Reopening the wound, beginning this process again of recollections and reflections from this part of my past has my anxiety very high. The nuances of this are beyond a non-survivor’s comprehension. The child in you returns, the fear, the uncertainty, and even the vulnerability to some degree. Even with a support system, those who love you, believe you, and will protect you – it is easy to feel lost again. You question your decision-making capabilities, and from a place of fear over analyze each step you make.
This undermining of self, having been so violated and betrayed, is further compounded knowing the extent to which he continues to smear the names of his victims. Straight from the “Predator Handbook 101,” he takes glee in spinning his pre-emptive slander. With more than three decades of practice under his belt, he knows exactly how to play the game:
In order to cover up the truth that could now expose you, run to your supporters in a manic state. Claim you are under attack and that your “enemies” are out to get you.
Bring in the now furious wife or “partner” to join you in attacking the girl or woman you have just destroyed. She will be too enraged to actually care about anyone else but herself. Sincerely spin lies just credible enough to be believed directly into the eyes of the woman you claim to love and your supporters.
If you are on the phone coordinating your strategic attack, be sure to weave in as many grandiose stories of your persecution as possible, sigh piteously, compare yourself to a religious figure, adamantly insist that you are being falsely accused and gain as much sympathy and loyalty as you can.
The list goes on, and the pattern is so obvious to those of us who have been the target of this sociopath’s behavior. Those who know the truth of the underlying pattern, are well aware that evil always cloaks itself in its opposite.
It is incredible to me to see the references made to “Outrageous Love” on the web in association with this man. He has left a trail of outrageous trauma, lies, and destruction in his wake, and has never been held accountable. Too many of his “philosophies” are invented as justification and cover for his sexual deviance and addiction.
For clarification not justification, I am unmistakably and emphatically delineating who I am – as separate and apart from what he did, and who he is:
- Yes I was a troubled, lonely, needy teenager (the perfect vulnerable and easily discredited victim)– but in no way did I want this man to be sexual with me in anyway. I wanted a father not a predator. He took advantage of my age, vulnerability and turmoil then used it to discredit me.
- I am not gay or bi-sexual because I was abused. Yes, I know the statistics, but I also know that sexuality is neither a “preference” nor a “proclivity” it is an intrinsic part of who you are genetically.
- I am a healthy, whole, brave and sacred human being. I have been given the opportunity to refine how I live a life of strength and purpose through the practice of managing experiences that come with being bipolar. I am not bipolar because I was abused. Like having blue eyes, it’s just a part of the landscape of being me.
- Although I was once a religious Jew, I am not “secular” “humanistic” or “agnostic” because I was abused. I came to my set of beliefs through thought, speculation, questioning, meditation and reason.
The abuse that I suffered, and the indescribable aftermath of continued abuse does not define who I am. I was sexually, spiritually, emotionally and psychologically abused but I will never let it define who I am. It simply was an awful experience in my past that hurt me very deeply. I cannot say with any honesty that it did not change me, because it did. I wish I could find the words to describe how those events changed me. I cannot find them because I am not sure the adequate words exist. It is like an eternal scar on your soul.
Not to trivialize surviving sexual, emotional, or psychological abuse in anyway, as I have myself survived; but as a fan of J.K. Rowling – I liken my scar to Harry’s. Although mine is hidden, and not visible as is his – it is still a mark, a mark that I survived.