhaps three other boys, and it may be very confusing as to what did or did not constitute sex abuse, and also confusing as to who was a victim and when. Let's say in our example, that this is the end of 'illicit' sexual contact this boy has.

    But what is clear to the boy in our example, is that he suffers from a great deal of shame. All that boy on boy sexual contact carries with it perceived homosexual connotations, put forth by the boy's peers and or religion. Even our bodies betray us sometimes when we are abused, in that our bodies sometimes react on their own volition while we are being abused, our bodies sometimes react with orgasm, and we are left in such a state of confusion, "it wasn't abuse, it felt good, but yet I feel shameful."  Even when that boy reaches adulthood, perhaps he thinks about his 'former sexual contact', but now he is married, with children. And to go back and dredge up all that sex abuse stuff is just way more than he is able to do.

    Eventually the boy in our example may try to work on survivor of childhood sexual abuse issues, and indeed may not have a whole lot of success in the matter.

    And that may be because he can not acknowledge the offending part of his sexual contact. As I say in my blog post Offenders Group,  it is the theory (in professional circles I am familiar with) that until one heals from their offending issues, it is not possible to heal from their victimization (survivor) issues.

    So where does that leave the 'boy' in our example? Unable to heal from his survivor issues simply because he can not or does not want to acknowledge his offending issues. In my view, this is simply tragic. And in my experience, this sort of thing happens generation after generation.

    In my view, the 'boy' is stuck, not working on offender or survivor issues on account of his fear of acknowledging to himself that indeed he took part in 'boy on boy sex abuse'. How different is he from the Lost Boys on Neverland, waiting for Peter Pan to show up, or waiting for Wendy to be his mother?

    Perhaps this 'boy' spends a lot of time 'looking over his shoulder' in fear. Afraid someone will 'find out' about what he did. Or afraid one of his victims will begin to heal and want to speak of the abuse.

    I am not sure how many 'boys' in my former religion or neighborhood are similar to the 'boy' in our example, but I am sure the percentage is very high.

    So fear will keep us immobilized, keep us from healing.

    That reminds me of a story a friend used to tell, to illustrate how it is that if we move toward that which we fear most, we can be set free. It is a story of how Lions hunt Giraffes in Africa. I am not too sure if it really happens like this, but it makes a great story.

    So the lions all get together and decide to take down a giraffe, but they know that they can not out run the giraffe. So the lions have to sneak up on the giraffe, and surround him. But there are not enough real strong, fast lions to do the job, so all the old lions join in also, even though they aren't much good, just big and battle scarred, and they can roar real loud. So as the lions get in kind of close, the biggest, oldest, slowest lion rears up on his back legs, and roars as loud as he can. And the terrified giraffe turns and runs the other way, right to where the young, fast, strong lions are lying in wait, and the giraffe gets brought down. Of course if the giraffe ran straight into that big fearsome, old lion, the giraffe would have gotten clean away.

    I am not sure how each of us finds the strength to walk right through that which we fear most. In my experience, I think it frequently is when the pain of doing nothing is greater than our perceived fear of facing our 'demons', then we begin to move toward healing.

    And when we as men embrace both our offending, and then our survivor issues, we soon find that we are no longer Lost Boys.

    Rather, we soon find that we are, as Mike Lew says, "Leaping Upon The Mountains."

    I am Jim.

 

 

VOICES

    In the mid 1990's, I was, in addition to attending my male survivors group, a member of an international group of survivors of childhood sexual abuse.  I have looked lately on the internet a couple times, and can only find hints of this groups existence. Perhaps they are under another name now,  or disbanded, or simply are not doing any online work. Or I just am not looking in the correct places. I am quite sure the name of the organization was  Victims Of Incest Can Emerge Survivors (VOICES) in Action, Inc.

    I seem to recall that VOICES did not put much emphasis on the amount of degrees one has. It is not that they had anything against professional therapists, they simply believed that survivors could help survivors as much as a therapist. Maybe that's where I get the idea that 'therapists are only professionals, but survivors are experts.' Come to think of it, Dr. Donald Sherwood used to say that also.

    Let's digress. Victims Of Incest Can Emerge Survivors. Wow, what a powerful statement. It is good to just read those six words and let those words sit on our soul and feel those words permeate our being. We as victims can emerge as survivors. Good stuff. I am reminded of a few men's survivors book titles I have read. First up is by Mic Hunter, Abused Boys. Yes, that title states who we were. And I did enjoy the book. Abused Boys. Then I read Mike Lew, Victims No Longer. I like that title better. We are no longer victims. Rather we are survivors, because we have begun our healing journey. Yes, victims no longer. But as far as titles go, Mike sure has a finer title than Victims No Longer. I don't say the book is better or worse, but as far as meaning in a title, I so love Mike Lew's book Leaping Upon The Mountains.  That to me says it all. We are not victims, we are not abused boys, we no longer identify as survivors, but rather we have triumphed and proclaimed victory over childhood sexual abuse, and now we are Leaping Upon The Mountains.

