Not My Secret to Keep: A Memoir of Healing From Childhood Sexual Abuse

By DIGENE FARRAR and Hurn Cynthia

DIGENE FARRAR was in New York City, launching the modeling career she'd always dreamed of. The morning of September 11, 2001, she was two blocks away when the first jet crashed into the World Trade Center. Her instincts as a registered nurse led her to the scene to help, and she was there when the second jet hit. In a blink, trauma reactivated the

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sunsielle Press, LLC
• Release date: Oct 31, 2014
• ISBN: 9780990459712

Book preview

When you are abused as a child, the result is usually self-destruction. Digene, however, chose life. She overcame the most significant wounds a person may encounter. The reality, truthfulness, and wisdom she found can be a guidebook for us all on how to use our hunger for life as a motivating force. Read her book of wisdom. Let it coach you through life, helping you to free yourself from the wounds of your past, to rise above them and fly.

—Bernie S. Siegel, MD, whose best-selling books include 365 Prescriptions for the Soul and The Art of Healing

Digene Farrar offers a rich, honest, and compassionate account of trauma, recovery, and thriving. She digs deeply into her experiences of childhood sexual abuse, 9/11, a glamorous modeling and acting career, and a supportive marriage under great pressure. We follow her through the maze of trauma recovery on a journey filled with challenges and help. A great read that will be inspirational for survivors and instructive for their therapists.

—Laurie Anne Pearlman, PhD, Coauthor, Treating Traumatic Bereavement: A Practitioner’s Guide

For Digene Farrar, 9/11 was not only a massive traumatic experience in its own right; it also opened the Pandora’s box of her chronic childhood abuse and neglect. In a rich, highly engaging narrative and diary, she writes an awe-inspiring testimony of her traumatization, her coping with its sequelae, and her courageous journey toward recovery and healing—both of the psychological and physical scars—while also pursuing a challenging professional career. The narrative evokes in me the highest esteem for her: her highly upright personality, her power and dedication, her love for her husband, her ability to commit to therapy and bond with her therapist, thereby overcoming her severe attachment trauma. With unusual clarity and compassion, Ms. Farrar shares the essential lessons learned and her recommendations for survivors, their partners, and therapists.

—Onno van der Hart, PhD, Utrecht University, Utrecht, The Netherlands, Senior author, The Haunted Self: Structural Dissociation and the Treatment of Chronic Traumatization

NOT MY SECRET TO KEEP

NOT MY SECRET TO KEEP

A MEMOIR OF HEALING FROM CHILDHOOD SEXUAL ABUSE

DIGENE FARRAR

with CYNTHIA HURN

This book details the author’s personal experiences. Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals. This book is not a substitution for consultation with health-care professionals. The author and publisher urge all readers to consult with licensed health-care professionals.

Copyright © 2014 by Digene Farrar

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

Sunsielle Press, LLC

505 Broadway E #380

Seattle, WA 98102

www.sunsiellepress.com

Printed in the United States of America

Published 2014

18 17 16 15 14  1 2 3 4 5

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014918673

Ebook ISBN: 978-0-9904597-1-2

Cover design by Sheila Cowley

For my grandmother Sadie Downey and aunt Delma. Your love and nurturing buoyed me for the years to follow.

For my husband Jack. Your love and support has sustained me throughout the years.

For my brothers. Some of the best times of my childhood were our times spent together.

For survivors. I walk with you. You are not alone.

CONTENTS

PART ONE: The Journey

Introduction: The Quest

Chapter 1: The Contest

Chapter 2: Beginnings and Endings

Chapter 3: 9/11

Chapter 4: Safe in Seattle

Chapter 5: Marriage Is a Package

Chapter 6: Cleaning Up the Aftermath

Chapter 7: Back to New York

Chapter 8: You Are Not Alone

Chapter 9: Is It Really Cancer?

