Perceptions

“By having the eyes of my heart flooded with light, I can know and understand the hope to which He has called me, and how rich is His glorious inheritance in the saints.” Eph 1:18

 

  There are probably untold doctoral theses written about the impact abuse, sexual or otherwise, has on children. They are probably full of medical lingo and case references or “Subject” studies. I’ve read enough of them on various topics trying to understand the complexities of my mental health challenges to know this is how scientists write.

  It makes it hard to make any sort of personal connection.

  Then God comes along with the beautiful phrase, “the eyes of my heart.”

  How we perceive ourselves and our place in the world is not all in our head.

  I know a young father who never forces his children to hug anyone, even if the person is a family member. What a wonderful way to teach his children they have the right to decide what happens to their body.

  Many months ago, I met a man for the first time, an elderly doctor who is a good friend of a friend. We had a brief driveway chat then just before we were leaving, he held his arms open. He phrased his invitation to hug him in a way that implied there was no choice. (Or that’s how I perceived it.) He didn’t ask if I was okay with it or even if I wanted to hug him, basically a stranger to me.

  A lifetime of conditioning kicked into full swing. He wanted a hug, so therefore I had to give him one.

  Within seconds of feeling his arms around me, I ended up in full on fight/flight mode, disassociating and barely remember getting into the car.

  The sad and unsettling thing to note is the automatic response to his male “authority” is still deeply ingrained.  I responded without thinking according to what he, a man, wanted.

  A day later, he apologized, deeply regretting his actions because he had later realized I had been abused. (God is a huge part of this doctor’s life!) He apologized for putting me in such a situation. He said he should have asked first. (I guess my perceptions were right: he hadn't.) The next time we met, he did ask if I was okay with a hug. I wasn’t and was given the freedom to say so.

  It made all the difference in the world although what happened previously makes me wary of trusting him.

  It also makes it incredibly difficult to trust myself!

  The moment I declined accepting his fatherly hug, I was overwhelmed by a tornado of emotions and a barrage of nasty thoughts, guilt being first and foremost…you hugged him last time, you have no right to deny him, you weren’t being “nice”, there’s something wrong with you, how dare you say “no”…it was ugly and confusing. Shame came a close second…your friend said you could trust him but you don’t because you are broken. 

  Yes.

  I am.

  Like the doll in today’s image, the terrible things I experienced growing up and as an adult twisted my perceptions of my place in the world as a woman. The resulting "truths" birthed in trauma have shaped everything from behaviours to thoughts. It's a challenge to not beat myself up for believing the lies disguised as truth. I can only know what I know until I know differently. Even then, new knowledge, new truth, takes time to settle in for the long haul.

  I have no idea how to overcome the disturbing automatic responses. They happen as quickly as someone would reach for a glass of milk that got knocked and was threatening to spill.

  Sometimes we catch it in time. Sometimes we don’t.

 

  I’ve decided to reframe how I perceive the need for taking my nightly meds. Instead of feeling they are a reminder of why I have PTSD, they are now an opportunity to give thanks to God for being released from the wilderness.

  There’s hope in that. It means perceptions, or our version of truth, can be challenged and ultimately, changed.

  Glory be to God! AMEN!