Sexual Abuse, Rape, and Trauma

I was sexually abused by more than one person as a child. I learned early on that extreme compliance was the best way to keep safe. When I was 7 years old, I was sexually abused by a teenager in the ward who regularly babysat while my parents were in mid-week church meetings. When I told my mother, she and my father (who was in the bishopric) talked to the bishop about what to do with the teen. They decided to forgive him rather than report, and the teen suffered no consequences. When I saw my abuser passing the sacrament the next week, I internalized the belief that since he wasn't punished, everyone must've thought that I was the one to blame. At a young age, I was convinced that I was a bad girl. (The teen who abused me went on to abuse 13 other girls.)

From ages 7-9, I compulsively prayed every night for forgiveness for an unrelated white lie I had told in second grade. Looking back, I realize that the deep shame I experienced during those prayers had less to do with the white lie and more to do with the self-blame I internalized because my abuser was never held accountable. I had hoped that my baptism would clear my conscience, but it did not. In fact, the bishop's interview I had at the time, as well as the routine bishop's interviews I experienced as a young teen, made me feel as if I was lying every time I claimed to be worthy. This, combined with some really harsh early bishops asking sexually inappropriate questions, started a cycle of shame that led to eating disorders and on-going suicidal ideation as a teen. 

Later, when I was 16, I was raped by my boyfriend. I went and told my new bishop about it. Actually, I don't know that I was even able to call it rape at the time, but I told him that I was physically held and kept from leaving and that my repeated 'no's were ignored and that I cried through the whole thing. I remember desperately hoping at the time that he would tell me that it wasn't my fault. Instead, he asked for explicit details. He then told me that men can't be held fully responsible for their behavior because their urges are too strong and that it was my job, as a 'guardian of virtue,' to make sure that my 'no's weren't ignored. He read me the passage from The Miracle of Forgiveness that said that it was better that a woman die defending her honor than that she be raped. I was told to read the entire book, which was a shame-fest in and of itself. The most painful thing was that he then told me that I needed to write an apology letter to my rapist for putting him in a 'bad situation.' The whole conversation was thick with shame, and the cherry on top was that I was to be publicly humiliated in front of my congregation for seven months, not being able to pray publicly or take the sacrament, and having to relinquish my calling in YW. I left that night being absolutely convinced that God hated me.

I came home drowning in shame and, after helping my mom do the dishes and telling her I loved her as a sort-of goodbye, I went and wrote the apology letter to my rapist and then swallowed around 150 Aleve, intending to kill myself and go to hell (knowing that there was no way God would ever accept me into heaven, given the sort of girl I was.) After about 1/2 hour, I heard a crystal clear voice in my head saying, "Please don't kill yourself, Mommy." Believing that this was the voice of my future daughter, I ran to the bathroom and made myself throw up the pills. 

On a few other occasions, with different bishops, I was questioned in explicit detail about my sexual indiscretions (most of them involving men who pushed past my 'no's, as I tended to freeze if my objections were ignored more than a few times.) I was asked if I had an orgasm, if they had an orgasm, if oral sex was involved, and told that I couldn't be forgiven until I had explained everything in vivid detail. Every time I felt dirty and humiliated. While I did have a couple of respectful bishops who were embarrassed at the idea that I should go into detail, the others made me feel like it was totally normal to have to share with a bishop every last dirty detail and to take their shaming pronouncements as gospel. Ironically, the fact that I was drowning in shame most of my teenage years (largely due to the actions and attitudes of these bishops), made me feel less and less like I even had the right to say 'no.' This shame carried on, well into adulthood. 

But my troubles with ecclesiastical abuse did not end there. I had married a return missionary at age 19 (on the suggestion of a bishop who was worried that a couple of occasions of petting would lead to more serious sexual sin). My husband quickly became both emotionally and physically abusive and ultimately raped me at 22 when I told him I was leaving him. After a few months of separation, I dutifully went to my stake president and asked permission to get a divorce. He told me that I should stay and make my marriage work, even though I had told him about the rape and the abuse. I went home that night and fell on my knees and begged God to set me free, but told him that ultimately I would do what he wanted and stay in the abusive marriage, even if it killed me (which at the time, I was fairly sure that it would). The fact that I believed 100% that this untrained clergy-member's pronouncements were the explicit word of God on the matter had everything to do with years of conditioning from my parents and the Church to ignore my own feelings and intuitions and to trust completely (and blindly) everything these men said and did, even if it seemed inappropriate to me.

Having initially left my husband and then reuniting with him on the advice of that stake president put me in a very precarious position. My-ex husband was so angry at my attempt to leave him that things escalated, and he threatened to kill me. In the midst of this volatile and dangerous time, on the advice of my stake president, we went to marriage therapy with a LDS Social services therapist. Trained professionals understand that marriage therapy is not a good idea when one spouse is abusive, since the abuser tends to charm the therapist into not believing the victim. This is exactly what happened to me, as I was gaslighted by my ex-husband, the LDS social services therapist and my stake president, all while fearing for my life and the life of my daughter.

Eventually, maybe a month or so later, after seeing my abusive ex-husband's behavior with his own eyes, the stake president finally believed me and told me to go ahead and get a divorce. But that experience of involuntarilly reuniting with my abusive husband was so terrifying. Now, I have PTSD, partly from enduring extra trauma that I shouldn't have had to endure. 

I know that there are children in the Church who are taught by their families to be strong and stand up for themselves. My fear is for the vulnerable boys and girls, like myself, who are very compliant or eager to please, whose parents taught strict obedience to the "Lord's anointed" no matter the cost, or who may already be prone to shame, and are indoctrinated early to treat untrained bishops as if they represent God himself in all things. Shame has no place in the gospel of Christ.