Missed Cues

**contains sensitive detail that may be triggering**

In these days of social distancing and gathering restrictions, I haven’t had too many opportunities to connect deeply with others, at least unexpectedly, like I might have previously (pre-pandemic). Maybe you can relate. I’m talking about the kind of conversation that you might find yourself in, going for a long walk with a new friend or after church on a Sunday morning or with another parent at the bus stop after the kids happily jump on board and are on their way to school. It’s spontaneous, the kind of conversation that might ‘boil’ up in response to something that is said or a feeling that is sparked. If the circumstances were different, I might have had one of these conversations with the clerk at the grocery store the other day, she (along with several others, including myself) were upset about some disruptive customers (putting it nicely). In the 60 seconds that we made eye contact, I managed to see and hear her fear and frustration and then say to her how sorry I was that she and her coworkers were having to deal with such a horrible thing in an already tumultuous time (honestly, I probably said shitty). On the verge of tears, she could only look away, say thank you quietly from behind her mask and send me on my way to “have a nice day.”

It’s not that spontaneous deep conversations aren’t possible over Zoom or on a phone call, however, without various distractions like unstable internet and kids at home doing school online, eye contact, body language and generally that feeling you might get that more needs to be said, is a lot more difficult. And Lord knows, we can miss these cues even when the conditions are ideal.

I’ve been thinking about missed cues a lot over the past few weeks. I recently had the privilege of hearing a deeply personal story from someone who experienced sexual abuse as a child. With permission, I am able to share a small part of their history with you and one particular example of how important it is that we are prepared to recognize and respond appropriately to things that lie just under the surface, that need to be shared (and in some cases exposed).

My friend’s sexual abuse began when she and her siblings were in their pre/early teen years and was a secret they had between them only. Their parents were unaware there was anything going on between them. To people on the outside, they were a ‘normal’ middle class family, no indication of abuse or anything obvious that might cause concern. A situation all too common. In a miraculous way, the abuse between them came to an abrupt end, they simultaneously came to a realization that what was happening between them was wrong. However, the fear and shame associated with the abuse was heavy for these children, something they would carry with them into early adulthood. I have talked in other blog posts about the adverse effects of abuse/trauma on the development of children. Indications can be not doing well in school, hyper-vigilance/anxiety, depression, being unusually quiet and withdrawn, drug and alcohol use, etc. It isn’t a surprise these teens also struggled as a result under the weight of what they were carrying. Of course the parents were also at a loss, not knowing how best to support and love their hurting kids because they were simply unaware.

I’d like to think it is a sign of the time, we really have thought about and handled trauma differently over the past century (among other things). When my daughter was assaulted 12 years ago, my elderly godfather (who was also a retired priest) said to my mom, ‘just tell them to stop talking about it’. He and his wife experienced the crib-death of their son many years ago but never talked about it because it made my godmother cry. That simply wasn’t possible for us, obviously not a healthy response either. This culture of silence or willful blindness has changed for many of us but the consequences show up in subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) ways. This could in part, be one reason why those cues I mentioned are sometimes missed, even by loving parents.

A number of years after the abuse stopped, the summer my friend was about 15, she went to a Christian girls camp. If you ever went to over-night camp as a kid, you will likely have fond memories of crisp evenings spent around the campfire. Bundled up in warm PJ’s and hoodies, sitting on log benches, singing songs, telling stories, roasting marshmallows, s’mores and perhaps hot dogs too. If you’ve been to a Christian camp in particular, sometimes on special nights, a camp counsellor will share their testimony. In my friend’s case, the testimony she heard resonated deeply with her because she heard many things that were all too familiar. The counsellor talked about the ‘highly taboo’ topic of incest between her and her cousin. She talked about it in a way that created a circle where it felt safe to be vulnerable.It was clear that the counsellor was still loved and accepted even though she had been through a similar experience and she talked openly about it to a whole group of girls! Up to this point my friend still had not shared her experience with a single person and this was the first time she felt safe enough that she might.

At the end of evenings like these, everyone is released to go back to their cabins unless they would like to talk and pray about something. My friend stayed back to talk with the camp counsellor. She wanted to share. The words were so close but fear had her tongue-tied. Afraid of what her confession might do to her family, if it wasn’t kept confidential, what would her siblings think, her parents, would they be mad? Would any of them go to jail? What about the other girls at the camp, what would they think if they found out? There is no end to the things fear will conjure up in a young mind on the verge of stepping over the threshold toward freedom.

But before she had a chance to work up the courage to share, they were interrupted by another camper who hijacked the conversation.

The moment was lost. The cue was missed.

Do you feel that let down? Because I sure did, still do. To add to the loss of this opportunity, my friend continued to carry the burden of this secret with her for many more years until it was finally exposed, a decade after it happened.

As my friend describes, even though it was a missed opportunity on both parts, what the counsellor shared, as well as being someone who was a role model, the experience was still meaningful and healing because it gave her hope that one day she too would find freedom from her secrets. I am thankful my friend received it that way and still sees this as a positive experience that helped point her toward a path of healing.

Still, the counsellor and the staff around her, missed the cue. Quite frankly, I think it’s negligent and unkind (the right adjectives escape me) to create an environment where someone, especially a child, could share but then is not supported in doing so. It can literally mean the difference between life and death. It’s like doing open heart surgery and then not stitching the patient back up. That would never happen in an operating room, but it does happen, at camp, at church, even in support groups, and between friends.

We need not only places/spaces, but a willingness to create real or virtual environments where kids and adults too, can feel safe enough to share their stories. My friend said it best, “if these stories don’t have a place to be shared those kids will grow up to be adults that will never know full acceptance or forgiveness, they will never feel fully known and fully loved by anyone.” Not only do we need places where people feel safe, but they also need support, people who pick up on the cues - because there are always cues. Always.

I don’t have all the answers, this is something I’m working through as I think about and write this blog. I think an important point that this could boil down to… beyond the need for child sexual abuse prevention training, building our listening skills and our vocabulary so we can help people verbalize what they are thinking/feeling, rejecting unwritten no talk rules and shame around topics that are still considered ‘taboo’ like incest and child sexual abuse - because I think this is a big reason why those cues are missed….

Maybe more than ever, we need to practice presence. The present is this exact moment. It is the pause, it is now. I think that if we could be more present with each other, whether we’re at the grocery store wearing a mask, sitting around the campfire or even on Zoom or the telephone, we can learn to pick up on the subtle cues. If we ask a question like, “hey, are you ok? It seems like there’s something going on,” or, as my friend suggested, the camp counsellor could have (among other things) asked directly if my friend could relate to any part of her story - and even if they were interrupted, there could have been an opening for another conversation at some point before camp was over. We might be wrong. I’d rather be wrong and show that I care than not say anything and regret it later.