Speech given at the Franciscian Friary, Ennis, Co. Clare as part of the Lented Reflection Series

4 March 2005

I sat in my office in Dublin this week, on Wednesday night to be precise, after a long day, wondering what I might say tonight, what I might have to offer. I wondered what in heavens name I might say to you all that would offer hope, hope for healing, for joy and a life full of love and self-belief. Then I realised that I could offer you that by simply standing here and telling you that it is possible. I realised that the fact that I had been able to put in that days work at One in Four, that I had been able to apply myself with passion and commitment, with energy and with self-confidence to my work on that Wednesday spoke of the potential for healing that exists for each and every one of us.

It’s easy sometimes once pain has passed to forget how acute it was, how debilitating and even dehumanising it can be. How it can strip us of our self-belief, our capacity to love ourselves and those close to us, our ability to live in any meaningful sense. I haven’t forgotten that pain, the memory sometimes slips by me, but I don’t forget. These days it’s a source of real wonder to me to stop and look around me, to look at my life and wonder at how it was and how it might have been. I know the brokenness and despair of sexual abuse; I know the agony of self-loathing and overwhelming feelings of badness and despair. I know what it feels like to believe that there is no hope, no way through and past the horror of sexual abuse, the powerlessness and the fear, the feeling that I am the problem, that I am the evil one, that I am what was done to me…and thankfully, thank God, I also know now that I am not.

I know that I am not what was done to me, that I am more than that, that I am innocent of the crimes perpetrated upon me. I know that I was beautiful and good and true as a child and I even know that I am good and beautiful and true today…not always perhaps, but in my heart, in my spirit, in how I love myself and those around me I know I am.

Don’t get me wrong here; I am as awful as anyone else, as likely to be grumpy and mean, thoughtless and unthinking as anyone, as everyone else. That realisation has been a huge relief to me. I can allow myself to know and own those parts of myself. To acknowledge when I am unjust or unkind, when I am wrong or unfair because I know that I am more than that, I know more of myself. As I have discovered that I am not awful, that I have integrity and goodness and am not contaminated and damaged beyond repair I have been liberated to be real, to know that I can get it wrong and that this is human. It’s not the end of the world anymore to have to face my shadow because I have been able to find and embrace my light, my goodness. That’s what healing has meant to me; an appreciation that I am normal, wonderfully, humanly, beautifully normal and that I don’t need to hide who I am, that I don’t have to hide my hurt, that I am no less and no more beautiful and wonderful than any other man or woman.

In that knowing I also know that each and every one of you is also a beautiful and wonderful human being. It doesn’t matter whether or not you know or believe that to be true right now, I know it is. If I can offer you that tonight then I have offered something real and valuable. In our despair and fear it is often impossible to see a way through our pain. When there is nothing but pain, nothing but never-ending feelings of shame and self-loathing I know that the very idea that hope exists seems crazy, even unreal. It is though, an essential part of who we are as human beings, a core part or our spirit, that we have within us some spark that hankers for healing, that remains desperately, resolutely hopeful. I have witnessed the capacity for healing that is at the core of who we are, of how we were created. The human spirit will survive the most appalling abuse and trauma and battle on. Often the very means that are used to survive, the ways in which we cope can themselves become destructive. We can end up in a cycle of struggle of self-destructive behaviours that were as children the only way we could express our hurt. Nevertheless we battle on, coping, surviving, trying, failing and trying again to live and to break free. And our spirits, though broken and bruised, continue to look for a way through. Do I know that healing is possible, yes I do. I am living, breathing testimony to that truth. But I know that healing is more than possible; I know that given the right environment, given compassion and love, care and appropriate concern, healing is not only possible, it is inevitable. If we are allowed and given the dignity and care that we each deserve, that we as members of the human family are entitled to, then healing can only happen. Healing in that environment is as natural and inevitable as breathing, as involuntary as the healing of fractured bones or torn tissue. It is what we do; it is how we were created.

As with all recoveries it is a slow, difficult journey. It takes determination and commitment and it takes the support and love of others. If we are slowing, struggling and waning we need encouragement and support. We need the care and compassion of others, of our communities, our families wherever possible, of our fellow travellers on the road. We need to know that it is possible, and when we can’t believe that it is we need to hear someone say that it is, to hold true to that when we can’t. That can be the spark that lifts us above despair.

We live, yes we live
it sometimes feels
like my soul itself
was wounded
and when I look
in that reflective space
I see all my pain
held there
gently, warmly,
I live, yes, I live
we live, yes, we live

That verse of Rob Jones’ poem, some of which we have heard tonight speaks volumes for me about the compassion and respect that we need to experience to heal, that we need to receive from others but most importantly to develop for ourselves if we are to heal. Compassion, respect, care, concern, dignity, gentleness, truth, love; these are the things that we need to heal. And in our experience of them as part of our own healing they are what we have to offer. For what we also know is that we are not alone in our hurt, that those of us who have been sexually absued are not the only ones to feel and experience hurt in relation to that abuse. So do our loved ones, our communities and those with whom we share our lives.

It is true in part that sexual abuse happened because we as a society did not want to belive that it could. We needed to believe that our families, our communities, our church was better than that, that they was above and beyond reproach. The suffering of those who have been abused was the cost of that comfort. We must face that truth. And in facing that truth we must be prepared to be compassionate of ourselves, whilst accepting our responsibiliites for what was done in our name, for what we allowed to happen, we must also be able to name our collective shame, our fear and our hurt. It is no longer OK that those who have been abused are required to keep silent, to carry the shame that we must all feel about what has happened within our families, our communities and our church. We can no longer allow our comfort and denial to demand their silence.
It is no longer helpful for us to live in denial and to avoid our own hurt and fears. The reality of sexual abuse has hurt us all and we all need to find healing for that hurt. It has rocked our view of ourselves and of how we live and that has been terrifying for many of us. It has caused anger and resentment as we look around to see who we can blame. We have blamed vicitms, branded them liars, demanded their silence. We have blamed the Church; and whilst there is clear responsibility there and in many ways responsibility that has yet to be fully owned we must also acknowkedge that we failed too.

So what do we need to do now? Well, what would happen if we could just meet? What would happen if you could hear me when I tell you that I am hurt? And what would happen if I could hear you when you tell me that you are hurt, if we could each hear the other without needing to deny or compare our different hurts with each others or anyone else’s?

If I can hear you and you can hear me, then we have met. If we can hear each other and appreciate the simple human truth of our hurt then we can truly meet in truth and dignity and hopefully, compassion…and then healing happens.

Compassion, respect, care, concern, dignity, gentleness, truth, love; these are the things that we need to heal. And in our experience of them as part of our own healing they are what we have to offer…imagine what we can do together?

As I sat at my desk on Wednesday night finding these words and praying that I would be able to communicate the depth of my own belief in and gratitude for the healing I have witnessed and experienced, the universe or God sent me this little reflection which dropped into my email mail box half way through my efforts. It made me smile and appreciate the gifts we are sent at times and it feels right to finish with it;

To those who see with loving eyes, life is beautiful.
To those who speak with tender voices, life is peaceful.
To those who help with gentle hands, life is full.
And to those who care with compassionate hearts,
life is good beyond all measure.

Let’s see ourselves and others with loving eyes, let’s grant ourselves and each other tenderness and gentle hands, let’s work so that we can each experience our own compassionate hearts…and when we do we will see that life is indeed good beyond all measure.