I Lost My Marbles

a personal story of childhood betrayal, secrecy, shame & restoration.

by Caren S. Dillman


Formats

Softcover
£9.80
Hardcover
£13.36
Softcover
£9.80

Book Details

Language : English
Publication Date : 25/08/2014

Format : Softcover
Dimensions : 6x9
Page Count : 300
ISBN : 9781496934703
Format : Hardcover
Dimensions : 6x9
Page Count : 300
ISBN : 9781496934680

About the Book

Why, when we live in a sexually obsessed culture, do we hide our sexual brokenness?

So many children are emotionally abandoned after abuse and left to navigate their way alone through life, struggling to find sexual wholeness. It takes a great deal of courage to confront an abuser. The shame, along with the lie that we are not good enough, lingers long after the abuse. I believe it is what fuels the secrets. If victims were able to tell their stories safely and freely, I believe they would be able to heal far more easily from childhood abuse.

“What a great example of ‘You have to live it if you’re going to give it.’ Caren has helped all of us live it better.”

Stephen Arterburn, Founder of New Life Ministries

“I Lost My Marbles is an authentic, vulnerable look at a journey no one ever signs up to take. Written with courage and honesty, Caren Dillman’s story reveals the abuse that many suffer at the hand of a trusted loved one. Her book is also a humorous and candid love story, and a narrative of faith that is developed in the midst of the storm. The powerful conclusion will take your breath away.”

Gayle M. Samples, PhD

Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist | Executive Director at Emmaus Road Counseling

“A powerful read, presented with honesty and hope. Caren Dillman’s unflinching narrative of trauma strikes deep in the heart. We feel her pain, her shame, and her confusion. We cheer her victories. Most of all, we come away with a profound appreciation for the author’s story and her willingness to bring it into the light.”

Tammy Fletcher, Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist

www.fletchertherapy.com

“Everybody's got a story to tell and everybody's got a wound to be healed.” The first time I heard those lyrics sung by the artist Plump, I wanted to declare, “Yes we all have a story to tell and we all have wounds to heal. A light needs to be shined on the truth and our stories need to be told!” Imagine what could happen if we believed we were safe to share our stories without consequences of judgment or rejection? Our freedom and path towards healing would be liberating. When I first heard that song I was in the middle of writing my own healing story and I was again facing another roadblock. The fear that kept hindering me were questions such as, “how will other’s respond to my story, will it make a difference to anyone else? Can I risk being real enough so that my story will offer hope to others?” When I faced those roadblocks I reminded myself what I had read from the Bible: “You must be very careful not to forget the things you have seen God do for you. Keep reminding yourselves, and tell your children and grandchildren as well.” Deut 4:9 (CEV) It would be years after struggling through my own recovery before I would take the risk to share what God had done for me. Like many people I felt isolated in my pain. I worked hard to hide the parts of myself that I believed would be rejected. I had repressed most of the sexual abuse from my childhood. I was unable to make the connection that the abuse had done damage which made it easy for me to believe that I was unworthy of love and acceptance. Childhood sexual abuse results in long-term side effects. One of them includes the risk of re-victimization. It creates serious problems for the individual, their family and society. Adult women with a history of childhood sexual abuse are more likely to suffer from depression, eating disorders, poor self esteem, and suicidal thoughts as well as other problems. Although the heightened anxiety I’ve lived with has been challenging, the most significant effect was my inability to be comfortable in an intimate relationship with God. I had to learn that the shame I had lived with did not belong to me. It belonged to those who were the victimizers. And as is often too common, out of the shame and subsequent secrets I was left feeling confused and unworthy. At times in my life, when it was obvious that I needed to work on healing from betrayal and hurts I was unaware how extensive the plague of childhood abuse is in our society. Twenty-five years ago I learned that one out of every three girls will be sexually abused before the age eighteen. The statistic is nearly the same for boys will be abused? With increase awareness and knowledge, along with advances in education and treatment, the epidemic hasn’t decreased but rather increased. Who would have imagined that in America we would be faced with sexual slavery and trafficking of young girls? However, the stats don’t tell the extent of the problem. How many children, teens and adults have never told anyone their story? So why, when we live in a sexually obsessed culture, do we continue to hide our sexual brokenness? I know that so many children are emotionally abandoned after abuse and left to navigate their way alone through life, struggling to find sexual wholeness. I’ve heard and read their stories. It takes a great deal of courage to confront an abuser. I discovered that shame, along with the infamous lie that we’re not good enough, lingers long after the abuse. I believe it is what fuels the secrets. If victims were able to tell their stories safely and freely, and were believed, I believe they would be able to heal far more easily from childhood abuse. Through my own therapy work and as a psychotherapist to many others I began to recognize that there are many other factors that contribute to a child growing up without self-esteem and without confidence. Even an environment without overt sexual abuse can still be invalidating. I knew I couldn’t pass onto my children what I did not possess. I couldn’t teach them to love themselves if I secretly hated who I was. I had to find a way to parent differently than was role modeled for me. We all make mistakes as parents. The mistakes alone are not what contribute to hurting our children. It’s the unwillingness to own them and seek to do differently. At any point in time either one of my parents could have chosen to respond differently to me. They chose to reject me over seeking conflict resolution. It was left up to me to navigate through the tricky path of forgiveness. It was a slow process that happened gradually in stages. I hung onto the hope that one day they would come to me and ask forgiveness. As a licensed marriage and family therapist, I’ve heard individual’s stories all the time. Someone would come into my office and one of the first things I wanted to know was, “what is your story? What were you hoping to gain by coming here? Can I walk along side of you and help you on this journey? All of the stories I hear are as unique and original as the individual client. I have learned to love the process of hearing these stories because I know how healing the telling of them is. Some of what I’m told has been difficult to hear. At times I have been shocked and stunned with what I’ve heard. I am amazed at how they have survived. For many of these clients, I am the first one they risked sharing these stories with. I have shared my personal story in my book, “I Lost My Marbles.” I pray you will find an opportunity to share yours. You can email me at Caren_dillman@hotmail.com.


