Courage Network

“Sisterhood is many things. It’s a warm smile on a cold and rainy day, a friendly hug, a cheerful hello… It’s all that a good and lasting friendship is, only better. It’s treasured. It’s sacred. It’s knowing that there will always be someone there for you. It’s dreams shared, and goals achieved. It’s counting on others and being counted on. It is real.”

This post dedicated to all my Archangel Sisters.  I love each and every one of you!

This morning I was charged with the task of defining what “thriver” means to me.  I compiled a list of the first words that came to mind: self knowing, embracing life, living to the fullest, empowered, open, secure, unbroken, girl power, liberated, and vibrant.  It was a good start.   However, truly grasping the essence of thriving is not something that can be broken down and explained on paper.  It’s something that needs to be felt. 

The most wonderful thing happens when you attend the My Avenging Angel Workshops and follow-up sessions.  You become part of a sisterhood: a loving, accepting, flaw embracing community of women committed to improving not only their own lives, but also the lives of others.  That is where the thriver energy emanates.  It comes from each and every woman. 

The Angels are a diverse group- coming in every shape, size, age, color, and religion- a reminder that domestic violence does not discriminate.  Yet, we do not dwell on our past.  Instead, we celebrate the beauty of our differences and bond over a common experience.  Surprisingly, it’s not the trauma or past suffering that brings us together.  It is the desire to bring about change- in ourselves and in the world that binds us.  Together, we see a future filled with limitless possibilities.  In each of us there is hope, faith, and the courage to embark on a journey to a more fruitful and fulfilling life.  We give each other strength.  Our ties cross town and state lines across this country.  We are feminism at its best- an abuser’s worst nightmare!  Are motto: “Living well is the best revenge”. 

Being a thriver is more than becoming a self-aware, self-loving individual.  It is about belonging and becoming part of a community.  The community is necessary to impact other lives.  It’s the sense of sisterhood that helps to empower us.  I could not imagine what a difficult journey it would be, or it even being possible to thrive without a strong support network.  No one individual is self-sufficient enough not to need a shoulder to cry or lean on during hard times.  A house is only as good as the foundation it is built upon, and the individual is no different.  You are only as solid as your base.  In this respect I have been very lucky (not only to have the Angels, but also the unconditional love of my amazing family, friends, and boyfriend who always back me 100% - equally in success and failure).

I am so grateful to belong to such an awe-inspiring group of women.  Each is a blessing in a my life, a window to the possibilities of how the future could be.  I am fortunate to not only have such a tremendous family (both by blood and bond), but to be part of one.  Knowing that I play a role helping and healing others is more healing and empowering than anything I could achieve on my own.

If you reside in or near Connecticut and are interested in moving beyond survivor to thriver please visit Susan Omilian’s website for more information on the FREE My Avenging Angels Workshops.  You can also email me at runningthriver@gmail.com.

If you do not live near Connecticut and are still interested in joining the Thriver community, check out the Thriver Workbook.  In it you will find many of the exercises Susan uses in her workshops.  You can also check out The Thriverzone.

As always, thank you for reading!  Please feel free to share any of the information here if you know someone who can benefit from it (just give credit back to the site please ) Comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated.  Good luck in your Thriver Journey!!!

“Being good is commendable, but only when it is combined with doing good is it useful.”

- Unknown

 

I have officially launched my Running for the Color Purple Campaign! I will be running in the upcoming Half Diva Marathon in Long Island Oct. 2, followed by the Hartford Marathon Oct. 15 in an effort to raise money for CT-ALIVE (CT Alliance of Victims of Violence and their Families). October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month, so the timing could not be better for both raising funds and awareness.  I also intend on using my future marathon running to continue this campaign.

I would strongly encourage other runners not currently running for charity to consider doing the same.  You don’t need to necessarily support domestic violence, but can find an organization that is important to you.

Some startling statistics:

One in four women in this country has or will experience domestic abuse in her lifetime.

Approximately 1.3 million women are physically assaulted by an intimate partner annually in the US

Approximately one in five female high school students reports being physically and/or sexually abused by a dating partner.

