13 Ways to Support Someone Who Has Been Emotionally Abused

If you know someone who is journeying through the depths of their thoughts and feelings after emotional abuse and you are unsure of what to do, this could a helpful resource for you.

Loving someone at their darkest and most vulnerable is really hard. Trying to help can be overwhelming and exhausting, especially if we haven't stood in those shoes before. But I wanted to offer a (non-exhaustive) list of things that may be an encouragement to someone in search of healing. These are all things that I wish my own abuser had heard when she was young. I think they could have made all the difference in the world.

I'm not a counselor or a therapist, I'm just someone who has walked in these shoes and is learning what my heart needs to hear most. Maybe these things could be helpful in your effort of loving and extending grace.
 
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Listen. 
Being heard is incredibly important in the healing process. Chances are that there have been years of being shut down, shut out, and misunderstood. See past the mask and understand that there is real and intense hurt.

Think about how you might advise someone who was being physically beaten on a daily basis and apply that to emotional abuse as well. 
Emotional abuse may leave no physical scars, but is no less harmful. Saying things like "at least you weren't" and "you need to toughen up" and "don't burn bridges" can be incredibly damaging.  The scars are deep and the the support is generally non-existent.

Affirm the most basic things.
The phrase, "I believe you" can go a long way.

Affirm (the believer's) identity in Christ.
But what does that really mean and look like? I've heard it over and over again and it never really make sense - until it made sense.
Affirm that the Holy Spirit is in them. Tell them that they can work towards trusting the voice of truth again. Affirm that the Lord is capable of healing and renewing. Affirm that where they feel weak and broken, the Lord is strong and powerful and is also a good and gracious Father.

Tell them that "It's okay to grieve". 
Even if that person is responsible for cutting ties or creating solid boundaries. It's still a loss. Grieving the loss of a relationship, a childhood, security, control is valid and necessary.

Tell them that "Every victory counts".
A step in the right direction is absolutely huge. Seeking help, allowing the hurt to rise to the surface, dealing with feelings as they come rather than stuffing them down is absolutely good.

Tell them that people can not give them the clarity that they so deeply desire. 
Lead them to helpful resources. Admonish them to find the truth and live according to those core truths. Living while listening to a constant committee of internal naysayers and conflicting thoughts is exhausting and depressing. Depending on other outside "voices" can be damaging in the search for truth. Listening to just a couple of trustworthy and wise counselors may be best.

Help them to find their vision and goals.
One of the hardest things when searching for clarity is choosing goals to meet. Achieving those goals requires grit and grace and ultimately falls on them.  But helping a friend prioritize their goals and find "vision" is a huge help.  (ex: personal and spiritual health, keeping their own family safe, doing the right and honest things.)

If you don't know what to say, saying, "I'm so sorry" is enough.
You may not know how to handle the situation and you may not be able to take on that type or amount of emotional burden.  Knowing your limits and knowing that you may not "know" is important too. Gentling guiding them towards a counselor (a safe place) where they can talk it through is great advice.  

Ask,"What can I do?" 
Don't be surprised if they say, "I don't know". They may be too overwhelmed to have an answer off the bat. Recognize that sifting through heavy emotional baggage is taxing mentally and physically. Maybe it's watching children or bringing a meal on occasion so they can attend counseling. Maybe it's giving them uninterrupted time to spend with God.  Maybe they need a couple hours of extra sleep. Maybe they need to just have fun, away from the emotional stuff, for a while. Offering to do [x,y,z] to lessen the burden so they can find help and safety makes a huge impact.


Keep trying. Keep encouraging. And also learn your limits.
Don't burn yourself out trying to hold someone up. Those who have been abused have years and year of baggage and confusion to work through. You can't be the hero, holding them up (along with that overwhelming weight) BUT a little note, an affirming word, a helping hand, can go a very long way in helping them feel valued and supported. The last thing someone wants to be is a burden. Do what you can but don't allow them to become too taxing for you. It's okay to rest. You can't fill anyone else up if you are empty. Creating healthy boundaries in your friendship may empower them to create healthy boundaries as well.

Be a source of truth. 
Those that have been abused have a hard time deciphering truth from lies. Be a source of honesty. Put advice through the filter of "is it kind and is it necessary" before speaking. The depth of a relationship will determine how well honest direction will go over.  I can not stress enough how important honesty and genuine concern can be. Do not exaggerate and do not compliment falsely. But if you have something sweet and uplifting to say, say it!  They can definitely use the boost ... even if they don't want to accept the positive encouragement.  It takes a lot of affirmation and positive reinforcement to replace the negative.

