There's been a lot in the news recently about trigger warnings on college campuses. Depending on who you listen to, they are necessary to protect those who have been through traumatic events and whose PTSD might be triggered by the material to be covered in class, or a symptom of the "PC police" coddling Millennials from true intellectual engagement. As someone who has suffered from PTSD from childhood sexual abuse (wrote about that here) I have stayed quiet on the issue.
Until now.
Last night my daughter and I went to see Spring Awakening. I'd bought her tickets for Hanukkah, but I've been so busy with work and other life issues that I went into the performance knowing absolutely nothing about it other than that people said it was amazing. I didn't read the Playbill beforehand and so the entire story and performance was a complete surprise.
(DON'T READ FURTHER IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS)
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There is a scene where Martha and Ilse sing about the sexual abuse they experience ("The Dark I know Well"). During this scene, I was well and truly triggered. I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to curl up into a ball. I wanted that song to END. Every second it went on seemed to last a freaking hour. I was deeply, deeply uncomfortable and unhappy and I did not like feeling those feelings or being in that place one little bit, especially since I'd paid no small amount of money for the privilege.
But I took deep breaths, and I told myself I'd get through it, and the song would end, and I'm not the child I was then, and it would be okay, and the song did end, and I felt sick for about another ten minutes, but then I was fine.
During intermission, I told my daughter that scene had been rough for me. She said that she'd wondered if I would have to leave, and I told her that it was okay, because I've learned how to regulate my emotions and breathe through it. I can't stop the feelings from happening, but I can sit with them and know that they will pass.
There were times in my life when I didn't know that, like when I was a teenager. Then, in order to not feel, I would get stoned, or drink. Or when I was an adult, when I would eat and then purge.
And this is why I'm finally saying that I don't think trigger warnings are a good thing. Because there are no trigger warnings in real life. You will be assaulted by these emotions when you least expect them and you have to learn strategies to deal with them. If you're constantly given warnings, you won't get the practice you need for a lifetime of unexpected triggers.
In terms of learning those strategies, what worked best for me was Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, which I did as part of my bulimia treatment.
But whatever you do, learning to regulate those emotions is going to be more useful in the long run than any number of trigger warnings.
Showing posts with label sexual abuse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sexual abuse. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Stop making excuses for the inexcusable
This was a letter I sent to The Duke Chronicle, the newspaper at my alma mater, after our winning basketball coach, Mike Krzyzewki (aka Coach K) who is lauded similarly to Paterno, defended Paterno in the New York Times last November
"As a proud Duke alum who is also a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, I was appalled and disgusted by Coach Mike Krzyzewski’s attempt to make excuses for his fellow Coach, Penn State’s Joe Paterno, for not contacting police when informed of a horrific act by then assistant coach Jerry Sandusky. (New York Times, The Quad 11/14/11) Coach K wants us to give Paterno a pass based on his age (“one thing you have to understand is that Paterno is 84 years old) and thus the “immense changes and how social issues are handled in those generations.”
For a man who in June taped a show for ESPN with Paterno about “ethics and integrity and issues related with college athletics,” Krzyzewski’s moral ambivalence and his insistence that Paterno remains a “great man in a horrific situation,” makes clear that he needs to revisit his understanding of integrity, ethics and greatness.
When teaching writing workshops, I always start with character, because exploring human nature is what makes writing such an endlessly fascinating pursuit. Plot discussions focus on throwing stumbling blocks in the character’s way, so he or she is forced to make choices, because in the immortal words of JK Rowling’s Albus Dumbledore (drawing on Sartre) “It is our choices…that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”
The point Coach K doesn’t understand, or perhaps chooses, willfully, to miss, is that it’s the choices one makes when faced with such a horrific situation that prove whether one is truly great, not the number of football games or basketball games won.
Joe Paterno has achieved many wonderful things in his 84 years. But like many who could have achieved true greatness, he had a tragic flaw, one that resulted in children who might have been saved being sexually abused. His legacy is rightfully tarnished. Coach K shouldn’t be in the game of making excuses for the inexcusable."