    May every person who has been working on childhood sexual abuse issues get to that point in their life when they can feel the sun on their shoulders and wind in their face as they joyfully Leap Upon The Mountains!

     At any rate, VOICES did publish a periodical newsletter of sorts, and I attended their international conference in Springfield, Illinois one weekend in the mid 1990's.

    This conference was a huge milestone for my recovery, and I look back on the whole weekend with fondness.

    No other men in my survivors group were going, but they all were encouraging me to attend, as we had discussed the benefits of the conference at least one time. I recall nervously packing my bags, and getting ready to travel. It really wasn't all that long of a trip, Judy dropped me off at the train station in Waukegan, where I boarded the commuter train to downtown Chicago. From there I walked the block to Union Station, and awaited my train to Springfield. I had some time to pass, so I sat in the main hall there at Union Station and imagined that the room was full of travelers going to and fro across the country, awaiting their trains. It really is a beautiful hall, well preserved, and it doesn't take much imagination to put yourself back in time to the "Roaring Twenties", when train travel was so popular, and Chicago was a major crossroads.

    But there weren't that many travelers there that Friday, mostly just me sitting on that great big wooden  bench wondering how all this was going to turn out, but following my buddy Ron's advice, "trust the process".

    After a bit, I find myself on Amtrak, heading south across Illinois' vast prairies, clickety-clack all the way to the capital of the Land of Lincoln.

    Springfield is not terribly large, I think I walked from the train station the few blocks to the hotel where the conference was located.

    Check in at the desk.

    Up the six or so floors to my room.

    Down to the main floors of the hotel, to where the convention is getting started. Remember, this is town is a political town, so the hotel has many large rooms for the convention.

    I had read up quite a bit on all the different options and workshops and resources that were going to be available, so where do I go first?  I was not feeling at all safe, in fact I was pretty well terrified, not too sure of what, so the first thing I do is go to the 'safe room'. I didn't know what a 'safe room' was, I only knew there was a designated 'safe room', and I didn't feel any too safe, so the 'safe room' was for me. I walked into the 'safe room', and just sort of stood there, it was maybe about the size of three or four average sized rooms, with some chairs and stuff, maybe a divider or two, and some volunteers sitting there. I guess they pretty much read me like a book, and one of them kind walked up to me and said 'hi', and do I want to sit for a bit. I wanted to say, yeah, I want to sit right back on the next north bound train and get right out of this place where I might have to come face to face with some pretty scary stuff. But I did want to sit, I told her that I wasn't too sure why I was in this room, it sort of seemed like the place to be about now. So we just sat and I just breathed, and pretty soon, I felt safe again. I guess we talked a bit about what was in store for workshops tonight or something or other, and before you knew it I was on my way to my first workshop.

    At some point that first day, I wandered into the art gallery. All survivors art. This was my first introduction to art used as a medium for therapy. Some beautiful, some very graphic, some art was very childlike, as though drawn by a child, not an adult. To this childlike art I was drawn, and I did not understand why until later. Just by walking in the survivors art gallery, it gave me confidence to try a bit of art as a part of my recovery. I have come to understand that one way to communicate the trauma of abuse is through art. And it is very important that we as survivors communicate our trauma, so we are no longer carrying that trauma around with us.

    Just by telling another person, another 'enlightened witness', as my friend says, we are healing. For various reasons, sometimes we are unable to verbalize our victimization. As Maya Angelou says,"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."

    Sometimes children are abused at a pre verbal age. Or perhaps the fear is too great, the threats to keep silent too strong. It can happen that when a victim tries to tell of his abuse, he is not physically able to do so, he may begin to be dis fluent (stutter), or to make nonsensical sounds instead of words, or his mouth or tongue may become immobilized. At that time, art may provide the avenue to tell of the trauma.

    I did use art to tell of the trauma I experienced, two occurrences of trauma separated by several years.

    The first bit of art I have since misplaced, perhaps I will find it and post it someday, but it is really child art. Drawn by a little boy scared to death. Hardly more than stick figures really. I could hardly believe it when I was drawing it, I was trying to draw 'properly', and was horrified when I saw that the picture looked to be drawn by a person not yet in the first grade. But of course that was perfect, just what to expect from a terrified little boy trying to tell of something he had no words to describe.

