Loving an Abuser
“I still love my abuser" says Juanita*, a 67-year old survivor of abuse at the hands of her mother, who once sold her to a bartender instead of paying her tab. Juanita was sexually abused for a week before returning to her mother.
When she told her what had happened, her mother slapped her, called her a liar or a whore, and told her to pick one. “If you let him fuck you, you’re a whore. If you lied, you’re just a liar, but at least you’re not a whore."
There was little choice for a then twelve-year-old girl growing up in the late 1940s. She said she made the whole thing up, only to earn another beating from her mother for lying. She then sent Juanita to church, “to repent my sins."
Three years later, still verbally and sometimes physically abused by an alcoholic mother, Juanita left home at 15 and moved to a city as far away as she could go. “I was a prostitute sometimes when I couldn’t find an odd job I could do. Back then, I made more money doing sex than doing cleaning and waitressing. Nowadays I couldn't make a dime." She laughs in session. It’s one of nerves, of hoping the others in group aren't judging her.
Luckily, or unluckily (depending on the desired outcome), the people in her group have similar stories. Some come from abusive partners. Others from abusive parents like Juanita. They listen as she continues her story — detailing a life of sex work until she met her husband, and enduring his abuse later in the marriage.
“I left after ten years, and took my daughter with me. We got as far as we could with the money I hid away. I got a job as a waitress and when I was 37, I got a call from a familiar voice."
Juanita grabbed a tissue from the center table and dabbed at her eyes. “She told me she was sick, she took a long time to find me, and begged me for forgiveness. Said she had to get right with her Higher Power and the people she had done wrong."
The tears flow freely from her eyes as she chokes on the end of her words and it takes her a moment to gather herself. The others around her, experienced group members, sit in silence to let her process. A woman next to her, roughly her age, offers a hug. Juanita accepts it, leans into it.
We wait.
“I am so sorry," she says.
“Don't apologize,” Harriet, a few seats down, speaks up. She is dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “I think I know exactly how you feel. I still love my mother, too."
This is what Juanita seems to need to hear, and she is able to ebb her tears for now — for right now — and continue telling her story.
“The years of drinking caught up to her and she was having liver and kidney problems. I wanted to tell her to go to hell where she belonged." Her cheeks turned red.
“Well … I actually told her to go to hell where she belonged. I told her to leave me alone and that I hated her. Even after 22 years I was so angry."
This wasn't surprising to the group. They nodded and murmured assent.
“But after I hung up, I tried to act like nothing was wrong. I picked up my daughter at school and she knew something was wrong. She got scared. She thought it was her daddy, that he'd found us or something. Back then I didn't have friends, I was too scared he'd find us — so I told her what happened."
Juanita leaned into her own daughter for support, the way many isolated victims/survivors of abuse will do. Leaning on a child for emotional support is not healthy, but it was all she knew to do at the time. Juanita and many like her did not have support groups or abuse survivor networks. When resources are scarce, one will cope with what's available.
“I didn't drink. I was afraid of becoming like Mama. I didn't want to hit my daughter. I didn't even spank her. Sometimes I would raise my voice and she would cringe — and I would feel so guilty like I was just doing what her father did, what my mother did."
Juanita curls up more in her chair. She appears to be making herself smaller, as if she doesn't want to continue or have people look at her as she speaks, but it's her turn in the spotlight. This is a juncture where if she chooses to stop, she is free to do so, but if she continues, it will be more cathartic in the therapeutic process.
Young counselors often have the urge to speak here, but sometimes, it's better therapeutics to just shut up and let them process. Allow the client/patient to feel empowered to make a choice. Because it is their choice.
Harriet spoke up again. “I was the opposite. I became just like my mother, and I hated myself for it. I wish I'd been more like you."
I wish I'd been more like you — this phrase breathes new air into Juanita's deflating body. She sits up a little bit, then a little more. She looks over at Harriet and for a moment, it seems like contact. Revelation.
What happened in that moment, the magic moment that therapists crave, gave Juanita strength, and she chose to continue.
“Thank you, but it was my daughter who told me I should try talking to her. Maybe she'd changed. Maybe she was good now." Juanita shrugged.
“I didn't believe it, but I didn't want to disappoint my little girl. I figured that I could maybe give her just one chance to redeem herself, and if she was still garbage, I could walk out and not regret it."
Juanita's mother had gotten help from Alcoholics Anonymous and was following the Twelve Steps. She was stuck on step number eight because she wanted to make amends with her daughter.