"As a proud Duke alum who is also a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, I was appalled and disgusted by Coach Mike Krzyzewski’s attempt to make excuses for his fellow Coach, Penn State’s Joe Paterno, for not contacting police when informed of a horrific act by then assistant coach Jerry Sandusky. (New York Times, The Quad 11/14/11) Coach K wants us to give Paterno a pass based on his age (“one thing you have to understand is that Paterno is 84 years old) and thus the “immense changes and how social issues are handled in those generations.”
For a man who in June taped a show for ESPN with Paterno about “ethics and integrity and issues related with college athletics,” Krzyzewski’s moral ambivalence and his insistence that Paterno remains a “great man in a horrific situation,” makes clear that he needs to revisit his understanding of integrity, ethics and greatness.
When teaching writing workshops, I always start with character, because exploring human nature is what makes writing such an endlessly fascinating pursuit. Plot discussions focus on throwing stumbling blocks in the character’s way, so he or she is forced to make choices, because in the immortal words of JK Rowling’s Albus Dumbledore (drawing on Sartre) “It is our choices…that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”
The point Coach K doesn’t understand, or perhaps chooses, willfully, to miss, is that it’s the choices one makes when faced with such a horrific situation that prove whether one is truly great, not the number of football games or basketball games won.
Joe Paterno has achieved many wonderful things in his 84 years. But like many who could have achieved true greatness, he had a tragic flaw, one that resulted in children who might have been saved being sexually abused. His legacy is rightfully tarnished. Coach K shouldn’t be in the game of making excuses for the inexcusable."
Friday, July 13, 2012
Penn State, leadership and faith
I did a presentation at the CT Writing Project's Young Writer's Institute this morning, and met a High School student who asked me to sign two of my books. She told me she particularly loved CONFESSIONS OF A CLOSET CATHOLIC because her mother converted from Catholicism to Islam when she married, so there are times when she's sitting in church feeling like Jussy. She also told me about going to a family event at the church her mom grew up in where the priest yelled at her mother to leave and told her she no longer belonged there.
We talked about Confessions and told her that in my experience the people with deep faith, rather than dogmatic faith, are the most accepting, because they recognize we we all pray to one G-d so we should look for the commonalities we share rather than the rituals that divide us.
I've been thinking about the definition of "a good person" recently, especially how one can go through the motions of being a faithful, "good" and even lauded member of the community - a much admired leader - yet beneath the surface have a flaw that makes mockery of this.
I speak, of course, of the late Joe Paterno.
At the time of his death, Paterno was lauded, particularly by members of his church, where he was a regular.
The Dumas' one a fellow Penn State professors and the other, a senior lecturer, lauded Paterno thusly:
Yesterday, the results of an independent investigation into the sexual abuse scandal and cover up by Louis Freeh was released. I made the mistake of reading it while I was eating lunch. It was truly sickening.
Moreover, after McQueary witnessed Sandusky raping a boy in the shower in Feb 9th 2001 and reported it to Paterno on Sat Feb 10th, Paterno waited to inform Curly and Schultz until the following day because he "did not want to interfere with their weekends." Very Christian of him. (seethes)
Paterno then interfered when the plan was to report Sandusky to Dept of Welfare. An email from Curley to Schultz and Spanier says he changed his mind "after giving it more thought and talking it over with Joe (Paterno) yesterday."
As a result, Sandusky went on to abuse more children and damage more lives.
Who would make such a choice? Was that the choice of a godly, church going man? Was that the choice of a "great man"? Someone who is "an example of a coach and a teacher"?
No. It's the choice of someone with hubris.It's the choice of someone who would rather sacrifice the lives of innocent young men for the "greater good" of his legacy. If it pricked his conscience at all he could point generosity as a benefactor for good causes and all the fine young men (the ones who weren't as poor and vulnerable and thus escaped Sandusky's clutches) to graduate from the football program at Penn State, the ones who helped to earn him his all-time Division 1 football wins record.
Paterno, the Dumas', the higher leadership of Penn State, the students who rioted when Paterno was fired and the folks who raised a statue to this man, are all in denial, and denial is one of the biggest factors that allows sexual abuse to continue. The perpetrator is, of course, the most guilty party, but those around the perpetrator who choose denial are complicit in the crime.
