This is the second of five collections of retractor-related material. The titles include The Therapy, Reconciliation (this section), Research about Retractors, Articles about Retractors and Legal Issues Pertaining to Retractors.
To most people "reconciliation" means restoring friendships. Reconciliation doesn't just happen; it is a process and not an event. Reconciliation is a restoration of trust that was violated and must be earned through mutually trustworthy behavior. Sometimes families begin to reconcile before a retraction of the accusations and sometimes it happens after. The following stories and letters by retractors give their perspectives on reconciliation.
For additional reading:
Family Reconciliation Through Mediation. Susan P. Robbins, D.S.W. FMSF Newsletters, Vol 5 No 4
Thoughts and Observations from the Father of a Retractor Saul Wasserman, M.D. FMSF Newsletters, Vol 6 No 8
Returning to the Family: Issues and Problems: Notes from talks by Harold Lief, MD and Janet Fetkewicz, FMSF Staff. FMSF Newsletters, Vol 4 No. 4, April 3, 1995
Worthington, Jr. E. (Editor) (1998) Dimensions of Forgiveness: Psychological Research and Theological Perspectives. Philadelphia, PA: Templeton Foundation Press.
Fulghum, R. (1995) Coming Home Again. "Family Circle" 5/16/95. 76-79. (Excerpt from "From Beginning to End" by Robert Fulghum.)
Littwin, S. (1995) Those Inevitable Family Rifts...and How to Handle Them. "New Choices" November 1995. 52-55
Netzer, C. (1996) Cutoffs: How Family Members Who Sever Relationships Can Reconnect. Far Hills, NJ: New Horizon Press.
Editor's Comment: Not all efforts to reconcile with families are successful. Although reports received by the Foundation more commonly involve parents who want to reconcile with a child who refuses any contact, the reverse sometimes occurs. The following letter is an example.
Dear FMSF Families,
I realized I had made a mistake. I was brainwashed by a thought and
a terrible book. I began therapy with a new doctor and began piecing
my life back together again. It was then I decided to write my parents
a letter of explanation, apology and love. The woman I talked with
also wrote a letter to my mother relating her situation to mine. It
was then that I took both of these letters to my mom and just left
afterwards. Three days later, I received a court summons saying my mom
filed charges on me for criminal trespass. All I did was give her what
she asked for in an effort to rebuild my family's name and bring my
family together again. My new doctor asked them to come in and they
still refused saying I wasn't in enough pain yet. My mother today says
she wants no relations with me whatsoever.
So I write to you, the parents, begging you to make an effort to end both your sorrows by working together. Remember love is unconditional. Don't abandon your children. What has happened was not intentional. I realize your life has been turned upside down but by shutting the door on your child, you're only losing the chance to make things a little less painful day by day. You need each other. I would do anything in the world to change the past but I can't. I can, however, try and make a better future for myself, my family and all of you.
I would also like to say something to those who believe they might have False Memory Syndrome. I want to tell you that just because you now realize the problem and are ready to deal with it doesn't mean your family will be back. In the end, you may still have lost your family, but at least you have a conscience.
In conclusion, I hope that if any of you have any questions, you will feel free to contact the False Memory Syndrome Foundation. I want to one day help other people this has happened to.
Last, but most importantly, Mom and Dad, if you're reading this, I want you to know I will always love you and am heartfully sorry.
Dawn
Editor's comment: When retractors decide to leave their therapy groups, they lose the support of people with whom they had been close. It is a difficult break to make. The author of the following letter was more fortunate than many retractors because she still had a husband and her children.
Shame and guilt answer to no time constraints. They are a 24 hour fact that blends into a retractor's "recovered" life.
"I want to first thank you from the bottom of my heart! Thank you for your support to my parents. In October of 1993 I was finally reunited with them after three horrible years of being involved with a "bad" counselor and learning first hand what the false memory syndrome was all about. Today I am very thankful to God to be back together with my family!!! I have friends that I was in a SRA/MPD group with that are still in the same boat I was in and they will no longer speak to me since I am now the 'enemy.' My parents have been so forgiving and I am so thankful that we have been reunited. My deepest thanks to FMSF for sharing with my parents that they were not alone and for providing them with much encouragement. I can't ever thank you enough.
Well, I'm sure my story is pretty much the same as all the ones you have heard. Currently, I'm looking into seeing an attorney about the possibility of a law suit. That's my next step, just to see what that would entail. My husband doesn't want us to be all consumed with my former therapist. She already ripped away three years of our lives and we don't want to give her any more. I'm praying that the Lord will guide us in our decision about what to do next. I do want her stopped!!!! I would hate for anyone else to have to endure all that my husband, my family and I have endured these last three years. I'm sure as I go on, that you can tell that I'm continuing to work out all my "stuff" that I experienced these last three years and the anger that is there.
A Loving Daughter
Editor's Comment: Some retractors have told us that they found it difficult to reconcile their feelings about therapists because of their bad experiences. Yet, in many situations, retractors found their way out of false beliefs with the help of new therapists who were not a part of the memory-recovery process. The following letter deals with this concern.
There are so many things to write about when you are a retractor. So many feelings to express, so many important aspects of Repressed Memory Therapy that you can share. The hurts, the frustration, the confusion, the embarrassment, not to mention the public humiliation. You may be asking yourself, "Why would anyone want to share these most personal aspects of their lives?" I can answer that very easily: it's an obligation I feel called to do. As an individual that experienced repressed memory therapy and its "finest," I can help others understand what did happen to them, what may be happening to them, what could happen to them, and hopefully, in some small way help parents, relatives, friends, co-workers and the general public understand what it is like inside somebody's mind when they are going through this treatment, and what it is like coming out of it.
