With a bad story, the temptation is to draw attention to it in a bid for help, justification, sympathy, or just any kind of attention. People exist who, no matter where they are, just can’t wait to work the conversation around to their own history, and then to discuss intimate details you never wanted to know. They point at themselves and scream, “Look! Look! Look!” No one wants to look. No one cares. Really. And no one owes anyone else. The person who did it got away with it for now (a lot more on that later), and my problem isn’t anyone else’s problem.

I’m one of those people who won the lottery in terms of shitty stories. I actually got boomed from 3 separate therapists in the first 10 years after I recalled my past. Each time they told me, essentially, that the details were an abomination they could not stomach. I don’t work with a therapist.

However glamorous my story, there are always worse, and in the end, everyone bears a similar recovery burden.  It’s not harder to be me than it is to be you, and no matter what I have suffered I’m entirely responsible for my reply to my own history.  I reveal my history to show why I was so driven to know what I now know.  Because I have inherited wealth, a loving partner, and a great deal of mercy from God I have had a lifetime to pretty much just study the process of redemption.

One of the biggest pieces of genuine redemption is to be the one who looks at the car wreck starring yourself. And I mean don’t just slow down and edge past the wreck with a discrete sideways glance. I mean you fucking park your vehicle at the scene, get out your notepad, camera, recorder, magnifying glass and set up a camp for the rest of your life. I don’t need my son’s, my husband’s, my friend’s, or my larger family’s attention. I do need my attention and I already have God’s attention (which is where the real joy comes in).

It’s not enough to skip on through, or to get the gist, or to kind of do broad strokes on the bad events. The events need to be gone over with meticulous attention in the most exquisite detail. Every sound, every shape, smell, color, and noise has to be known, even the objects in the room or in the scene, the people also present, and not just for an isolated incident, but for every single incident. You need your attention. You need your own help.

The details will play a big role in your recovery.  You will use these details to understand your compulsions (your seemingly involuntary, uncontrollable behavior).  Eventually these details will help you to see that you have exceptionally good reasons to do all that you have done, much of which has likely been destructive to you and to those around you that you want to love.

For the moment, though, understand why adult people who suffer from hurtful personal history clamor for attention and “help”. They’re in pain; they were once helpless, and, as victims, they’re sure if someone sees, and helps, the pain will stop. Other peoples’ attention and help, even becoming famous and having literally everyone hear your story and your being able to buy all the “help” you want, will not heal personal pain. You need your attention and your energy.  You do not need to buy anything, ever.  And your recovery is independent of others.  You do not require anyone else to help you, only God.

Most nights of my life I’d wake up late at night saying the same three words, “Help, help, help.” Now I know. Help was there when it happened and it’s still here now.

There are three witnesses to every crime. The victim sees. The predator sees. And God* sees. All three of those living beings are in the room, on the scene, and see every single facet of the event. Usually, though, only God remains conscious, only God is fully present in the moment. God has the stomach for it. God keeps looking. Never once, not for a fraction of a second were you ever alone with the predator.

The first message I’d like to underscore is what has often been my only lifeline, God sees.

The scenes I picture in my head are so ugly that they’re illegal to present on film in most civilized nations, but God watched every scene from the stage itself. No one needs to know the details, no one needs to carry that cross except for me. However, the comfort is knowing there are no secrets, none. Nothing that was done to you or to me will remain hidden. The crime will be exposed and it will be paid for personally by the ones responsible. (Lots more on both subjects to come.)

*I know God through a Christian lens. However, I am a Jew by blood and I have lived happily in Muslim countries. I articulate how I know God, not the right way or the only way.