For years, I carried a terrible secret. Despite being a ghostwriter of highly successful books such as 90 Minutes in Heaven for Don Piper and Gifted Hands: The Ben Carson Story, I hurt. Deeply.
As a child, I had been sexually and physically abused. Part of my healing came when I learned to talk about my pain. I also wanted to provide a safe place for other survivors to connect. That led to starting a blog, menshatteringthesilence.blogspot.com. That same year, my book When a Man You Love Was Abused came out, and three years later, Not Quite Healed was published.
“After two books and years of blog entries,” I said to an editor, “I’ve written everything I know about abuse.”
“You still have things to say,” he insisted.
I smiled indulgently and forgot about his words. Over the next months, a number of men (and a few spouses) commented on my blogs, thanking me for being transparent. “The more open you are, the more you give me permission to open up,” one email read.
Other responses pointed out that most sites focused on giving information—which no one argued against. “When you share your agony and moving beyond it, you give me hope,” one reader commented. “Your blog helps me know I can overcome. With God’s help, I’m changing from victim to victor.”
Then the editor’s words came back to me. In my two books, I had been as open as I knew how. While reading through my own blog entries, I realized I was becoming increasingly transparent. That meant I was still healing.
Writing a blog is different than writing for publication—I wrote directly to wounded men who wanted help. I noticed how many gutsy areas I hadn’t touched on in my books that were now common on my blog. That’s when I admitted I needed to write one more book aimed at encouraging wounded men and the women in their lives.
Personal emails to me were self-revealing, poignant, and transparent. One man’s father (who was a pastor) sexually molested him until he left home. Several confessed coming out of the gay lifestyle. Two former perpetrators wrote of their healing.
I edited their emails slightly, returned them, and received permission to post them on my blog. Their words touched readers because each came from a different background and rang with authenticity. I asked several if I could reprint their entries in a book. The only way I would use their material was if they provided their full names and email addresses.
Some weren’t ready, and I understood. “That’s part of your healing,” I told them. “When you’re ready, you’ll find your way to speak up.”
Five survivors agreed. Their contributions added depth and richness to More Than Surviving.
More Than Surviving is more than just personal accounts or clinical data; it's a series of short meditations for readers to delve into whenever they have the time or need a quick burst of encouragement in a difficult day. Vulnerable, honest, and incredibly courageous, each ends with a brief prayer to help men face their pain and to grow from the experience--and past it.
So here I am again: I’ve written everything I know about male childhood abuse. I’m through. This time I mean it. (But then I meant it the other time too.)
