Thoughts from a survivor of clergy ritual, sexual and spiritual abuse

LENT 2010

Even after decades of traveling back to my past… of naming out loud my reality…of feeling the pain, betrayal and countless other feelings…I still can get hit with the legacy that is familiar to most of us who have been sexually abused by people we should have been able to trust.  The more work I have done the more healing I have received and yet…the legacy of being sexually abused, at times immobilizing, never really leaves but rather seems to lay dormant, waiting for some trigger to appear.  Like the original perpetrators, the “legacy” often attacks my body, mind and spirit unexpectedly, leaving me feeling embarrassed, ashamed and alone.

Such was the 2010 season of Lent.  At a time when I had finally felt and dared to hope it would be less difficult it was in fact more difficult than usual.   The despair and grief I experienced, along with a scattering of physically painful body memories, seem to have lifted now, leaving me with more clarity about the contributing factors over the last two months.  Of course, there were the usual factors such as the interconnectedness of family and church, timing of the abuse and the media coverage of Lent.  But this year there was also the media coverage proving, again through the churches own documents, that the sexual abuse and cover-up in the catholic church is international and organized and that those who covered-up these crimes and moved known abusers from parish to parish include both this pope and the previous one as well. 

Of course, I was not surprised.  I actually believe that this behavior goes back centuries not decades.  In that sense, it was validating but I learned a long time ago that validation can often be like a double edged sword.     On one hand you finally have proof of what you have believed and proclaimed to be true but with that truth comes the loss of any hope that just maybe…you were wrong…just maybe there were not as many children sexually abused as you feared…that there were not countless children who struggled and are struggling to reach adulthood with some sense of self-esteem… peace… calm… love. 

So yes…while it was hopeful that more truth is being revealed it was also hard and triggering hearing so much affirmed… especially the knowing that countless others have experienced the horror so many of us know and that the deceit and betrayal is so deeply institutionalized that change, if even possible, will be a long, long wait, which ultimately means our children and the children yet to come remain at risk every bit as much as was I.

I am grateful that this Lent is behind me and that the unexpected triggers and heavy weight we felt has left. The paths survivors take are as varied and unique as are we survivors… some never acknowledge they were sexually abused…others work on healing until the day they die.  In between these two things are all the other ways that survivors walk this earth.  Whatever the path of your walk may be… may it bless you with the energy, support and challenge that will help you to keep walking towards creating a safer world for all children.

Hawk is one of my Power Animals and Spirit Guides. I am so grateful for Hawks presence in my life.

City Hawk

Kathleen M. Dwyer 2001

In the middle of the city street

claws wedged tightly into the frozen prey

You actually stayed longer than you should have

risking that precious second

that might have been the difference between

life and death

How many of your friends

have you seen taken out

splattered over the pavement from just such a moment of survival?

Perhaps it is an unexpected gift from my past

that I was not surprised to see you staring at me

as you struggled to try to remove both yourself and your prey

Anything is possible

to the extremes of the outer edges

of both the positive and negative

But this morning,

as I obsessively planned, if not my permanent,

at least my temporary departure

You blocked my path...causing me to stop fully...and mirrored

back to me determination, courage and survival

Thank You!

City Hawk Two

Kathleen M. Dwyer 2/2010

Perched fifty feet up

on the expressway light

you looked worn and tattered

after all these years

wings frayed... belly winter grey...

head fur looking not unlike my own when I first awake

As always, I said good morning and

thanked you for the contact on this day,

sent you loving and healing energy

and wondered about your days in the city...

were you finding enough to eat...

even as I saw your thinness

Driving under and by your perch 

I asked about the other two that

I sometimes saw you soar with

and dance the beautiful sky dance of hawks

as you search for prey..

mate...fun...

An hour later,

city and you long behind me

full, tall and protective trees lined the highway

perched among them country hawk welcomed travelers

Her body full, feathers neatly tucked...

she looked strong, regal and wise

Again I sent out my greeting and gratitude...

love and healing...

but could not deny the contrast of the two...

concern filled me...questions swirled through my head

another lesson...perhaps not so much for my survival

but rather, for both of you.

