Abuse, Abused, Abusers

I have met with some interesting reactions to my chapter on "Ma and Dad." I assume that they come from three groups: (1) those who have never been abused and are not abusers, (2) those who have been abused, and (3) those who are abusers.

The first group seems completely mystified by how, after a long childhood of extensive abuse, I can in clear conscience say that my parents were not monsters. Not having been abused themselves, they have likely not had to do the soul-searching and deep analysis that is implicit in forgiving anyone who harms you. With abuse, the harm is severe and multifaceted and affects not only one's physical well-being, but, as well, one's mental state, sense of self-efficacy, security, willingness to take risks, self-confidence, compassion, and even reason and ability to love. Let alone, of course, the ability to forgive. Certainly, my optimism and self-confidence did not come from my parents but evolved from the positive input of others and a sense of well-being and protection that was internal and irrational. Whence came this "salvation?" In retrospect, I can come to only one conclusion: God's protection of the Almighty's least mighty children. If, speaking in terms of reason alone, I conclude that God was the source of my protection, then I am required, at least in my understanding of morality (and fairness/honesty), to accept God's requirement to honor one's parents and to forgive those who offend us ("seventy times seven"). When one forgives, a healing process begins, again at least in my experience, and once that healing process has reached a level where one can confidently move beyond the childhood pain, one can begin to analyze why these sorts of bad things happened. In fact, one feels compel to ask "why" and to try to answer that question. That is what I did, and in the analysis, I finally understood that my parents were not evil creatures who wanted to do bad, but stressed-out, impoverished, "human" (and therefore fallible) individuals who wanted to do right but through their fallibility and status in life were pushed by external forces (the "need" to look good before the community, hormones out of control, a sense of helplessness to improve their comfort level) to lash out in anger and frustration -- all it took was very simple, normal, innocuous-but-undesired behaviors on the part of their children to unleash the emotions that their sense of morality (yes, they had a sense of morality) held at bay all too unsuccessfully. Seeing my parents as victims as much as they were abusers has helped me to understand that they were not monsters although their behavior was monstrous. I am not alone in this experience. Dave Pelzer (A Boy Called It) was treated as abusively by his mother, perhaps even more abusively, and ultimately he found himself able to forgive her. In that forgiveness lay much healing. That is likely why God requires us to forgive.

Those who have been abused (second group) do understand and do empathize. If their abuse was lesser, they realize that any amount of abuse is frightening, and the amount that my siblings and I received is even more frightening in that there was nothing special about them or me or my parents -- such abuse potentially could happen at any time to anyone. The fact that it does not happen more often is perhaps as a miracle, too.

The third group puzzles me. They are the abusers. I assume that the physical abusers, like my parents, have some kind of unmet need, deep-set insecurity, or hormonal/drug-induced chemical imbalance that leads them to do things that in a rational moment they themselves would conclude is wrong. To some extent, I do understand them, but I do not accept their behavior. No one should, and no, I do not condone those neighbors, teachers, and religious leaders who looked the other way in my childhood. I have been reviled by some book reviewers for taking these groups to task, but I stand by my conviction that those who look on and do nothing deserve to be taken to task.

I would hope that readers would realize that we never would have survived if everyone in our lives had been unconcerned, incompetent, and/or abusive. I do point out some who gave us succor in difficult moment. We had some brilliant doctors. Without them, my children would not have lived. Among those brilliant doctors were amazingly compassionate ones, with whom we developed life-long friendships. Likewise, there were a few teachers and educational administrators who did make a difference in our handicapped and gifted children's access to learning (but it would have been nice had these been the majority not the distinct minority). The rote application of learned treatment to all situations regardless of need (typically over the objection of knowledgeable parents) I truly have never understood -- not from the educators and doctors out of whose grasp I have wrestled my children for the sake of their mental development in some cases and lives in other cases.

I would love to hear from those of you who have survived any kind of abusive situation, whether at the hands of relatives, doctors, or teachers, either yourselves or as advocates for your children. What have been your experiences?