Sometimes it feels so overwhelming as to where and how to start that it would be easier for me to do nothing. But, in doing nothing, I feel I would be contributing to the continued decay of human lives and the destruction of families. Recently, someone told me I had the ability to see the mental health profession in an objective manner, that even after having experienced this treatment, I didn't view therapy or therapists in a black or white manner. This really got me to thinking about how my family, friends, and even myself became very untrusting toward the profession as a whole. We all experienced trauma, pain, and loss. We have a right to be opinionated, to say the least, toward therapists and therapy. For some reason, I was not hardened to the profession as a whole. Perhaps it's because I have a degree in social work and believe in the value of being able to sort through situations in life. Perhaps it is because when I was at my worst, it was necessary for me to begin seeing a new therapist and doctor. At the time it felt like the worst possible thing that could happen, but, little did I know that change would help capture me from further destruction. Two extremely ethical doctors and a social worker helped redirect me to a path of independence, security, and self respect.
I feel that this experience leaves me with an obligation to express my belief that all therapy is not bad, nor are all therapists. I feel very strongly about this because in hating this medical specialty, people may chose to avoid getting help they could benefit from. It's natural, especially when what has happened has been a form of abuse, and for some, even a mental torture, under the direction of well respected, professional individuals. So, like any abused or frightened person we learn to mistrust the people we thought were the safest people to talk to.
There are many individuals who believe retractors and the FMSF hate all psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers, and therapists. I have not found this to be the case. One of the most gratifying things I have seen in a long time happened at the Memory and Reality conference in Baltimore. In a round table I had the opportunity to speak at, a psychiatrist apologized for her profession. Nearly in tears, she commented to retractors and families her sincere sorrow and anger at what has occurred in the therapy profession. She didn't offer excuses nor did she ask us to forgive. There were many other professionals who expressed the same sentiment throughout the weekend. For me, wounds began healing upon hearing this. My faith in the profession was definitely coming back. Really, retractors who have endured this therapy are similar to individuals who have been physically and sexually abused. We feel the same way toward the people who hurt us. These professionals should be held accountable for their actions just as other abusers are responsible for their behaviors. But, to say all therapists are bad is simply not true. I have the proof, two doctors and a social worker who helped me regain my strength, my ability to bring back control to my mind, and the belief I need not be dependent on therapists.
It is my sincere desire that my thoughts may help others to see both sides. I do not expect everyone to see things as I do and it is certainly not my intention to convince hurt people to trust people they have no desire to trust. I do want everyone to be careful. People need to set their own agendas and boundaries in therapy. People should not assume that what others believe is necessarily the truth. With that in mind, if you feel the need to talk to someone, there are mental health professionals who are safe to consult.
A Retractor
Editor's Comment: Not all stories have happy endings. The fortunate people are those who are able to reconcile with their families. Unfortunately, sometimes a retractor emerges too late for that to happen. The following story is a written tribute that could not be delivered in person.
This message is for accusers. It is for those who believe that "recovered memories" are true memories of sexual abuse and not visualizations or brain events. By "recovered memories" I restrict the meaning to the kind of memories of abuse that you never knew -- not even an inkling -- until you went into therapy, or read a book.
A mom died this week. She'd been accused of SRA and other horrible things. She longed to see her daughter, to sit and chat like they had in the past. She talked of how bright this daughter was, yet how the girl could not use rational reason. It had escaped the girl when the irrational "memories" brain events started appearing. She clung to the hope that there would be a future with her daughter. She fought in the arena of stopping this kind of therapy, trying to protect future daughters and sons from being destroyed. And she prayed to the ending of her loss, her pain, the heartache of a mother yearning for her loss child.
But as fate would have it, she lost that battle -- the battle to see her child once more. She lost the battle to reach out and hold her like she had so many times when the girl was small and would came running to mom to fix the boo boo's of the world.
I have heartache for this girl, whereever she may be. For she is truly lost. She doesn't know it. Does she not see, nor feel the pain of anyone else, only the pain she has been made to believe happened to her. Does she cry out now knowing her mother is dead, or does she feel satisfaction that the believed abuser is gone? Oh lost child that she is, when she awakes from her nightmare and joins the world of reality again, how she will grieve forever more. Oh daughters/sons, time is ticking for all of you.
What if, Oh just for a moment think, What if, the "memories" are not memories of truth after all? Think how you came to believe you'd been abused in the first place. Find the moment you started thinking about it. Find the moment the first glimmer came. How did it come about? A suggestion? A book you read? A symptom you have that is from a list? What were your memories of your family before the "memories" of sexual abuse? How did you feel toward your parents before the "memories" of sexual abuse? Daughters/sons what will you do if the time is too late before you know and your mom and dad are gone from you forever more?
This mother lost her child and a child out there is lost from her mother forever. Cry for the child all you who believe in the truth about "repressed memories". Cry for your sons and daughters, because someday it just may happen to you, unless this stops.
I was once one or those lost daughters.
Editor's Comment: Some people who believe strongly in their recovered repressed memories have viewed the FMS Foundation with fear and hate. Unfortunately, some survivor newsletters and some recovered-memory therapists have nurtured those feelings. Nobody wants to think of themselves as having been "duped," even if they were vulnerable. With time, as the following note shows, some retractors reconcile their feelings about the Foundation.
I am a 3rd year psychology student. Last September I finally admitted to my friends and family that I had NOT been ritually abused and that my father had never hurt me. Since then I have fought to get my life in order. My parents have welcomed me back with open arms, but I have lost many friends. The last 6 months have been very lonely. I don't live near my family.
I have known about FMSF for over a year now; I used to be one of the ones who hated you. When I "returned" I never thought of learning more about FMS. I didn't think it applied to me. I was wrong.
Glad you are there
Editor's Comment: The following letter to her parents explains how the author came to believe she was abused. It also describes her difficulty of giving up that belief and her feeling of "shame for being so gullible." Many retractors have told us they shared that feeling.
Dear Dad and Mom,
This is a letter of love, a request for forgiveness and a sincere,
heartfelt apology for what you and the rest of the family have gone
through due to my support of my sister's beliefs and my gullible
susceptibility to the persuasion of a number of therapists. This has
caused a tragic breach of trust within the family that I am praying
will be restored with God's grace and mercy.