    I have also done a bit of art to express how I was feeling. The pencil lines on the following drawing are  kind of faint, but perhaps you can make out the idea. The person is me, burdened, and without hands or the means to take off the burdens.

    But in time, I did find my 'hands', and I was able to unstrap the terrible burden I was carrying around with me.

    One of the workshops at the VOICES conference that I attended was centered around getting in touch with one's feelings. I recall the grandmotherly speaker at that workshop speaking of people who, due to trauma, have absolutely no idea what they are feeling at any given moment in time. I remember after the workshop ended, I got in line to speak with her, and I was so moved, I was only able to say through tears that "I was one of those people you were speaking of, who did not know what they are feeling." She simply reached out and touched my shoulder, and through it all, I felt lighter.

    There were a couple workshops just for men, and as I had already experienced the power of groups, I did attend the men's discussion groups. I really had no idea that I would partake in the discussion, as I could not imagine that in a short time I would feel comfortable enough to speak openly. But I really didn't want to miss the opportunity to listen to other men discuss survivor issues.

    The moderator ambled in to the room just about the time the group was supposed to begin. (I figured he was the group moderator only because he closed the door after himself.)  As the room was set up with chairs kind of strewn about, more or less in some sort of a circle, the man took a chair kind of opposite myself, shifted his body a bit to get comfortable, eased off his loafer type shoes, and just sort of sat for a moment prior to getting started. He looked around the room with full confidence, and introduced himself, and continued with, "I identify as a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, and I identify as a gay man."

    I have since come to believe that a lot of anti gay sentiment may very well stem from the fact that many boys are sexually abuse by men or other boys. I also understand that being gay does not equate with being a child molester. Case in point, for myself, I was abused by two different males, neither of them gay. Perhaps anti gay sentiment may also come from males who have abused boys, and they are unable to bear the guilt and shame that their actions have brought upon themselves, so they 'project' their feelings onto others in the form of anti gay sentiment. 

     Anyway, in my experience, this group moderator had a knack about him for really allowing folks to feel safe. I don't remember much about what we discussed, but I do recall taking full part in the group discussions, and the time flew by, and way too soon the moderator was saying, "is everyone OK to close now? we are out of time."

    As men were leaving the room, one man in particular came to speak with me, was wanting to talk about a few things I had to say. So we chatted a while, and one thing he said was "when I heard you talking, it so resonated with me, I thought 'this is a person I would really like to get to know.'" So we talked a while longer, and sort of made plans to meet in the hotel restaurant for breakfast next morning. Then I spoke some more about my family, and pretty soon it was off to the next workshop. So the next morning I try to ring the room of the guy who wanted to meet for breakfast, but had no luck in getting him to answer. A little later that day, it became apparent to me that indeed that particular man was gay, and I had no clue that he was 'hitting' on me.

    The last workshop of the weekend for me was in very large room. This was an anger workshop, for men and women, the presenter was from Israel. Any time you get fifty survivors in a room to work on anger issues, you are going to get a huge energy field, and this room was just electric. The presenter was amazing, had been sexually abused at a young age by his father, and had worked through it, indeed was still working through 'stuff' that day in the workshop. I remember him shouting through tears, "I couldn't even s__k my father's d__k correctly!" I recall another woman in that workshop crying that "you say it isn't happening now, but just last month when I went to visit my grandmother, my grandfather abused me again. And I let him do it!" So we worked on anger in that room. At one point we were all standing in a huge circle of sorts, and I recall seeing a couple women looking at me and kind of pointing to me, and I thought, "that's odd, what is that all about." Until one of them came over to stand by me and ask how I was doing, and then I realized I had been crying.

    The weekend was was drawing to a close, and soon enough it was time to walk to the Amtrak station to catch the train back to Chicago.

    What a time of healing it was.

    Wherever you are VOICES, thank you for being you. Collectively and individually, you were wonderful.

    I trust you have continued to heal these past decades, as I have.   

    I am Jim.

 

 

Olive Garden

    I have noticed that an important part of ones journey through survivor issues is uncovering sexual abuse in ones family of origin, or extended family.

    It has been my experience that the closer one gets to uncovering the 'big secret(s)' in ones family of origin, the greater the 'push-back' from those who are attempting to hide the abuse. Those who are attempting to keep the abuse 'hidden' may be offenders, they may be victims who do not want to be faced with the abuse they endured, or, those who want to keep the abuse 'hidden' may be those who were aware of the abuse and did nothing to protect the children being abused. Perhaps they turned their head and pretended the abuse was not happening, and now many years later are faced with the wreckage of lives as a testimony to their inaction.

