I drove 3.5 hours to Waco and left my car at my younger sister’s house while I piled into Heather’s car with clear instructions: “Don’t try to fix me, or save me and you can’t drive.”
Being that she was the only ‘family’ that was willing to make this trip with me to New Mexico I smiled and said, “No problem.” I insisted my 6 month old nephew go with us because I knew they had no one to watch him and I personally needed his sweet, smiling baby face to bring innocence to this whole trip.
There were a few conversations on the 11 hour drive from Waco to New Mexico that almost crossed the line of ‘faith talk’ ….but she instigated and I wasn’t going to let it go. Actually I found that Heather and I have a lot in common and for a nice long trip across Texas I felt like we got along pretty well.
Riley did amazingly well too. He watched movies, talked to the little TV screen in front of him and when we would stop for a break we would take him out and let him stretch his legs.
He is one of the happiest babies I’ve ever come across and he made it up to the last hour without fussing.
Finally we made it to our destination:
After a quick dinner we found our ‘hotel’ that actually turned out to be a ‘motel’ (that was NOT listed this way on line) which has me on edge just a bit….and now I’m listening to the rumblings of a TRAIN that sounds like it is literally outside our door.
Before I met Neal the longest relationship I had was with Joe Davis, in high school. We lasted 9 months before I got scared and forced him to break up with me. A few months later he was killed in a car accident. It was very hard to embrace love after Joe.
When I met Neal I had sworn off men. For good reason. My track record wasn’t the greatest.
Neal stuck with me for 18 years even though there were many times I tried to make him leave me. Funny thing with us survivors sometimes intimacy is scarier than being alone.
It was easier for me to be close to a stranger who knew nothing about me than to feel comfortable with a man who knew my deepest darkest most intimate secrets.
Comfortable. You’d think that is a word that encompasses the relationship of a husband and wife. Not so for me. I was often uncomfortable because of what was expected in marriage.
I don’t know how Neal put up with me for 18 years … and counting. All I can say is thank God he hasn’t given up on me because walls have come down and I am comfortable with him. I’m learning to embrace the intimacy of someone knowing you in every detail. I’m facing my fears and this is where I’m finding my strength.
Thank you Neal Deitz for loving me through my worst and helping me to see my best. I love you.
Here is a song that I would like to dedicate to Neal…every word I could’ve written myself.
I am proud of Jenna. A young woman I met a few years ago at a conference who later did our first I Have a Voice video and now is in her second year of college writing her own blog.
I want to share that blog with you today. I don’t want to paste it here because I want you to GO TO HER PAGE and ‘like’ her and follow her. She’s amazing.
Tanya contacted me a few weeks sharing with me her blog http://www.survivingorthrivingnow.com and her personal story. She confronts the man who abused her for years face to face in a poignant video which I knew I needed to share. Below is her story. The video takes some time to ‘watch/listen’ but it is an accurate example of how perpetrators believe their own lies and how they fool many.
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My name is Tanya Monteiro, and I’m 43 years old. I’m a marketer, social media buff, yoga teacher, African, daughter, girlfriend and human being. I was also sexually abused by my stepfather from the age of twelve to the age of sixteen.
For a long time I guarded this secret, telling myself I was okay because I was working, I was living, I had friends and I had a life – which, by the way we measure these things, was a successful one. I travelled, met people, had relationships, made money and it took me a long, long time to realise that surviving is just not the same thing as thriving. Not by a long shot.
I was surviving because I was keeping quiet about what had happened to me and what ultimately changed who I was when I was too young to know how to stop it. For fear of hurting my family and the people I loved, I held this secret close to my heart telling myself it was okay now, that it was in the past and that I didn’t have to visit that place of sadness and pain any longer. And I half-believed my lie as I numbed myself with work and projects and the things we find to do when we’re crying inside and don’t know how to make the hurting stop.
This project is about making the cycle stop. Not just for me, but for everybody out there who’s been injured in this way and has been suffering in silence. It will never go away unless we confront it head on; look our heartbreak in the eye and go, ‘hey. I see you. I’m doing something about this’.
For me, it’s speaking my truth by sharing my story. It’s my way of taking it out of the dark and flinging it into the light so that it can stop festering and growing like mould does when it’s left undisturbed.
Part of this process turned out to be documenting, in audio form, a face-to-face conversation I had with my stepfather and his wife. I confronted him and tried to get answers to questions I’d held on to for far too long. I needed some acknowledgement of what he had done; some semblance of an apology that would help me to heal. I didn’t get exactly that, as many of us in this situation don’t.