On average, more than three women are murdered by their intimate partners in this country every day.

Only one third of injured female rape and physical assault victims recieve medical treatment

Women of all races are about equally vulnerable to violence by an intimate partner.

Intimate partner violence affects people regardless of income.

Nearly three out of four (74%) of Americans personally know someone who is or has been a victim of domestic violence.

Forty percent of girls age 14 to 17 report knowing someone their age who has been hit or beaten by a boyfriend.

Studies suggest that between 3.3 – 10 million children witness some form of domestic violence annually.

As a survivor of domestic violence, this cause is very important to me.  CT-ALIVE has personally touched my life, and I can attest to the amazing services they provide to women attempting to put their lives back together after abuse.  They offer these programs and services free of charge to victims, which is why fundraising is so important.

The Connecticut Alliance for Victims of Violence & Their Families Inc. (CT-ALIVE), is a Connecticut non-profit corporation which is tax-exempt under Section 501 (c) (3) of the IRS Tax Code. CT-ALIVE was established in May of 2002 by a group of survivors of homicide that wanted to help other survivors heal after the horrific trauma they had experienced.

Your generous donation to CT-ALIVE will help provide services to victims of violence and their families under several of our Projects. You can also Sponsor Our Event.

To donate to CT-ALIVE’s work, events or services, click below to pay by credit card or send a check payable to “CT-ALIVE” to P.O. Box 330083, West Hartford, CT 06133. Your donation is tax-deductible.

Domestic Violence affects not just the individual, but also the family and community of the victims. It’s time to let go of the stigma associated with abuse and start talking about it. Education and awareness are crucial. Please show your support, spread the word, and DONATE!

If you are interested in joining me or learning more leave a com

Open Embraces and Scentsy have joined forces concerning Domestic Violence. Our efforts are to bring about more awareness and financial resources.

Open Embraces (http://openembraces.webs.com/) is a grassroots non-profit. Its’ purpose is to help victims and the families of Domestic Violence victims financially. Open Embraces’ goal is to help victims pay for expenses incurred leaving the violent situation and seeking help; or in a worst case scenario, paying for the burial of a loved one who died in a “domestic” situation.

The first family we chose to sponsor is one who has faced the death of their loved one. Thankfully their loved one has already found her final resting place. The family has been able to place a headstone in recent months. There is now a place for her two sons, her sister and other family members to remember her peacefully. This family is still facing the challenge of paying for the burial. 

Scentsy has joined with us to help raise money for our non-profit. All proceeds donated from this fundraiser will go directly to our first family to cover their loved one’s burial expenses.

Scentsy will give 50% or more of their earnings for this fundraiser to Open Embraces. You can order 24/7 on  https://beckyhull.scentsy.us/. Once on the website go to Open Parties and scroll down to Open Embraces-Scentsy Fundraiser...click on buy from party and place your order. The items will be shipped directly to you to keep things simple. There will be some shipping but it is for a great cause! Questions about Scentsy contact beckyandjim@charter.net.

Thank you for making our fundraiser a great success. The first family and we at Open Embraces and Scentsy appreciate your help!

We also have an online petition at http://www.petitionspot.com/petitions/ChangeinWI2/. Please go sign the petition if you would like to take part in this change!

Thank you!

Heather and Justin Giese and Becky Hull

This lady needs our help so PLEASE spare 15 minutes to read this and another two or three minutes to actually sign.  Thanks     

• NO PLEA BARGAINING IN ANY SEX CRIME CASE
• LEGISLATION REQUIRING ELECTRONIC MONITORING FOR CONVICTED CHILD SEX OFFENDERS
• AUTOMATIC 25-LIFE SENTENCE FOR SEX CRIMES AGAINST A 6 YR OLD CHILD OR YOUNGER
• A MINIMUM 25 YEAR SENTENCE FOR ANY SEX CRIME
• AUTOMATIC LIFE/DEATH SENTENCE IF THE CRIME RESULTS IN THE DEATH OF A CHILD
• PRISON TIME IS TO BE SERVED DAY FOR DAY (no good time allowed)

Long mandatory sentences for child sex offenders are the most effective for the following reasons:

1.  Mandatory sentences increase the severity of punishment, and act as a deterrent to crimes, likely reducing the number of sexual crimes against children.
2. Mandatory sentences are a direct and immediate measure to prevent another crime from occurring. Kept away from the general population,    sex offenders cannot commit another sex offense against a child during their prison term.
3. Longer prison sentences reduce the substantial burden placed on law enforcement to keep track of an increasing number of offenders.
4. A high recidivism rate among sex offenders merits tougher penalties to prevent the all-too-common re-offense. Convicted sex offenders are four times more likely than other criminals to be rearrested for a sex crime, according to a 2003 study by the Justice Department's Bureau of Justice Statistics (BJS). That statistic probably understates the risk of recidivism as it compares convicted sex offenders with other criminals rather than the general population, it examines only one-time sex offenders instead of the two-time offenders who are more likely still to repeat the crime, and it counts only re-arrests as repeat offenses, when others may have committed sex crimes without detection.

Of the released sex offenders who commit repeat offenses, forty percent perpetrated the new offense within one year of their prison discharge, and the majority of the children they molested after leaving prison were age thirteen or younger, according to BJS.

For all of these reason, we ask for your leadership on ensuring Trinity's Law is passed in the upcoming legislative session.

I have a cause to see changes made in the laws of this country concerning Sex Crimes against children so that what happened in my granddaughter's Aggravated Sexual Assault of Child case will not ever happen to another family in that the perpetrator virtually got off Scott free! I have vowed to not rest until laws are changed concerning sex crimes especially against children, right here in my city first and then across this nation.

When it comes to Sex Crimes against a children, our children for far too long have been placed on the back burner by our law makers and the court systems and this MUST CHANGE! Our mission is to protect the children of this country. MAP is a group that desires to reach out to as many schools, daycare facilities, churches and other entities and organizations as we can to speak to children, teens, young adults and others to educate about this very sensitive but prevalent topic. We are in support of tougher laws on Sex Crimes especially against children. We praise those that are bound for Capitol Hill to lobby for "Trinity's Law". Trinity's Law prohibits plea bargaining in any Sex Crime case and mandates a range of prison time and that time is to be served day for day.We will rejoice when changes are made in the way Sex Crimes against children are prosecuted in this country. We need a separate court for Child Sex Offenders which will require Judges and Prosecutors to be assigned to those courts. This way Child Sex Offenders are separated and their heinous crimes can be processed and handled adequately. Until this change in the justice system takes fruition, our children are not only prey to sexual predators but also our judicial system. Please join with those who fight the good fight to change the laws of this country related to Sex Crimes especially against children.


Please contact  Cherlyn Branch the Founder and Director of
MOTHERS AGAINST PEDOPHILES (MAP)

She also has a popular Live Talk Internet Radio Show "Ask Mother Roseberry"


P. O. BOX 381311
Duncanville, TX 75138-1311  

Email:            info@weremap.org

Landline:      (877) 295-5855
Bussiness:  (469) 223-1900
Fax:                (972) 709-1151


www.twitter.com/asktheshow
www.askmotherroseberry.com
www.blogtalkradio.com/askmother
www.facebook.com/motherroseberry




To sign the petition please go to  www.weremap.org   and then click the link for Trinity's Law, and it lets you sign the petition electronically on that next page.  Thank you.

DISCLAIMER  If you are a survivor of abuse please be aware the content of this page may trigger you to recall a memory from your past that you have not dealt with.

I am looking for others who have survived any type of abuse to help me in my quest.    You will find the details following my story.   Please read what I have wrote under I am seeking others to add their voice.

Please keep in mind that I am NOT a professional person with an educational degree but rather a motivated woman with a dream.  I am interested in corresponding with individuals who can respect my efforts without criticism, and who can share the same desire as I share - - - a desire to make a difference.

 

 
 
  My name is Sherry Clyburn. I am a 51-year-old mother of three adult children, and I am a grandmother of nine grandchildren.  I am a survivor of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse who went into a relationship with a man who treated me quite similarly to the way I was treated in my childhood.  Unfortunately, I became a non-offending parent of a child who was sexually abused in her childhood. 