Chapter 10: Grieving the Loss

Chapter 11: Facing Reality

Chapter 12: Exposure Therapy

Chapter 13: New York: Return to the Quest

Chapter 14: A Leap of Faith

Chapter 15: Hands-On

PART TWO: Transforming the Journey

Chapter 16: Prevention Begins with Awareness

Chapter 17: The Impact of Sexual Abuse

Chapter 18: Why Choose Therapy?

Chapter 19: The Survivor’s Partner

Appendix I: Resources

Appendix II: Recommended Reading

The Authors

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To my coauthor, Cynthia Hurn, thank you for helping make this more than simply a story with your amazing skills and diligence. You opened doors to a writing world I never knew existed.

To my editor, Jennifer Hager, you are a gifted editor, an enthusiastic cheerleader and wonderful mentor. Thank you for believing in me right from the start and for your help in guiding me through this process.

I would like to thank Jenna Free and Beth Jusino for providing encouragement and enlightenment of the book process. I am grateful to Sheila Cowley for her support and patience through the design process.

I thank Carrie Wicks for her detailed proofreading. I am thankful for Becki Chandler’s help in marketing and web design.

To my therapists Janet Brodsky, LICSW; Jill Birnberg-Perry, LICSW; Julie List, LICSW. Your guidance, care, support, education, and belief in me have made a tremendous impact on my healing.

To Harborview Center for Sexual Assault and Traumatic Stress, Jewish Board of Family and Children’s Services, and the September 11th Fund. Thank you for providing me with excellent counseling services.

To my dental team, William H. Cleaver, DDS; James W. Cherberg, DDS, MSD (his team Angela and Margo); Susan Maring, DDS; Thomas Maring, MD, DMD. Thanks to you, I can smile confidently at the world.

To Gilion Dumas, attorney, thank you for your legal advice and encouragement.

To Susan Benson and Kristen Kahlen, thank you for reading drafts, editing, and supporting me throughout this book process, and most of all for your years of friendship.

Thank you to family, teachers, and numerous friends who have been encouraging and supportive throughout my life.

PART ONE

THE JOURNEY

INTRODUCTION

THE QUEST

I CAN’T COUNT HOW MANY NIGHTS I have lain awake with my story projecting on the screen of my mind, and how often the mere thought of writing it down overwhelmed me. Where would I begin? Why would I even want to tell what happened to me?

Every time I questioned my motives, the image of a young girl haunted me. In the corner of her room she curled her body around a book and devoured its words. Maya Angelou’s I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings had become her most treasured friend. Why? The child in the book wasn’t the only one with secrets too big to bear, for the girl in the corner had them too. I was that girl.

I carried the burden of silence and the weight of the abuse I endured. My first secret buried itself deep inside me at six years old when my body was trapped on the bathroom floor. Fear held me prisoner, and unspeakable pain stripped my innocence.

I held on to my past for so many years. Why should I break the silence now? Oprah Winfrey spoke about her abusive past on television. Here’s a woman who looks like me and who dared to tell her story. She told it with honesty, dignity, and compassion for herself. She was releasing herself from the burdens of shame, guilt, and responsibility. By daring to share her story on such a public forum, Oprah gave people like me permission to free ourselves from the cruel actions of others—actions that had stunted our lives.

Wasn’t it time to release my truth? To free myself from bonds of shame? Wouldn’t my action motivate others, showing that they too could be liberated from their fear? Each time I wavered, my heart knew there was only one answer and I returned to the work of writing my story down. It has not been easy.

This account is mostly for those of you who have survived childhood sexual abuse. I want you to know that you are not alone with your experience, your fear, pain, and shame. Like you, I have traveled this rocky path—along with far too many others. I hope something from my story will resonate with you and offer encouragement to seek your own healing and resolution.

In diary-like entries of Part One you will learn about the incidents that set me upon this quest to heal and integrate the child I was with the woman I am. I also share many of the things I found most difficult to talk about in therapy. I learned that the truth can be stated without losing respect in the eyes of family and friends, but most importantly, without losing self-respect.

