Friday, March 31, 2017

The Scars That Hurt Most

by Brian T. Lynch, MSW

I met an 11-year-old boy once who had a long red mark on the front of his neck. Someone thought the marks were suspicious of physical abuse by the boy's father and called the office where I worked. I was assigned the case and went to the family home to talk with the boy and his family. The boy was shy at first, so we talk about general things that interested him until he was more comfortable with me. When I finally asked how he got the mark on his neck, he fell silent and stared down at the floor. After a long pause, he motioned for me to follow him outside. 

He brought me out the back door to a shed in his yard. Without speaking, he opened the door of the shed and pointed down to a piece of rope on the floor. They, in a soft voice he said, "I tried to hang myself, but the rope broke,"

I instinctively put my hand on his shoulder (something I would never usually do) and we both just quietly stared at the rope. I was overwhelmed by this boy's shame and sadness.

I reassured him as best I could that everything would be OK. We walked back into the house so I could speak to his dad. He went straight to his room. During my discussion with his father, it became clear just how much he loved his son. He said he was tough on the boy because he just wanted his son to grow up "the right way." The father told me he has a difficult childhood with a physically abusive father. When he was a young man he got into a lot of trouble himself. He didn't what his son to experience the hard lessons he had to learn, so he was tough on him. He admitted that he yelled a lot, but assured me that would never harm or beat his boy the way he was beaten by his own dad. 

At that moment I somehow decided to ask this father to show me his scars from those beatings long ago. He pointed to his heart instead and said, "They are all right here inside me." 

"That," I said, "is where your son's scars are as well." Then I told him how his son got the mark on his neck, and how sad and ashamed he felt inside. When I finished talking the father was visibly shaken. He agreed that he and his son would go speak with a counselor as soon as possible. Then he did something I hadn't expected. He called his son into the room, grabbed him in a big hug and they both wept in each other's arms.

It was this moment when I fully appreciated for the first time that the scars that hurt us most are almost always the ones no one else can see.

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