I want to use this space to acknowledge and honor the compassion you have in your heart for David. Thank you for writing so clearly about the complexity of holding compassion for one’s abuser while at the same time never diminishing the impact of the harm the abuser does, or excusing it. I have some inkling of this, although my own experience of sexual abuse is quite different than yours. I remember that when the man who raped me was found guilty by the jury, I cried. I wept for two reasons: 1) I was so thankful and relieved that the jury did not let this man go free; and 2) I was heartbroken and sick that he was being sentenced to prison, an ugly and frightening place that is used not to rehabilitate but to punish and vilify people while at the same time reifying structural racism. I was shocked that I felt these two things at the same time and did not have the words to articulate these feelings. I was also afraid that no one would understand me if I tried. So again, thank you for showing how both can exist at the same time. ❤️
Your vulnerability and openness leaves me in awe. Having suffered abuse and resulting, lasting trauma, I continue my own healing path. It comes in fits and starts in its own time, and has been relatively gentle. In my own experience it cannot be forced. Big hugs and love to you as you seek.
Sending SO much love your way Asha. This is such hard work, unraveling that awful ugly knot. Like you, Ive meditated on my abuser as an innocent baby, and it helps a bit to soften the heart. That said, I'm glad you were spared having to go to David's funeral. When my abuser (my father)died, I felt I had no choice about attending. My mom needed my support too much at that time for me not to go. And it was absolutely fucking awful. Being silent while so many people spoke such lovely things about him left me feeling retraumatized, angry, and frustrated with my own duplicity for even being there. At almost sixty, I see now that I was blind back then to some of my options. I would NOT put myself through that now. Re the New Yorker article, does this mean I've changed? I don't think so. My behavior has changed. I take much better care of my mental health. But I'm still me. The difference is, I like me now.
Even reading about it is intense! I can only imagine how it must have felt. I admire your courage and tenacity. I also fully endorse any inclination you have to swing the other way for a bit, towards rest and recovery. I feel like I should suggest borscht. ❤️
What you wrote about how your brother died held by people who loved him, and that you can see that aspect of him even though you don't share those feelings, really rang true for me too. Many years ago, I attended the funeral of the one who had abused me, one of the hardest things I have ever done. And yet, I found grace there. As much as I was relieved that I would never have to face him again, I was also glad to find that although still imperfect, he had grown to be someone worthy of the love shown by those who gathered to mourn him.
That sounds intense, and powerful. ❤️ Courageous. Thank you for sharing.
My heart was opened and enlivened by a journey to wild and ancient places in Ireland, with herbalists. It has also been the kind of experience that unfolds a bit afterward, that continues to bring insights and nuggets…feeling more whole, I think afterward. Holding yours (heart) in light and love, friend. ❤️🌿
I want to use this space to acknowledge and honor the compassion you have in your heart for David. Thank you for writing so clearly about the complexity of holding compassion for one’s abuser while at the same time never diminishing the impact of the harm the abuser does, or excusing it. I have some inkling of this, although my own experience of sexual abuse is quite different than yours. I remember that when the man who raped me was found guilty by the jury, I cried. I wept for two reasons: 1) I was so thankful and relieved that the jury did not let this man go free; and 2) I was heartbroken and sick that he was being sentenced to prison, an ugly and frightening place that is used not to rehabilitate but to punish and vilify people while at the same time reifying structural racism. I was shocked that I felt these two things at the same time and did not have the words to articulate these feelings. I was also afraid that no one would understand me if I tried. So again, thank you for showing how both can exist at the same time. ❤️
Your vulnerability and openness leaves me in awe. Having suffered abuse and resulting, lasting trauma, I continue my own healing path. It comes in fits and starts in its own time, and has been relatively gentle. In my own experience it cannot be forced. Big hugs and love to you as you seek.
Beautiful and moving words, Asha. Thank you.
Sending SO much love your way Asha. This is such hard work, unraveling that awful ugly knot. Like you, Ive meditated on my abuser as an innocent baby, and it helps a bit to soften the heart. That said, I'm glad you were spared having to go to David's funeral. When my abuser (my father)died, I felt I had no choice about attending. My mom needed my support too much at that time for me not to go. And it was absolutely fucking awful. Being silent while so many people spoke such lovely things about him left me feeling retraumatized, angry, and frustrated with my own duplicity for even being there. At almost sixty, I see now that I was blind back then to some of my options. I would NOT put myself through that now. Re the New Yorker article, does this mean I've changed? I don't think so. My behavior has changed. I take much better care of my mental health. But I'm still me. The difference is, I like me now.
Even reading about it is intense! I can only imagine how it must have felt. I admire your courage and tenacity. I also fully endorse any inclination you have to swing the other way for a bit, towards rest and recovery. I feel like I should suggest borscht. ❤️
What you wrote about how your brother died held by people who loved him, and that you can see that aspect of him even though you don't share those feelings, really rang true for me too. Many years ago, I attended the funeral of the one who had abused me, one of the hardest things I have ever done. And yet, I found grace there. As much as I was relieved that I would never have to face him again, I was also glad to find that although still imperfect, he had grown to be someone worthy of the love shown by those who gathered to mourn him.
That sounds intense, and powerful. ❤️ Courageous. Thank you for sharing.
My heart was opened and enlivened by a journey to wild and ancient places in Ireland, with herbalists. It has also been the kind of experience that unfolds a bit afterward, that continues to bring insights and nuggets…feeling more whole, I think afterward. Holding yours (heart) in light and love, friend. ❤️🌿