    I am not sure what it was I was expecting from my family of origin as I was pointing out to some of them incidences of past abuse by certain family members. Perhaps all I wanted was an acknowledgment that indeed the abuse happened. On at least one occasion, in the early 1990's, what I got from my father (when I pointed out the fact that my maternal grandfather, Wayne "Pappa" Davison had abused children) was "You are just trying to drag Pappa down with you! You're trying to drag Pappa down to your level!"

    Over the decades I have experienced many things in pointing out instances of abuse in my family of origin, today I will speak to the occurrence that had the most impact on me.

    The following narrative occurred in the early summer of 2010, after I had no longer attended the FALC church.

    My parents, Allan and Maria, Invited Judy and myself out for dinner, perhaps it was a Friday night. At any rate we arrived at the Olive Garden restaurant in Gurnee, and like it frequently happens, it was maybe a thirty minute wait or so, so we eventually found a place to sit in the lobby area to wait for our table.

    It was apparent to myself that both my father and mother had absolutely no desire to speak of the 'elephant in the middle of the room'. I on the other hand could not abide making small talk especially when my father wanted to speak of certain people at the FALC sending their 'greetings' to me. So it was already quite intense prior to being seated at a table. Eventually we were called to a table in this crowded restaurant, and kind of busied ourselves in looking over the menu, interacting with the waitress, and looking to see if the elephant was going to follow us into this dining room. I'll be darned if the elephant didn't show up.

    At some point Allan began to admonish me, to question how I arrived at the 'incorrect' view that Wayne Davison was an abuser.

    This was too easy, a lobbed pitch right over the plate, so I started to hit this one out of the park:

    "Remember back in the early 1990's?" I began, "You had told me about that man who came to you before you were married?" But then I began to think maybe not bring this up, so I said "No, I will just leave that be. I don't think this is the place for it." But now my father was the one who wanted to run with it. "No, go on", he said, "I want to hear this one." "No", I replied, "maybe another time." Of course Allan can be quite forceful, "We are going to hear this one, go on, let's hear it!"

    So I began. It had happened one time in the early 1990's, I and my father had met at in the church basement to discuss issues of sexual abuse, no doubt the topic centered around my offending and recovery. At this particular meeting I had brought up the issue of Wayne Davison, and it was not well received. Perhaps it was the same time that I spoke of a few paragraphs above. As we were leaving the church, Allan paused and told me that "It is so hard to understand that Wayne Davison had been an abuser, he was always the kindest, nicest person you could ever hope to meet." Allan continued that day in the church basement by relating this story:

    Just after Allan's engagement to be married, a particular man approached Allan and said 'Al, is it true that you are going to marry Maria Davison?' Allan replied, 'yes, I am'.  The man replied, why, don't you know about her and her father?'

    As I finished speaking those words, the impact was as though a bomb went off right there in the Olive Garden.

    Allan's reaction was like stepping into the twilight zone.

    Right there in the middle of the restaurant, he reached out his right arm and grabbed my left upper arm and started pulling and shouting, almost upsetting the table. If Judy hadn't grabbed the table, it would have tipped. "THAT IS A LIE, WOW WHAT A LIE!" Allan shouted. "THAT IS THE BIGGEST LIE I EVER HEARD!"

    Allan continued;"COME ON LET'S GO RIGHT NOW AND TAKE A LIE DETECTOR TEST, RIGHT NOW, YOU AND ME, LET'S TAKE A LIE DETECTOR TEST, LET'S SEE WHO IS LYING!" (I wasn't sure if Olive Garden had the facilities to administer a lie detector test to their dining guests). 

    Meanwhile Maria began in on me "you are really sick, you are a sick, sick person, you really need help."

    So after Allan was able to somewhat control himself, he demanded I repeat what I said. No, I didn't want to repeat it, I said maybe Maria didn't need to hear it again, but Allan was insistent I repeat the story, so I did.

    Allan was even more ballistic this  time,  Calling me a Liar, then changed tactics a bit and hissed, "you are a worthless piece of shit. That's all you are a worthless piece of shit. You are a liar and a worthless piece of shit!"

    So Maria chimed in and proudly told me that "we are doing an investigation." (Into whether or not Wayne Davison was a pedophile.) Sadly, this investigation is coming a few generations too late, as Wayne Davison died in the early 1970's. But of course the 'investigation' is simply to loudly proclaim that all allegations of Wayne Davison being a sex offender are false.

 

    As I told Allan in (somewhat) calmer moments, I do realize that back in the 1950's and 1960's, perhaps people really didn't have the 'tools' to deal with childhood sexual abuse. I do not hold my father accountable for what he did or did not do back then. I believe that he did the best he could under the circumstances.