Sandusky could have been stopped in 1998. Paterno lied to the grand jury about his knowledge of that incident. Sandusky could have certainly been stopped in 2001. But the ego of a supposedly "great" man, a man held up as an "example"caused him to make choices that resulted in the abuse of more children.
And did Paterno go to his grave feeling bad about this? Apparently not. Two days ago, a never published op ed he wrote before his death shows his continued arrogance and denial. It is all about protecting his legacy with not a word of compassion for Sandusky's victims. They don't even rate a mention.
I only started speaking publicly about my own abuse last year, and part of the reason I have continued to do so, and now have offered my services as a speaker to The Center for Sexual Abuse Crisis Counseling and Education is so that both teens and adults understand the importance of destroying the culture of complicity and denial. Denial is my sworn enemy and as Winston Churchill said, "whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender."
We shall fight it in the religious institutions, we shall fight it in the Universities, we shall fight it in families, we shall fight it in schools, we shall fight it in the military, we shall fight it in Congress, we shall fight it in our communities, until our children our safe.
We talked about Confessions and told her that in my experience the people with deep faith, rather than dogmatic faith, are the most accepting, because they recognize we we all pray to one G-d so we should look for the commonalities we share rather than the rituals that divide us.
I've been thinking about the definition of "a good person" recently, especially how one can go through the motions of being a faithful, "good" and even lauded member of the community - a much admired leader - yet beneath the surface have a flaw that makes mockery of this.
I speak, of course, of the late Joe Paterno.
At the time of his death, Paterno was lauded, particularly by members of his church, where he was a regular.
The Dumas' one a fellow Penn State professors and the other, a senior lecturer, lauded Paterno thusly:
"It's not only a great loss for us of a great benefactor and a great man," Mr. Dumas said, "but our country lost. He showed us an example of what it is to be a coach and a teacher."
"And human being," Mrs. Dumas added.
Mr. Dumas continued, "I'm sorry that we could not have had a better ending for this great man. When Victor Hugo died in Paris, everybody ran around the streets shouting, 'Hugo is dead! Hugo is dead! Our hero is dead!' That is the ending I would have liked to have seen for Joe Paterno, because he is our Victor Hugo."
Yesterday, the results of an independent investigation into the sexual abuse scandal and cover up by Louis Freeh was released. I made the mistake of reading it while I was eating lunch. It was truly sickening.
“Four of the most powerful people at The Pennsylvania State University — President Graham B. Spanier, Senior Vice President-Finance and Business Gary C. Schultz, Athletic Director Timothy M. Curley and Head Football Coach Joseph V. Paterno — failed to protect against a child sexual predator harming children for over a decade. These men concealed Sandusky’s activities from the Board of Trustees, the University community and authorities. They exhibited a striking lack of empathy for Sandusky’s victims.
Moreover, after McQueary witnessed Sandusky raping a boy in the shower in Feb 9th 2001 and reported it to Paterno on Sat Feb 10th, Paterno waited to inform Curly and Schultz until the following day because he "did not want to interfere with their weekends." Very Christian of him. (seethes)
Paterno then interfered when the plan was to report Sandusky to Dept of Welfare. An email from Curley to Schultz and Spanier says he changed his mind "after giving it more thought and talking it over with Joe (Paterno) yesterday."
As a result, Sandusky went on to abuse more children and damage more lives.
Who would make such a choice? Was that the choice of a godly, church going man? Was that the choice of a "great man"? Someone who is "an example of a coach and a teacher"?
No. It's the choice of someone with hubris.It's the choice of someone who would rather sacrifice the lives of innocent young men for the "greater good" of his legacy. If it pricked his conscience at all he could point generosity as a benefactor for good causes and all the fine young men (the ones who weren't as poor and vulnerable and thus escaped Sandusky's clutches) to graduate from the football program at Penn State, the ones who helped to earn him his all-time Division 1 football wins record.
Paterno, the Dumas', the higher leadership of Penn State, the students who rioted when Paterno was fired and the folks who raised a statue to this man, are all in denial, and denial is one of the biggest factors that allows sexual abuse to continue. The perpetrator is, of course, the most guilty party, but those around the perpetrator who choose denial are complicit in the crime.