One of the Top Stories of the Decade

It is clear to me that one of the important and "potential for good" stories of this past decade should be the courage of survivors of sexual abuse by clergy (and those who supported them) who dared to publicly speak about the sexual abuse they experienced by their priest and/or church member.  In so doing, the long time betrayal and cover-up by the hierarchy of the Catholic Church was exposed, corroborated and proven, beyond any doubt, by the churches own documents. Seven years later, cases of sexual abuse and cover-up in the Catholic Church continue to be identified, most recently in Ireland.   It is a hard truth for the masses to take in and yet, until they do, the opportunity given by the silence that has been shattered can not be fully realized.  The church and the majority of people continue to role model denial, rationalization and/or blaming others (especially the survivors who told) for what happened.  The church does this for the obvious…greed and protection of itself.  However, the masses seem incapable, unwilling or terrified of accepting that a survivor’s truth does not negate their truth but neither does their truth negate a survivor’s…that the very same priest that sexually abused a survivor may well have appropriately loved and comforted them. But perhaps most importantly the masses ongoing refusal to accept these church documented truths leaves all the children yet to come, catholic or otherwise, in greater danger of being victimized by people they should be able to trust. 
  

While we may never really know the extent of the abuse and cover-up in the Catholic Church, the countless stories this past decade about clergy sexual abuse should help everyone who cares about our children come to understand if sexual abuse can happen in  “holy institutions” it also can happen in all others, including the family.  Only then, when the scope of this heinous crime and urgency in addressing it is accepted and realized, will the potential really exist for creating meaningful changes that results in better protection for all children, catholic or otherwise.  

Thank you...it brought a smile to my face!

For many years now I have been making a weekly trip to Gloucester to meet with my therapist and work towards dealing with my past, being in the present and looking to the future.  The work is hard and painful but, at the same time, it is also freeing and hopeful.  The combination of the Gloucester Coast, beautiful woodlands, quarries and wildlife have been gifts that have made the trip everything from tolerable to incredibly beautiful.  

A couple of years ago, another gift manifested on my trip to and from Gloucester.  It was around this time of the year, driving home after a particularly difficult session, when I first noticed it.  Feeling sad and heavy I suddenly became aware of bright shiny red, gold, green and silver ornament balls hanging on the trees that lined Rte. 128 in Gloucester.  One of the decorated trees was even in the median and it had more ornaments on it than I could count.  I couldn't help but smile at the sight and wondered to myself how did all these decorations get there and then began to imagine what the person or persons would look like going from tree to tree, undoubtedly trying not to get "caught" by the authorities, as they dressed both the naked and still green trees with ornaments.  


As I continued my drive home, I began to notice that I didn't feel quite so heavy....the weight I had been feeling seemed much lighter from what I believe was the power of the smile that spontaneously and seemingly out of my control crept across my face and filled my being with "smile" feelings.  I remember feeling so grateful to whoever had decorated the trees and began thinking about ways I might be able to leave something along another way that just might bring a smile to another. 

Last year I have no recall of seeing the decorated trees...perhaps they were there but I missed them...nonetheless....this past Wednesday on my weekly trip to Gloucester, there they were once again bringing not only a smile to my face but indeed, an out loud chuckle as well as an out loud declaration of "they're back"!   I was so happy and grateful to see them again.  This year they were a little different...it seemed as if two ornaments were strategically placed on naked branches along the side of Rte 128, at a location and height quite easy to see while driving.  The first thing I said when I walked into my therapists' office  was "they're back"!   And on the way home, more smiles danced across my face as there was even a decorated tree in the median.