    But that was then, and this is now.

    In today's world, a plethora of 'tools' are available for anyone to deal with and heal from childhood sexual abuse if they so desire. And yes, if you are a parent, and your child is sexually abused, you have some healing to do at some point in your life.

    Perhaps all that we as survivors are looking for is a simple and heartfelt acknowledgment of the truth, "yes, I believe you, the abuse did happen, and I am sorry that it happened to you."

    I am Jim.

 

 

 

    

 

 

Survivors Group

    In May of 1992, I began to attend a Male Survivors Group. (Survivors of childhood sexual abuse). This happened just as I was finishing up my work at CYN. I suppose one could say that in the summer of 1992, I transitioned from working on offender issues to working on survivor issues. One professional had told me that 'it is like working on two different sides of the same coin.' Perhaps it is.

    Prior to comparing the two phases of recovery, I want to explore the policy in place at CYN concerning offenders working on offender issues prior to working on survivor issues. 

    It was clear that the professionals at CYN were aware that we in the offenders group definitely had survivor issues that at some point in our life we would hopefully address. But first we must address the offending issues. At the time, I never gave it a thought, as I had not even considered myself a victim of childhood sexual abuse. (I have come to understand that it is common for victims to not identify as a victim, rather identify as someone who partook in 'sexual activity at a young age', if indeed they are even cognizant at all of childhood sexual issues.)

    It was clear while at CYN that one of the issues that most offenders were working on (with the direction of the professionals) was empathy (the intellectual identification with or vicarious experiencing of the feelings, thoughts, or attitudes of another). I am not sure if the idea was to help the offenders develop empathy, or to help them to uncover empathy.I guess it really doesn't matter. So what is so important about all this empathy? Well, maybe if one has empathy, or is able to access the empathy within themselves, then one will never offend. If one can identify with the feelings of others, then how is it that one will in any way hurt another person?

    Perhaps if one can understand what horrible effects sexual abuse has on a child and has empathy, one will not offend.

    So it is clear to me that it is important for an offender to develop or access empathy in order that he/she will not re-offend.

    I have found that one of the great works for myself in my survivors work is to 'go back', or 'reach back', or somehow access that little boy inside of me, Jamie, and to protect that little boy. To assure that little 'inner child' that now he is safe. Perhaps when you get right down to it, all of my survivor work has pointed to healing that little 'inner child', Jamie.

    To console Jamie.

    To allow Jamie to cry.

    To tell Jamie that it wasn't his fault.

    To tell Jamie that he is innocent.

    To allow Jamie to laugh.

    To allow Jamie to play.

    To 'Leap Upon The Mountains' with Jamie.

 

    So it is clear to me that one must have empathy for ones inner child in order to heal from childhood sexual abuse.

    If one is unable to have empathy or access empathy for one's victim(s), then I believe one will not have empathy for one's own inner child, or for ones-self. If that is true, then one, in my opinion, has no chance to heal from being a victim of childhood sexual abuse.

    So I believe that the policy in place at CYN was spot on. Work on one's offending issues first, heal from that first. Then and perhaps only then will it be possible to heal from being a victim.

    I am blessed to have gone to the offenders group at CYN.

    At the time, it was clear to me that completing the offenders program was the most difficult thing I would ever do in my life. I no longer 'rank' the different parts of my life's journey, as one would 'rank', oh,say a particular hill if one was a cross country runner for example. But I do know that if I was looking for an easier issue to work on, I would rather go back to the offender's group than attempt to start again from the beginning of my survivors journey and heal from being a victim.

    I am not too sure why that is, I just can feel it deep within. Perhaps it is because of the structure at the offenders group, one is well aware of the steps to take for completion. Whereas in the survivors healing journey, there is absolutely no structure. The survivor must make all decisions about recovery.

    Including whether or not to begin to heal.

    Therapy or not? Group therapy or individual?

    How to find a therapist? Is the one I chose competent?

    Self help books? Which ones? How many? How many is too many?

    Therapeutic art?

    Journal?

    Join a Survivors Network? Which one(s)? Attend survivors workshops?

    Confront the offender(s)? Written? Face to face? Phone? Safety?

    Disclose to others? Which others? What if they don't believe you? (some will not)

    Develop a support network? Who?

 

    I am blessed to have attended Dr. Donald Sherwood's male survivors group.

    I am blessed to have worked with the men who met there once a week for who knows how long.

    Ron, Tony, Craig, Stafford, Bob, Don and the others. You were my lifeline. Thank you.

    I am Jim.