To someone outside my story, my worth and value must appear cut and dry, and my wrestling with it, unnecessary and hard to understand.
I'm not alone in my wrestling, though, among others who have experienced similar traumas. We may all have different reasons behind it, but I don't know of any survivor that hasn't wrestled hard with her worth. So I want to take some time to explain my wrestling.
I pray that whoever reading who has a story like mine will know they are not alone and not weird. I pray that whoever reading who does not have a story like mine but surely knows someone who does will understand their friend better and be better able to support and walk alongside them.
If I were to put anyone else in my place in my exact same story, I would declare their worth, declare they never deserved what they went through, grieve over what was taken from them. Yet, when I look at my story, I am certain I deserved it. I'm convinced that there is something less in me that made me not worth protecting. I hear again and again that we are all image bearers, made in God's image to reflect Him. I believe that for everyone else, but then I don't see how that makes any difference for me.
You see, one of the deeply ingrained ways I coped with what was going on was to minimize everything. If you talk to me long enough, you'll hear it. I make it smaller. I can handle it that way. It hurts less when it isn't that big of a deal. I can protect those around me when it's small enough for me to handle, at least that's how it seems to me.
How could I make something so horrific so small, you might ask? I reduce my worth. I see myself as less valuable than everyone else. I convince myself I deserved it because somehow I image-bear the wrong way. I see myself as the problem, the defective one. I own that I wasn't worthy like all the other kids were.
You see, if I have just as much worth and value simply for being made in the image of God just like the rest of humanity, it makes the reality of how I was treated too big to make small.
To believe I have worth yet look back and see the adults at USAG with all the power at their disposal hear warnings of the dangers of the man who would later abuse me yet ignore it all, hide the warnings in a secret file, and renew his membership in good standing...
To believe I have value yet look back and remember all the horrifying details of what my coach did and how many people he manipulated in order to do it...
To believe I am an image-bearer which comes with inherent dignity and value and worth and see how adults meant to protect and care for me just trampled over it all...
It makes it too big, too heavy, too real. I can't minimize that. I can't lessen that pain or grasp that level of violation. That reality brings tears I can't hold back, and that makes a mess I can't keep from hurting those around me.
When I wrestle with my worth, I'm wrestling with decades of coping the only way I knew how, coping that let me live and blend in so much so that almost no one knew my secret. I'm wrestling with decades of hurt I have done everything possible not to feel, and I'm desperately trying to not hurt those around me with the wounds inflicted on me.
When I wrestle with my worth, I'm wrestling with a good God in the face of unspeakable evil. This good God isn't afraid to wrestle either. Jacob wrestled with God centuries before I found myself in the same place, and just like Jacob, I'm sure to walk away with a limp. Abuse has a way of doing that.
So when I or another survivor friend of yours winces at the reminder of her worth, of her image-bearer-ness, of her value, remember she's wrestling something much too large for mere words. Remind her of her worth, that isn't wrong or bad, but even more than that, wrestle with her in prayer. You may leave limping too, but it will be tangible evidence you really do believe she's worthy.
No comments:
Post a Comment