“I realized I needed to figure out where she was, and make arrangements to meet her. I didn't want to bring my daughter though — didn't want it to get ugly — but I couldn't leave her alone. I asked her if she wanted to come with me, and she said yes, she wanted to meet her grandma."
Juanita tells the group the first meeting was tense, but it was obvious her mother was working on change. “She said she had been sober for five years thanks to her meetings, and that she was a sponsor. Meetings had become her church. She cried when she met Audrey. I could tell she was trying. But I was so angry still. I couldn't just forgive her like that."
She snaps her fingers and sighs. “It took a lot of meeting up with her. She worked hard to earn my trust. After a year — I know, I am so stubborn — I decided to really forgive her."
At that time, Juanita decided to move in with her mother to help out with doctor's visits and to keep the house clean. Her mother's mobility was fading along with her liver and kidney damage making fatigue and weakness a regular reality.
“She developed arthritis in her knees and ankles and I helped her apply for assistance. They got her set up and she got a little better — able to manage her pain better. We started to become friends. I let go of my anger, or so I thought. My mother died suddenly of a heart attack one night. We didn't even realize she had a heart problem. I was so glad Aubrey was at a sleepover so she didn't see the body. I cried and screamed when I called for an ambulance."
Her mother had not told Juanita that she suffered from atrial fibrilation, and occasional angina. A heart attack at that time was inevitable.
“After the funeral, I was so angry with her, but I kept it inside. I didn't want to upset my daughter. She only knew a grandma who tried. She wasn't perfect, but she never slipped back into drinking, and she did her best. So why was I so angry, and why am I still angry with her now and then? That's what brought me here. That's part of what makes my depression worse. I still love my mother. She was an abuser."
When Juanita falls silent, a group member, Arthur, raises his hand. “I can relate to that, but with my father. I'm seventy-two and there are days I’ll have a bad dream about him and hate him all day. Then there are days I remember he asked for my forgiveness and changed the way he acted toward me. I think that for me, I forgave the person he became, but I couldn't forgive what he did. He beat me senseless. A lot. We didn't talk about it like you and your mama, but as he got closer to death, I forgave him."
“And I never forgave my parents. Ever. I still hate what they did and I hate them for it," Rose says. She's the youngest in the group at 53.
“I cut them out and moved on. And moving on for me is just as good as forgiveness. You don't have to follow a blueprint to find closure."
“That's what I did with my ex-husband," Juanita says. “I don't really think about him anymore. I have Aubrey, and you'd think that she would remind me of him, but she doesn't. She's all me." She smiles for the first time since her arrival at the hospital. Her first genuine smile.
Rose nods. “That's why I'm here. I'm learning to let go of the hate without excusing what they did. Now that they're dead, what's the point in it? In this? In forgiveness?"
What's the point, indeed. The group sits with this for a moment.
“You don't have to excuse a person's behavior to forgive them," says Jonathan. “You just have to let go and stop reliving every moment they hurt you."
“Bullshit," Rose waves her hand at him. “Sorry. I mean that doesn't make sense to me. I can't reconcile with my parents. They’re dead and I'm glad. That bitch gave me an eating disorder, and it's come back now that my daughter's getting married."
Jonathan shrugs. “It's not bullshit though — forgiveness doesn't mean you have to reconcile anything. It means you don't give it power over you. That's all."
Exercises
- Who do you relate to most in this story? Who do you agree with the most?
- What does forgiveness mean to you?
- If you agree that forgiveness means excusing abusive behavior, imagine the opposite. What does that look like to you?
- What does reconciliation mean to you?
- What does ‘letting go' look like to you?
- What situations can you think of where forgiveness is not appropriate?
- What situations can you think of where reconciliation is not appropriate?
- Are questions six and seven different? Why or why not?
- What ways help you move on from abuse if you do not prefer forgiveness or think it is appropriate in your situation?
- What do you gain by forgiving a person and what do you lose?
- What do you gain by not forgiving a person and what do you lose?
Resources
*these are not real people. They are an amalgamation of people and patients over time with enough fiction sprinkled in to tell a story. They in no way represent real people and any resemblance to real persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. This story and its exercises are not a substitute for professional psychotherapeutic or medical advice and is for general informational purposes only and is not a substitute for professional medical or psychiatric advice. If you think you may have an emergency (mental or physical), call your doctor or (in the United States) 911 immediately. Always seek the advice of your doctor or therapist before starting or changing treatment. All characters based on actual encounters have had identities and other details changed in order to secure and protect confidentiality.