Recognize that the healing process takes time. Don't get annoyed when grief and pain doesn't go away quickly. Being sad doesn't mean that progress isn't being made. Tears can be healing. Time does not heal all wounds. But time and small victories do create a new normal. We are who we choose to be - just one step at a time.

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Dear Sweet Friends,
The simple fact that you took the time to read this list means so much. It's obvious that there is a great deal of compassion in you and a desire to understand. Sometimes there are no words or actions that can make things"better" when someone is hurting, but I want to encourage you that YOU are a key component in ending the cycle of abuse that can plague families for generations.

Your concern and care, your honesty and graciousness, are huge tools in helping someone get the help and healing they need. Showing someone they are valued and heard can be life-changing.  Someone like YOU can be what keeps someone from becoming an abuser someday. Even the most simple words or actions can be the seed of hope that a hurting heart needs in order to bloom again. Thank you for caring, thank you for trying. That is the best we can do, really. 

I. Will. Have. Order.

I get really anxious sometimes. And then I get angry.

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When I was a senior in high school, I had a bad habit of waking up late. Really late. The bus would be purring outside while I threw on some clothes, grabbed my gear, and went running down the stairs and out the front door. I could have probably won some sort of Guinness record with my morning pace. When my step-mom would come upstairs later, she always noticed that my bed was made. I may have been lethargic and late, but somehow still "clean". Why? Because that habit was so ingrained in me as a child, it was now (as a teenager) a natural response to years of knowing that the consequence of a messy bed was after-school misery at my mom's house. 

Disorder in my house as a child meant screaming, grounding, guilt trips, and the throwing of all kinds of stuff (folded and orderly or not) in a pile in the middle of my floor.  Often times I would be greeted with " you didn't do what I asked..." or "what did I tell you..." instead of a "how was your day?" I dreaded coming home much of the time. To this day, I still feel terribly uneasy when things aren't orderly (especially in my own home). I struggle to leave my house without  tidying up and cleaning off surfaces. I'm almost incapable of leaving without straightening the pillows on the couch, folding the throw blankets and putting them in their designated place. I'm always anxious leaving and almost always anxious coming home. I still get the same breathless jitters when I come back to a disorderly house that I did when I was young.

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These days, my home is my escape and my safe place, where I can control the majority of what goes on, or so I'd like to think. I want our home to be a safe place for my husband and our children as well. Unfortunately, I'm learning that my most common response to anxiety is anger. And that's not okay.  Frustration, resentment, impatience, call it what you will. I consistently find myself getting aggravated when things feel out of control. I'm annoyed when the counter top becomes a crumb collector and the floor is covered in  scrambled eggs and half squished green beans. I lose it when my kids are under my feet while I'm cleaning or working out. I end up yelling at bedtime because tired boys just. won't. rest.  I fuss and fret because I'd like to be able to finish one simple thing.

"I will. have. order." is the wailing of my soul and my mouth. 

The problem is, that makes me the villain, and I really don't want to be that. 

While I can justify discipline and I can justify teaching my children with structure and responsibility,  I know that the root of my problem is anxiety and anger. My home might be pretty and tidy, but my spirit ... not so much. I often find myself thinking, I hope someone didn't just hear that. I'm ashamed and sincerely convicted about my mouth and my attitude. I want to be a woman of integrity above all. I need to be the same person when someone is watching as I am when I'm alone.

I have to talk myself down off of my angry ledge regularly. I have to be my own advocate when those anxious feelings start flooding in. I push the waters back by breathing and then ... I put myself back into my 8 year old shoes for a moment. I remind myself about the things I wanted and needed when I was little. I remind myself that those legos that I've been stepping on are proof that my kids are being kids. I tell myself that the cluttered counters and dirty floors mean that my family is being fed. I tell myself that a gracious Mama is a good Mama and that grace will have to cover the mess.

I tell myself that our home is lived in and well-loved. Home is all about the heart after all. I still clean and I still quibble but I am actively trying to cover each day with grace. Grace upon grace upon grace. Grace when I fail and grace when things don't go my way.