But, as I discovered, that doesn’t even matter. What it did do is set me free, and I hadn’t even realised that I wasn’t free from him.
Sharing our conversation feels like a small part in my responsibility on breaking the silence and helping to make these cycles stop. I’m proud of myself for standing up to him, looking him in the eyes and forcing him to confront what he did to me.
I never realized how powerful that meeting of the eyes would be, and this is the deeper reason I want to share this audio – to encourage and inspire and help others whose desire is to Thrive.
What I learnt when I was numbing myself with work in London and on Wall Street, with interviewing loads of people for my documentary across the USA, and with teaching yoga and learning to surf in Portugal, is that I will never achieve inner peace until I do something good with the bad I lived through.
It happened to me for a reason, and denying that means denying myself, and what I believe to be my way of living with purpose. It’s time to jump into the arena!
I don’t know exactly what this project looks like yet or how it’s all going to fit together. For now I’m taking the leap and hoping that by sharing what was a meaningful and very real experience for me, I will encourage others to speak out about their experiences too, – maybe even visit their perpetrators and take back their own power.
Embarking on this project makes me feel less like a victim and more like a part of the solution to a situation, which is far too commonplace. I can’t say that I can fix anyone but I can say I’ve been there, I get it, and you are not alone.
I hope to be a small stepping-stone in helping others find their own voices, and to offer the courage to bring their own secrets into the light. I also hope this will help others to discover that inside each of us there is the strength, resilience and passion for living and thriving, something I never knew I had.
Here’s to Surviving AND Thriving!
Thank you for hearing my story.
NOTE: My stepfather was given an opportunity to listen and comment to this audio. I received no answer.
It is imperative that we share and tell our stories for others to know they are not alone. If you would like to share your journey please contact me at hopefulhearts333@gmail.com
I thought I’d take the easy route today and now that I know how to incorporate a video in the blogs I’ll re-highlight my personal “I Have a Voice” Video. This was filmed last April just a few short weeks after attending the funeral of my grandfather (who was also my first perpetrator when I was a child). It is raw but I believe it speaks volumes to many (if I must say so myself ) because it also touches on that really tough aspect in life – forgiveness. It would be my honor for you to watch.
Also, this week my column in CHOOSE-NOW MINISTRIES ‘Shannon Deitz On Hope’ features a conversation I had with Seth a few weeks back regarding ‘Family Secrets’…it brought up that all too uncomfortable topic of when do you reveal to your children certain skeletons in the closet? What questions should you ask yourself before telling your child something that might shake up their comfortable world?
I pray you all have a blessed weekend. I am speaking at a teen Confirmation Retreat tomorrow in Dickenson, TX and then have ACTS registration all day Sunday with a speaking event to the teens at Prince of Peace. Busy busy! But BLESSED!!!
Okay my friends, I’ve been a bit wayward and not posting on this blog site. As many of you know I have a website where I do my main blog and posted 365 days in 2013. If you wish to view the past few weeks of posts feel free to visit: http://www.shannonmdeitz.com/category/blog
But I will post a few that I believe specifically speak to survivors of abuse….or at least it’s my VOICE as a survivor.
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I wish I knew best how to begin a summation of 2013 … MY 2013… maybe some will relate and others won’t which is understandable. But for me, I need to surmise what 2013 was for me.
I find it fitting that this morning I began the day walking into a donut shop to pick up breakfast for the boys and ran into two young adults that were once youth in my youth ministry program. I was very excited to see them and get caught up on where life has taken them so far. Just before I was about to leave they asked if I had the time to sit and help with a more deep, serious conversation. Without hesitating I pulled up a chair and sat down.
My youth aren’t young anymore. They are grown men and women learning that life is difficult…messy…and filled with hope. When they were younger it was easier for me to sit, listen, and then give advice that I knew would best direct them in the way God wanted them to go, however, with age comes challenge and the answer isn’t always clear. But as I listened to one of them tell me about their situation I felt as if I were hearing a part of my own life being played back to me, only 15-20 years later. I gave the best advice I felt called to give and then I capped that off with – PRAY & TRUST.
When I left the donut shop I realized how much my life is complete in this moment. For years I went from year to year with an internal desire, an anxiousness, a feeling of being not whole, unworthy, and frustrated. Something was not right within me and I couldn’t understand why. I thought that maybe it was because I hadn’t achieved my number one goal, and that was to be ‘officially’ published by a ‘real’ publisher and not having to self-publish. Year after year I would write in my reflection letter for the year to come that this would be the year my dream would come true and all would be right in the world.