The "memories" first occurred after about a month of receiving calls from my sister that truthfully were quite frightening. I then received some medical papers from her that explained dissociative disorder and MPD as well as statements that this is usually a result of severe abuse and often is SRA related. These were given to her by her therapist so that she would understand her disorder and why she had the problems that she did. As a result of this information and discussions with my sister about her diagnosis of MPD as a result of SRA abuse, I gradually began to wonder what I didn't remember. I was told that since she had MPD that I most likely was abused in the same way but that I would have no memory of it because I "probably was programmed by my abusers to split off into a separate personality if I started to remember anything about my past." I was also told that once this part of my personality took over, I would have no control over my actions and would have no recall of where I was or what I had said. I was also told that I was probably programmed to harm myself if any memories of my childhood started to come back.
As you can imagine, this seemed entirely overwhelming to me, but I found myself beginning to question everything about me and what I knew to be true. What I had believed all my life about my family and my upbringing was diagnosed as being an illusion. I was told that the real truth was locked up inside me and that it would take an average of 7 to 8 years of therapy to get the "memories" back and to be healed and able to lead a somewhat normal life. I actually began to believe (contrary to rational intelligence) that I was not capable of relying on my own perceptions and actual memories of my life. I was told that different personalities within me didn't know each other and could at any time do things that I would never know about. This kind of talk sounds so crazy that I personally feel shame for being so gullible to believe this could be true in any way. I still can't understand how my inclusion into this fiasco ever came about. I've always considered myself to be a strong- willed intellectually capable woman who could stand on her own two feet and discern what is true and what is false. Well, I was susceptible, and because of this my whole world disintegrated.
It was only after I quit "therapy" and stopped talking to any other "victims" that the brainwashing started to fade away. This process took a year and a half before my life and the lives of my family, who have been hurt, could even begin to be repaired. This is such a slow process to endure. I sometimes wonder if it is like coming out of a concentration or POW camp and walking back into the real world again. The positive side is that it can happen and families can be successfully restored. I hope that we can be a testimony to this for others who have been damaged and estranged from family.
We spent the first months of reconciling by avoiding the subject because of the fragility of emotion that it brought forth, but I believe that now is the time to bring it all to the surface and make amends.
Well, I had better not write a book. I love you and hope that we can see each other soon before the kids' school starts again. I've started a new job this past week and I am really enjoying it.
Love you,
Your daughter for life!
Editor's Comment: The two questions most often asked of the Foundation by parents are "How could someone believe in such terrible things?" and "What causes them to return to reality?" The following letter says something about both.
I am writing to you to hopefully help people who believe they were abused and to provide some hope for their parents.
I believed I was abused and therefore cut off all contact with my parents and family for almost three and a half years. I sued my parents and I was completely convinced that they (my parents) had abused me. During this time period I missed one of my sister's weddings, the birth of a nephew, and meeting and getting to know my other sister's boyfriend who is now her husband. I also missed my grandpa's funeral and the construction of a new home for my family and the selling of our old home where I grew up. Now when I look at pictures of myself and my family when I was younger, I cannot believe I got so far from center.
I have been reunited with my family for almost two years now. Fortunately for me, my parents took me back. I am very lucky and I am very grateful. It has been a long road back and there have been times I thought I would never feel comfortable again, but I didn't give up. It is still hard, but I'm praying that time will continue to help.
Nothing spectacular caused me to call my parents finally. Just one night, I guess I was lonely and I called them. If you had known me then, it would seem a miracle because I wasn't rational at the time. My brother, who was still in grade school, answered the phone when I called. I didn't talk. The next day I called again and talked to my dad. I think my brother had told my dad that he thought it was me who had called, but my dad didn't believe it after all I had put them through. I drove out to my parents' home with my three dogs and my mom and my dad and I went out to dinner and talked. It was a beginning. My dad said he had been praying for me. I think his prayers were answered and God told me to call.
Since that day I have been working on my relationships with my parents and my family. It has been easier with my parents. It has been slower with my siblings. I have met my nephews and witnessed the birth of another nephew and a niece. I have attended my sister's wedding. I found good homes for my dogs and moved closer to my family and I got a full-time job.
As I write this, I am in my parents' living room. My brother is upstairs and at noon I will go with my mom to the doctor. To me, it is a miracle that I am sitting here in their home. I can't say enough how grateful I am. I have been here for about 10 days after having been hospitalized for two weeks. My parents were at the hospital every day. They did not have to do that. It was not a short drive for them and I know my mom and dad did a lot of sacrificing to be there. To be able to stay at their home is, to me, the greatest thing of all. It makes me feel like some trust is restored. It has made me very happy.
While I was apart from my family, I saw many doctors and therapists. In the process I did learn some things, maybe, but mostly I screwed myself up. Now I see a new psychiatrist and I understand my problem. I have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and that is what turned my life into a living hell. Perhaps OCD can account for others out there who think they were abused. It makes sense when you learn the problems OCD causes. If you don't know the symptoms of OCD you could destroy your life and the lives of others by trying to understand your obsessions the Freudian way which leads to a search for "repressed memories." With the combination of medicine and the help of my new psychiatrist, however, I have improved.
In my case there was a link between OCD and repressed memories. I don't want anyone else to go through what I have been through when help exists. If this message can get out, something construction would be accomplished. I believe so.
I hope you will print this letter, and if there is anything we can do together, I'm all for it. I'd like to help in some capacity if you need it. I'm glad my parents found you to give them a partial answer while I was gone. Hopefully we can change this wave of repressed memories. God is a big part of it for me, so I close by wishing you all well and praying that you and yours are in God's prayers.
Sincerely, "Retractor"
Editor's Comment: Many parents have asked if their children really learned to hate them. The following story offers one retractor's explanation.
I watched my parents go through hell and it's difficult to even try to make it up to my Dad. I pray everyday that if a person like me can break away from that craziness so can others. The only thing I can give you is hope. If anyone had told me when I was in therapy that I was wrong and the therapist was wrong, I would have defended the "truth" as I saw it as fiercely as I'd defend my own children. There's no rationale when you're there, no sense of reality outside the Therapist's belief and support, nothing to fill up the longings you feel except to immerse yourself completely in the falsehoods you so truly believe. There feels like there is no escape once you're in it, nowhere to go.