I know that my own problems with control, anxiety, and anger have a definite impact on my family. I am living proof of this. I don't want to be the kind of mother that my children fear. I don't want my home to be tense. I don't want these walls to be filled with shouting and disapproval. While I desperately want our house to be clean and orderly, my top priority is to help create a safe place for my family. A peaceful home requires sacrifice on my part. 

I have to deny my impulses and knee-jerk responses. I have to ignore those nagging feelings and focus on what really counts. I am certain that God is going to meet me where I am in this battle. I am taking it day by day and moment by moment. 

Every little victory counts.

A Critical Spirit

An encouraging voice or a critical one? That is a question I've been asking myself a lot recently,  regarding the 'voices' I've been listening to and the voices that escape my mouth (and fingers as I type).

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We don't typically mean to be critical but our judgment usually shows our heart just the same. Sometimes we tear others down because we feel bad about ourselves. Sometimes we point out flaws because we would rather direct attention away from our own. And sometimes we are just proud. Plain and simple.

I am so guilty of this. I would like to think that much of my sin comes from underlying feelings of unworthiness, and that's probably true to an extent, but I also have to face the facts. Being a follower of Christ requires that I take responsibility for my own temptations and poor judgment. Intention does not neutralize impact. Harshness makes us unattractive, especially to those that do not know Christ.

When my words are harsh and my attitude is demanding, I am thinking of myself as better than others. I am failing to see the person, failing to see potential, and trying to orchestrate change in the wrong way. That's the truth.

We all do it. ... while driving, while working, while sitting in church. We even use social media to to push perspectives and criticism.  Women, I think, are particularly skilled in this area. Most of us are very good at, uh, knowing it all.  I know I am. [insert laugh here].

We have our own ways (we call that independence). We have the wisest words (we call that teaching). We have knowledge and experience to advise (we call that correction and discipline). We gossip about other people, "bless her heart" (we call that conversation). The way we label it sounds pretty good, but our true intentions might label it differently. Might. I only know where my own heart falls short.

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I wanted to share some things that I have been meditating over because I know that I can be ugly sometimes. It's a heart problem. It's a pride problem. -- It's a problem. Let's leave it there. -- And I know that heart change doesn't necessarily require knowledge (of mind) it requires a willingness to grow. It requires teach-ability and it requires a spirit of humility.  Even the most seasoned preachers and most knowledgeable scholars have things to learn. Information can come from all sort of people in all sorts of positions, in all walks of life. Some of the most valuable lessons I've learned are from some of the most broken people.

Perhaps unity as the body of Christ is achieved through listening to one another. There is no place for cruelty in the church. We speak in love and we speak with conviction, but not at the expense of respect. A body can easily be torn apart and broken down by the cancer of criticism.

Knowledge isn't everything. It's attractive, commendable, and necessary ... but knowledge doesn't win the heart, only love and respect can do that.

With respect to my personal life, I like to think of myself as a critical thinker. I have a lot of thoughts and visions and plans and hopes. And I do try very hard to make people see my point because I feel very strongly about the power of grace in ones life (my life). I also like to win.  And I know that at times, I have sacrificed my sweetness.  And for that I am sorry. As it turns out, I'm less of of "critical thinker" and more of a "critical stinker", a lot of the time.

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Here are a couple of differences, that I've been meditating on, between "constructive" criticism (critical thinking) and having a critical spirit:

Critical Thinking sees potential
A Critical Spirit finds fault

Critical Thinking asks questions
A Critical Spirit makes assumptions

Critical Thinking desires understanding
A Critical Spirit wants to be right

Critical Thinking desires growth
A Critical Spirit expects perfection

Critical Thinking appreciates differences
A Critical Spirit devalues other perspectives

Critical Thinking offers grace first
A Critical Spirit offers discipline first

Critical Thinking acts as an advocate
A Critical Spirit acts as [the] judge

Critical Thinking is respectful
A Critical Spirit is arrogant

Critical Thinking is responsive
A Critical Spirit is insensitive

Critical thinking sees the big picture

A Critical Spirit has tunnel-vision

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I want to be better; for my family and for the people I come into contact with. I want to be a light.


It's hard to know how to find balance grey areas.

What do you think? Do you have a way of drawing the line in your life?

