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Posts tagged “child sexual abuse

TRUTH BOMB

Newsflash: When you have an original thought and feel some way about something, it actually IS alright to express those feelings. Contrary to public opinion, it’s actually totally acceptable to express those said opinions in your own space, such as your FB account or blog. If somebody disagrees and doesn’t like what you say, they have the liberty to GTFO. There’s the door….don’t let it hit ya where the good Lord split ya and all.

I want to add, if your opinion is in stark opposition of anyone in your family, and you STILL want to express it, you’re absolutely entitled to. It doesn’t mean you “hate your family”, or are trying to “split your family apart”, etc. Good God Almighty, PLEASE go get educated and learn that we all have opinions and the right to express them.

If I say something you don’t like, GROW the &^%$ UP ALREADY. I will NOT be your whipping girl any longer.

Furthermore, I’m going to drop a truth bomb on you right now. When I was nine years old and MOLESTED BY A FAMILY MEMBER- I was told by that person that if I ever told anyone, I would be the reason that my family would be split up. That we would all be split up and put in a foster home and never see each other again. Do you know what kind of pressure that is to put on a 9 year old’s shoulder?! It’s insane pressure.

What did I do? I forgave my offender- sucked it up- took every lash upon my back and KEPT MY FAMILY TOGETHER- and kept my mouth shut- always.

Don’t you DARE accuse me of “trying to rip my family apart” because I have an opinion that differs from a sister, or cousin, or brother or someone else and choose to express it.

I try to forgive others- people know this about me. But if you want to continue walking in your ignorance and want to throw stones at my glass house?

I WILL call you out and treat you accordingly. I make no apologies here. Go learn a thing or two about temperance, patience, tolerance, and forgiveness.

God knows I already have. A loooooong time ago.

We’re done here.


Today is Cancelled

I have nothing I want to share with the world today; no mounting proclamations- not a whisper or thought. There are no pressing deadlines, no stressors upon me. Only the familiar urge to write, simply because I’m a writer. Not a paid one, mind you- nor professional. (As proof of my misused hyphen will attest.) Alas, I abuse hyphens liberally, and probably always will-

…I want to write a memoir. (Doesn’t everybody though?) I’m sure we all feel like we’ve lived through unspeakable atrocities that nobody would or could believe. We’ve all gleaned the golden nuggets of wisdom from the trenches of life that we’re compelled to share.  (There’s old Charlie, hacking and wheezing across the street. He lives with his father and smokes pot incessantly. He doesn’t let old age stop him from having a good spliff now and again. I call him old Charlie because he’s in his late 60’s or so, and his Dad is even older- maybe late 80’s or early 90’s. At all hours of the day and night, we can hear old Charlie out there, a mumble here or there followed by a short pause of silence- and then the hacking begins again.)

Please do feel free to go meander off and watch Spongebob while I ramble on about a memoir that I’ll probably never write. But do want to. There’s just so much work involved. I have the goods- I’ve already lived the story, and am still, but I think the hardest part is actually starting. Writing that first word and knowing how you want to tell the tale. So many times I’ve written blog posts- completely- whole blog posts written out and then deleted them, simply because I felt as if I had nothing worthwhile to say. But that’s the blogger’s curse. But there’s a difference between me and  the stereotypical modern day blogger. Most bloggers collectively know that content is king. For me though, this isn’t a typical “blog”- it’s my diary. My very public, online diary. As I’ve stated before, I want to leave more than a few pictures of me behind. More than a fingerprint. I want to leave an archive. A life in pictures and posts. I never thought I’d still be writing in this thing almost 10 year later! I can look back and read about small walks I took with my kids, or cooking in the kitchen on certain days- what we ate, what we said. LIFE.

And so, back to the memoir. I have an incredible story to tell. How I went from living in an uninhabitable, dilapidated house- wetting the bed and living quite literally like a wild animal. I really don’t care what member of the family reads this stuff and might get offended. Where was anyone at all when I needed help? Where was anyone when I cried at night, alone and afraid, (and very wet and smelly)? Where was anyone when I was molested as a young girl, at age of 9- right in my own house? So no. I don’t want to hear how my life story “offends” anyone. It’s what I had to live through. Everybody else was safe, except me.

From that hell, to growing up seriously disadvantaged. All the cards stacked against me. I should have been a statistic, I really should’ve. Women who’ve suffered less have been. God spared me though. I came through so much hell and hurt and trauma and shame and rage. I was shown grace, and given another chance. God pulled me from the pit and set me on solid ground again.

I look back at it all in amazement that I was able to trudge through the trenches and reach the other side of the river. I stand now in the green, fertile soil; life has come to me again.

I have only one more year to go and I’ll be graduating with my Master’s degree in Psychology and Addiction Counseling. And still, I have no idea what I want to do with my life. For now, Im taking the necessary time off to try and absorb the fact the I no longer have my baby brother with me. For now, I’ll simply exist, and try to make it through each day. I’m giving myself the liberty to not have to do, think, feel, process, or anything else that takes emotional work. For now, I’m in a state of emotional cryogenics. Frozen inside- too numb to feel.