   When my daughter disclosed her abuse, we lived in a small town that offered next to no resources catering to my needs.  Digging for the help I needed overwhelmed me and multiplied to my frustration and my existing pain.  Those times inspired me to create my books.  I don't know about you, but one of the things that has helped me to survive the rough periods during my life has been to read what others have endured and how they have conquered their experiences. 

My quest is threefold:
1) To offer support to fellow abuse survivors
2) To educate those who have not been subjected to these appalling issues
3) To generate awareness about who is offering prevention, education, and support

I am being totally up front, without secrets, without motives, and without a private agenda. I am providing confirmation letters of support from professionals who work in the field of abuse to show that I am creditable, sincere, and true to my cause.  I apologize that the letters do not appear here; however, for some reason I cannot insert them on this page. To read them, please cut and paste this link in your browser:  http://sherry123456789.xanga.com/

In my experience, writing has been the key role in my survival, and the majority of those who counsel abuse victims and survivors will also validate that writing is one of the most powerful ingredients that one can utilize during one’s healing voyage.

When I began to looking at my abuse, I did not think it was all that bad.  But then someone stood before me, and she started talking about her life. She was very distraught.   At first, I could not understand her hysteria as she described her life, and I was thinking, "Why is this girl so upset?" As I listened,  I tried finding words that might be helpful, but at that moment I was speechless, at a total loss for words, with-out a clue as to what I should say to her, so I did the only thing I could do.  I sat attentively listening, trying to console her, and hugging her.  At the end of our conversation, I apologized to her for reacting in a way that might have made her uncomfortable.    Later, I sat and cried, feeling bad for her.  It was then that it dawned upon me that this girl was telling me some details that sounded similar to the events that had occurred in my own life. Quite abruptly, a wave of recognition swept through my body and I began to shake uncontrollably.   Suddenly, I was not doing well with the aftermath of our conversation.   My thoughts were scrambled, and I was without knowledge of how  to deal with the many emotions flooding through my mind.  Although I knew I had been abused, I did not realize the seriousness of what I had endured. I certainly had not viewed my life as this girl had, and I clearly did not comprehend  why she appeared to be an emotional time bomb.   For the longest time, because I felt uncomfortable, and because she was triggering me to remember things that I worked so very hard to forget,  I practiced avoidance with her and when she moved a short time later I was quite relieved. 
 
Back then I carried on in denial, minimizing  and comparing my abuse to that of others. 

I now know what I did not know way back when - - - that no matter how severe or unsavory abuse may seem to another person it  really has no relevance.  While what has occurred might seem trivial to the person who experienced it or to the listener, ABUSE IS ABUSE!  And all abuse leaves an impact that affects the person who has experienced it in a way that  that often shields him or her from living, and puts this person in a mode of existing rather than enjoying true joy.  It does not matter if abuse happens once, twice, or fifty times. It does not matter if it was the neglect of of not having their  needs met or it was verbal, physical, or sexual abuse.  All neglect and all abuse leads the majority of these survivors, to a path of negativity, suffering, and destruction.   Most people who have been subjected to these issues that I am mentioning,  live in silence. 

Millions of people who have been affected by abuse are living in silence, struggling to cope with the aftermath of what they have endured.  At one time, I was one of those who lived amongst the silent, mainly because I felt ashamed. Imagine that.  I felt ashamed because I trusted the adults who took advantage of my innocence and who betrayed my trust. My abusers tattooed my thought process with a statement that haunted me most of my life: "You can’t tell anyone because we’ll get in trouble.
 
It took me a long time to grasp that there is no such thing as a "we" when it comes to abuse. The only person responsible for abuse is the person doing the abusing; not the child, not the mentally disabled person, not the person who has been date raped, and not the person in a relationship who is being abused. Zero per cent of the blame belongs to the person being victimized. One hundred per cent of the responsibility lies with the abuser.

