Unrecognizable Pain
January 10, 2008
The seriousness in her eyes caught me by surprise. Her voice seemed heavy and her words focused. I found myself wondering if I really was hearing her correctly. I have known Tammy for a year or so. She is young, at least compared to me. She seems like a great kid, filled with ambition and potential. As we sat and talked, she seemed to be comfortable talking about herself. But strangely, this young teenager was talking about such adult pain. It seemed that she had taught herself how to nonchalantly share difficult personal experiences as if they didn’t bother her. In such a short time, these experiences were beginning to manifest themselves in her life in ways that she sometimes thought were wrong and then other times, she wasn’t sure. She was a victim. Abuse, feelings of abandonment and false accusations were all part of her pain. Not too long ago, her mom and dad had divorced. She claimed that her step-dad didn’t understand her and seemed like he was out to get her. While she was very popular at school, she didn’t think she had any friends. It was easy to see that she felt lonely. She told me of ways she had hurt herself. I had to stop her and try to understand this. She explained that the pain that she experienced in these moments when she did these acts, made the rest of her pain seem small. I was hearing all this, but looking at the most normal teenager I could imagine. She appeared to be someone who had their act together and had so much going for them. But the more I listened and the more she revealed, I realized that she had some very troubling behavior. I’m no counselor, but it was clear to me that Tammy was very angry and these behaviors were mechanisms that helped her suppress, deny and cope with all the bad things that had happened to her. We visited for awhile and her story became more and more involved. After about 20 minutes, someone interrupted, saying “Tammy, I really have to tell you something.” Tammy was gone as quick as she had sat down and begun talking to me. Why did she open up to me? What is my responsibility to her? Do I have a moral obligation to report anything? I guess the thing I’ve thought about most is that Tammy isn’t an inner-city kid. She lives in a very affluent part of town where her mom and step-dad have done quite well financially. But they are pretty clueless about the things Tammy shared with me. To them, everything is fine and she is just being a teenager. The reason this has caused me to reflect so much is because most of the time, kids from these affluent backgrounds with these issues don’t make the newspaper. Kids with pain that we hear about are usually in the poorer parts of town. I’ve spent most of my adult life working in the urban part of town with people who have very simple lifestyles and when they have a problem, most of the time it becomes very public. In my neighborhood, folks have a harder time hiding their fears and pain. It was obvious from speaking with this young lady, that her mom and dad’s resources made it easier for her to dress up her pain, hiding it, even from her parents. I’m realizing more and more, how important it is to remember that emotional pain, loneliness and brokenness resulting from poor choices or victimization don’t discriminate. We all experience these kinds of pain at some level and at some time. What is different is how we deal with our struggles. Some try and buy solutions to their problems, while others are forced to allow their problems to be aired out for all to see. As the moral fabric of our culture begins to fray with families falling apart, our sexuality completely out of control and the growing neglect of our children, all of us are destined to embrace some kind of pain and sadness. In the midst of these struggles, the ministry of Jesus is our example. Despite their backgrounds or circumstances, He showed up in the places where people were broken. His compassion and His grace extended to those who humbled themselves. He brought healing and restoration. His touch or kind words had such power and brought hope. As I sat and talked to Tammy that night, I have to admit that I was shocked by her raw pain. Someone this age shouldn’t have to carry such injustice forced on them. But I’m embarrassed to admit that I was also shocked by her struggle because of who she was and where she lived. My stereo-type had her situation playing our differently; poor people have these problems, wealthy don’t. You probably think I’m naïve, but the truth is that those without resources are typically more aware of their need for being rescued than those with the ability to pay for their solutions. Simply put, we don’t typically hear about the problems of those of affluence. Tammy, thank you for revealing your struggle; it will help me remember how we are all so close to brokenness and pain. And also that this holiday season, I can give the gift of grace, kindness and unconditional love to those within my reach.
Cityscapes is written by Chris Martin, President, Knoxville Leadership Foundation.