My Dad, even knowing what I believed about him, never cut me off even when I wasn't speaking to him and was so afraid of him. Somewhere in my mind I knew he was still my Dad no matter how much I hated him for what I believed he had done to me. He was there if I ever wanted to talk to him and he never condemned me. He was devastated, of course, but he simply waited for 6 years for me to come back to him and I finally did.
I hope the parents out there going through this tragedy can get a little glimmer of hope from people like me who were so certain of the abuse that never existed. The question I had the most difficulty with was: "Did I in all honesty ever stop loving my parents?" I finally realized I never stopped loving the parents I knew, because in this therapy you believe you've not only been horribly abused, you feel such rage at being lied to about the parents you know were there everyday of your life---they lied about the very basis of who they were and are; not loving parents like you remember them being but deceitful, selfish, liars who never loved you. The sad fact is that parents you "remember" in therapy are the lies and the parents you remember before therapy are, in fact, the loving parents you've loved all your life.
So, no, I never stopped loving my "real" parents. The ones I hated were only fakes made up in therapy sessions by a therapist who used all the wrong techniques. Time will wear away the "imposter parents" and you find the real parents still there just like you truly remember them -- and still loving them despite all the therapist's attempts to destroy that love. I hope I'm not overstepping here, but it's so hard for me to see how much pain this therapy has and is causing. I will be sending you any interesting articles I find. Thanks again and God Bless.
A Retractor
Editor's Comment: What do you do after you realize that you had false memories? That's what the author of the next story asked.
I caught part of a show about FMSF on television just at the point I realized that none of the "memories" in therapy were true. At the time, I was in shock and walking about saying to myself over and over again, "Oh my God, it didn't happen. What do I do now?" The program was a Godsend as I didn't know where to go or what to do and there it was right there on the TV -- Dr. Ofshe and some retractors. I called Dr. Ofshe and he gave me the number to the Foundation. I called them, scared, and very afraid as I'd heard the FMS people were perps and didn't know if I could trust them or not. I wasn't even sure of my name then because I had changed it so my parents couldn't find me. When a friendly voice answered, I spilled out what I thought had happened to me. They gave me support, love and they helped me out of the shock I was in so I could start to think for myself again. I was then able to realize even more what was reality and what had not been reality. I realized what the therapy had been like and I could find the answers for myself about what had happened to me and my family.
Debbie David
Editor's Comment: What are the events that might lead a person to question false memories? The author of the next story tells what helped her.
In March of this year, I retracted my sexual abuse allegations against my father after six years of pain. My sister, who accused Dad first, has not retracted and is very angry with me for not believing her abuse anymore. I am the retractor mentioned in your previous newsletter who saw the Paul Ingram movie and started having doubts. I went to the library and said a prayer that God would lead me to the books he wanted me to read. For some reason I felt very nervous as I checked out books on FMS. I cried late into many nights as I read them, gradually realizing what therapy had done to my sister and me and what we, in turn, had done to our parents.
I know that giving reading materials to accusers is often not advised because, in the short-term, it can cause more anger and pain; but I do think that if parents feel their children softening in any way, wanting to return to the family, they can at least ask the child if he or she is open to reading the materials. There was a point where I wanted so desperately for the estrangement to be over, I believe I would have been open to the material. Even if the answer is no, parents can let them know the information is there if they change their minds.
In July my husband, two children and I saw my parents and older brother for the first time since my retraction (we are in Michigan, and they live in Florida). It was a wonderful, healing visit. We all continue to pray for my sister.
I credit my retraction and family reconciliation to Jesus Christ. My parents and I kept praying through all the hell, and He led me to the answer. What has happened to me and my family is a miracle, and I feel like I have been given my parents back from the dead. My prayers are with all the false accusers and all the innocent parents; our faith will lead us all out of this nightmare.
Donna Anderson
Editor's Comment: It is not uncommon for retractors to have only a sketchy idea of what happened to them. If asked what caused them to retract, they may not know, as the author of the following letter states.
I write to plead with families not to shut their doors eternally to their accusing children. Had that happened to me, I would never be where I am in recovery today.
Time is a major factor in recovery from FMS. If it takes several years for your child to return, you may or may not be able to receive them. Retraction is terribly painful, fearful, and draining; most of us cannot do it quickly. But those of us who do eventually retract, need to find that crack in the door. How else can we all start the healing process?
There is no magic formula on how to break loose. We all do it in our own individual ways. My story is no model to apply to others. I wish I could tell you how I broke loose, but right now I can't. I'm not over the hump yet, but I am better every month. I pray that your child will walk the retractor's road and that you will be there to receive them home.
A Retractor
Editor's Comment: The author of this story, Beth Rutherford, had retracted several years before she wrote the following insightful comments about what helped her in that process.
At the end of 2 1/2 years of therapy, I had come to fully believe that I had been impregnated by my father twice. I "remembered" that he had performed a coat hanger abortion on me with the first pregnancy and that I performed the second coat hanger abortion on myself. I also "recalled" that he had inserted a curling iron, scissors and a meat fork inside of me, and other "horrors." I came to believe this without a doubt and could "remember" it happening detail by detail.
I was told by my therapist that I had to separate from my parents in order to break this cycle of "abuse" in my family. Otherwise, my therapist said, I would be at risk to abuse my own children some day when I became a mother. By the end of this 2 1/2 years of therapy, I had so physically deteriorated that my weight was down to 87 pounds, unable to eat because of the emotional and mental battle that was raging inside me. I was on medication and my mind was sinking deeper and deeper into blackness. With my last bit of energy and in an effort to begin to "get well," my middle sister, Lynette, and I rented a U-haul and moved away from my parents in Springfield, MO to Oklahoma City, OK. My youngest sister, Shara, went into hiding in Springfield, afraid that my father would murder her. Both of my sisters had come to believe my "memories" of abuse. We cut off all communication with my parents.