I’m here for you as a testament that speaking of the abuse and its aftereffects will contribute to your recovery. Being heard is a vital step to healing from any trauma. Having your feelings validated and working through your anger and grief will provide an opportunity for you to feel whole and to understand yourself, perhaps for the first time. When we do this, we replace turmoil with peace and we open ourselves to a life filled with spontaneity, love, and joy.

This book is also for our families, friends, loved ones, and the communities we live in. These readers will get a better understanding of the extent of damage caused by childhood sexual abuse and the remarkable courage it takes to be vulnerable and tenacious enough to heal. Part Two of this book contains valuable resources for survivors, families, therapists, and others.

It took years to shed the façade I operated under during my entire life. Slowly I was able to look at the negative beliefs about myself—beliefs that were drilled into me and that lay deep within my core. It was only in facing these negative ideas, questioning their validity, and working through them that I have come to know, heal, and love myself. The greatest gift I received through my struggle is the awareness that I’m not just surviving. Today I can honestly say that I’m thriving. I invite you now to join me on this path of healing and growth.

—Digene Farrar

CHAPTER 1

THE CONTEST

MAY 2001

Arriving home from our vacation, I head straight for the answering machine while Jack carries the bags upstairs. Let’s face it: my priorities are different than my husband’s. Two Welcome home messages from my friends make me smile. They know how miserable the gray blanket of a Seattle sky can seem after two weeks of laying on sun-washed beaches. When the third caller’s number appears on the screen, I don’t recognize it. I’m greeted with an exuberant female voice: Congratulations! Out of more than six thousand entrants, you have been chosen to be one of twenty-five semifinalists…

Slightly annoyed at the unsolicited sales call, I’m just about to press the erase button, when the second half of her sentence hits me like a thunderbolt: "…in the MORE/Wilhelmina ‘Over 40 and Fabulous’ contest." The hand that hovered over the erase button drops to my side and the rest of her message continues.

Earlier in the year, I had been visiting my dear friend, Barbara. Despite a sixteen-year age gap between us, when we’re together, it feels like we’re a couple of young teenagers. Anyone overhearing our conversations and laughter would probably say we sound like them too. I was sitting on Barbara’s couch, browsing through MORE magazine.

What are you doing with that magazine? Barbara teased. It’s supposed to be for sophisticated women over forty. I made a face at her and continued to flip casually through the glamorous, glossy images until one particular heading seemed to leap off the page. I hesitated and studied the announcement.

Hey, listen to this… I began to read out loud, "MORE magazine has partnered with Wilhelmina Modeling Agency to host an ‘Over 40 and Fabulous’ model search contest."

Skipping to the line that had captured my attention, I continued, "Among her other prizes, the winner will receive a one-year contract with Wilhelmina Modeling Agency in New York! Barbara, do you realize what that means? Wilhelmina is in the major league of modeling. They represent the supermodels of the world. Whoever wins this contest is going to have her dream fantasy come true."

Hmm, said Barbara. And you’ve got a half-moon grin on your face because?

"Maybe I should enter the contest. Hundreds of women will be reading this—who knows how many will be competing. I wonder… if I sent my photo in, do you think I’d have a chance?"

Barbara frowned as if looking at me over reading glasses. "Well honey, you surely can’t win a contest if you don’t enter it!"

That night as I lay in bed, I couldn’t get the competition out of my mind. For several years I had modeled locally on a part-time basis, but I always harbored a fantasy of living in New York and working as an international model. I thought my chances of ever doing that had long since passed, but who knew—this contest might just be my opportunity to shine! The next day I slipped my photo and application into a large envelope. Like a child who tosses her coin into a wishing well, I dropped it into the mailbox. I never mentioned a word of it to anyone, including Barbara. Within a few days I had forgotten all about it.

The woman from MORE magazine is rattling off her spiel, which now includes instructions, If you’re still interested in competing, we’ll need to see additional photos of you. These should be from the following angles…

I can’t believe I’m hearing this. I grab a pen and start taking notes, but my hand is shaking and the woman is talking at the hyped-up pace of a New Yorker.

