Seance on a wet afternoon
Seance On A Wet Afternoon was the title of a novel I read in the 1960’s, which was later made into a movie, starring Kim Stanley and Richard Attenborough. (It is interesting to note that in high school, I was interested in the occult, as were most of my friends - long before Harry Potter. I’m not saying that is a good thing, simply that it is a common curiosity for many young people.) This post really has nothing to do with seances however, except it is a very wet afternoon in Minneapolis this Sunday. In fact thunderstorms awakened me for prayer at 4am and I was off to 6:30am Mass at St. Agnes during the lull before the next round of storms came through.
When I returned home I bored myself sleepy with the Internet and took a 3 hour nap… troubled by dreams. I awoke to more storms and heavy rainfall, while my thoughts returned to the dreams, which must have occasioned my recalling the title of the book from the 1960’s. Strangely, our memories and dreams can be somewhat like a seance, conjuring specters from the past, experiences long forgotten, along with emotions one hasn’t felt in years.
To be honest, I can’t remember the details of the dreams, only the emotions; the feeling of being lost, unable to reach my destination, accompanied by a woeful sense of abandonment, feeling unoticed by passers by, friends and family - almost as if I were a ghost.
Upon waking I had the uncanny realization that my mother had been sexually abused as a child. Why, I don’t know. Of course I can’t prove it - her two surviving siblings would not tell me even if they knew. Yet I understood that is why she “knew” so much about that “kind of stuff” - and why she was so hurt and angry deep inside.
For instance, when it happened to me - she “knew”. I was in 5th grade and just returned home from the Sunday afternoon movies with a dollar a man had given me. I showed my mother the money, explaining that I had found it on the floor in the theater, and asked her if I might keep it.
“What happened to you?” She demanded angrily. “Who gave you that money?”
“No one did - I found it on the floor.” I explained, immediately understanding she must have known what had happened.
“Go ahead, keep it.” To my surprise she uncharacteristically dropped the matter and nothing was ever brought up again.
Sometimes, mostly late at night, her voice echoes in my head, not only from that experience but from other things she said to me about “stuff”, which suddenly makes sense to me today. It wasn’t just a mother’s intuition that informed her, something had happened to her as well - which must be how she knew “stuff”. Although she never dealt with her experiences except to medicate herself with alcohol, along with the occasional escapes, seeking consolation through transitory extramarital intimacies with other men, and so on.
I remembered how she once referred to a very young girl as a “little whore” - which was a startling thing to say about a 4 or 5 year old. (And may have been a revelation about how she perceived herself.) Yet later, when the girl grew up, she was indeed promiscuous for a time, in a manner which suggested she herself may have been abused as a young child. Without going into detail, I can’t help wonder if my mother sensed this girl would be abused or turn out the way she did. Scarier still, what if there had been some sort of curse attached to my mother’s words? No, I don’t believe in curses that just slip out like that. And can I really attribute such great insight to my mother’s neurosis?
Nevertheless, my mother was very perceptive about these things - I have other examples that I won’t go into here. I will never know for certain if she had been abused, but all the signs are there. Shortly before my father died, he told me that he and my mother were hurt very badly as kids, but he couldn’t talk about it. He just said, “My dad did things to me you wouldn’t believe.” He was right, I didn’t want to know about it either.
In the movie “Seance On a Wet Afternoon” the plot revolves around the kidnap of a child by the husband of a psychic. The psychic wishes to offer her skills in finding the child and thus gain fame as a medium. If I remember correctly, the child dies accidentally.
Sexual abuse of children is like that, though the purpose was not to kill, something inside the child dies - “accidently”. And despite the fact the child survives, the experiences often haunt the child for the rest of one’s life, reemerging unexpectedly in one’s consciousness, something akin to a seance on a wet afternoon, if you will.
September 30th, 2007 at 4:01 pm
Thank you, Terry.
September 30th, 2007 at 4:19 pm
I pray God abundantly blesses my wonderful parents who protected me and kept me safe. The older I get, the more I see from reading stories like yours, how incredibly blessed I was. I hope to do as good a job as they did. Thanks for the insight, Terry. It will help me be more vigilant with my own kids.
September 30th, 2007 at 5:01 pm
Terry,
I’m so sorry that you had to experience the evil of sex abuse. How is it that another human being can use a child just to gratify themselves–to make themselves feel better at the expense of such a vunerable child? It hurts–even when, like me, at 51 years old–it still hurts. I offer it up to Jesus–he died and suffered for me, my suffering and emotional feelings of worthlessness, being treated as nothing more than a used kleenex–easily dropped on the floor–disposed of after use–makes you believe you are unloveable–not good enough–dispensible and unloved. It hurts, I am so sorry for your hurt–I will pray for you–God loves you so much.
