Preface
This article has been “in the making” for about a year now. Its about living through life’s darkest pain and the lessons learned. I have started and stopped so many times; it would make an enumerator consider looking for another line of work! I would begin writing and then overthink my experiences; rewriting over and over to make readers comfortable. Even worse, I would make sure it was politically correct and that it would meet “society’s standards”. It was the hardest lesson I learn.
After I shut out the noise, I decided to just tell my story as it happened; the truth. No matter what the algorithm is, no matter what the matrix projected on paper. So, here goes…
Typical Catholic Upbringing
I was the last of ten children to parents that were locked into a marriage because of “the contract”. Born in a small Ohio town; Martins Ferry. My father owed his own business as a door to door salesman. Years of coming home late and raising the children, running the household on her own; my mother made him quit. He found work in a factory at the Bayer Corporation; in the chemical devison. The job made us move to Sykes Ridge, Ohio; a municipal village on top of a mountain. This is where my memories start. I can remember the beautiful white late nineteeth century post-Victorian farmhouse. It was more than likely run down and seen better days, however in my eyes, it was a palace.
My parents were Roman Catholic; very strict and like I said bound by “the contract”. That is to say, marriages in the Catholic Church are contracts with no divorce clause. They were in it for better or worse, no matter what. They went to this beautiful stone church in the Ohio country side. Filled with marble and wooden hand carved pews; incense filling the air as you enter. We attended Latin Mass every Sunday and honored the obligatory holy days.
I must say my mother was very religious and pious; not to a fault however. Although I must be honest, her style was more Do as I say, not as I do. And thank God, she gave us a good decent basis to be citizens in society. The real hard work of softening the rough edges was clearly up to us. So, I went through life looking to relatives, teachers, and the church for a model on how to behave.
You Never Forget Your 1st Time…
About fourth grade I started to notice an anxiety building up inside. I was scared, confused and certainly didn’t want to address it. Primarily that was because the cause of this manifestation began at age 5. I was aware of it then and all through my adolescence until age 16; I was always aware. I learned the lesson of distraction could by me time to cope and deal with it later.
While in sixth grade, I was walking home from school one afternoon. This high school kid noticed me getting off the bus one afternoon. He began to walk with me on my ¾ mile walk home. At some point he grabbed me, shoving me to the ground. He dragged me into a densely wooded area out of plain sight. A struggle ensued and thanks to God I fought back and broke free. A torn shirt and a bruised face was my only evidence.
I was acting up at home, my mother noticing this she sat me down one day. Upset at my behavior and concerned at the same time; she showed her gentle softer genuine concern for my sudden change in behavior? I saw it as an opportunity to tell her, feeling safe under her protection. My parents quickly called the police. Eventually the kid that attempted to sexually attack me was in a line up and I picked him out.
The older high school kid admitted to what he attempted to do to me! He had a record of this. Instead of having a conviction and trial in our small town; my father didn’t press charges. He felt as long as the kid got help ( which never happened) that would correct the problem? The decision was not mine to make. The lesson learned here was fear of embarrassment and what people thought weighed more than what I thought or felt?
Detour Before Adulthood
After graduating high school, I desperately wanted to attend college. This was partly to get away from my mother and I was ready to start building a career. However, my mother’s ill health rapidly deteriorated and I stayed to become her fulltime care taker. Please don’t give me any accolades; I don’t deserve them. I did it all because of my mother’s well-crafted guilt trip. Lessons learned from sacrifice are valuable only if done willingly.
About the age of 19, a brother of mine had developed a terminal illness; one that always meant “no hope”, “no cure”. There was no escaping it, no medicine nor surgery to relieve him from this death sentence.
My mother lost it; she was distant, angry , and volatile. She put him on a pedestal and lamented what a” loving innocent boy” he was and that he didn’t deserve to die. He could do no wrong and soon he was on his way to be beatified to sainthood. After several months of this, I could barely stand it! I hated being around my mother and dreaded going home after work or from my local community college night classes.
So, my anger, confusion, and fear became so great, the anguish was too much. I had held this secret in me since age 5; it was physically making me ill. Night sweats, anxiety attacks, and attempting to act like someone I wasn’t, just to get by had taken its toll on me. I learned the lesson that mechanisms I used to cope as a child clearly weren’t working as an adult. When my mother was in a good mood one evening, I gained enough courage and began to talk…
Should I Have Told? Maybe Not?
I told my mother that the brother, her son, the one that she thought was so great? Well, he had sexually abused and tortured me all through my youth and adolescent. Not only him, but another older brother too; sometimes at the same time.