Now holidays have been a hard time for me over the years... I mean I haven't exactly been of the "bah humbug" nature but they are troubling for me from both a personal history perspective and from a materialistic and collective one as well.  Yet, the time, effort and expense some person of group of persons extended anonymously to place what I consider more "secular" decorations where one would least expect to see them continues to bring a smile to my face.  I don't imagine whoever decorated these trees could ever really know just how much it means to me...in part because I am still awed at how much joy I get out of it.  Part of me really wants to know the story behind it all.... but for now, I will just enjoy what I have seen and let go with thanks and gratitude to whoever is responsible.

We Cannot Move From A Place We Deny We Are...

Here in America, the fourth Thursday in November is set aside to celebrate and give thanks for the Pilgrims coming to this land. As a poor white child I was taught that those who came actually “discovered” this land thereby reducing the Native People to non-people and creating a one-side story that those who live here now are the benefactors of strong, courageous and dedicated explorers looking only for a better way of life.

As I grew from child to adult woman, I had, and continue to have, countless awareness’s about who I am, how I receive the advantages and disadvantages that manifest as privilege or lack of privilege and who benefits and who is hurt from my denial and/or unconsciousness about myself, others and the country and world I live in. It is easy to celebrate the positive…to hold it up for the whole world to see but it is impossible to improve as an individual or as a people unless we are also willing to hold up, accept responsibility and grieve all that is shameful, disrespectful and indeed, horrible. We cannot move from a place we deny we are. We must, both personally and collectively, hold up all our truths and not act as if we are only innocent people who were and are just trying to do whatever. Whether it be the Catholic Church and the majority of it’s people who still cover up its role in the sexual abuse of countless children despite all their documents that prove otherwise, or America denying attempted genocide and betrayal of the Native People or individuals who deny their lack of integrity, biased judgment and abuse of power we need to collectively and individually claim all the truths as part of the whole. It is dangerous and limiting… immoral and irresponsible not to do so.

And so, on this revered American holiday, when most are gathered with their families and are giving thanks to the Pilgrims… I choose to stand with the Native people of this land in a “Day of Mourning”. I choose to honor and give thanks to those who went before… whose spirits still can be heard though their physical bodies were destroyed through attempted genocide…those who trusted in treaties never kept…promises never honored. Those who choose not to deny their reality but rather to speak their truth...which is part of the history of all of our truths…which is part of the whole and in so doing allows a wind of hope to blow over a land and a people who have the power to be better…to be more…

I have been attending the “Day of Mourning” for many years now and when unable to be there physically I am always there in spirit and wherever I may be, my voice speaks of the “Day of Mourning” so that others will know that some of us have not forgotten…some of us still seek accountability…some of us still believe that until all of the story is told, accepted, honored and grieved, we all remain blemished, however differently, with the greed, ignorance and shame of our betrayal and theft of the Native People and their land. And in my standing, I give thanks to those known and unknown people, animals and spirit guides who have loved, supported and challenged me to become as whole as I may be before it is my time to join those others who have already passed on. If you would like more information about “The Day of Mourning” please go to www.uaine.org

It was a rainy day this morning. People asking if we are ever going to have a summer this year with one woman saying “we only have July and August left. I try to gently remind them that summer doesn’t even begin until June 21^st. The weather does bring lots of conversations and becomes the reason for so many different choices. I just had to get away…it was so cold. We installed central air conditioning… it was so hot. The economy may limit some of our choices now but still, the ever changing and unpredictable weather of New England provides many a reason and/or excuse for some of the choices we make and for many of the conversations we have. Like one of my first conversations with a customer this morning.

She was a young white woman. She and her young daughter walked into the store shortly after we opened. I greeted them both with a good morning. The mom was engaged, up-beat and without a doubt, on a mission. Her young daughter, probably no more than eight or nine years old, was a little slower and looked as if perhaps she was just really waking up...the way a lot of kids look early on a weekend morning. The mother asked if we had any rain gear…specifically ponchos. She went onto explain how they were walking against childhood cancer for Tufts New England Medical Center, which I already knew was also known as Boston Floating Hospital for Children. She introduced me to her daughter and said how she had been fighting cancer for the last five years…that the Tufts New England Medical Center was their hospital and that they wanted to give back.