However, moving away from my parents also put me out of direct contact with my therapist. This was the best thing that could have happened to me, although I didn't realize it at the time. After four months of continual phone contact with my therapist in Missouri, I was instructed by her to try and find a new therapist to continue my "treatment." But, I decided, I had participated in all the therapy I could handle and wanted a break from the tormenting sessions that dwelt exclusively on abuse events. This crucial decision was the beginning of my journey home. When you don't have someone interpreting your parents' every move and word, you begin to think on your own. After I left home, my father and mother were brought before the southern Missouri state leadership of our church. My father's ministerial credentials were taken from him because he was charged with molesting and abusing me as a child. My mother was accused of participating in some of the molestation by restraining me so my father could carry out his sadistic acts.
Three months before these accusations were made, my father had lost his job at our denominational world headquarters, but he never knew the real reason why he was fired. Now, however, he began to realize what had really been going on behind the scenes. My parents were told that they were not to contact my two sisters or me. It was explained to them that if they didn't sign a statement of guilt, their file would be turned over to the district attorney's office and my father would be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, and he would face seven years to life in prison. My parents refused to admit guilt to our denominational leadership for something they had not done.
All communication ceased between us. I fully believed that my parents had committed these atrocities as much as they fully knew that they had never done them. What changed my mind? What brought me to the truth?
On April 19, 1995 at 9:02 AM, a bomb went off in Oklahoma City. My mother, a nurse like me, was working at the hospital that day in Springfield, MO. As she went from patient to patient, she overheard TV reports about the shocking devastation in Oklahoma City. A lot of horrible things happened that day, but one good thing came out of it all.
My mom knew that two of her daughters were in Oklahoma City. She was worried about my sister and me, knowing we worked in the vicinity of the explosion. She also knew that she had been told that if she contacted her children it could be used in a court of law against her as harassment. But she decided, "There is no law against expressing love and concern for my children. If they want to lock me up for trying to find out if my daughters are alive, then let them." When worry overcame fear, she called. But I was not home, so she left a message on the answering machine.
My sister and I were caught in the massive traffic on the interstate that day. We missed the phone call, but it is a day I will never forget. It was our first contact from home. You see, when I came home and listened to my mom's voice, it was the most soothing and comforting thing that could have happened. As I later learned, my mom had prayed for an opportunity to be able to show her love for her daughters, and kept her mind and heart open to any circumstances that would allow it. She didn't know if it would happen in months, years or even maybe never, but she was looking and hoping. With that thought in her heart, her words that day were ones of love and concern. She stated that if we needed anything to let her know and that they (my parents) were always there for us. She then hung up the phone. I can remember listening to that message and hearing that "past" mom that I had hidden away in my memory, and I thought of times when she would rock me at night as a little girl or hold me when I was upset. For a brief moment, good true memories crept into my thinking. I quickly shoved them back into the "closet," though, as I felt I had to keep hatred toward them alive. But, it was the next little step in my journey back home.
My youngest sister, who during this time had been living in hiding from my parents in Springfield, MO, started making contact with my parents. She was the first to go home. She called and told me that after having a nine-hour talk with our parents, she was planning to move back home. I felt so betrayed. I told her, "Shara, you and I will always be sisters and in that context I will always love you. But, you have stabbed me in the back and I feel betrayed." I hung up the phone and turned to my sister Lynette and cried. I said, "Lyn, please don't ever do to me what Shara has just done." I can remember lying in bed at night and hurting over being so betrayed.
Shara and I had very little conversation on the phone from then on. I can remember thinking that if I proved to Shara that she was wrong, she would come back and "join my side" again. I decided that the best way to do this was to show my parents how much better off I was without them in my life and Shara would perhaps see how cruel my parents were to me when I was with them. After all, my parents were horrible monsters and only mean things would come out of their mouths at me. In my desire to prove Shara wrong and to show my parents I really didn't need or want them in my life, I made another contact. In retrospect, it was actually another giant step toward home.
I called up my mom and asked her if she wanted to go shopping with me. I told her that I would meet her halfway (in Tulsa, OK) where my aunt and uncle lived, and we could shop together if she would agree not to talk about "the situation." She agreed and off to the mall we went!! So many important things happened in that one afternoon that were so vital to my coming back home. I want to share them with you and explain why it was so helpful to me.
1. WE MET IN A NEUTRAL PLACE. By meeting in a neutral place there were no emotional attachments to it. If I had met my mom at their home, it would have been too emotionally threatening. If I left that day thinking good and warm thought about her, I would have later chalked it up to having been emotionally manipulated into feeling that way. It needed to be a place that had no emotional components.
2. WE MET IN A PLACE OF ACTIVITY. By meeting in a place surrounded by action and noise, the pressure was not there to talk. If we had met in a favorite restaurant, it would have been difficult for me-too much eye contact, too much quietness. It would have been very uncomfortable for me to sit across a table staring at my mother and struggling to talk about something. In fact, I probably would have gotten up and walked out because of the sheer awkwardness that would have been present. However, at the mall there was no pressure for conversation.
3. WE DISCUSSED NEUTRAL TOPICS. Since we are both nurses, we talked about work and our frustrations and enjoyments about a career in nursing. We talked about our dog, Ginger. I missed her dearly and my mother talked about the newest crazy thing she had just done. We never talked about my dad or what was occurring in our lives because of my belief in the sexual abuse. By my mother keeping her agreement not to address the "situation," I soon came to realize that my parents would respect the boundaries that I had placed and that they could be trusted. My mom and I laughed together and for a few hours our relationship was just like what it had always been.
4. SHE ASKED MY PERMISSION TO DO THINGS. While at the mall, my mother asked me if she could buy me a loofah sponge. I said, "yes," and she bought it for me. I can remember standing at the counter and holding back tears as she paid for it. You see, I knew my father was unemployed and I knew that she didn't have money to be spending. Watching my mother's love in action was something I thought about after we had parted ways. Also, when my mother asked me if she could buy something for me, it left me with the consequences of my decision. If I had said "no," I couldn't have walked away thinking "See my mother doesn't even care about me. She never even offered to do something for me." If I said "yes," I couldn't walk away and say, "My mother feels guilty for what she did to me as a child, so she is buying me gifts to make up for it." By her asking me, I couldn't misinterpret her gift.