My mother’s reactions were typical; taken straight out of a psychology textbook . Sadness, confusion, and finally anger. The thing I wasn’t expecting was that all those emotions were not only directed towards my 2 brothers, but at me as well! One brother was on his death bed; the other was married living across country. Her anger had to go somewhere; lesson learned, I was the logical choice, I guess?
Didn’t See This Coming?
The married brother was confronted and he admitted to it! He also implicated the dying brother. Finally! I had proof from the perpetrators (my own brothers). But the real awakening was when my brother told me that I should look toward our parents for the real blame. He, as well as several other brothers were molested by our priest when they would go to the church and help volunteer to repair things or help with the harvest of seasonal crops that the church clergy utilized.
My parents knew this and confronted the priest; we suddenly stopped going to that church and attended a new one the following week. It never went any further! It was like we picked up and moved to a new town without any warning or forwarding address?
My mother was an old time Catholic; one that revered priest and nuns as if they were God-like. She had the most unbelievable respect and love for her faith. I think if she never had the dedication to God, Jesus and the Blessed Mother she wouldn’t have made it. It seemed like that was her only true source of sustainment. Take away her Catholic faith, and she would be nothing.
Okay, it’s Out in the Open…Now What?
So, the truth was revealed and the event had come full circle; all the shame, embarrassment, and evil out in the open. A fresh wound opened, bleeding out years of torment, sorrow, and anguish. My parents couldn’t ignore this now!? I thought, no more hiding, making excuses or deflecting having to deal with it. Yet, that’s exactly what happened?
When I was 20, the brother who had the terminal illness ( and one of the ones who sexually raped me) had succumb to his frailties. I felt sad because I did care about him as we were close. However, I was also mad because I was robbed of my chance to confront him. I rushed into the room where he was and began yelling at him; using every curse word in the human language and some I even made up! At least that was the fantasy I play in my head; even if it never actually happened?
I got to see him before his passing; it was anything but what I thought it was going to be! A hard lesson learning; to pull the rug from underneath me. How can I be angry at someone who was my brother, someone I was close too, someone that saved my life from a near death drowning at a favorite swimming hole one summer in the Coal Shed Valley? Besides when I realized the final state he was in; he was already paying for his sins. When you see someone that you grew up with; seeing him day after day, memorizing his quirks, his behaviors, his scent…and now I can hardly recognize the person before me?
Be Careful What You Pray For?…
The illness was the epitome of satan. Grotesquely vile, all things prurient, obscene, and yet I was drawn by curiosity to verify if this indeed was my brother I saw before me? What I endured at the hands of my brother’s wasn’t the work of God; what I saw before me was. I tend to believe that God is casting out evil from my brother; the blindness, constant pain , crying out in anguish. These were all effects of God commanding the evil that lay inside him all his life are cast out. So, his soul could be cleansed and ready to enter God’s kingdom.
To see him in such a state of decay was difficult; inside I was dying and so ashamed for all the ill-will I prayed he hopefully would receive! I ask for forgiveness; still, even to this day. The lesson I learned was to be careful for what you pray for; he does listen and you will get exactly what you hoped for? No matter how painful and inhumane the requested prayer was!
Validation in blaming…
Oddly enough, I wasn’t mad at my brothers, or the priest, or the Catholic Church. How could I be? Too busy playing the victim and getting “a high” from when anyone would feel sorry for me. I had become addicted to apathy and self-absorbed in the sloth of my own pity.
I focus on the one person that had the ability to right this wrong, to protect me, to prevent it from ever happening? That person was my mother, and let me be clear I not making her the scapegoat. She was the center of my world, she said I could always count on her, no one would ever love me more than her? I couldn’t justify what she did as protection, love, nor just a simple mistake. But I was about to learn on of the hardest lessons and the emotional trauma it carried.
You’re a Product of Your Environment
Every memory of me as Carl; the son, the brother, the friend, etc. was the by-product of my life in a constant state of chaos, anger, fear, uncertainty, and depression. We siblings all experienced some level of physical abuse and beatings. That was how parents in those days raised a family of 10 kids. But as my mother got more sick and her illness flipped the balance of power; she turned to the only thing she had left to use?
Emotional abuse. It was more effective at control, at breaking me down, and creating a new identity than beatings ever could. Growing up, anger and physical abuse was as common as learning your ABC’s. You would think that after the discovery of sexual abuse and torture, I would get a break and be allowed to sit this round out? You’d be wrong. Not only did the abuse not cease; it increased.