September 30th, 2007 at 6:21 pm
Thanks Tara - That is the toughest thing isn’t it - that used kleenex feeling. You said it so very well. God bless you.
September 30th, 2007 at 8:17 pm
My child was molested and it was not because I did not protect him. The abuser came into our lives and groomed my child and led me to believe I could trust him. Then he made his move. But it was too late. I still remember the day it happened. I needed a baby sitter and called “J” but J was not available. I called “X” and they came over. While X was on the way over J called to say that their plans had fallen through and would be willing to come over. I said no thanks, I found someone else. The guilt will haunt me the rest of my life.
September 30th, 2007 at 8:18 pm
Sorry Terry, I sorta hijacked that post. I am sorry for what happened to you and your parents.
September 30th, 2007 at 8:20 pm
How anyone could hurt a small child in such an evil manner is beyond my comprehension. Such sins cry out to Heaven! Terry, I admire your courage in being able to put these painful experiences into words so that hopefully others may be helped. It also shows that these infamies are nothing new but have been around for a long time….
September 30th, 2007 at 8:30 pm
Angela - it was so not your fault. Nor your child’s fault - your love for one another is the healing, with Jesus all things make sense in the end. Trust me, it was not your fault.
September 30th, 2007 at 9:08 pm
Angela,
I’m so sorry–Terry is right–it is not your fault–there is nothing you could have done differently–nothing! Predators are master manipulators–they know how to win our trust–the betrayl of one we trust is devistating–but God loves you He will heal you and your Son–I’m praying for you.
October 1st, 2007 at 6:45 am
I am certain that much of what is wrong with this world of ours is in large part due to the cumulative effects of child abuse down through the ages.
God bless you, Terry. And God bless all of us, too.
October 1st, 2007 at 7:04 am
Angela:
I hope my post didn’t imply that parents are at fault. I was just being so very grateful that none of this had happened to me and sorry that this type of thing happens at all. There are few crimes worse.
My parents had special insight because my mother was a nurse and saw a lot of things working in a hospital and my father had many connections with police and fire men to be very wary. Still, it was by the grace of God that nothing like this happened to me, especially when you look at the statistics, which are so incredible and incredibly scary.
From what I understand, often times abuse is by another family member. How in the world do you protect against that? Such a betrayal.
October 1st, 2007 at 9:00 am
It’s so difficult to thank God for allowing Msgr to abuse me, but I realize that if it hadn’t happened, I probably would not have been as upset by the Legion of Christ, especially the way they keep implying that Marcial Maciel’s victims are liars. I don’t think I would have tried so hard to protect my children and those of my fellow parishioners. So, I thank God, if I’ve been able to protect any children (which still leaves some ground for me to cover). While I’m at it, I thank God for “crazy old Velma” who used to call Msgr a dirty old man, much to the other adults’ amusement (the first hint that I maybe I wasn’t just “bad”). I thank God for Fr. Jack, my pastor in 2002, who helped hold me together when the headlines every day made me want to scream. I thank God for my wonderful husband and children, too, who give me a nice boring normal life.
Those others of you who were also abused, do you find that your prayers are almost always answered? I mean the real ones, not “please keep that traffic light green, since I overslept”.
October 1st, 2007 at 10:22 pm
SwissMiss - I understood what you meant but I wanted to clarify. Still hits a raw nerve 16 years later but that is not your fault! Be at peace - all is well.
October 2nd, 2007 at 12:46 am
Lust is an uncontrollable appetite, especially if fueled by booze or chemicals. But it doesn’t need those, to be dire–some people abuse themselves, and all of it makes somebody feel dirty. That’s particularly horrendous when it’s a child who feels that way, whose childhood was stolen. Whose trust was shattered. Who was left with genital herpes (or worse). Who underwent exams they shouldn’t have had to. Who was even lent out to others in the family. Whose hope for decency of humand beings, and maybe even of one’s survival, is as thin as a thread.
All my life, I’ve known people who were sexually abused. When it came out, it didn’t change how I saw them, but that didn’t matter. That’s the thing. There is no way to help, after the fact. Is there? We can only help prevent the abuse of others.
And by God, we will, to the best of our ability.
Terry, your dream seems an angelic message, in a way. Pray for all who have preyed on you and yours.
But stay whole, all of you. No one has taken your beauty.