2013 was the year. All is right in my world. My book, REDEEMED, got accepted by a ‘real’ publisher and it will be published in 2014, BUT, this is not the reason why I feel complete, worthy, and whole.
If you have followed along on this 365 day project from day one you know that I had been triggered deeply and had some very disturbing memories surface that I’d buried deep for most of my life. The day that happened is the day I began to feel whole again. I could really feel for the first time in my life. And knowing the abuse I incurred as a little girl, a very vulnerable little girl, made the rest of my life make sense. In many ways it was as if I was already beyond on the other side of the gates of heaven able to see the flashback video of my life scroll before me and all of the moments that I felt guilt or shame for became understandable and forgivable.
In 2012 I had a dear friend of mine write me a note that I keep taped to the inside of my desk because it summarizes what I longed to achieve:
“You are a box of surprises for me!” she wrote, “You are such a gifted girl but I think you believe it in your mind and not in your whole. My word for you is depth. I see a diver with all the equipment to dive deep but she is on the surface. Go deeper my girl!”
When my truth came to light in 2013 I taped a picture of me as a little girl before the abuse happened, or I believe before, alongside the note. The sweetness. The innocence. The joy and happiness. That is who I am. That is my deep.
I spent 2013 going deeper and deeper within to untangle what had been buried for so long. And in the process I was blessed with many external joys and achievements that I once thought would have ‘made me whole’ but instead were a blessing only to punctuate my life.
Tomorrow is the last day of my challenge. I will not give up blogging but I will re-examine how best it will benefit YOU and benefit ME. If you have thoughts or suggestions I’d be more than happy to hear them. In the meantime, I am even more blessed for you to have joined me on this journey.
Yes, yesterday was tough. The last few days have been difficult and rewarding. Ever since I’ve come back from my grandfather’s (perpetrator’s) memorial service I have avoided the inevitable work of thawing out the memories frozen like a glacier in darkness in the depths of my sub-conscious. For a while I convinced myself that they weren’t bothering me, they’d been frozen for 40 years and they could remain unhindered.
Unfortunately and fortunately, in order for me to continue forward on my journey it is imperative for me to clear the way, healthy and free from obstacles. These past few days God has begun a warming process, tears have been flowing against my will, emotions I’ve tried to put away are no longer easily managed. Which is why I knew the only way I could continue was to go to Christ.
When I left the church last night I found Neal relaxing outside. I sat next to him and began to cry. I told him the emotions I’d been struggling with in the past few days (rage, anger, frustration, unworth), the tears that wouldn’t stop and what I knew I needed to do. He wrapped his arm around me and drew me into him. I rest my head on his shoulder and cried.
Fr. Alfonso is correct. I deserve to heal completely. As well as Neal deserves to have a wife who can (and will) accept his love and devotion, finding herself worthy. And children who deserve to have a mother who isn’t afraid to fight the nightmare of a memory.
I know I am strong. I know I can overcome. I know I will overcome. I have before and I’m more equipped with a stronger support system now both with family, friends and spiritually.
What I love the most about this is that ‘Hopeful Hearts’ is helping me. The concept, the process, the desire of the ministry is to draw survivors away from the grips of victimization and fear of facing the memories and be empowered rather than beaten by what had been ‘done’ or ‘experienced’ in the past.
How appropriate the ministry God called me into is continuing to empower and reinforce my victory.
Thank you for praying and walking with me on this journey. When I share such intimate revelations it is not for you to be a voyeur but rather to be encouraged to face your own fears. Fear is nothing but an empty emotion. The best of us can get wrapped up in it and therefore we need to be reminded that we have what it takes to face it head on and win.
I’ll admit, yes I was blogging while in the back row during the service. I found it hard to listen but I didn’t feel the need to leave. I heard that my grandfather was a faithful Godly man. That all of his life he would wake and do a morning devotional and read the bible. I heard that he was devout in his faith and wanted only to do the ‘right’ thing and to do ‘good’ by everyone. I heard that he was loved and that God had His hand on him saving him on many occasions from death.
I heard them joke about him and his coffee. The same smell that ‘triggers’ me. The very reason why I’ve never had a cup of coffee. I always wondered why I detested the smell. Why the smell would take me back to picturing the brown clay coffee mugs with the light brown edges. Why it would make my insides recoil. Before my wall broke down I tried to reason it was because the Folger’s plant was in Sherman where I grew up. Not so.