The bullseye was clearly on my behind; and it was open season! At times I could barely keep it together. A child shouldn’t have to be expected to deal with adult situations, navigate the landmines and come out of it “a better person “? A child shouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath of sexual abuse and torture on their own because the person responsible to protect you can’t deal with the realization that it happened to their child? That it happened on their watch. The lesson is difficult to learn for parents; nearly impossible lesson for a child to learn.
Describing the Indescribable
I knew I needed to talk about the abuses to someone? If not, I certainly would ultimately end up taking my own life; I know this because I tried once when I was in 5th grade. My mother said some things to me that no mother should ever say to their child; that no human should say to another human. When you’re that young you can’t process things rationally. Your mind can’t distinguish that what the other person is saying to you is their own defense mechanism protecting them from the pain. You don’t realize that they didn’t mean what they said, and give the chance, they would take it back.
All you knew is that this is the life I am to lead and I can learn to cope with it in order to survive; or…?
A Love Affair Begins Innocently
Because my mother was a very devoted Catholic and prayer was ever present in our daily life, all throughout our life; I slowly assumed the role of reciting the Rosary when my mother became too sick to do it herself. Although I wasn’t aware of it at the time; this was the beginning of a lifelong love affair with the Catholic Church. One that is still going on; one that is stronger than ever.
My mother would instruct me on how the Rosary should be said and honored. I would be scolded if I spoke the recitations of devotion too fast! As well as, not annunciating the sacred words, and leaning on my heels (because I was tired), instead of kneeling upright throughout the prayers.
The most important thing I learned was what the words actually meant, and the whole history or back story of relating the prayer to situations in the bible or current day life. I learned of the special gift of our Blessed Mother Mary from Jesus her son. Jesus gave his mother to us, so that we could know the love of God. Her unending love never fades away nor ceases. Jesus gave her to us so that we may experience her love and more importantly experience God’s love.
2 Moms are better than 1
It didn’t matter if you were adopted, put in an orphanage or even sold on a black market; you had a mother. A mother that would show you what love meant; she would also be certain to give you constant love and show you the way to God’s kingdom. That is truly an amazing gift!
Whether you lost your mother due to death or lost your mother because she disowned you as her own for whatever reason…remember you will always have a mother; Jesus’s mother…The Blessed Mother!
The Love Affair Grows Deeper and Stronger
In a natural rhythm I took an interest in religion. I attended Mass more, and found the one thing that saved me through the darkest times in my youth; singing! I joined the choir and it is still one of the fondest memories I have growing up.
Even though I paid for my own psychotherapy out of my own pocket from my job I worked ( at $110.00 an hour 32 years ago mind you), my mother raised hell and fought me about going every month; oddly, she never gave me one moment of grief when I spent 2 to 3 hours each week going to choir practice to sing on Sundays at the High Mass?
Religion was always in my life; if never disappointed me, coerced me, told me a lie to get me to believe, but most of all it never hurt me. It was the one thing that was constant, true and loving. So, by the grace of God; as I grew, my religion grew with me.
Fast forward to about a month before I am writing this article ( todays date is August 24, 2026 ), I was listening to classical music ( my favorite kind ) and the next song picked digitally was a beautiful classical piece written for the Church that sent my mind back to my upbringing . I was mulling different ideas about the life I had and the one I was living now. How could this person (me) go through all that and turn out relatively “normal”? I mean, through it all I didn’t steal, or even think of doing this to anyone else?
Throwing Mother Out With the Dishwater, Not the Holy Water
However, there was a subconscious effect that was a link to my life before and my life now. I turn my back on my own mother? Telling others how much I hate her, what she did to me, what an evil disgusting person she was! I do this full of pride and confidence. So full of hate, anger, and resentment, that I actually believe her death is what gave me life? Think about that for a moment?
My mother passing away and leaving this earth was when I began to live? I couldn’t exist unless she was dead? I am fighting back tears even now thinking about that. This wasn’t the voice of a loving devoted son; it wasn’t even the voice of a person that suffered the horrific abuse at the hands of trusted family members…no this was certainly not those voices!
It was the voice of evil, of satan. He being a master of manipulation, had taken the innocence of childhood and perverted it to something so vile and grotesque that the word it represents isn’t spoken aloud in society; it is whispered in closed corridors or sealed courtrooms. And the seeds of fear, doubt and shame grow deep; so deep it consumes all those who let it!
What Life Is All About?
I was getting such a high from people who listened to my story of hardship because their pity gave me a sense of authenticity. It reinforced to me that everything I went through was worth it. I could validate my life with this past experience, Wait! WTH!
My life as I live it and its purpose all boiled down to me being sexually abused and tortured for over 10 years, on top of being physically and emotionally abused all throughout my childhood up to late adolescence? What kind of life is that? Is that what God wanted; what God wants of me? I was to be the poster child for that!? If so, I failed! I was silent! So, no one ever heard about my abuse and they didn’t learn a thing from it?