Until another crashing wave comes and drags me under. But then it’s quiet again, and I’ll know that I’ve made it through another rogue wave. There are no smiles within me. No solace. Today hurts. Tomorrow may too, but for now, I’ll distract myself with another adventure game. It hurts too much to think. I know that all of my training is going down the drain in these moments, but it’s o.k. I told myself that I could be in total denial for now and I’m taking my advice!

There will be warmer, better days ahead. As for now though, today is cancelled.

springmill2


God Walks

These past few days have been nothing short of incredible. Some things have happened here at home that have caused both Josh and I to be soft-hearted, more so than usual. Take for example, his wallet, that was stolen from a department store. His birth certificate, ID, more than $100, my credit card too- and lots of other goodies were inside of it.

Interestingly enough, rather than being angry much, we’ve been teary-eyed and hyper-emotional. But that’s to be expected under the circumstances. As for me, I’ve been pondering my life (imagine that!) and contemplating my absolute direction in which I’ll go. I was in Business Administration five years ago when my Pastor suggested I switch majors to something that might better utilize my talents. I considered what she said and decided to go into Human Services/Behavioral Sciences. Generally, I wanted to work with homeless people and troubled juveniles, etc. From there, I considered Criminal Justice and probation/parole, and up until yesterday, I was alright with that.

But I’ve been praying and asking God to guide me to the place that He wants me to go. His answer: Psychology- specializing in Post Traumatic Stress Disorder/OCD behaviors- but most importantly- child sexual abuse and trauma. He’s really been digging around in my heart these past few months, stirring up some things I’d rather not acknowledge.

I was sexually abused by a relative when I was nine years old. Up until a year ago, I couldn’t even string those words together in the same sentence. I haven’t been in denial- but so very apprehensive to even look in that direction. It means pain. Heaps and heaps of pain. At some point, we sexual abuse survivors really do just get tired of this old monster that eats away at our heads and hearts. It’s emotionally and psychologically draining. Well, perhaps that is a form of denial. But as long as I don’t want to see it, it’s still buried. I couldn’t speak about this issue while my Dad was alive. This type of thing destroys lives- it’s like a locomotive with razor-sharp teeth- eating souls along the way. It devastates families. So for many years, I’ve stayed silent. I’ve taken my lashes privately to spare my siblings what would have been much ruin, both privately and publicly. Not surprisingly, my family has preferred that as well. Nobody ever talks about it. It “doesn’t exist” in their worlds.

I was told (when I was a child) that if I ever told anybody, my brothers and sister would be taken away and we would all be put in foster homes and that I would have been the cause. I was only 9! What a terrific and horrendous burden to place upon a child so young. So I kept my mouth shut. And suffered alone. And suffered. And suffered. And suffered.

My siblings got to keep each other and nobody went to a foster home. Hooray.

But I can’t stay silent any more. God has been walking through my heart. He’s telling me that I have a story to tell and it’s ok to tell it! I’ve suffered enough. I can hardly believe the number of women I’ve met online who are my age that have been sexually abused. A good many of them are taking multiple medications and cannot even leave their houses without another family member. That was me a handful of years ago too.

For four years now I’ve studied psychology and such in college. I used to slag on therapists, thinking they were goofy- spitting out “mumbo jumbo Freudian crap”. How ignorant! Naturally, I’ve come to understand just how hard psychology really is; all of the various sections of the brain and their functions that pertain to specific disorders and so on. And that’s just the physiological aspect- there’s the sociological aspect too; perspectives and theories and research methods. The field is so extensive, it really does command respect.

I’m 44 years old and I’ve never been treated for being molested as a child. The shame and pain that goes along with it keep women like me silent. And so we suffer silently. Year after year. But God has touched my heart today with His finger. It burns with a super fire! I’ve decided for the first time in my life to seek treatment for my childhood trauma. The silence must be broken if the remedy is to be successful. Besides, this is the area I want to study and specialize in in my studies. How can I possibly be of any help or use to other women who’ve suffered from this if I don’t become the client and receive professional help too?

And so I shall. I’ve called my local Behavioral Health facility and have scheduled an appointment for June. The first step really is the hardest. I know that the road won’t be particularly easy, but I know that I’m making a good emotional and psychological investment for my future. I’ve been so encouraged by the many (many many) brave women who have shared their similar stories through their blogs.

Some people think that such things shouldn’t be aired in public, but every one who has and continues to do so is my hero. We never know just who we’re going to touch in this world, or who may be reading our posts that have no idea what to do, where to go, who to talk to, etc.

I have a great, new outlook on life and I’m excited at the prospect of finally getting professional help for such an ugly disease: child sexual abuse.

Today is my mother’s birthday.  She doesn’t know it yet but I’m going to give her my (college) diplomas as one of her gifts.  I’ve fought so hard to finish my degree- for myself, yes, but especially for her. And she’s so proud of me. :0)

Happy birthday, Mom. ♥

My Mom’s one and only sunflower

 SunflowerMJ