Monday's Mailbag

Today, I will begin with letters I have received. The first is from "Agnes," who writes about my July 18 piece entitled Twelve years ago today...:

"There are few things like complete personal rejection that are capable of making you feel so helplessly rotten and wounded. When I went through the break-up of a long-term relationship (five years) I came to believe that focusing on it, even through sympathetic therapy, was not helpful because it only magnified my anger and disgust at my boyfriend's perfidy, and I have distrusted therapy of any kind for any reason ever since (probably an overreaction). So I am not surprised that support groups failed you.

"My coping mechanism was to infiltrate the lives of my friends, and my path to healing, as it were, really started one sad and lonely Friday night when I called one of my former roommates for sympathy. Before I could launch into my endless woe is me loop, she apologized for not having been in touch, but she had been spending all of her time with her family after her brother, her super achieving, super sweet and generous baby brother, died in a military aircraft accident. I spent hours listening to her express a grief that dwarfed mine in every way imaginable... So complicated, so unfair... but time to start letting go of the pure victim's sorrow that was sustaining me less and less well every day, and to move on. There were so many other people who were so much more deserving of what I could give.

"I went to church the entire time... I was so grateful for the routine that I often went two or three times a week... Even though I felt desperate, I tried to live a chaste life. I did volunteer work assisting families of critically sick and injured people. I took my dog for long walks.

"I hope you continue to heal..."

The other is from "Miriam," and concerns my August 1 piece entitled My Charismatic Moment:

"I must tell you how moved I was after reading your post 'My Charismatic Moment.' I completely understand what you mean and have had several instances of discernment myself (particularly during my teenage years) that, in retrospect, I feel saved me from some untold danger. I have always felt it was the presence of the Holy Spirit. I have no other explanation. Like you, I suffered depression in high school and off and on for most of my life. Like you, July 18 is a sad day for me as my father passed away that day, and though it has been 17 years, the memories are very fresh. I enjoy reading what you write as you are so honest in your revelations about yourself. That is so rare nowadays. Anyway, thank-you for sharing. Your contributions are meaningful to many of us out here in cyberland..."

Well... not everybody. "Peter" takes exception to the same piece:

"Am I to understand that my sister was abused because the Holy Spirit chose not to give her the gift of discernment? Or maybe that my parents did not do a good job as catechists? Please, some compassion for those who are victims through no fault of their own, and certainly not because God or their parents failed to protect them."

This reader seems to wonder why some people suffer, while others do not. That is the mystery, really; one that is in God's hands, requiring our faith that all will be done according to His Will. Granted, it is not as easy in practice as it is in theory. I took great care to acknowledge as much in my piece:

"The young men listed as victims would have been young boys the same time as me. Their emotional state at the time was much like my own. I remembered 'Tom,' and his attempt to become familiar with me. What could have happened? Had it been for the worst, what spared me? I was no more astute than those other boys. Why was I spared and not them?"
 
By asking the questions, "Peter," I admit to not having the answers. To put my own experience in the proper perspective, I added the following:

"I can never pretend to share the fate of those who fell victim to a sexual predator. Nor can I pretend that my own experience did not happen."
 
I am at a loss as to how much clearer I can be.