I thought about my mother and all the feelings of hate, evil, and torment came flooding back. Then like an ocean wave that crashes upon the beach and then retreats to allow the shore to recover and strengthen itself; those hateful feelings inside me subsided and I realized what “all this” was for and who was responsible for it.
I began to cry and break down. I felt so ashamed for how I acted towards my abuse and my abusers; wouldn’t you?
The Lessons of Humility
It wasn’t until I let go of the mantle of victimhood that I understood the power of “giving it to God” and what that truly meant? The lesson learned of letting God handle the things in life you can’t. Handing over the power doesn’t mean you lose power; it means you free yourself so you can experience other things, like happiness, peace and love!
When you stop letting satan control your life through anger, resentment, fear and shame; you can use logic, kindness, and understanding to help you deal with the hard times you face in life. A lesson learned by releasing control to God.
I was never more humbled and ashamed when I came to the epiphany of my mother’s gift she gave to me and I didn’t even recognize it. I never got a chance to thank her and let her know what it meant; what it means to me. I came to understand, what can only be described as coming from the Holy Spirit, a realization that my mother was protecting me. She knew that satan had slipped past her in a non-threatening form of a priest and violated her, her child, and her faith and belief.
Protecting God’s Little Ones
This occurred to her children, her family, and she couldn’t do anything about it. Then she found out that satan again attacked her children; several more. And that this had been going on for over 9 years! The only thing she could do was to pray to God and the Blessed Mother to protect her from evil.
Especially protect her children; the ones she lovingly gave birth to and was most happy when she was being a mother to them.
So, when faced with the truth that she was in real danger; more importantly that her children were in danger, she did the only thing that she knew…pray! Knowing my mother, a woman that had the devotion of our Blessed Mother, and the courage and strength of Micheal the Arch Angel, she must have prayed like it was the last hope of the world. Prayed like a person who was in real trouble, and knew that the only thing that could help her was God.
Good Intentions…Can Turn Bad
When she sent her sons to spend time at the Church parsonage helping out the priest with various chores that needed done, the thought that the priest would sexually abuse them never entered her mind! The two actions didn’t compute; it didn’t fit in order to complete this puzzle? It didn’t make sense in her highly intellectual mind! So, she confronted the priest and removed her family from the source of evil.
The fact she ignored the severity of the issue at hand and continue as if nothing ever happened was her way of coping. It also kept the fantasy and majesty of God and the Catholic Church fully intact and blemish free, thus we continued to believe and attend Church. It wasn’t so much “Ignorance is bliss”; more like a tourniquet over a major wound to control the bleeding.
She thought by doing this, it would save her children and family from turning away from God. By removing us from the immediate danger and not drawing attention to the priest and the Catholic Church, she could continue to raise her family as religiously as possible in spite of the recent crushing realization.
The Lesson unlearned often repeat…
However, she forgot the significance of such an evil impression had on her growing family. Unaware that the evil and unspeakable acts her boys had experienced, would then be internalized and turned on the younger, more vulnerable siblings.
I’m sure at this point she felt exasperated and all rationale at what she did was right had been spent. She may have even questioned her faith? She may have showed a sign of weakness and the devil seized his opportunity? Thus, the years of emotional abuse and vile things she said to me weren’t her own; it was satan trying to make me turn away from God.
Not Fully Knowing at the Time…
However, it did the opposite. I didn’t know it at the time, not even until a month prior to writing this article. I didn’t understand that my anger after finding out about my brothers’ abuse and her moving us to another church not saying a word about ever again was protecting us? It shielded us from all the evils of hell and allowed us to be filled with the Holy Spirit. We humbly accepted God and the Catholic Faith; this made satan very angry. He waited and would return, return with such a devastating force of disbelief, violation of trust and shame that any mother would be defeated.
So, when I told her that I was sexually abused and tortured by several older brothers, and that it took place all through my childhood and adolescence, I can’t imagine how she felt? I’m sure the burden of knowing her discissions had caused more of her children to be affected by this evil, and that it was too much to bear. Her shame may have been the cause for her to lash out at me during those years? Saying the vile, disgusting, and wicked things she said to me; treating me in such a horrible manner?
In looking back, she was putting the attention on her. In my child’s mind I pointed the blame and hate on her. I didn’t once ever think to blame my brothers who carried out these sadistic behaviors on me? It never once was a thought to hate the priest or the Catholic Church. And I certainly never hated God nor placed blame on him? Why? How is that possible?