Jack calls down from the upstairs bedroom, Sweetie, do you want me to put your things in the laundry?

I can’t think laundry and lifelong dream may actually happen in the same sentence. I keep scribbling as fast as I can. The message comes to an end before I catch all the details, so I push Replay and listen again.

Ten finalists will be selected from the additional photos. These lucky women will travel to New York for a thrilling weekend while staying at one of the city’s finest…

I double-check the number, and with hands still shaking, I return the call, confirming my interest. I promise to send the additional photos as soon as possible. For the next few hours I’m frantically gathering and selecting modeling photos at the angles the magazine wanted. Hoping I’ve made the best choices, I rush to the post office to overnight them. Up to now the day seems to have disappeared in a flash, but when I return to my car, I sit in stunned silence.

A few minutes later I’m driving and replaying everything the woman said on the phone. Having a top New York agency could mean working in New York and internationally. That had just never happened for me. What are the chances of it now, in my forties? What are the odds of being selected out of six thousand women? Wow. I need to slow myself down. I’m only one of twenty-five potential winners. They’ve still got to narrow us down to ten before the real contest begins.

I spend the next few days keeping myself busy, constantly trying to put the contest out of my mind, which is nearly impossible to do. Two weeks pass, and I am beginning to think nothing will happen. My balloon of hope deflates a little more each day. Oh well, it was just a fantasy after all. Then, when I least expect it, the phone rings.

The same woman, in that fast-paced New York voice, is offering me her congratulations once again. I’ve been selected as one of the ten finalists!

Am I available to be in New York from June 19th to the 22nd? Available… are they kidding? I’m shaking so much, every time I place the phone in the receiver, it falls out. I can’t even hang up the phone! It takes me several minutes to compose myself enough to call my husband.

Ever since Jack retired, he has been working at the golf course, one of his favorite places to hang out. Oh my, where do I begin? What do I say to him? When he answers, I decide it’s best to get straight to the point.

Sweetie, how would you feel about joining me on a complimentary weekend in New York while I compete in a national magazine’s modeling contest?

Jack’s response is typical—slow in coming but good-humored. He’s happy for me because I’m excited, but could I fill him in with a few missing details? Once he grasps the full picture, Jack is behind me 100 percent.

"When they see you, Babesa, there won’t be any contest."

Bless that man, what would I do without him? My next call is to Barbara. I can hardly wait to share the news. She’s as excited as I am, and among her other exclamations, she claims the right to say, I told you so!

Suddenly my days are filled with shopping for my wardrobe. This includes the perfect black dress, a requirement for the interviews and final judging. I decide to host a get together with some of my closest girlfriends. I couldn’t wait to surprise them with the news and have them help me select a dress from the three I’ve chosen. It’s a fun night full of laughter, sharing, and—most important of all—the support of friends who seem genuinely delighted to help me prepare for my adventure.

TUESDAY, JUNE 19, 2001

Jack and I board the 8:00 a.m. flight to New York, and upon our arrival, we’re greeted by a limo driver who’s holding a sign with my name on it. He takes us to the Dylan Hotel, where we check in. Along with my room key, I’m handed my itinerary. I barely have time to set my luggage down before I’m whisked off to the MORE magazine office for a 5:00 p.m. wardrobe fitting. After the fitting I have a brief meeting with the public relations representative who quickly covers how to handle speaking with the press in regard to the contest. I welcome the guidance, but it’s a little too much, too fast, and it’s starting to make me nervous.

Next on the schedule is a 6:30 p.m. dinner meeting at Bryant Park Grill where Jack and I are to meet the other contestants, the MORE magazine staff, and the Wilhelmina agency representatives. As we arrive at the restaurant, Jack looks at me and asks, Are you ready? Pausing for a moment, I take a deep breath and attempt to center myself before we enter the dining room.

There are ten tables, one per contestant. Jack and I are seated at a table with Dieter, president of Wilhelmina agency, along with MORE magazine executives: Lois (beauty and fashion director), Julie (publisher), and Myrna (editor in chief). So many names, so many faces, and oh so many questions! I keep reminding myself to focus and listen to each question before answering and give just the right measure of polite response with all the poise I can muster.

