Greg Arrives
When it came to finding a minister to fill our beloved Charlie’s position, none of the candidates could fill his shoes. I was a member of the church Vestry, the group involved in the business of running the local church, which meant, at the moment, looking for a new minister. We had received a packet of information about Greg, one of the front runners. However, it included a message from our Bishop, noting that Greg had been accused of fostering inappropriate relations (abuse?) with women in his previous church. This was a red flag for me, but his name kept resurfacing in our discussions. The Vestry voted to accept Greg after I, who had worked all day, got tired and went home.
When I met him, he seemed genuinely nice, so I decided to give him a chance. I guess I knew there was a risk involved, but I have always considered ministers to be resources during times of trouble, and I was still struggling with Jeffrey’s death. I decided to visit Greg for support at night after work.
Visiting Greg at His Office
I was alone in a room with Greg regularly, and nothing untoward happened for a long time. But one night he began to pray, as usual. He asked God to help me heal, and then said, “We must let Susan know that we love her.” Those words could have been innocent, but the room suddenly fell strangely quiet. He paused and looked at me before continuing, “No, I can’t say that.” I was anxious for him to get on with the prayer, but he just paused again. He stared at me before saying, “But, yes, I can say that, for I do love her.”
I left his office as quickly as possible after that. I felt that, in some manner, I was the victim of Greg’s abuse. His statement made me both anxious and angry, but I didn’t know what to do. I know that I didn’t tell Jamie about what he said right away; I wanted to work out a game plan on my own. But his announcement caused me to pause, as there were enough red flags to make me consider canceling my meetings with him.
But I decided—perhaps foolishly—to give Greg one more chance. Maybe I wanted to prove to myself that I was in control. Besides, I was still grieving, and I wanted to believe that Greg could help me.
Greg’s Christmas Party
Finally he did cross a line in a way that not even I could deny. Jamie and I went to a Christmas party at his house with several other parishioners. I was wearing a red dress with my petticoat showing. I figured that it looked festive, so I decided not to worry about it. When we arrived, I went upstairs to the powder room, and as I made my way back down, Greg appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
I immediately felt that same strange silence I’d felt in his office. No other party goers were around.
“I was going to tell you that your slip was showing,” he said; “then I realized that you already knew it.”
“You’re right,” I responded, laughing uncomfortably. “I did know it.”
Then, without warning, he kissed me fully on the lips.
I was appalled. I didn’t think anyone had seen the kiss, but the hubris behind it made me furious. He took liberties with me. I was very upset but didn’t tell Jamie for a long time. I was afraid of what he would do. I finally realized fully that Gregory had flagrantly overstepped his boundaries, and I needed to stop visiting him.
I couldn’t get his actions out of my head. The more I thought about him, the more upset I got, and the more I thought of the other women he could victimize. Greg had been talking about moving on to another parish, and all of the innocent women at the new church were swimming through my mind as well.
Telling the Bishop About Abuse, Informing Greg
That’s why I decided to report Greg. I knew it would create serious problems for him, but the other women in the back of my head pushed me forward. I couldn’t protect him and them at the same time, so it really wasn’t a choice. I wasn’t the first victim, and I knew I wouldn’t be the last.
I had met our Bishop months before Greg arrived, and I felt that I could trust him. I went to see him, and he listened to my story about what happened very carefully. He apologized on behalf of the church and offered me psychotherapy, but I told him that I already had a therapist.
The hardest thing was my decision to tell Greg that I had reported his behavior. I called him and set up a meeting at a local restaurant. I was very nervous, but then I remembered that he—like my father—had taken advantage of his authority over me.
When I met up with him that perspective helped me look him in the eye and say, “I have gone to see the Bishop and reported your behavior to him.” He looked completely deflated, as if I had kicked him in the stomach. I might have felt sorry for him, but I was too angry, too determined. I was a woman on a mission.
After that I left.
What I Learned from Experiencing this Abuse
I realize that not many people get the opportunity to hold their abusers accountable, but we hope that it is changing with the growing consciousness of women’s issues.
I know that my dad died long before I had the courage to confront him. I never again saw the man who dragged me and groped me in my sister’s neighborhood. Now, finally, I had done with Greg what I couldn’t do with either of them. I had held him accountable.
This experience with Greg provided me with a real learning opportunity. My father destroyed my ability to forge boundaries, so I tested limits to try to find them. I finally established a hard boundary with Greg, and I did it by myself and for myself!
I saw Greg having to deal with the consequence of his actions. He was defrocked by the Bishop. He is no longer an ordained minister of the Episcopal Church, and I don’t feel sorry about that. It is no more than he deserved. I have heard that eleven or twelve other women from my church came forward, reporting that Greg had been inappropriate with them as well. Thus I became the spokesperson for far more women than I realized, probably because Greg’s actions represented much more to me than to the other women he approached.
Holding Greg accountable felt wonderful! I had finally learned that I don’t have to remain victimized and that I can hold abusers accountable, whether it’s my minister, my father, or a complete stranger. My internal message was that I am a victim no more!
I had finally stopped the behavior that I had learned from the abuse experience. I no longer sexualized relationships or aligned myself with abusive men. This felt like closure to me.
Further Reading on My Experiences
This episode from my life is just one of numerous episodes I experienced throughout much of my adult life dictated by the unrecognized effects from the sexual abuse I suffered when I was only eleven. The earlier abuse is described in my first blog entry: Becoming a Victim of Incest.
The story of my life is chronicled in my book: Demons Hidden Within. The book, written under by pen name, Susan Montgomery, is available from my publisher, Robert D. Reed Publishers, Brandon, OR, or from numerous book distributors. Also, you can visit my website, Demons Hidden Within.