Sandusky could have been stopped in 1998. Paterno lied to the grand jury about his knowledge of that incident. Sandusky could have certainly been stopped in 2001. But the ego of a supposedly "great" man, a man held up as an "example"caused him to make choices that resulted in the abuse of more children.
And did Paterno go to his grave feeling bad about this? Apparently not. Two days ago, a never published op ed he wrote before his death shows his continued arrogance and denial. It is all about protecting his legacy with not a word of compassion for Sandusky's victims. They don't even rate a mention.
I only started speaking publicly about my own abuse last year, and part of the reason I have continued to do so, and now have offered my services as a speaker to The Center for Sexual Abuse Crisis Counseling and Education is so that both teens and adults understand the importance of destroying the culture of complicity and denial. Denial is my sworn enemy and as Winston Churchill said, "whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender."
We shall fight it in the religious institutions, we shall fight it in the Universities, we shall fight it in families, we shall fight it in schools, we shall fight it in the military, we shall fight it in Congress, we shall fight it in our communities, until our children our safe.
Friday, February 3, 2012
A letter to my "Wonderful Child"
Last weekend I attended the wonderful retreat for published writers and illustrators,Kindling Words. I credit KW with saving my writing life back in 2006, when I was going through a case of the second book blues so severe that I wondered if I should give up this dream of being a writer after all and go get a "real" job, just like I'd done in my 20's and 30's because everyone said I should.
Kindling Words is a place where I go to rejuvenate, to be inspired, to learn craft, to commune with fellow creative souls. It's the perfect kick off for my writing year. This year I finished the revisions for my latest YA novel to send to my agent, while in the back of my brain the idea for a middle grade was percolating.
On the first night of KW, we always have an activity to get our creative juices flowing. Two years ago, it was a fantastic and fun African drum circle.
This year, we had an acting professor from Circle in the Square lead us in some exercises to get us in touch with ourselves and each other. I was a drama geek in high school, so I usually love this kind of stuff, but the minute he mentions "child exercise" I tensed.
The exercise was to find our "wonderful child." And I tried to do that, and I couldn't. And I ended up lying on the floor in the ballroom of a Vermont Inn sobbing. I told the professor that I don't have a Wonderful Child - but that I've worked very hard to be a Wonderful Grownup, and I like who I am now.
I have to apologize to Mary Lee Donovan, of Candlewick Press (Sorry Mary Lee!) because she had to do the next exercise with me, where we had to look into each other's eyes without speaking for many minutes, because the eyes are the windows of the soul. My eyes were all red and watery and I can't imagine looking into my soul at that point was a whole lot of fun.
The community at KW is so amazing. I had so many people come up to me afterward and tell me that I DO have a Wonderful Child. It made me want to cry all over again, but for a different reason.
The the next morning, I wrote this letter to my Wonderful Child, the one I couldn't find:
Dear Wonderful Child:
Last night I was sent on another mission to find you, and as usual, it ended in tears. I know you understand why I my already tense shoulder muscles went into spasm when I heard the words “child exercise” and acid production in my stomach went into overdrive, causing reflux my throat. You get it, because you were there. You know that when sexual abuse is perpetrated on a child so young they don’t even have the words to express what is happening to them, the post-traumatic stress effects last a lifetime, through drug use, a suicide attempt, bulimia, abusive relationships, and untold hours and too much money to want to think about worth of therapy. You might think that you’ve “dealt with it” but then all it takes is the student reaction to the story about a pedophile football coach in PA or hearing people making ignorant comments at Virtus workshop you have to attend in order to help out for your daughter’s musical theater production at the local Catholic church, or a guided exercise at a writing retreat and BAM! You’re right back in that place of horror and pain, the place where you’re a small, frightened child, scared in the darkness without a voice.
But the thing is, that’s not who you are now. Because you’re not a victim, you’re a survivor. You’ve worked hard. Even when all your bricks feel down and you had build them up again, one brick at a time, slowly and painfully, you never quit. And it’s paid off. Because now you do have a voice. That’s what finally , at age 38, allowing yourself to pursue your dream of being a writer gave you. And you use that voice in your political columns, to speak out when you see injustice, speaking for those who still might not have one. In your novels, you write for the kids like you, the ones who feel defective, like there’s something wrong with them that can never be cured, who feel like the wound that was inflicted on them, usually through no fault of their own, has left them too flawed and scared to ever find success, happiness and love.