These basic elements in our meeting together for the first time made such an impact on me. How could such an evil parent be loving and warm toward an accusing daughter? I began to think for the first time that this picture wasn't lining up. However, I didn't allow myself to dwell on those thoughts for too long. You see, it would be too conflicting on the inside to do so. It was easier to just ignore thoughts of love and affection for or from my mom. Fortunately, this was a short-lived pattern. Although my mom wondered what good the shopping trip had done, little did she know that as I drove back to Oklahoma City I dwelt on every word said, every twinkle in her eye and her smile. Her objective of showing LOVE had been accomplished, but only I knew that.
Since my experience with my mother had gone so well, we kept in touch and I became more open to the idea of seeing my father. A short time after the shopping visit, my mom began asking me repeatedly if I would allow my father to see me. I repeatedly told her "no." I explained to my mom that I would vomit if I saw my father. I still believed that he was a monster of a human being. My mom, again, respected my answer but continued to gently prod on. I finally agreed to see my dad. It happened at my uncle and aunt's house in Tulsa, OK. I came down from upstairs and walked into the kitchen. I was a nervous wreck! Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my dad coming across the kitchen toward me. I closed my eyes and was waiting for the impact of his fist. I thought he was going to hit me, as I believed he was an evil man. Although he had never hit me with his fist before, I had come to believe through therapy that this was a common occurrence in my growing-up years.
Beside me, I heard muffled sobbing. I opened my eyes and there next to me stood my dad. I stood in disbelief. Why is he crying? He quietly whispered through his tears, "Thanks for letting me see you. . . I thought I had lost you forever. . . . I didn't think I would ever see you again . . . Can I say your name?" I nodded my head quietly in a "yes" motion. He began to say my name over and over. He explained "It just hurt too much to say it before." You see, I was expecting an angry man to come at me with accusations and tones of hatred. I expected that he would demand answers and give me ultimatums or threats of permanent alienation. But he displayed the exact opposite. He showed a heart of a real dad, full of love. I remember standing at the kitchen counter that day. It was a tender moment that my dad and I share to this day. It still brings tears to our eyes when we talk about it together. But standing there that day, I was blown away in my thinking. How could such an ugly monster be so caring, loving, broken and tearful? I started to wonder if all those memories were true. After all, this just wasn't lining up. Let me explain some things that began to turn my thinking around that day.
1. MY FATHER AVOIDED ANY KIND OF ANGRY TONE OR HOSTILITY. Had my dad told me that I was all wrong and that if I ever wanted to see him again, I must apologize, I would have promptly gotten my keys and gone home. If he had wanted to hash out all of my accusations and go over them, I also would have left. But, by wanting nothing more than to see me and by not bringing up a single detail of the wreckage of his life, I went away thinking only of his tears and gratitude toward me for allowing him to see me.
2. MY FATHER LET HIS EMOTIONS SHOW THROUGH. This perhaps had the biggest impact on me, for I had never seen my dad cry like he did that day. I learned that my father did not let this devastating experience harden him. Instead, it softened and broke his heart and that softness was what won mine.
3. WE WERE ONLY TOGETHER FOR A SHORT PERIOD OF TIME. Had my father and I spent all day together, it would have been too emotionally overwhelming for me. The short encounter allowed me to dwell on the details in a better way. It also kept him from saying the wrong things! In other words, I didn't have too much to remember from our meeting, and what I did have to remember weren't the wrong kinds of things.
Remember (parents), the therapist suggests that you are monsters. Be careful to do and act in whatever manner that keeps you from looking like and acting like a monster or someone you are not!!! That doesn't mean it is easy to do. If you were to ask my parents, they would tell you that there were times when they wanted to come to Oklahoma City and barge into my place. For they thought that if I would just see them, it would "snap me out of it." But, this would have been the worst thing they could have done. I would never have come home. I became a returner before I became a recanter.
Over the next few months, we began to talk on the phone. The conversations were neutral and short. Finally, I told my parents that I wanted to talk with them. They came to Oklahoma City and came to my place for the first time. My parents battled between themselves over whether or not they should address my accusations with me. But, they decided to let me bring that subject up when I was ready, and in my case it was the right thing to do.
I eventually brought up the subject, and when I did we had an eleven-hour talk. We even went to a fast-food drive-thru so that we didn't have to stop and make dinner. We talked the whole way there and the whole way back!! It was in those 11 hours that I first heard the words "false memories." Over time I came to understand what had happened to me. My parents did a lot of the right things in that first discussion of the whole situation. (Although if you were to ask my parents, they would say, "We had no idea what we were doing. We felt like we were walking on thin ice not knowing from one moment to the next if we might say the wrong thing and ruin the progress made.") These are some of the things they said that really helped me:
1. ONE OF THE FIRST THINGS OUT OF MY PARENTS' MOUTHS WHEN I ANNOUNCED I WANTED TO TALK ABOUT WHAT HAD HAPPENED IN OUR FAMILY WAS, "BETH, WE DON'T CARE WHAT IT WAS THAT BROUGHT YOU TO BELIEVE THESE THINGS ABOUT US. What matters most is that we have you." My parents continually reassured me that no matter what I told them about my therapy sessions or the beliefs I once held about them that they would always love me and want me in their lives. As the conversation progressed, so did the feeling of guilt on my part. It was their reassurance of love that kept me continuing the path back home and not shutting the door for fear I would cause them to want to desert me.
2. MY PARENTS UNDERSTOOD WHAT HAD HAPPENED. By my parents' understanding what happened to me even before I understood it, I found I wasn't shocking them as I unfolded details of my therapy. They were already aware and familiar with the therapy process. It made me not feel so stupid when I realized I wasn't the only one who had had this kind of therapy.
3. MY PARENTS WERE NON-THREATENING. I never felt like "a big punishment" was going to be given to me when I walked in the front door. They accepted me just as I was, pieces and all.
In time, my parents and I sat down and talked about the whole ordeal. This included everything that my mom and dad had been through. My sisters and I have talked, too. We have asked my parents for their forgiveness and they willingly and quickly gave it.
