How To Survive Mother’s Day: Suggestions for Catholic Abuse Victims

How To Survive Mother’s Day: Suggestions for Catholic Abuse Victims May 5, 2016

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So, it’s mothers’ day again this weekend.

Great.

I’ve already shared with you folks about my motherhood, and how painful a subject it is. I’ve suffered more than some mothers, and far less than many others. My daughterhood is a thorny subject as well. My mother stopped being able to accept me when I was in the first grade. I won’t go into the details here; I respect her privacy, and I recognize that a person’s mental health is not entirely their own fault. Suffice it to say that she truly believes that I’m a monster. I don’t think there’ll be reconciliation on this side of the Jordan. Miracles do happen, but I don’t know that either of us even wishes for that miracle anymore.

When I finally left home I was in my twenties. I had never been allowed to choose my own haircut or wardrobe without a fight. I’d never had my own phone. I couldn’t drive. I was on four different medications for a mental disorder I did not actually have. My gut was torn to shreds from food sensitivities my mother said I was faking for attention. I was already beginning to come down with the chronic fatigue syndrome that I’ve suffered from ever since. I was afraid of the Virgin Mary, because my own mother loved the Rosary so much, but I felt I needed a mother. I knelt before a tacky statue in the dorm chapel and begged Mary to be my mother, and I know she answered me. For a time, I prayed the Rosary every day whether it scared me or not. I prayed the Louis De Montfort consecration. I got a static cling stained glass sticker of Our Lady of Guadalupe, to put in my room. I brought Mary roses at the outdoor grotto on campus. I called her “mom.” I got through Mother’s Day by thinking of it as a Marian feast.

And then, of course, I ran into the difficulty that any abuse survivor can tell you all about: people who grew up in abusive homes don’t know how to act in normal situations, and they don’t know what normal people are like. They don’t know how to respond to normal people. They don’t know how to do normal things. They take people at their word when they shouldn’t, and they don’t know how to take hints. They gravitate toward abusers, because to them, abuse is normal. They get abandoned by fair-weather friends who don’t understand. They end up going to priests like the odious Father Reginald for help, with disastrous results. And, in my case, most of my new abusers were devoted to the Virgin Mary, said the Louis De Montfort Consecration and prayed the Rosary. After one too many disasters, I stopped thinking of Mary as my mother. For awhile, I was downright terrified of her.

I love Mother Mary again now; I trust her, and I do call her Mom. But it took a couple years to warm up to her after all that. I still have my moments. I know I’ve got friends and readers from all different backgrounds, from cradle Catholics who love Mary to nonreligious people who don’t know what I’m talking about half the time to folks who just found this post by trying to google Steel Magnolias, and I love and respect all of you very much. But right now I just want to address any of my readers who are struggling with mother’s day because of abuse. If you can think of her this way, let Mary be your mom and make the day about her. If, like me, you feel you can’t because the abusers used her as their mascot, but you’re still struggling to keep faith and want to be devoted to her, here are some tips I discovered along the way. Obviously, everyone is different, so if they don’t work for you, just leave them alone and try something else. And, if anybody has other advice, please do offer it in the comments.

First of all, remember that she understands. This woman had to flee across a foreign border to save her newborn from genocide; she lost her husband; she watched her son gruesomely tortured to death in a public spectacle. She knows about trauma and abuse. In all eternity, there’s only Christ who understands better. She gets it. It is totally safe to be honest with her. If all you can say is “I’m scared” or “I resent you,” just say it– quietly, so any judgmental church ladies standing nearby won’t give you the stink eye. Just say it.

Or, if you’re just too traumatized to be able to talk to her, talk to somebody else. Talk to Jesus. Imagine Him after the scourging when He would have cringed in pain from anybody’s touch, and tell him how you’re cringing now. Let Him suffer with you and just be present to each other. Talk to another female saint and tell her what you wish you could tell Mary. Or, if you’re too scared to talk to any women, find a male saint buddy. Obviously, Saint Joseph is great. And he also had to flee the country to save his foster-son’s life, so he understands trauma too. Talk to Saint Dismas. No matter how ashamed you are, you can’t have done a worse job than him. Talk to the archangels. They don’t have bodies; they’re neither male nor female, neither mothers nor fathers, just persons, and they can empathize very well. So even if you can’t get a word out, just sit with them. Let them love Mary for you and rest for awhile. It will help.

Remember that being devoted to Mary is not the same thing as feeling devoted. You can feel like you absolutely can’t stand her, but if you will to be devoted, you are. It’s the act of will that matters, and feelings are not your fault. If you couldn’t feel your legs because somebody broke your back, it wouldn’t be your fault, and not feeling love because of trauma is exactly the same.

Find someone here on earth to talk to if you can. Shop around for a good therapist, if you can get one. If you’re afraid a Catholic therapist will be cruel to you for being scared of Mary, get a secular one. Or, if your secular therapist is making matters worse, get someone who shares your faith. You don’t have to choose the one people are pressuring you to choose; you need to choose one who helps you. Be cautious about approaching a priest, for fear of running into a Father Reginald like I did, but there are great priests out there who understand abuse and can help. Test the waters carefully. And remember that you don’t have to take anybody’s advice. Abuse victims often feel like they have to obey an authority figure. It’s actually a very bad sign if an authority figure doesn’t expect you to think for yourself at all.

Just leave certain prayers completely alone if they trigger you. Don’t bother with the Rosary right now if the Rosary is painful. Pray the Chotki or one of the Byzantine akathists. Sing the Ave Maris Stella or listen to it.

Practice what I call “the if-you-who-are-evil rule.” If you who are evil know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more your Heavenly father? And if the Father chose Mary to bear the Son, then Mary must be an awful lot like the Father, right? So, run every frightened thought through that litmus test. If you had a child and that child was badly hurt, covered in burns, would you hurt them for cringing from you or would you get them some help? How much more would Mother Mary? If your child screamed “I hate you” when the pain was the worst, would you abandon her or work harder to help? How much more would she? If it’s prideful, pathological or cruel it can’t be of God, so it can’t be of Mary. Love is patient, love is kind, love keeps no record of wrongs. God is love. Someone filled with the grace of God would act that way. Test every spirit by “the if-you-who-are-evil rule.”

Be kind to yourself. We will get through this weekend. Thank God it’s only once a year. Finally, here’s a little “spiritual” I sing when I feel too triggered to sing a Catholic hymn. It’s not really about Mother Mary, but it helps me to pray to her when I’m too afraid to say normal prayers. I hope it helps you. I promise, she won’t mind.

(Image courtesy of pixabay)


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