What Has God Got to Do with It?

This may sound funny knowing that we're talking about the worship of Satan in all its ugliness as the abuse I lived, but I was raised a Roman Catholic. I was baptised as an infant, went to church every Sunday and all holy days and was sent to Catholic school when I was old enough.

Over the bed in my room hung that famous picture of a guardian angel escorting two children across a tattered rope bridge. Sorry I can't remember the artist right now but that picture is forever etched in my mind. It always has been. A part of me loved that picture and believed that I had such a guardian angel.

And yet, I was stolen out of that very bed at night and given over to sadistic people for the purpose of rape and torture in the name of the devil. To say that these occurences don't make sense, would be a gross understatement. But such is the life of most every victim of ritualistic abuse.

I think part of the game was convincing the victims that the kind, loving, all knowing God that they had been taught about at church, didn't rescue them because they were not worthy. God didn't love them and He turned his back on them.

I know that was an essential part of my brain washing and yet that one part of me never gave up her love for that guardian angel. She never gave up her love for God. She may have gotten lost a few times along the way through our lifetime, but she has always managed to maintain a voice that could be heard.

When I did finally go to school, I clearly remember one of my favorite church services being those celebrated on Good Friday. From first grade I was mesmerized by the stations of the cross. Attending services on that day were always optional but I never missed a service.

I remember those services as being long and very sad. While I would never allow myself to cry, let alone in public, the stations of the cross on Good Friday were the closest to tears I would ever come. Part of me somehow seemed to understand the atonement this service represented. I would kneel throughout the entire service praying for forgiveness for what, I did not know! All I knew was I needed to be there.

Over the years, I have strayed from my religion. Even before the surfacing of my memories of abuse, I had ceased going to church. But I have never strayed from the principles of that religion. I have chosen to live my life guided by what I believed to be the "right thing."

I know that one of the most difficult issues to deal with for many ritualistic abuse survivors can be God or religion. Even many of the survivors of childhood abuse that does not go to the extremes of ritual abuse can have issues with God. At twelve step programs God is commonly referred to as a "higher power" for those who can not handle the term otherwise.

For me, it doesn't really matter, God or higher power. What matters is the values that the term represents. I don't blame God for what did or didn't happen to me. I blame people. God may have given people free will but I would hate to think what life would be like without it.

I still don't go participate in organized religion. There aren't enough hours in the day. I chose to practice my beliefs every minute of every day and not turn them on and off because it's time for church like so many who participate in organized religion. I believe when judgement day rolls around on my list of short comings will not be that I didn't honor the Father.




multiple personality disorder MPD dissociative Identity disorder did