A Dark Grief

All of us experience loss—the death of a precious loved one, the miscarriage of a long-prayed-for child, a hope deferred. But today I want to talk about a different kind of loss. I want to talk about the grief of those who have lost someone who abused them and never owned up to their offenses. This could be a family member with anger or addiction issues. It could be a spouse, supervisor, or community leader that others trust. The loss may be due to death, but it may also be due to a change you had to make—a change of city, job, or church—and you were the one who had to make that change. The other person continues in their position of power or esteem. 

The grief of being mistreated is like walking in a cold tunnel, void of light—a tunnel you were taken to without being asked, and then left there alone. You want to get out, but you can’t see the way. Then, when the unrepentant abuser leaves, it is like that dark tunnel is filling with water. It seems there is no way out of the script the abuser wrote for your psyche. If someone doesn’t step in and rescue you, you’ll drown. (Spoiler alert: There is a Rescuer.)

When human beings suffer mistreatment and the wounder claims innocence, those on the receiving end are wronged twice. First, their freedom is taken by the offensive actions. Second, their voices are silenced. A picture is painted of them: “attention-seeking,” “causing a problem,” “raising a ruckus over nothing,” and so on. Abusers plant doubt about others’ motives and character to protect themselves and maintain position and power. Their refusal to admit responsibility for any harm obliterates what is left of the shattered soul they have wounded. The abuser derives pleasure from watching the person’s flame be snuffed out. Perhaps this rush is from feeling they “won”—they dug in and didn’t have to budge. Or maybe from being able to convince others to join with them against their target—they use one victim to grow their influence. They sacrifice a life on the altar of their ego. 

For the rest of their existence, if no one believes the story of wounded, or if their stories aren’t allowed to be told, the wounded are tempted to feel they are to others only what the abuser has told them they are. If you are navigating the grief of having been mistreated—if you have been blamed, somehow, for not making an abuser happy or if you have been ridiculed for confronting an abuser who never admitted guilt, here’s what I want you to know:

·         When people lie about their actions or mislead other people about your character, it is normal to feel confused, helpless, and angry. It is difficult to decide what steps to take, because many people will view your appropriate and protective actions as “mean” or “unloving.” When Jesus turned over the tables in the temple (John 2), it was because something was in His Father’s house that shouldn’t have been there—something that upheld the outward appearance of being good when hearts were far from God. When abusers uphold their outward appearance at the expense of others’ lives, you are allowed to recognize the violation. You have permission to call it out (but be prepared for backlash). It comforts me to know abuse makes Jesus angry, too. God explicitly condemns it (1 Corinthians 6:9-11).

·       Grief is the most natural response to being pushed down. Grief looks a lot like depression. When we are in seasons of processing hurt, or trying to establish safe boundaries and relationships, or trying to understand our identity in Christ, if we are less cheerful and “productive” than usual, that is not a reflection of our abilities or value. It is not an indication of future fruitfulness. (And who said that wholeness is not the most fruitful thing we can fight for?) It takes tremendous energy mentally and physically to separate yourself from the false story of an abuser and believe the truth. It is an especially exhausting battle if you cannot break the wounder’s control over others who have united against you—if his or her reach is far into the minds of people in your community. 

This sorrow is a season that stems from a reason. It takes effort and practice to refute your abuser’s messages and recognize his or her behaviors. It takes time to build a support system. The grief does not mean you are less worthy, or oversensitive, or have done something wrong. It means you are doing the work to heal, and God walks with you every minute of that journey. You can’t control other people, but you can take steps to move forward—keep a routine, pray and journal, memorize Scripture, exercise, talk with a trustworthy counselor, read helpful biblical resources, and/or surround yourself with Christian friends. Even if they are baby steps, these disciplines and relationships are a source of confidence and peace.

·       It is important to admit (even if it is only to yourself) that the person pushing you down is an abuser. So many times we do not want to name it, but go ahead and say it out loud: “____’s behavior is abusive and oppressive.” If the abuse is not sexual or physical—if it is emotional manipulation, verbal digs, consistent dishonesty, or misuse of power—we hesitate to call it what it is. We feel like we should be able to “take it” and play it off—that’s what the wounders whine we should do. “Nothing happened here,” they say. Did nothing happen, really? Not naming abuse keeps the wounded person feeling responsible. Guilty. When we can recognize and name abuse, it helps us understand why we are wrestling with the mistrust and confusion that we do, even if we cannot immediately escape its effects. Deciding that a line has been crossed by others lifts shame and helps you feel more in control.

·       If an abuser dies or departs an organization, unrepentant, leaving a string of people believing untrue statements of your worth and actions, or dumping on you a heap of accusations and blame, then you are left wrestling with the question, “Does everyone think I am who he/she said I am?” Our identity is stolen. Worse, it is often hijacked to something completely opposite our effort and intentions. For example, let’s say your parent or spouse is a long-time alcoholic and you’ve spent your life getting him out of jams. In his addictive state, he calls you names or says untrue comments like, “You don’t love me” or “You’re so ugly” or “I can’t believe you’d treat me like this.” When he passes away, the reality is, you’ve been faithful and patient, self-sacrificing and helpful but it feels like you were a failure because change never came. This contrast of real effort versus what you’re told can literally bend your mind. 

The mental strain is not a figment of your imagination or a sign of weakness. You are actually stronger than you know. You see, wounders will use whatever they have in their arsenal to make sure they take no responsibility for their actions but you do receive blame. So the fact that you are willing to learn something new about facing your past experiences shows you’re already strong. 

When a person’s financial identity is stolen, it takes time to jump through the hoops to reestablish it. When our psychological identity is stolen, however, it is hard to explain what happened and to know what support to ask for. That’s why I call it dark grief: all grief feels like carrying shadows and stones, but the darkness associated with the loss of someone who lied against your character is especially heavy. It takes a tremendous amount of courage to push the burden of false accusations off of your frame and push forward to become all God wants you to be.

·       Dark grief is not hopeless. We are not who other people say we are. We are known to God. He knit us and He knows us. He sees all that has happened, and one day He will judge and set us fully free from the wounds others have inflicted on us. I think of Daniel in the den; Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the furnace; John the Baptist meeting his dramatic end; Stephen being pummeled with stones. They all faced malignment. Some were miraculously rescued; some, misrepresented until the end. But all of them, through their faith, are now being affirmed by the light and love of Jesus, face to face with Him. 

As you walk this journey, remember that God alone determines your value and defines your identity. Jesus is a Rescuer who has written your name on the palm of His hands (Isaiah 49:16).