I’m so glad Jack is by my side. Throughout the meal and conversations he keeps me grounded and relaxed with his smiling eye contact and the occasional touch of his hand. Dinner ends, and before we know it, we’re back to the hotel. Finally—a chance to catch my breath. Jack and I lie in bed comparing notes, basking in the experience of it all. We conclude that the judging began at dinner. Based on the way I handled their questions, we think I have every reason to feel confident I’m in the running to win the contest. The pillow talk tonight is hopeful and sweet, but now it’s time to turn out the lights. First on my agenda tomorrow is a 7:00 a.m. breakfast meeting.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 20, 2001

I wake—exhausted—at 6:00 a.m., then shower and dress, and I’m in the restaurant by 6:50 a.m. The other contestants arrive one by one. We’re all too excited to eat breakfast. It’s the first time the ten of us are together without the judges, which gives us a chance to get to know one another and share our varied experiences that have brought us to New York. Like me, several of the women have had some modeling experience, and a few have not.

At 8:00 a.m. a representative from the contest arrives and divides us into two groups of five. She tells us that Group A, my group, is scheduled to go to the Estée Lauder studio for makeup at 9:00 a.m., while Group B is scheduled for hair makeovers at the Frédéric Fekkai salon. At noon the groups will switch locations.

Estée Lauder is a fun experience, with each of us assigned our own makeup artist. It’s very relaxing having my makeup done, and it gives me a chance to go within and take time to center myself. Practicing this routine helps me to prepare for the rest of the day’s events. My makeup artist is pleasant and efficient, and the result of her work looks nice and natural.

As soon as she finishes, I’m asked if I’d be willing to do a radio promotion for tonight’s reception, where the winner will be announced. The next thing I know, I’m sitting in a chair, speaking on the telephone with a radio announcer on a live broadcast regarding the contest. I’m proud of how I answer all the questions, remembering the coaching I was given by public relations.

We depart Estée Lauder at 11:45 a.m., heading for the Frédéric Fekkai salon. As soon as we enter, I start to get nervous. They’re cutting and coloring hair. Do they know how to handle my hair type? Remembering I have extensions, I relax a bit, realizing the stylists are pretty much free to do whatever they desire and that’s okay with me. In the end, they decide on a simple trim.

Having finished our makeovers, we arrive at the hotel at 3:10 p.m., with the five of us making a mad dash for our rooms to freshen up and change into dresses for the last step of the judging. Ten of us gather promptly at 3:30 p.m. in the assigned place where we find Inside Edition reporters and camera crew roaming the area, attempting to interview each contestant.

We’re told that one by one we’ll be called into a room where a panel of judges will assess our poise and walk; then we’ll be questioned by the judges before leaving the room to the next contestant.

When I’m called, I inhale deeply, stand tall and proud, and then I enter the room strutting my stuff. I can’t believe I feel so self-assured. I answer each of the questions, maintaining my composure and remembering to smile throughout. I’m told the winner will be announced at the reception later this evening. I leave the room feeling confident that I will be one of the top three, and perhaps even the winner.

At our hotel Jack is waiting to hear about today’s activities. I give him as much of a moment-by-moment, 3-D Technicolor description I can provide.

I have a good feeling you’re going to walk away with the top prize, he says. By tomorrow, you’ll be leaving here with that Wilhelmina modeling contract.

Oh honey, you have no idea how much I appreciate your being here. You’ve been my rock.

Well, pretty lady, do feel free to show me your appreciation, Jack says, laughing.

We’re lying in each other’s arms on the bed when the phone rings. It’s Dieter from Wilhelmina, asking if my husband and I are available to meet him for a drink in the lobby bar. I’m perplexed by his phone call. We meet him downstairs and he gets straight to the point. He says the judges agree I’m clearly the front-runner, but they feel I am too professional.

Too professional? What’s really going on here?

My mind is