About the Author

Caren S. Dillman is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist. She has chosen this time in her career to specialize in working with clients with posttraumatic stress disorder, (PTSD). She is certified in EMDR, a therapeutic tool that she uses to assist clients who have experienced trauma on any level. She and her husband, David, live and work together in private practice in Northern California.

You can reach Caren Dillman at:

caren_dillman@hotmail.com | http://Cornerstonepsychologicalcenter.com | 916-751-9347

“Everybody's got a story to tell and everybody's got a wound to be healed.” The first time I heard those lyrics sung by the artist Plump, I wanted to declare, “Yes we all have a story to tell and we all have wounds to heal. A light needs to be shined on the truth and our stories need to be told!” Imagine what could happen if we believed we were safe to share our stories without consequences of judgment or rejection? Our freedom and path towards healing would be liberating. I find it interesting that after years of working through my issues from several different approaches, that I would continue to face shame. While it no longer has a debilitating grip, its shadow hovers above me occasionally penetrating my psyche, rendering me vulnerable to its purpose. It is certainly not an unfamiliar feeling. What is my purpose for sharing my story? Why am I even tackling this? It is so easy to say, I heard God tell me to do this. Actually it isn’t that easy. I know for some this is where they will put the book down. But I did hear Him. I didn’t hear an audible voice either inside my head or outside, but I heard Him in my thoughts. Of course, I questioned Him. I ultimately challenged Him. I reminded Him that I had never desired to be a writer. What I have since learned through this process is that we all have a story to tell. Always remember what you’ve Seen God do for you, And be sure to tell Your children and grandchildren. Deuteronomy 4:9 When I reflect back to my father’s death Dec 29th 2008, I marvel at what I now see as having come full circle. I weep when I tell others of the sense of wholeness I felt as I watched him take his last breath. Not because he was dead, although there was some relief in that, but now he would no longer be in pain. He died the way he wanted to. He died at home. Besides, now I would know how I was going to feel facing the finality of our unresolved issue. I had the awareness that what was taking place was somehow sacred, intimate. Where does my story begin? I really don’t know. I do know it is my story and not a universal one that every reader will agreed with or every family member will approve of. Twenty years ago, when I first confronted my father I honestly believed that I would confront the secret, he would own it, repent and we would move towards a new level of closeness, I had longed for throughout my life. In writing my story I hope and pray that others will believe that it is possible to heal. I want to believe that for every individual who holds on to their rage, insecurities and wounds that there will be far more who are willing to choose the hard journey of healing.