My prayer to God shortly after we were reunited was, "God, pour so much Elmer's glue over us that we won't ever be separated again!!" And God has answered my prayer. My family and I love each other so much and we're as close as before, but I'd say even closer because we've individually and collectively survived this almost fatal nightmare.Yes, we are still a normal family with our differences of opinion and personalities, but we cherish our times together as never before, knowing we almost lost each other.
Family love is strong and resilient. Love prevails . . . It bears all things, believes through all things, hopes through all things, endures through all things. We now walk our life's journey TOGETHER.
Editor's Comment: Parents are divided over whether they should accept a child back without a full retraction. The author of the next brief story explains how the demand for a retraction affected her belief. The author of the second pleads for parents to keep doors open.
Here's where your daughters are probably "stuck." I could not face the horrible thing I had done to my parents, so I HAD to believe the memories were true. In other words, even though I got away from that horrible therapist, I could not go back to my entire extended family (parents, brothers, cousins, grandmother) and say that I was temporarily insane and nothing had happened.
Unfortunately, my mother initially made that a condition of my re-joining the family... I had to clear my father's name. I was not capable of doing that, because, of course, I had real problems at that point. It was easier for my self-esteem to pretend that I had been sexually abused by someone and it was still my parents' fault because they should have protected me.
Over the years, my mother and I talked first about every year, then every 6 to 8 months about trivial stuff, then were able to meet 7 years after the "incident." She implicitly dropped the condition that I needed to clear my father's name, which helped a lot. I wasn't as embarrassed and ashamed. And by that point I was correctly placing responsibility on the therapist's doorstep as opposed to blaming myself.
A Retractor
I am troubled by a trend I see in recent letters from parents in the Newsletter. It seems that more and more parents are lashing out against their accusing children, refusing to have any contact unless the adult child retracts everything at one time and begs forgiveness. Some say they want no contact even if there is full recantation. I do really understand your pain, but I think you are making a mistake.
I never had a chance to recant to my adoptive father and mother. He was already dead when I began "recovering memories." She was existing, not living, with senile dementia , recognizing nobody. However, I did confront her when she was still somewhat cognizant. She was terrified of me, but could not communicate at all. I really wish they could have lived to hear my heartfelt apologies; it would have given me much healing. Instead, I will carry to my grave the horrendous guilt for all the lies I told.
So, please, leave the door open, just a little. Yes, you have been terribly wronged. But so have we. If there is no chance of reconciliation, you will continue to hurt, and we will have much less chance of throwing off our cloak called "Victim of Therapist Abuse."
A Retractor
Editor's Comment: The following story expresses what many retractors have told us about their feelings of guilt.
"Thank you so very much for the material your organization sent to
me. I have also read one of the recommended books, True Stories of
False Memories, and am waiting for an ordered copy of Confabulations.
I found the book to be horrificly true to life. On page after page, I
saw actual sentences my therapist said to me. Yes, she even
recommended The Courage to Heal and many others and assigned homework
from them. Also my problem for entering therapy had nothing to do with
my childhood. I would like to offer my assistance in any way I can to
stop this practice. I realize it cannot be done on a one by one
therapist basis. I thank God I was saved finally by my husband
instead of almost losing him and my children. My therapist went even
beyond the tragedy of convincing me I was an incest survivor. Once she
accomplished that, she moved in to alienate me from my husband and
even my 15 year old daughter!! That is when I was finally willing to
hear the pleas that had been constantly fed to me by my family.
Luckily, my recanting has gone well with everyone but myself. The
guilt I feel is so much a part of me. I am sending you a letter I gave
to my mom and dad."
January 1994
Dear Ma and Dad,
I cannot seem to let go of my so heavy guilt for everything. Nothing was true except that I was very ill and being controlled by drugs and doctors. I have looked over copies of letters I sent and received. A horrible nightmare of which I beg your forgiveness. It may sound like a cop-out although it is true, but there is so much I do not remember, and I ask your forgiveness for those things too. Never again will I allow myself to lose control of me. I thank you for being here at my "awakening" and I look forward to returning to the rich, wonderful family life we enjoy, although I question my worthiness. I am proud to be a part of you. I hope someday soon you can feel the same way about me.The best way I can communicate is through my writing. This letter does not even touch the depths of my pain, nor does it erase even an inch of the pain that I caused you. But I want it all to go away. Please read this with an open mind and give me a chance. Believe I am off the medications, believe I am now me. And most of all, please believe that monster was NOT me. That monster is dead.
All My Love
Editor's Comment: Reconciliation for this writer means that there is "no-where to put judgement" and "no time for anger" but "only forgiveness."
In My Father's House
In my Father's house. Noise of unsaid words haunt walls of pain.
In my Father's house, I see my childhood in his sharp blue eyes. The ocean sounds alive as it slaps time in my face. Wrinkles tell the truth.
In my Father's house there is a space for peace and no-where to put judgment. An old violin hangs to remind life of how out of tune we have become. Here in my Father's house, generations meet in between truth and fantasy to find a bridge.
In my Father's house, mute voices in the wind, blow and snap the weathered front gate.
It is late. Time taken in between the waves of resentment, grown out of fear, is replaced with the Ocean. Blue eyes in the salt of the sea, watch and wait.
It is late. There is no time for anger now, only for today's forgiveness. We show and tell life.
In my Father's house, God creates a new family. My father's house is inside a God of forgiveness.
I have lost years of my life thinking and lost in my head. My whole truth is now shattered. What really happened to me? Was told my truth on drugs, or did I create my own reality?
When I was a little girl, I was a little girl. Chunks of life are gone. I feel foggy and full of wonder.
What do I do now? What I thought, now is a dream. Is this just another switch to another person inside me or am I really here?
Editor's note: Forgiveness is not the same thing as reconciliation. Forgiveness is an emotion and reconciliation is relational. Forgiveness happens to an individual but reconciliation happens within a relationship. (Adapted from Worthington, "Dimensions of Forgiveness, 1998"
Dear Pop,
I am sorry. I have written to you because I must ask for your
forgiveness. When I first accused you of molesting me I was thrown
into a turmoil so deep I didn't know what I was doing or why. But I
have had time now to reflect on my thoughts and actions.
