This is not a Dream | For my Readers
by Elouise
Seminary Land, 1990s. My faculty colleagues and I have been summoned to a meeting with the chair of the seminary board.
Recently we sent him a letter about a decision that will affect all of us. He didn’t appreciate our letter. Nor was he happy that we insisted on being given a voice in the process.
I’m uneasy. I sit near the door, away from the seat reserved for the chair of the board. His seat is at the far end of the large board-room table. Portraits of past seminary presidents hang on the walls. Ironically, this room used to be the bar in a luxury hotel.
My colleagues and I sit around this table for faculty meetings and special lunches. Usually we enjoy lively conversation and laughter. No one is laughing today.
The chairman enters and sits at the head of the table. He thanks us for coming. Then he speaks his mind. His words are harsh and patronizing.
- You’ve deeply disappointed me. I’m angry and upset. I didn’t have to let you make any comments about this decision.
As he continues his scolding, his voice rises and his face flushes. My colleagues and I are silent.
I look down at my lap, frozen and on the verge of tears. It’s hard to breathe. My heart is racing. I don’t know it then, but I’m having an anxiety attack.
- I feel 8 years old. I’m sitting at the family dinner table. My father is in his seat of honor as head of the house. He says I’ve deeply disappointed him. In front of everyone he tells me I’ve let him down. I should have known better than to behave like this. I’m a stubborn, rebellious little girl and he’s going to punish me.
The chair of the board continues. He tells us we’ve acted like children. A few courageous faculty members speak on our behalf. This is not a substantive conversation between adults.
The chairman’s anger keeps spilling out onto the table.
- I want to cry. I feel helpless, angry and scared. This man has the power to make or break me as a professor.
The meeting ends and I leave immediately.
- I feel humiliated and beaten. Not with a cane or wooden spoon, but with a tongue-lashing.
Now it’s November, 2015. Last month I began reading (and highly recommend) The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk, M.D.
It’s about how healing from trauma happens in persons with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). Trauma from child neglect, sexual or domestic abuse and war rewires the brain, mind and body. It blurs the line between then and now.
Healing means my brain, mind and body are back in sync. The past is the past. The present is the present. What happened still happened, yet most of the time it doesn’t derail me.
In order to heal from PTSD, I needed to find words that described both the horror of what happened then, and most important, the horror of how that affected me on the inside.
I’ve been finding those words for several years. I’ve written them in my journal and shared them with trustworthy people. For nearly two years I’ve adapted them for this blog and found new ways (poetry, for example) to express the horror of it.
Today I’m at peace with Dad. Usually I’m able to remain in the present—even in a board room with an angry chair of the board scolding me. He isn’t my father, and I’m not his girl child. I can get up and leave or talk back—and live with the consequences.
Better, I can blog and share my experience with you!
I can’t thank you enough for reading, commenting, prodding, and sharing your experiences. You’ve contributed to the peace I now have. You’ve also given me more joy, encouragement and laughs than you’ll ever know!
Gratefully,
Elouise ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 9 November 2015
Image from http://www.amazon.com
Telling the Truth 
I am not sure that I would have said you had been Traumatised, but describing the meeting clears that up for me. When I was a teenager we had a lady from the church staying with us. And I overheard her talking with my mother. She was obviously suffering from severe depression and in those days the treatment was electric shock therapy. I was very surprised because I didn’t believe that a Christian would ever get depressed. I know better now.
I also know now that some Heads of Christian establishments can be overbearing, dogmatic and in need of a quick kick in the pants on a regular basis.
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I remember as a young girl listening to my parents talking in hushed (secretive) voices about a woman I knew from our church. She was, unfortunately, being subjected to electric shock therapy to deal with her depression. Of course it didn’t work and was devastating to her and for her family. I’m so grateful for books like The Body Keeps the Score–scientifically based on brain research, and utterly truthful in showing how and why long-trusted approaches don’t touch the real problem. Instead, they just explain it away via this or that theory.
I’m also grateful for your comments about trauma and Christian leaders. The legacy of generational abuse, passed on without being recognized–much less treated–only does more harm to the next generation. That includes ideas about power and whether one is born male or female. Thanks to some church teachings and social expectations, this kind of leadership is nurtured, applauded, rewarded and protected.
As always, thanks for your comments.
Elouise
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Thank you, Elouise. Cell memory is very strong, and makes no distinction whatever between past and present. The body merely sets its pre-program on ‘GO’ and there you are, feeling like a three year old.
I think that is what bullies count on, actually, that they will trigger that apology response.
And the key for me in this post, is this line.
‘I can get up and leave or talk back—and live with the consequences.’ which is exactly how it is when we remember we are powerful, and the equal of anybody.
Vive la liberte! 🙂 xxxx
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Fran, Your connection to bullying is thought-provoking. Thanks, too, for your affirmation and encouragement to be “powerful, and the equal of anybody.” I like it! 🙂
Elouise
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Elouise, would it surprise you that I, and I believe some other students, desired to have a voice in some of those conversations as well. Never would I imagine that the oppression from the board had been so overwhelming and childish. As I read this I felt like you all were listening to a child king, having a tantrum.
One of the questions we ask when the anxiety level goes up and all the responses are “no, No, NO!” is this, are we responding out of fear or out of faith? The board’s response clearly strikes me as one of fear.
I am glad to hear you are finding paths to wholeness.
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Oh David. Thanks for this reminder! There are moments in institutional history when truth is revealed. Though this wasn’t the entire board, it was their leader. Looking back, I wonder what he was afraid of. Thanks for your good comment about what happens when anxiety escalates. I know from my own experience, that’s absolutely true. To me, it feels as though everything in the whole wide world is at stake.
There were several similar moments in my 28 years at the seminary–moments when the board, the chairman or some other official berated the faculty for their inability to see things a certain way. Though these were instructive, they were never fun.
Cheers!
Elouise
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Well let me make a simple comment. I love reading your blogs. My mother -in-law was a simple soul with not much education. She often would quote. “Sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me.’ She got it so wrong!!! Names/words are the essence of what hurts and can destroy us as you so eloquently and helpfully point out.
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Hi, Robin. Thanks for your comment. You’re so correct: names and words can get into us and do tons of damage. Then there’s often that little question inside: “What if they’re correct about me?!” Sadly, they don’t have to be correct to do damage. I think this is a common happening with children–too bad we can’t just delete that saying from our cultural memory.
Elouise
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