Guilty

I feel guilty. 
All the time.
I feel blamed, useless, not good enough.  I feel as though I should be able to do more, handle more,  work faster, give more.  I should be capable of speaking better words, loving others better, being more encouraging. I should be "sweeter", more holy, more ...  More. More. More.  I feel as though I am responsible for fixing everything and keeping the peace, even when I'm not directly involved.  I feel deep down as though the problems and frustrations of others are a direct result of something that I did, or said, or didn't do.

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It's hard to remember instances where I was made to feel guilty or blamed (with specific words) in my earlier childhood years, partially because, children have a natural grace and innocence about them. But somewhere along the line, somewhere in the middle of extremely high expectations and harsh words of criticism, I started feeling the blame. I would cringe if I made a mistake or had any sort of accident (especially if I made a mess). I fully expected to be punished for being irresponsible, selfish, and/or stupid. I thought that when my sister behaved wildly (like children often do) it was a reflection on me. When my mom would cry, or rage, or get sick, it was because I created too much stress for her;  because I wasn't a good enough listener or because I couldn't fix the situation. This mentality definitely came to a head the summer before my 17th birthday, when I was specifically told that I was to blame for my mom's illness and stress and temper and exhaustion. Those words sealed my belief and still have a great impact on my life as an adult.

These days, sermons and messages feel like they are built specifically to attack me. I often find myself sitting in church, listening to a sermon about "respecting your parents", "keeping your family whole", "having healthy emotions" or "having a quiet and gentle spirit" and translating the message into something more along the lines of...
"reasons why [Lauren] is a terrible Christian"
"reasons why [Lauren] should never be a leader"
"reasons why [Lauren] will never be as righteous as [so-and-so]"
"reasons why [Lauren] is a terrible wife, and mother, and friend"
"reasons why [Lauren] is never going to be free"
"reasons why [Lauren] will never be enough" 

Those thoughts and feelings are a knee-jerk reaction to feeling faulty. When we are told over and over again how bad we are and how inferior we are, we begin to feel utterly defeated. But they. are. lies.

 I have to tell myself, "Not everything is about you."

Apparently, I say "I'm sorry" for all sorts of things. And I don't even realize that I do it most of the time. It's yet another subconscious (verbal) reaction to feeling like something is my fault. My father-in-law often comments on my quickness with apologetic words and it always get me thinking.  -- If I'm always sorry for everything, am I ever really sorry for anything real? It's relatively easy to flip from feeling guilty about everything to feeling guilty about nothing. It's important to seek the truth and distinguish between guilt and conviction.

The thing about sermons and advice is, they are meant to instruct. A heart can easily become unteachable because of the protective walls built around it (always trying to maintain any semblance of pride). It's self-preservation. The heart can also easily be crippled and crushed because words feel like knives. They feel personal and cut straight to the core.  And because abuse causes us to generalize negatively about ourselves, we also tend to generalize and draw conclusions that maybe weren't meant for us.

"It's not about you being detestable, [Lauren]."

"It's about you being a human-being in need of direction, and mercy, and grace."

"It's a call and challenge to be better, not an accusation."

I have been trying to label my feelings so that I have a better grasp of how to handle each of them as they arise. It's often difficult for me to decipher between guilt and true conviction. How am I supposed to know when I am making myself feel bad, and when I am being led to make positive changes?

Generally (here we go with that word again), I am learning that conviction is different than a false sense of guilt. Conviction is that small whisper, those daily self-audits, that help us to align our goals with our current actions. It is honest, but generally kind. The goal of conviction is to encourage positive change. It wants us to become better, more whole, more holy, as a result of seeking Christ. 

Guilt, on the other hand, is usually a deafening voice. It's an aggressive, repetitive, growl of ridicule. It can rarely be escaped or made silent, even with modified behaviors. Guilt from the enemy is a thought pattern and a cruel cycle of destructive thought. These thoughts and feelings are not useful for building up. That wicked voice of guilt is cold, and isolating, and purposeless, and chaotic. And it can not be the voice controlling us.

Unchecked and unheard "conviction" (I'm sure) can also become pretty loud. But, I trust that if I am really seeking what is right (and paying attention to what and who I'm listening to) the truth will be brought to light.

I am constantly fighting between feeling and believing, emotion and fact. It's an exhausting battle between believing what experience has taught and what truth really is. I have to remind myself daily (on a minute by minute basis, even) to be careful who I'm listening to.  And I have to remember that despite constantly feeling defeated, I have to keep those "walls of pride" in check as well.

In the words of C.S. Lewis, [Mere Christianity]

"True humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less."