Walking on Eggshells: Discovering Strength and Courage Amid Chaos by Lyssa Chapman Page A
Authors: Lyssa Chapman
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drugs, was overly sexual, and was considered troubled by every definition of the word. At this time I really didn’t care about a thing in this world. I think now that the molestation, the fighting in my dad’s home, and the continual moving from place to place had just worn me out. I didn’t want to go back to that.
Fortunately, my mother did not want to press criminal charges against Dad. All she wanted was full custody of me. On the appointed day my mother and I appeared in an Alaskan courtroom. Dad was on a speakerphone, and I remember how angry andconfused he sounded. I wanted to cry, but my drugged-up state didn’t allow an emotion like that to come through.
Over and over Dad said as patiently as he could that he did not molest me and that he had no clue as to why I would say he did. As the trial had gotten closer, Barbara and Tucker had bounced back to Dad, and I felt so sad when they testified against me and for Dad. It had all gotten so terribly out of hand. All I could think was that I just had to get through this day and that no one (other than my dad) would ever know I was living a lie.
My mother was awarded custody, and on our way home from the trial she bought me a milkshake and said, “Thank goodness it’s all over and no one was hurt.” But that wasn’t true. My entire family was hurt by my lack of words, my inability to stand up and tell what really happened.
I have since learned that my actions were typical of a victim of sexual abuse. The desire to protect the molester and the inability to act on your own behalf are integral parts of the deep psychological harm caused by molestation. What I did was a form of unconscious survival. I didn’t want to hurt Nathan. I also didn’t want to go back to the chaos and constant moving that was life with Dad, so I did nothing and allowed the adults in my life to assume something that was not true.
As you can imagine, my actions caused problems for my family that still exist today. For this I am truly sorry. Picture me on my knees begging for forgiveness with tears in my eyes and you’ll get an accurate picture of my sorrow and shame. Whenever mybrothers, sisters, and I disagree on something they never hesitate in anger to remind me of what I did. I don’t need to be reminded. I live with it every day of my life. But I also take time to remind myself of all the circumstances in my life at the time. If others had been in my shoes, they, too, may have let events unfold around them, as I did. Or maybe not. I believe that God is the only judge, and I have made peace with Him on this.
In our family we have something we call “irrevocable acts.” These are serious things that once you do them, they cannot be undone. For example, driving while drunk is a bad thing, but calling the police on a family member who is driving drunk is an irrevocable act because it sets things in motion that can’t be stopped. For a Chapman, committing an irrevocable act is cause for scorn, derision, and mistrust, and I had just committed the mother of irrevocable acts.
Eight
★
No Cease-Fire in Sight
T he circumstances of my upbringing, although often hard, taught me the value of a dollar. Today I realize that while it is sometimes nice to have a designer purse, or a famous label on my jeans, the quality of my worldly possessions does not make my character. It is important to me that I instill that concept into my daughters’ minds, for it is a valuable one.
One way I do that is to allow Abbie to earn her spending money by doing extra things around the house, rather than just giving the money to her. Abbie also understands that if she wants something expensive, that I first have to pay rent, buy food, put gas in the car, and take care of all the other obligations that are needed for survival. Then we discuss the cost versus thebenefit and oftentimes she decides that the “something” she had once wanted was not so important to her anymore.
Understanding that my
Fortunately, my mother did not want to press criminal charges against Dad. All she wanted was full custody of me. On the appointed day my mother and I appeared in an Alaskan courtroom. Dad was on a speakerphone, and I remember how angry andconfused he sounded. I wanted to cry, but my drugged-up state didn’t allow an emotion like that to come through.
Over and over Dad said as patiently as he could that he did not molest me and that he had no clue as to why I would say he did. As the trial had gotten closer, Barbara and Tucker had bounced back to Dad, and I felt so sad when they testified against me and for Dad. It had all gotten so terribly out of hand. All I could think was that I just had to get through this day and that no one (other than my dad) would ever know I was living a lie.
My mother was awarded custody, and on our way home from the trial she bought me a milkshake and said, “Thank goodness it’s all over and no one was hurt.” But that wasn’t true. My entire family was hurt by my lack of words, my inability to stand up and tell what really happened.
I have since learned that my actions were typical of a victim of sexual abuse. The desire to protect the molester and the inability to act on your own behalf are integral parts of the deep psychological harm caused by molestation. What I did was a form of unconscious survival. I didn’t want to hurt Nathan. I also didn’t want to go back to the chaos and constant moving that was life with Dad, so I did nothing and allowed the adults in my life to assume something that was not true.
As you can imagine, my actions caused problems for my family that still exist today. For this I am truly sorry. Picture me on my knees begging for forgiveness with tears in my eyes and you’ll get an accurate picture of my sorrow and shame. Whenever mybrothers, sisters, and I disagree on something they never hesitate in anger to remind me of what I did. I don’t need to be reminded. I live with it every day of my life. But I also take time to remind myself of all the circumstances in my life at the time. If others had been in my shoes, they, too, may have let events unfold around them, as I did. Or maybe not. I believe that God is the only judge, and I have made peace with Him on this.
In our family we have something we call “irrevocable acts.” These are serious things that once you do them, they cannot be undone. For example, driving while drunk is a bad thing, but calling the police on a family member who is driving drunk is an irrevocable act because it sets things in motion that can’t be stopped. For a Chapman, committing an irrevocable act is cause for scorn, derision, and mistrust, and I had just committed the mother of irrevocable acts.
Eight
★
No Cease-Fire in Sight
T he circumstances of my upbringing, although often hard, taught me the value of a dollar. Today I realize that while it is sometimes nice to have a designer purse, or a famous label on my jeans, the quality of my worldly possessions does not make my character. It is important to me that I instill that concept into my daughters’ minds, for it is a valuable one.
One way I do that is to allow Abbie to earn her spending money by doing extra things around the house, rather than just giving the money to her. Abbie also understands that if she wants something expensive, that I first have to pay rent, buy food, put gas in the car, and take care of all the other obligations that are needed for survival. Then we discuss the cost versus thebenefit and oftentimes she decides that the “something” she had once wanted was not so important to her anymore.
Understanding that my
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