A Mother is Sacrificed to Save a Child
I couldn’t cope with what happened to me? I didn’t have the emotional maturity nor the necessary skills to see it for what it was and then be able to understand it and survive it. By my mother inadvertently treating me how she did in order for her to cope and deal with the issue, she gave me a person or target to blame…her! The one thing I turned to for love was the only constant thing I had-my love of the faith and God.
I owe that to my mother. She was always sure that her faith could get her through anything; no matter how difficult. She never blamed God or spoke ill towards the Catholic Church. We lived showing God respect and reverence; we may have not fully understood the divinity of the Holy Trinity or the gift of our Blessed Mother, but we knegw of their undying love for us. We also knew the power they wielded and that they were the key to our eternal life in God’s kingdom. Life on earth wasn’t static or infinite.
Those things are the things I held onto when I was growing up. My love for God and the faith is what kept me safe through it all. That love was allowed to grow and flourish because the immature, irrational feelings of a tormented kid were deflected towards his mother and not God or religion. It was a buffer to keep me safe from all the fury and evil hell could have possibly put me through; yes, I’m certain it would be much worse than what I endured growing up…much worse!
You Only Get One Chance…Don’t Blow It!
At this later stage of my adult life, I have grown up to become a functioning member of society. I may not have discovered the element to save the world’s problems, or won the Nobel Prize for Peace, but I’m here and I exist amongst the rest of the world; all of us getting by and hopefully leaving the world a better place then we found it?
So, the lesson I learned from all this? Well, let’s say the hardest lesson I had to learn was this…to forgive. Forgive those who “trespassed against you”, in other words, those that hurt you! Forgive the person and action that offends; releasing them from the pain also releases you from the pain. https://thegodpath.com/the-most-misunderstood-gift-from-god/
32 years of my life was full of hate, anger, shame, fear, depression. It was in the wrong direction, and at the wrong person. The hard lesson to learn was that you can’t go back, there are no second chances. True, you may have free will, but the thing you’re not aware of at the time is the most life changing. The people you meet, the experiences you will have and the choices you will make…will only happen once; never to repeat.
She knew; a Mother Always Knows
I didn’t confront my mother about her neglect to protect me and keep me safe. She went to her death not having to feel the pent-up rage of someone who was abused for over 10 years; all under her direct care.
But I spent the next 32 years letting her feel it. I’m sure she felt it when I wished she was somewhere being tortured and tormented like I was? Certainly, she felt it when I denied her the lamentations of a loving mother that she deserved? And when I questioned my own faith in God and what true love meant; her pain must have been unimaginable?
I was convinced that spending 32 years hating, promoting pity, apathy, and sorrow was far better than understanding the big picture, and gaining the skills to cope with it. The hope would be that you could gain understanding and teach others, so to break the cycle, or not allow it to continue.
Important lesson learned; always hope…
Although I spent a major part of my life denying myself kindness, forgiveness and love; I’m finally learning how to. I am lucky to be aware of the gifts and lessons learned I have experienced in my life. They might not be easy to see them as such at the time; however, if you have faith and ask God for his love, the Holy Spirit will descend upon you and enlighten you.
I have been given a glimpse into what love is, what God wants for us, and what waits for us on the other side. I ask God to forgive me for all those years I was full of hate, anger, and allowing pity and apathy to become my identity. In doing so, I ask that my mother be forgiven for all her actions, her wrong decisions, and making me deal with the aftermath because she couldn’t cope with the immense pressure.
Fearing Something You’ll Miss, That Doesn’t Even Exist?—
(June Tabor, Angel Tiger, Cooking Vinyl, 2001)
The heading from a line in a song sung by June Tabor, ‘All This Useless Beauty’. Original score written by Elvis Costello. https://youtu.be/F9BofR5UTz4?si=isl_kTcBf1_FS5T0 This line sums up my life after the abuse; spending years looking for somwething I could relate to. I was afraid to let go of my victim identity. If I lost that, what would I have left? I spent over three decades building that persona, how could I just walk away from it? Would people still like me? All this was “noise” was a creation by satan. It becomes a prison that keeps your soul locked away from ever being freed!
Here is the thing, that those who pity you never tell you… God wants more for you. He places you into this world to learn; lessons of love! God wants you to be happy , be kind, and be loving; spreading it to everyone to come in contact with.
I know I am not the only one that this kind of thing happens too? I’m not a special case or exception. Many people may find themselves at any point along in this story; be mindful that you can find happiness on the other side. The choice you make is the deciding factor on the results of your outcome. Remember, “If you’re going through hell, it’s good to have a God path to lead you out”
Carl F. Miller