Right after I brought the lie into the open I began to doubt its truth; but I couldn't believe that I would do such a thing. I couldn't believe I was capable of making up such a lie, believing it, and then taking it to the lengths that I did. But the fact is that I made it up and used it to alter my life. The pain I have caused you and all my loved ones is on my conscience. Now I would rather be alone and possibly despised than continue living a lie.
I am so sorry. I didn't understand the pain, distrust and confusion the lie would cause. And when I did, I was so scared and guilty I tried to hide from it. But no matter how many times I told myself I was sorry, I could not be forgiven until I took full responsibility for my horrible mistake. I ask you for forgiveness first. If you cannot forgive me, I will understand. But I hope one day I will be forgiven. I will try never to make such a terrible mistake again. I have learned that my actions are solely my responsibility, just as it is my responsibility to choose between right and wrong.
Maybe I lost it for a while; but I have learned from this mistake. The power of self-manipulation once seemed vague and uncontrollable. Now I have lost so much from letting myself fall. I can see just how powerfully I can affect my life. So many times I have wished I could just go back and erase it all.
But I can't go back. I can only go forward. I can only try to fix the damage I have done. I am sorry. I love you and miss you. Whenever I think of the words I spoke with such righteous anger, I cringe. I am filled with shame.
I am sorry I accused you of such a terrible thing. I really never wanted to hurt you. I never thought the whole thing out. I wanted to hurt myself.
As the reverberations of my cry echo into the silence, and then die, I realize that I alone created my own hell. I dug myself a grave and dove right in. And when I wanted out, I found I had lost the courage to do the right thing. I had lost all faith in myself. I was terrified to face what I had done.
I know I have deeply hurt every single person who I care about. I am afraid. My spirit is heavy. I ask you for forgiveness so that I may go on with my life. I need to let this terrible weight go. My life is turning gray. I cannot carry this weight any longer.
I know that many people, maybe including you, will not understand and will despise me or leave me. But at least the truth will be known. There is no beauty in a world of falseness. There is no freedom in a cage of lies.
I took a wrong turn, a major wrong turn in my life. I have been lost and afraid but I have found my way back.
I am sorry, again, from my heart, I am sorry.
Your daughter "K"
To Whom It May Concern:
I feel that it is important for me to explain the "other" side of
this nightmare so that other families may benefit (hopefully) from the
information and perhaps in some small way this letter may help others.
First of all please do not think that the false accusations come out of hate. It is important to remember that the daughters and sons truly believe what they accuse you of, and all they are trying to do is protect themselves and their families from what they honestly believe to be more possible harm.
The Thomas theory boils everything down to... WHAT ONE BELIEVES TO BE TRUE, IS TRUE IN ALL OF ITS CONSEQUENCES! Now let me tell you what is my experience to give you an idea of what may be happening on the "other side."
Loss of Family.
Loss of Friends.
Increasing Isolation.
Medication, Increased Medication, New Medication.
Therapist's Who Believe and Encourage Memory Recall.
Hypnosis.
Writing, Writing, Writing, Writing and More Writing.
Flashbacks.
Diagnosis...MPD.
3 Hour Appointments (Because Your Therapist Thinks You Need It).
Therapist/Patient Relationship Get Away from "Ethical" Behavior.
Any Disagreement with Therapist Means...DENIAL!
Suicidal Thoughts And Possible Attempts.
Self-Mutilation.
Medical Leaves from Work Encouraged by Therapist.
Encouragement of No, No, No, No, No, No,
NO CONTACT with Anyone that Doesn't Believe You!
Reading of Books and Articles.
Bringing in Family Pictures.
Screaming at Chairs.
Role Reversal.
And The List Goes ON and ON and ON.
Trust me, it is no picnic from the side of the accuser.
So what does this list tell you? It tells you how impossible it starts to feel to leave the therapist...after all nobody knew me or understood me better (I thought). As with others (true or false) I became a "sexual abuse survivor" and it dominated my entire life. People were not permitted to question me because then it felt like they were calling me a liar. And who would lie about sexual abuse? Nobody. Neither did I, like the theory I believed it to be true! I had my sanity to protect and my children and because of the total isolation I stuck by my therapist even after I, myself, had serious doubts regarding my memory. There was no fun in my life during this time, no laughter, just tears, tears and more tears.
Why would anyone accept me back after everything was said and done ...would I? I wasn't sure until I had my own kids and then I realized that no matter what I would always want them back. I (like you with your kids) love them with every ounce of my being. Perhaps my parents' love was stronger than my accusations. Thank Heavens it was.
When I look back now I define the last four years like I was in a cult; the only member of the cult was me and the cult leader was my therapist. If your child was in a cult would they be held responsible for everything that occurred?... probably not.
Your child is probably doing everything they feel is right to protect themselves. If the abuse was true their strong conviction for safety and due process would be honoured in our society and by people like yourself.
How did I get home? My mom, my sister and my dad. Even though I would swear at them, scream and slam the phone on them, we remained in contact. Minimal but enough for me to know when the time was right that there might be a hope and a prayer of acceptance.
My doctor's inadequacies remained the same throughout my therapy, as my confusion grew and he would not allow me to explore it. I started questioning his credentials. Finally I asked him to help me get off the drugs I never wanted to be on in the first place.
He wouldn't...he told me I was far too vulnerable and that I should increase my dosage by 100%. Fancy that -- another prescription! I took the prescription, left the office and never returned.
My sister was the first person I told and I was scared out of my mind to see her reaction. She hugged me. We both cried and then also had a good laugh. 3 million pounds were lifted from my shoulders...for the first time in years I felt like myself. I truly was home again! If my sister could accept it, I knew my parents could -- after all she was a product of their belief system. I took the plunge...I recanted ...and I'm slowly rebuilding my life with my family.
I love you Mom and Dad; D, M, C. and A
Thank you FMSF for being there when my parents needed you.
Trish
www.FMSFonline.org
APA's "Questions and Answers about
Memories of Childhood Abuse"