Tuesday, February 4, 2014, I read a posting in Facebook in support of Dylan Farrow. What follows is my somewhat revised response. I believe my response is as relevant insofar as Wendy's article. An apology is a strong way to facilitate any attempt at rapprochement. While the apology does not mitigate the horror of the betrayal, it is nonetheless indicative of a far more preferable response than any ill-conceived attempt to abdicate responsibility for one's actions than by denigrating the character of the victim.
I recall when I finally told my mother what had happened with my father when I was a child -- Dad had died and, despite what had happened all those years ago, I loved him and missed him very much -- her response to me defined who she was. My belief to be truthful with her about my experience may have been grounded in my belief about our relationship as well as my happiness that my mother was still alive. Her being alive seemed so important to me at that time. HOWEVER, I wanted our relationship to be grounded in honesty and truth. Thus, my ill-conceived notion of being truthful with her. Her response? She called me despicable names as she ACCUSED ME of being jealous of her happiness with my father.The ongoing divisiveness of those who 'believe' Mr. Allen is incapable of behaving in the unconscionable manner that young Dylan described saddens me deeply. However, as I was to learn when I finally told my mother about what had happened to me, for my mother, it was far easier to 'blame' me than believing my father's behavior represented a painful truth she simply and categorically denied and refused to believe. The responses of those who refuse to believe one child's horrifying experience reminds me of something similar that happened to me.
Although I never really doubted that my father loved me, it took me a very long time [and years of therapy] before I considered him a pathetic excuse of a father for not knowing how to express his love for me . . . I had far less difficulty forgiving what he had done.
As for my mother? The one person I ever truly wanted to love me was the one who was incapable of loving me -- not because of MY defects as a 'good' daughter/human being -- but, she could not love me because of her emotional baggage that had virtually NOTHING to do with me. In all reality, I never really existed as a child for whom SHE was responsible.
Consequently, it has taken me far longer to 'forgive' her -- almost as long as it took me to forgive myself for being such a worthless human being. Based on the 'lessons' of my parents, I never learned about genuine love, much less healthy relationships -- intimate and/or platonic. Toxic dysfunction was the only behavior I 'knew.' And, I'd learned that lesson all too well. It informed literally the majority of my life.
And yet, when I was FINALLY able to forgive? Being released from the emotional stranglehold of the horrific nightmare [in its totality] was the moment I felt authentic freedom and love that was not dependent on anyone's validation of my worth.
I learned this as a result of sitting within the sacred silence of myself and in the self-discovery of reflection. At long last, I knew what it was to feel Divine love -- that has always been the essence of who I am -- and always have been.
My inner connection with Spirit, my divine consciousness in which I choose to live life, now provides me with all I could ever need or hope to have. Learning about the authentic power of loving compassion and forgiveness has been, for me, what I needed in my life so that I could at long last let go and live fully.
The non-believers and staunch supporters of Mr. Allen are seemingly oblivious of their response as an added betrayal. My personal experience taught me that overcoming the emotional nightmare of the initial sexual abuse and its emotional aftermath was difficult enough without the added trauma of disbelief and my having to suffer the wholly unnecessary consequences the disbelief engendered.
Stephanie Doty
Women's Issues Matter
February 5, 2014
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