by Steve Theisen
"Sister, why do you wear that ring?" as a 9-year-old, I asked.
"Because I'm married to Jesus," she answered.
This nun, my fourth grade teacher, wore the brown Franciscan habit with the cross of Jesus around her neck.
I trusted the Catholic Church at 9 years of age because I believed what Sister said: that she was married to Jesus and the priests were Christ on earth.
After the school day was out, I helped this Sister clean the chalk boards and tidy up.
One day after school, this school in the north end of Dubuque, Iowa, where I made my First Confession, my First Communion and severed as an altar boy, she had me stand next to her desk where she was sitting. She taught me how the Eskimos kissed.
A few days later, she showed me how the Americans kissed.
A few days later, she taught me how the French kissed.
She continued this abuse after school almost everyday, on Saturdays, and during the summer months.
Visualize a nun, approximately 38, 39 years old, having her tongue in a 9-yr old boy's mouth.
Visualize a nun, laying on top of a 9-year old boy with her tongue in the boy's mouth or her having the boy lay on her?
Who was the 9-yr old to tell in those days? Even today some people will not believe these horrors. Even today, some say we shouldn't tell.
Sometimes we forget the innocence of children. I challenge the non-believers of clergy abuse to look at children who are 8, 9, and 10 years old. Are they not innocent? Do these children who are in their formative years not trust?
The Church told me at age 7 that I knew right from wrong - the age of reasoning for First Communion.
"Sister, why do you wear that ring on your finger?" "Because I'm married to Jesus."
Who was the 9-yr old boy going to tell that he betrayed Jesus because I was fooling around with his wife? It was the worst of sins.
Who could I have turned to?
Who could I have turned to when I knew it was my sin that put one of the spikes into Christ when he was crucified?
Fear and guilt kept this abuse going on until the 6th grade.
My abuser had me sit next to her during school Masses so she could hide her hand that was holding mine under her habit. She gave me a rosary and a rosary case. Inside the case was a picture of her that she had placed there. She hid me under her desk when other kids had to stay after school. When the kids were gone, the abuse would continue.
I broke my arm one summer. My mom called the nun thinking she'd want to know. My abuser came to the hospital and from behind the curtain kissed me on the mouth and reminded me to be careful because I may say some things under anesthesia and then she disappeared.
She kept me after school under the pretense of tutoring me in Latin so I could be an altar boy.
Kids teased me about being the teacher's pet. That hurt. The teasing would have been worse had they learned of the abuse. Even so I couldn't tell them for surely they would not like me or been friends with an evil and immoral person.
I ended the abuse but feared what she would do or who she would tell.
I can't look back and ask, "what if?" I can only look forward. I'm eager to look forward these days and appreciate what I was not able to appreciate in the last 40 years.
Sexual abuse is unforgiving.
I learned now that suffering sexual abuse at a very young age disturbed the mental, emotional, spiritual and even physical growth patterns of my formative years.
To compensate for the loss of the formative years it seems my brain developed "wrong thinking" or rational to combat the effects of abuse.
Since then, I've realized that I have ended many relationships and friendships by just walking away.
I carried the abuse internally and silently throughout my childhood development, teen years, and into adulthood.
My silence didn't mean everything was okay. Inside there was so much pain and guilt.
I cried at night curled into the fetal position.
I grabbed the pain in my stomach.
I cried silently so my brothers won't hear.
The pain was massive.
I prayed to God at night to take away the pain. I asked Him every night that I would not wake up in the morning. He would not listen to my prayers. Even God didn't like me for He didn't listen to my prayers.
How did I grow? How did I grow emotionally, spiritually, and mentally with my terrible sin? I don't know. I did it by covering and hiding my terrible guilt, pain, and shame. What did that hiding do to me?
I know now that I did not grow into the best person I could have become.
I now know that I did not become the best husband I could have become.
I now know that I did not become the best father, son, brother, friend, or co-worker I could have become.
I know now that many lives went unfulfilled because of abuse.
I now know the lives damaged and unfulfilled were not just victim lives. Our love ones or those who tried to love us were also damaged and unfulfilled.
Abuse not only affects the victim, it affects those that love us. I unknowingly found the wrong way to deal with our hurt; a way to ease our pain; a way to block out our guilt.
What is a family member to say to the victim who is depressed? Abuse is like the tentacles of an octopus. It's capable of destroying and devouring whatever it grabs hold of.
I worried that my silence has meant that other boys experienced my fate at the hands of this veiled pedophile monster.
Flashbacks that trigger the reliving of the abuse all over again. Flashbacks that cause anxiety, depression, etc. I handled low self esteem often by striking out against others. I would feel guilty or hurt so I would isolate myself. Isolation - the last thing a victim needs.
Sleep disturbance. What sleep? Trying to say prayers at night for myself would wind my mind up for hours or I avoided sleep to avoid nightmares.
Imagine the difficulties of controlling memories when trying to intimate with your spouse.
I didn't go looking for crutches. Abuse found the crutches for me.
I unknowingly stumbled upon things that took away the pain temporarily. I didn't now these crutches were temporary pain relievers that could end up in addictions. I did not know these crutches would cause people that loved us pain.
No, I seldom look back. I look forward to the future.
But I do wonder, "what if I wasn't born Catholic?"
Steve Theisen
Iowa SNAP Director
124 Celeste Street
Hudson, IA 50643
319-231-1663
ltreggiefan@cs.com
FireThePope.com
P.O. Box 638 Geneva Illinois 60134 USA