I knew that feeling well. Both my son and daughter had been patients at what I always called Boston Floating. Remembering my own children, I looked at the little girl and just want to hug her. Sometimes people questioned why not Children’s Hospital…it’s the best they would sometimes say to which I would always respond “not for us”. Floating was a blessing to us. The people there did so much for my children, their father and myself…more than just the medical care that was so crucial to their living, growing and becoming the wonderful adult man and woman they are today. They treated us as a family, taught me how to advocate for my children and walked with us through many a “touch and go” moment. My son who is now 39 and my daughter who is now 34 still, in spite of the medical trauma they experienced, remember the hospital with a fondness.

Now I was on a mission…where were those ponchos. We found them and the woman and daughter bought everyone of them…about 16 in all. They wanted to make sure there were extras in case some of the other walkers didn’t have any. I thanked them for the sale and for their walking and wished them break through of the sun. Shortly after they left a black woman walked in. She too was engaged, up-beat and without a doubt, on a mission. “Do you have any raingear” she asked and I turned to her and asked “Are you walking for Floating today?”. She smiled and said “Yes…I just wanted to pick a few up in case there were some walkers that needed them.” I smiled too and told her that a woman and her daughter from the walk had just bought all we had. We laughed. I thanked her for walking and wished her an early breakthrough of the sun. As she left to walk the seven miles in the rain, my wish for the sun, while nice, wasn’t necessary…the three of them were already brightly shining.

The store is a little more tense these days. New management and a new district brings with it new and unfamiliar ways and rules to both the front line staff and the customers who come in each day. Like most everyone else, the economy has had a difficult impact on each of us and has supposedly demanded that hours be cut. The people I work with work hard and the pay is really not enough to survive on...having hours cut makes that even more difficult. We all walk with the knowledge that corporate has the "upper hand" right now...and can get away with more than normal in their treatment of staff.

Still...it is the customers that make it more than just a job for me. Yes, I constantly have my eyes open for a job that will pay more and be less physically demanding for my aging and somewhat wounded body. But I want one that will also bring these "moments of intimacy" I so cherish and learn and grow from. Like today...a young, white woman, came to my register. While she looked somewhat reserved, she also felt quite up-beat. She followed several parent/child customers who had purchased special items for a school field day or just for the end of school in general. All the kids seemed lighter than usual today...summer is coming and with it perhaps expectations of less pressure. They didn't even look as tired this morning as they have on other days. I hope some at least are feeling this...it has been a tough year and, depending on your politics, a wonderful year...but no matter what, the kids get the trickle down effect in ways I think adults can and do easily deny.

Anyhow, when this young woman reached my register she was carrying with her 12 notebooks...the "composition" kind that many of us may be familiar with from our own days in school or journal writing or trying to organize one thing or another. Smiling, I said to her that she was either going to do a lot of writing or she was giving out an assignment to her students to keep a journal over the summer. She smiled and said I was partially correct...the composition notebooks were for her 8th and 9th grade students who she would be going to Rhawanda with this sumer. A "wow" came out of my mouth...a "wow" because I thought how awesome and a "wow" because I am continued to be amazed and awed at the people who come before me each morning...who they are and what they do. She said she wanted to help them prepare a notebook so that they would be ready to start recording their memories of the trip, which will be for three weeks and will start a few weeks after school gets out. She began to get so excited about what awaited them...it would be her first trip to Rhawanda also, although not her first trip chaperoning students to other places in the world. I told her to take lots of pictures and then, have them developed at the store so I could see them. She smiled and said OK and waved good-bye and once again I felt gratitude for being allowed into the life of another...her pending adventure...and the different paths each of us walk. Her trip lingered in my mind a bit as I imagined her and the twelve students getting ready to board the plane...the parents letting them go...the combination of anxiety and excitement playing out individually in each of them...the time difference...the land difference...the cultural difference and the many ways it could, however differently, impact each of them for the rest of their lives. May they each be blessed with openness!