In his response, the Ethicist noted: “I’m so sorry to hear about what you’ve endured; it clearly took courage to tell your family about what happened to you and to seek therapy to deal with its effects. Your mother’s behavior, meanwhile, can only have heightened your experience of betrayal. In sorting through the issue of disclosure, you should give serious weight to your own well-being. … I do think that, as a rule, we should know the important truths about our partners. But when we’re looking at an octogenarian couple, other things matter, too. Perhaps knowing the truth could have helped your father shape his life 30 years ago; now, as he approaches his final years, it might cause him more pain than it’s worth. I also worry that whatever feelings of relief you experience after unburdening yourself would be fleeting, while your father and mother’s different forms of aggrievement might not be. You’ll have to decide, in the end, whether revealing the truth will help heal your injuries or deepen them.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)
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I agree with the Ethicist’s response. As a child, I was abused in an eerily similar case, and I suspect that the abuser did the same to my mother in some way, but I never learned more about it. As an adult, I began therapy and made the decision not to tell my parents about the abuse, choosing not to upset them in their last years. I don’t think that choice impeded my progress, and deciding to tell them might have opened new traumas, depending on their reactions. They are both gone now, and I don’t regret that I didn’t confront them. It wouldn’t have helped me heal; therapy is the bigger help. — K
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I am a retired therapist, and I have worked with victims of sexual abuse. The letter writer’s mother did her daughter a grave disservice and furthered the harm by insisting on keeping this information from the daughter’s husband. I think shining the light on this secret is the best way forward. — Ellen
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As a clinical social worker, victim advocate and director of an elder-abuse program in an abuse and trauma agency, I would say a few things to the letter writer. Abuse dynamics within families are complex. So not only is the letter writer distraught about having been abused and experiencing the harmful and lingering effects of the abuse, she also feels betrayed by her mother’s failure to intervene. On top of all of that, now her mother has put her in the position of having to distance herself and behave disingenuously toward her father, and to keep an ugly secret. Despite how difficult this situation is for the letter writer, her mother’s secret is hers to disclose. — Jacke
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I agree with the Ethicist’s response. I was sexually abused by a family friend when I was 11 or 12. I told my mother 30 years later (after my father passed), when I discovered that this person had also abused his granddaughter. My mother’s only response was to say that it was a good thing I never told anyone because my father would have killed the man. I was shocked by this response. While I didn’t need her empathy, I wasn’t expecting her complete disregard for what happened to me as a child. My advice to the letter writer would be to examine her motives for disclosing this information and to prepare for any and all responses. — Gigi
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I appreciate the Ethicist’s overview of each possible choice offered for a resolution. I would like to offer this: I never told my parents about the abuse I suffered from my sibling and from a teacher. In my own quest for resolution, my amazing therapist posed this question to me: “What are your expectations for telling your family?” I had to dig deep within myself to truly understand not only what I wanted from disclosure but also what I needed and expected to happen. Then, too, I needed to consider the outcomes if none of that happened. Through further counseling, I have come to terms with not telling my family. I realized that it was my abusers who owned the guilt and shame — not me. My abusers are still living, so rather than confront them personally, I wrote a letter to each one. I gave “it” all back to them. Even in sending the letters, I explored that same original question posed to me. I was doing it for me; I deserved to get it off my conscience. I realized I would never get an apology, so I stopped looking for one. It was a long, hard journey to get to where I am today, but so worth it. — Thom