Lila ~ May 16

 

One of the workshops that I attended at the Called to Peace Conference was called “contributive, not causative,” led by Chris Moles and Greg Wilson, both men who counsel abusive men.  Greg Wilson also works with teenagers, many of whom are stuck in the middle of DV and custody battles.  Chris is also a pastor of a church in WV, and often works with abusive men in the context of church and religion.  

He gave the first talk on Friday morning.  He shared about how he has counselled abusive men in the ministry.  He has watched them lose their ministries.  “Hey man, if this is how you are, then there’s plenty of jobs out there at Wal Mart and Home Depot, but ministry ain’t the place for you!” 

Much of what they said, I already knew, by going through my own counseling, doing my own reading and research and watching YouTube videos.  But it helps to have it taught, to hear it from other people.  

They talked about the factors that cause men to act the way that they do.  

These men often have their own childhood trauma.  They have high ACE scores.  They also have other underlying mental health issues that contribute to their impulsivity and their instability, such as ADD, ADHD, OCD, cluster B disorders, depression. 

Of course, these are not meant to justify the behavior or excuse it, but it does qualify it.  

When I was in college, I attended a lecture led by a young adjunct professor.  She was American and Jewish, though not observant, and had grown up in North Carolina.  She’d taught English abroad as a new college grad in The West Bank and Gaza, and now, taught and lectured on Israeli-Palestinian relations.  

She talked of the violence and terrorism that come out of places like Gaza, through groups like Hamas, and elsewhere in the middle east.  The people who perpetrate these acts of terrorism are often victims of poverty and terrorism themselves, and act out of that place of hurt.  “It doesn’t justify it, but it qualifies it,” she said. 

Those were the words I’d been searching for all along, as a young person, trying to understand violence and injustice in the world, as well as some of my own behaviors.  Hurt people hurt people.  It doesn’t justify it, but it qualifies it. 

And so it is with abusive men.  They are oftentimes acting out of a place of hurt, and they hurt women and children. 

I see this with my dad.  For so long, I blamed my mom for what had happened.  And to be sure, she had her own problems.  She was not easy to deal with.  And yet, though I didn’t see it then, she was the victim, too.  Of my dad’s angry outbursts, of his worsening mental health.  His living a double life, having a separate cell phone and bank accounts.  Money was disappearing and she didn’t know about it.  The way my dad fell behind on his billing and insurance, thus not getting an income.  His car and his living space increasingly cluttered and unclean.  The way he refused to open up in therapy and get any real help.  They way he used to be happy and healthy with joy and life in his face, but over time, deteriorated.  He’d isolate himself alone upstairs in his recliner chair.  He’d go for long walks and not come back for hours.  He’d come home later and later at night.  The affairs, the pornography. 

The way he had his own undiagnosed, untreated mental health issues, as well as his own trauma, of the fall out from his own father’s choices, and the way he was ostracized by his own community.  

There is also the occupational stress of working as a dentist.  He ran his own practice 3 days per week, and worked the other 2 days at a mental institution.  I believe that his job was wearing on him.  He didn’t know how he was going to go on and work in this field for another 25 or 30 years.  The medical field was changing.  He’d have to go back to school and learn new skills and materials, as well as update his office—run with paper charts and ledgers and books—to use computers and EMR.  It all seemed so formidable.  

Maybe he felt like no one would understand.  Burnout is real.  Occupational stress is real.  But so few people understand it, especially in a white collar profession, and in a culture driven by performance and achievement.  It’s hard to say, “I need a break,” or “I need to change my profession,” and be understood. 

Sadly, my dad hit his rock bottom and he didn’t come back up.