My uncles got up one by one and spoke about their father. My heart broke for them. I’m sure he was a good man to them and he taught them many things. As I said before I’m sure it is hard for them to reconcile the man I know with the man that brought them up. There were many times I wanted to say things but I text them to Heather instead. It did not escape me that one of my uncles brought up the fact that grandfather had made ‘mistakes’ and that we are all sinners. Quoting the verse to not ‘throw the first stone’ for we are all sinners. No, it didn’t escape my ears…but I wanted to then stand up and say “Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe [in me] to sin, it would be better for him if a great millstone were put around his neck and he were thrown into the sea.” Mark 9:42
Yes, I heard and yes, I know. I know that it continues to say in the bible “See that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I say to you that their angels in heaven always look upon the face of my Heavenly Father.” Matthew 18:12
When the service was complete they marched his ashes outside for the military honors. He was in the Air Force by the way, I was mistaken. I held back, holding Riley who was giving me the biggest hugs and kisses. I waited till everyone left and walked up to the front where they had pictures of my grandfather, grandmother, my mom and all of my uncles. I stood before the picture of my grandfather and said out loud what I needed to say. ”You hurt me which scarred me deeply,” was one. Much more that needs to be left between him and I. There was no shortage of tears. Tears for me. Tears for the little girl that never understood why she wrote the poem that she remembers this verse to this day:
“I’m living in a world unknown, I’m scared to think it could be shown. In this world I hear voices telling me to make choices. Choices that should never be thought of….I’m tired of living in this world unknown.” I still have this written in my little Hello Kitty Diary , I was 10 years old but I remember those verses well. I didn’t understand them till now.
I looked at his picture and I nailed the coffin. Riley and I walked outside for the final words. When I went to my grandfather’s house after the service I was relieved to find out it wasn’t the house I remember. They moved from that house when I was in high school. I had never been in this one. And there was no smell of coffee. I was free to sit and catch up with my uncles.
After a late lunch they asked if I wanted to go through his stuff with them at the house. I politely declined. I am tired. It’s not a lie. Heather and I will meet them for dinner tonight. There might be a Part Three.
For now I feel ‘free’. Song – FREE by SHAWN MCDONALD
Chorus: “You said your burden is light and your load is no more. You said your ways are right and in you I will soar. I want to be free, free to dance and free to sing. Free to live and love and free to be me.”
I met the sweetest young man today. He was standing outside waiting for the office building to open.
Today is the day I met with my therapist to sort through a few things. The young man was talking to himself and when I came up to the door and realized it was locked he went into a monologue about the various people who work in the office, what time they go to lunch, how often he comes in for a visit, etc. His grandmother was sitting in the car taking a nap. My guess is she was stealing a quick 10 minutes of quiet.
This sweet young man who stood on the tips of his toes was 9 years old and if I’m a bettin girl, most likely Autistic or at least a high functioning form or Aspergers. Of course I do not know I’m only guessing. He talked and talked. In the ten minutes we waited I learned about his DS system, his favorite games, what he hopes to save money for and what he hopes to get for his birthday in March. He had a voice and man he was using it!
When we finally were let in the waiting room his grandmother went to the restroom and he offered for me to sit next to him to watch him play his DS. I smiled at the suggestion but politely declined. “I think I’m just going to sit here and wait,” I said.
He talked a little bit more about the game he was playing and then his grandmother joined him. Suddenly it went quiet. He was sitting in the middle chair of 3 that were against the wall. When she sat down she instructed him to get up and go to the farthest chair and she put her purse in the chair between them. Then she told him to lower the volume on his DS…twice (I couldn’t hear it at all).
Time ticked through the silence. My therapist was 20 minutes late which wasn’t like her so I called her cell and left a message letting her know that I would stay another five minutes otherwise we needed to reschedule but that I was leaving for Germany on the 20th.
When I got off the phone the Grandmother was all about asking where I was going in Germany. We had a pleasant conversation (from which she obviously eavesdropped on my call) and yet the boy said nothing. The young man outside would have surely started telling me about the vacations he has been on or maybe a little tale on an adventure he has had in the past.
Suddenly the door opened with my therapist walking her previous client out. She saw me and realized her mistake, she had mistaken my option of two times she’d given. But (praise be to God) she had an opening right then so I went in.
When I left the main key to what I need to work through in what is sure to be some of the most precious and blessed months of my healing journey is to find my voice. The voice I wasn’t allowed to use as a child. The voice that was shushed by guilt and shame.
I thought about the innocent little boy, his beautiful voice and his ability to feel comfortable enough with me to rattle off his stream of conscienceness. And I thought about the silence that followed…
Actually I found that Heather and I have a lot in common and for a nice long trip across Texas I felt like we got along pretty well.
