Emily Hess
“I sometimes feel imposter syndrome when talking to fellow survivors;
my story is very mild compared to most of the stories I've heard from others.”
Awake: Hi, Emily! Thank you for being willing to share your story with the Awake community. What would you like to tell us about your life?
Emily Hess: I am a thirty-something homeschooling, stay-at-home mother of three kids (ages 9, 6, and 3). From the outside looking in, I very much look like the stereotypical conservative Catholic homeschool mom. I live on four acres out in the country, where we have a big garden and chickens. I work occasionally as a part-time seamstress sewing for a local clothing boutique and also sew, quilt, and do some creative mending for fun. My family and I live in South Texas where the weather is hot and humid, but the culture and community are vibrant and beautiful and the Tex-Mex food is second to none.
Q: That all sounds busy and delicious! If we could shift topics, I wonder if you would share a little about how you were harmed in the Church.
A: I was attending college at a tiny Catholic university and had become heavily involved with the campus ministry group. It was led by a charismatic lay leader; looking back he and his boss, a monk who was the University chaplain, ran it more or less as a cult. In addition to monopolizing most of our time, the lay minister expected us to confide our personal lives to him frequently via one-on-one meetings. Occasionally, someone would be fired or expelled from the group (a position that came with a large amount of scholarship money) for making a mistake or verbalizing an opinion that didn't meet his or the chaplain's standards.
In this environment, my mental health deteriorated. I had always suffered from scruples, tending to worry a little excessively that I was committing sins. But the lay leader’s meddling poured gasoline on that fire. What had been fairly manageable turned into an absolute hell. One night I had an anxiety attack after one of these meetings and my intense mental and emotional distress kept me awake the entire night. I was so distraught that I approached him as soon as he got to his office the next morning and asked him to take me to the hospital. He instead referred me to the chaplain.
I started seeing the chaplain once a week for spiritual direction, usually in the confessional. While I was more stable under his direction, there were a couple things he did that made me uncomfortable. I wasn't sure why he asked such explicit questions in confession or why he poked his head around the confessional screen (I eventually stopped using it and just sat in a chair in front of him). A couple weeks before I graduated, he asked for a hug while I was in the confessional. He grabbed me and held me tighter when I tried to draw back, and I felt something hard rising up against my leg. I stopped going to confession with him after that, but it was a couple years before I was able to admit to myself what that actually was.
Q: Emily, I’m so sorry that all of this happened to you. What would you say has been the most challenging part of your journey since then?
A: It's been difficult discerning who to share my story with and when to share it. I've gotten the "deer in headlights" stare and abrupt subject-change when I've brought it up with fellow Catholics in my community, and I sometimes feel imposter syndrome when talking to fellow survivors; my story is very mild compared to most of the stories I've heard from others. I've written about my experience with abuse in public forums online, but almost never talk about it in person anymore.
Q: Thank you for describing this imposter syndrome and for naming the complexity of these feelings. It’s clear that what the priest did to you was abuse, and even something that seems "minor" can have a serious impact. I wonder if there’s anyone in your life who has been particularly helpful in your healing process.
One of Emily’s creative mending projects
A: Sister Mary Rachel, a friend I grew up with who's now a religious sister, is one of the few people (other than fellow survivors) who hasn't run away when I've confided what happened. She's been willing to listen and help me wrestle with the resulting fallout in my faith life, without judgment. She has walked into some of the deeper areas with me without shying away. I've been very thankful for her continued friendship.
The opportunity to connect with fellow survivors has also been life changing. I'm very thankful to Sara Larson and the friends I've made as a result of connecting with Awake.
Q: It’s so good that you found Awake and have supportive friends. Can you share a little more about what has been useful in helping you heal?
A: Encountering Christ in the Eucharist. There was a time that I felt all but abandoned by God. I figured it was too late for me, that I was too broken. But I wanted my children to know Jesus, and I started taking them to adoration. I thought God wasn't going to say anything to me, I was there for my kids. To my shock, I actually began to heal there, and to feel a sense of God's presence again.
Q: Wow, that sounds like a tremendous gift! As we close, are there any important ideas that you would like Catholics to understand about sexual abuse in the Catholic Church?
A: I've noticed a tendency within certain cultural circles to assume that sexual abuse in the Church is a result of something related to their favorite cultural crusade. I've seen it blamed, for example, on everything from homosexual infiltration to women not being allowed to be priests. I think there's a tendency to place the blame for abuse on "those" people and to feel that one's own group is "safe" from that kind of thing. Political and cultural division in the Church gives more cover to abusers, because it makes it far easier for abusive priests (or influential lay leaders) to groom a community into seeing them as their "knight in shining armor" and the automatic victim if they're accused of something. We could remove a huge amount of this cover for abuse by being willing to admit the possibility that "our" kind of people are capable of abuse too.
Also, as part of my healing process, I've researched the theological aspects of abuse in the Church. Part of what I've found is that sexual abuse is a sacrilege, a direct offense against God, particularly when it happens in the context of someone seeking sacramental grace. It frustrates me deeply that no one talks about it in that context.
Q: What an important observation, Emily. Thank you. It’s an honor to hear your story, and we wish you continued healing.
—Interview by Erin O’Donnell
Note from Awake: We extend heartfelt thanks to Emily Hess for sharing her story. We also want to acknowledge that every survivor’s path is different. We honor the journeys of all who have experienced sexual abuse by Catholic leaders and are committed to bringing you their stories. In addition to Emily’s story, we encourage you to read our previous Survivor Stories here.
If you have experienced sexual abuse, you can receive support through the National Sexual Abuse Hotline, 800-656-4673, which operates 24 hours a day. If you seek support from the Catholic Church, you can find the contact information for your diocesan victim assistance coordinator here. Also, Awake is always open to listening to and learning from survivors. If you would like to connect with us, we invite you to email Survivor Care Coordinator Esther Harber at estherharber@awakecommunity.org.
