I finally joined a support group this week, after thinking about it for about three(ish) years.
I was scared, but it wasn’t scary.
The women there — ranging in age from 20s to 50s — were absolutely incredible. The group I joined is affiliated with the WINGS foundation, so everyone is a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. Which means these women were very young when they were assaulted. Some of them were very, very young. Many of them were abused by family members, some by their own dads. A lot of them have subsequent problems, like eating disorders and addictions. Several are members of Alcoholic Anonymous.
So I felt a little out of place. I felt like maybe I didn’t really belong there. Like since I was a little older (teens) and my abusers were similar in age and not related to me, I should be in a group for less-fucked up people who went through less-fucked up — though still bad — situations.
I might have issues, but I’m functioning. Some of these women didn’t seem to be functioning very well. They still had suicidal thoughts. They still got into screaming fights with their loved ones. As I sat in the chair and listened to their stories, I thought ‘these women need help.’ My heart went out to them.
The process of sharing is simple. One person at a time does their “check-in” and talks about what their week was like, what problems they are struggling with, and asks for help if they want it. If not, then we all say ‘Thank you for sharing.’
That was really hard for me; to sit there and hear these women say how badly they feel about themselves, how badly they had been treated by friends, coworkers, even therapists, and not comfort them. Not tell them they were beautiful and strong and brave and, most importantly, not the bad people they feel like 99% of the time.
Just to say ‘Thank you’ didn’t seem like enough to me. I wanted to help.
That’s when I realized why I was there.
Because I’m really good at helping people. But I’m awful at letting people help me.
I was more than happy to speak up in group — to make jokes, or to offer advice or comfort. But not to share anything personal. Granted, it was my first meeting, so for me to offer up personal information to complete strangers would be like Miley Cyrus taking a picture and keeping her tongue in her mouth.
So instead, I listened. And what I heard amazed me.
I heard women owning their challenges, actions and emotions. I heard them admitting their failures and faults. It was absolutely beautiful.
I understand why we are simply supposed to say ‘Thank you” after someone speaks instead of rushing to offer comfort or suggestions. She is coming to us and saying, “This is where I am today, and maybe it’s not where I should be, but here I am.”
With our thank-yous, we are saying “That’s OK. Wherever you are is OK, and I am not going to try and fix it with my words, no matter how kind or well-intentioned.”
That’s one of the WINGS group ground rules, actually.
No. 13: I will give you space to work through your own issues and arrive at your own solutions without giving you unsolicited advice or rescuing you. I will trust you to do the same for me.”
As I sat listening to these women break my heart with their tragedies and triumphs, I thought not helping would be the hardest thing for me. But I know now that asking for help will be infinitely more difficult.
So that’s my challenge. What exactly they are supposed to help me with, or how, I have no idea.
OK, maybe I have a few ideas on what I need help with. My sexual compulsions. My cheating. My occasional sex-induced flashbacks and panic attacks. Boundary issues. Trust issues.
I guess that’s enough to get me started :)
I’d like to share with you something else from the WINGS group handbook. It’s a poem, my favorite in the whole thing. (Yes, I’ve read almost all of it already!)
Autobiography in Five Short Chapters
by Portia Nelson
Chapter I
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost … I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.
Chapter II
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place.
But, it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
Chapter III
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
Chapter IV
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
Chapter V
I walk down another street.
Here’s to a new street.
If you or someone you know is a victim of sexual trauma, please visit one of these websites or seek assistance in some other way:
www.wingsfound.org (WINGS foundation; for survivors of childhood sexual abuse)
www.malesurvivor.org (For male survivors of sexual abuse)
www.rainn.org (Rape Abuse and Incest Nation Network)
http://www.pandys.org/ (Pandora’s Project: Support and resources for survivors of rape and abuse)
