When I was 21 years old I was working towards a Bachelor Degree in Accounting. Part of the curriculum for the Accounting degree included upper level accounting management and corporate accounting classes. I sucked at these classes. Math is actually not my strong suit. One of the professors of an upper level accounting class would sometimes go off topic. Sometimes he'd talk about personal things that bothered him. On one occasion he spoke about how sincerely happy he was with his second wife whom he's recently married. He followed this statement by saying that his first wife was nuts; that she'd been abused as a child (both physically and sexually) and that it had made her crazy. He felt like it had been a bait and switch between dating and marrying her. She'd seemed so nice before they'd married but then she just started having all these problems. She was crazy and broken and damaged he explained, and so he'd left her. He was miserable trying to deal with her but he was happy now. He finished his long rant admonishing the young men in class that if they're dating a girl and they find out she's been abused that it would be best for them if they just left - as quickly as possible. If she's damaged, then she'll just make you miserable.
I sat listening to all this. I could feel my face and neck turning splotchy crimson. It felt like a personal attack even though the professor didn't mean it that way. It made me question everything. I was married and pregnant and trying to finish a degree. It made me wonder if I should give it all up. Just walk away and life alone on whatever job I could get with the Associates Degree I already had. Just walk away now before my damage, my baggage could hurt anyone I loved. Maybe it'd be best to just die before I hurt anyone at all.
I didn't walk away. I went into counseling at the university I was attending. His response was basically that if I wanted a happy marriage that I needed to 'put all this in the past' (meaning the abuse and all its after effects) and do whatever it took to make my husband happy (this included sexual situations as well). This wasn't helpful at all. I didn't finish my Bachelor Degree in accounting. By the time my baby came I knew I wasn't cut out for anything other than basic accounting. I also knew that if I wanted to be a good mother for my daughter I'd need to find a different therapist. This was in 1990-91.
A couple of years later we tried some marriage counseling, mainly because my husband said that if it helped ,e then it would help the marriage. After two sessions it became one on one counseling. My husband just thought he didn't need any help but I did. That counselor was through another university where my husband was working on his Masters Degree. That therapist tried to diagnose me as Dis-associative Identity Disorder (DID) or Multiple Personality Disorder. But then in the mid-90's that was all the craze with psychologists. No other counselor/therapist/psychologist I've seen over the years has given me that label. Still, it definitely wasn't helpful.
When I returned to school to try again to finish a Bachelors Degree I changed my major from Business/Accounting to English because I still had dreams of being a writer. I did well in my classes while also juggling to be a good wife and mother. I had a known/published author for a short story class. As part of the class we would writer a story and after the professor graded them he would pick 2-3 stories that he would read anonymously in class. He would use the stories as examples - either good or bad. I wanted him to read my story. I wanted the praise. One day my dream came true. He read my story and did say that it was well constructed. After these few short words he, along with his class pet, proceeded to rip the topic to shreds (a woman recovering memories of abuse - a type of PTSD). My face turned such a bright red. I felt so humiliated. I couldn't get out of the class fast enough. I never tried as hard again in that class. Not after having those two carry on about how the subject of abuse was overdone. That there was an overflow of these types of stories. Yes, the story was emotional and well written, but, oh, to have to hear one more story about a woman who was abused. Who would want to hear THAT?!
I kept trying and through personal and group therapy I did get some help dealing with my personal demons (my damage, my brokenness). I found therapists who encouraged journaling, writing, and art as ways to help work through issues. I was once told that the journey to healing is a spiral that you move along on an upward path. Periodically you turn a corner and find yourself needing help dealing with an issue that still hasn't been dealt with. I've found this to be true at least for me. Over the years when I find myself struggling and I know that I need help, I search out a therapist to help me. I've learned that if the therapist isn't helping it just means that it's not a good fit. It's not on me. However, the words spoken to me early on in my life have been a stumbling block at times, coming back to me in deafening volume. Indeed, our marriage has been difficult but the difficulties have never been one sided. I am not the only 'broken' one here. I've tried to be the best mother I can but I know I've failed on occasion. I travel through life doing my best with what I have wherever I am on the spiral and basically that's all anyone can do.