You write because you want them to know that they’re wrong. You write because you want them to know that there’s hope. You promise to never lie to them, ever, because you know that denial is one of the most destructive weapons adults use on children. So you don’t pretend that the road will be easy, but you let them know that survival and, better yet, happiness, is possible.
You do that because in possibility lies hope. And hope will help them get through the hard times now, so they, too, can grow up to become adults they like better.
I might not be able to find my Wonderful Child in exercises like the one we did, but she's the voice within me when I write.
Kindling Words is a place where I go to rejuvenate, to be inspired, to learn craft, to commune with fellow creative souls. It's the perfect kick off for my writing year. This year I finished the revisions for my latest YA novel to send to my agent, while in the back of my brain the idea for a middle grade was percolating.
On the first night of KW, we always have an activity to get our creative juices flowing. Two years ago, it was a fantastic and fun African drum circle.
This year, we had an acting professor from Circle in the Square lead us in some exercises to get us in touch with ourselves and each other. I was a drama geek in high school, so I usually love this kind of stuff, but the minute he mentions "child exercise" I tensed.
The exercise was to find our "wonderful child." And I tried to do that, and I couldn't. And I ended up lying on the floor in the ballroom of a Vermont Inn sobbing. I told the professor that I don't have a Wonderful Child - but that I've worked very hard to be a Wonderful Grownup, and I like who I am now.
I have to apologize to Mary Lee Donovan, of Candlewick Press (Sorry Mary Lee!) because she had to do the next exercise with me, where we had to look into each other's eyes without speaking for many minutes, because the eyes are the windows of the soul. My eyes were all red and watery and I can't imagine looking into my soul at that point was a whole lot of fun.
The community at KW is so amazing. I had so many people come up to me afterward and tell me that I DO have a Wonderful Child. It made me want to cry all over again, but for a different reason.
The the next morning, I wrote this letter to my Wonderful Child, the one I couldn't find:
Dear Wonderful Child:
Last night I was sent on another mission to find you, and as usual, it ended in tears. I know you understand why I my already tense shoulder muscles went into spasm when I heard the words “child exercise” and acid production in my stomach went into overdrive, causing reflux my throat. You get it, because you were there. You know that when sexual abuse is perpetrated on a child so young they don’t even have the words to express what is happening to them, the post-traumatic stress effects last a lifetime, through drug use, a suicide attempt, bulimia, abusive relationships, and untold hours and too much money to want to think about worth of therapy. You might think that you’ve “dealt with it” but then all it takes is the student reaction to the story about a pedophile football coach in PA or hearing people making ignorant comments at Virtus workshop you have to attend in order to help out for your daughter’s musical theater production at the local Catholic church, or a guided exercise at a writing retreat and BAM! You’re right back in that place of horror and pain, the place where you’re a small, frightened child, scared in the darkness without a voice.
But the thing is, that’s not who you are now. Because you’re not a victim, you’re a survivor. You’ve worked hard. Even when all your bricks feel down and you had build them up again, one brick at a time, slowly and painfully, you never quit. And it’s paid off. Because now you do have a voice. That’s what finally , at age 38, allowing yourself to pursue your dream of being a writer gave you. And you use that voice in your political columns, to speak out when you see injustice, speaking for those who still might not have one. In your novels, you write for the kids like you, the ones who feel defective, like there’s something wrong with them that can never be cured, who feel like the wound that was inflicted on them, usually through no fault of their own, has left them too flawed and scared to ever find success, happiness and love.
You write because you want them to know that they’re wrong. You write because you want them to know that there’s hope. You promise to never lie to them, ever, because you know that denial is one of the most destructive weapons adults use on children. So you don’t pretend that the road will be easy, but you let them know that survival and, better yet, happiness, is possible.
You do that because in possibility lies hope. And hope will help them get through the hard times now, so they, too, can grow up to become adults they like better.
I might not be able to find my Wonderful Child in exercises like the one we did, but she's the voice within me when I write.
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