“Shame derives its power from being unspeakable.” – Brené Brown
When we hear the word abuse, many of us imagine violence. Something extreme. Something unmistakable.
But abuse is not always physical. At its heart, it is the misuse of power in a way that causes harm.
It can be emotional, psychological, sexual, verbal, financial or coercive. It can be loud and frightening, but it can also be quiet and subtle – so subtle that we may struggle to name what is happening to us.
Perhaps we have also become desensitised. Television, films, the written word and social media repeatedly expose us to behaviour that is controlling, humiliating, threatening or degrading. Sometimes it is presented as passion, jealousy, humour or even love.
And what should never be normal can slowly begin to feel normal.
Then there is shame.
Shame has a way of minimising our experience.
It wasn’t that bad.
Other people have had it worse.
Maybe I’m overreacting.
Perhaps it was my fault.
Why didn’t I say something?
And so we remain silent.
As a psychotherapist, I have witnessed how difficult it can be to begin to uncover the shame attached to abuse – particularly when the person who has hurt us is someone we love, trust or are connected to.
A husband or wife.
A mother or father.
A daughter or son.
A sister or brother.
A friend.
Sometimes the hardest abuse to acknowledge is the abuse that doesn’t fit the picture we have in our minds of what abuse is supposed to look like.
A place to start is simply to become curious about our own experience. To stop asking whether it was bad enough to deserve the word abuse and begin asking:
What happened to me?
How did it make me feel?
What did I learn to silence in myself in order to live with it?
Because our shame can minimise the event.
It cannot erase its impact.