Dear BH,
I absolutely second the encouragement that Larry and Trish have sent about listening. The process of healing is ultimately the survivor's. This healing might be helped by having sympathetic listeners, but no one else can assume that burden, or enjoy that relief, as fully.
I have a hard time with that sometimes myself, because as a survivor of csa I think I have some insight. But that's all it is, insight: it's not a remedy.
Early on in my relationship with my bf, I had very strong inklings that he had a history of abuse, though he had not mentioned anything of the kind. I went so far as to write him a letter--which I never delivered--in which I told him that I suspected something had happened and that I would support him in whatever he needed to do to work it out.
I am very relieved that I had enough good sense not to send it. My "fix-it" urges were eventually countered by my recollection of how much I had hated the idea that my injuries were so obvious. Yuck! I remembered how much effort I put into trying to pass as "normal" and undamaged; it was one of the hardest things for me to cope with in therapy, that feeling of having my defenses seen through. I felt ashamed enough about what had happened to me, to have it recognized somehow would have been really painful. So to have announced my suspicions based on what I perceived as his symptoms would have been extremely counter-productive, I am sure. And, you know, when he did disclose what he has--it was the fact of his disclosure that mattered then. Because he had to choose his time for sharing it with me, admitting to me that these things had happened to him, and facing his dread of what my reaction would be.
What I most wanted to hear, when I was in early stages of recovery, was that *what happened to me* was wrong and bad, but *I* was not bad. That I was doing a good job of coping, the best job that I could. That confusion and upheaval were to be expected, but that they could be endured. (Oddly enough, the analogy that has always resonated for me was that of childbirth. Very sex-specific, I know, and not relevant to all women of course either. But that's another process that was, like therapy/recovery, completely unfamiliar and unprecedented to me, and one for which I dearly needed support and reassurance to get through.)
This is the strength that I can offer my bf now: the evidence that although all of this is very destabilizing--recovery too, sometimes, unfortunately--it is endurable. It can be gotten through. And this is what I think you as a loving partner can offer to your husband: that regardless of what happens to your marriage--because in truth neither one of you can say what will come, even setting aside the issue of abuse and recovery--the statement that you find him lovable and worthy of respect, no matter what. (Paradoxically, I suspect this is the best way to protect the continuity of your marriage, acknowledgement that it is always up for renegotiation on some level--but that's a philosophical discussion for another time.)
For what its worth, I have one more observation to offer. No one likes pity, and it's another pitfall that we must try to avoid. Are there ways in which you can sincerely affirm his competence and expertise? Can you focus on ways in which he is caring for himself and for you and your daughter? Genuine praise is so affirming, a true balm. (The same applies for you, of course, my dear. You ARE doing a great job in coping with some really, really difficult matters. Its not fair or right that this has happened to any of us, and yet, it is heroic what we can do in response.) I can well imagine that you are juggling a tremendous amount of tasks and taking on much more than you had ever thought necessary. Yet, here you are, one more day farther along.
While my heart goes out to you both, I hope it doesnt sound false for me to tell you that I find your story inspiring. You are right in there. You persevere. Even when you falter, you try again.
Peace,
Honey Girl