I feel I must be clear about something.  While there are some abused people who say they have totally healed, I am not one of them.   Though I have been focused on my healing journey for several years, there are some areas of my life that I have not been brave enough to visit; therefore, I cannot heal from those incidents, but I trust and I do have the faith that one day I will be ready to face those parts of my past - - - but until that time arrives I can say I have done a considerable amount of healing.  I have good days, and I also have bad ones, but for the most part, I do okay.  I am surviving and I say with pride - - -  I AM NOT A VICTIM OF ABUSE BUT RATHER I AM SURVIVOR!  

This is part of my story

      My stepfather was the main instigator of my abuse. My mom became a victim of her own circumstances. She endured the same type of treatment I did. She was a helpless bystander who witnessed what transpired between my stepfather and me. Her interference would have created more problems for her, so she remained in silence. This was in the sixties when social assistance for her family was not available for her. She had major health issues, and she was financially dependent upon my stepfather. 

      My parents were bootleggers, which meant that people were coming at all hours of the night for booze. Many of those men drank excessively, so much so that they were unable to drive out of our yard, in which case my stepfather permitted them to sleep in bed with my sisters and me. Not all, but most of my sexual abuse occurred in that bed.

     My stepfather was a cruel, unfeeling man who did not mince words with me. His exact words were: "You’re an ungrateful bastard, and you don’t deserve my good name." Many of the punishments I received were uncalled for, and you will read about this in my book.

     At the age of 11,  I ran away for the first time. This proved to be a mistake that I paid for dearly in the next two years. After several failed attempts at running away which always resulted in the police escorting me back to his hands, at age 13 a school health nurse intervened when he made a grab for me in her presence. I was removed from his home. From there, I ended up in a series of foster homes, a mental institution due to attempted suicides, and then into a reform school.

 

Fast forward to the age of 18

     I met a man who introduced me to domestic violence.  I remained with him for 17 years, and we had three children together.  The relationship was etched with violence right from the get go.

When my daughter Melissa was ten years old, she disclosed she had been sexually abused by our 65-year-old neighbor, a retired plane crash investigator. He was wealthy, well known, and highly respected in our small community. My ex-husband and I had been close friends with him, his wife, and their mentally handicapped daughter for a period of over five years. We saw each other on a regular basis and exchanged gifts on holidays. My children looked upon this elderly couple as grandparents. To say the least, along with the entire neighboring households, we were completely dumbfounded to learn this man was a sex offender. When the abuse came to light, we discovered he had devastated three other families in another province, and he, in fact, had sexually abused all four of his own children. For unclear reasons regarding why, he was never convicted for his crimes.  All I can really say is that I have to agree that money talks.  A week after this man went to court to enter his not guilty plea, he died of a brain tumour.

    There were major problems after Melissa told about her abuse. The circumstances that followed were anything but pleasant, which you will also read about in my book.  Not long after Melissa disclosed that she had been abused, I had enrolled her in counselling.   I accompanied Melissa to the initial meeting with her psychologist, and she attended the remaining sessions on her own.  Without going into specifics,  six months later I was summoned to one of her counselling sessions and informed that she and her friend had been sexually abused by her friend’s relative. I was beside myself.  The entire situation and unfolding details were a bit much to handle, and if it had not been for my counsellor and Melissa’s psychologist, I do not know how we would have weathered what followed with the arrival of my daughter's second disclosure.

     We lived in a small town that offered few resources for non-offending parents of sexually abused children. I made a trip to the library only to find the grand total of two books on the topic. Neither applied to us, but one book had an appendix listing organizations. This started me on a writing and a phone calling expedition that lasted for several months. It did not take long to accumulate a few hundred information packages on the various aspects of abuse.

     At this time I had also been attending counselling, and after many discussions with my counsellor and with her support, I decided to place an ad on a community TV channel and one in a newspaper asking those affected by this crime to contact me. In the next few weeks I received many calls from others interested in getting together, which was what lead me to explore hosting a get-together, and then a final step of actually organizing a meeting in a local church. With the assistance of my counsellor and a town counsellor, there was a meeting that drew a crowd of 45 people. Another meeting was set up for the following week. Initially, this group was formed with great intentions, and we did some spectacular activities that were beneficial to the community at large. We supported a few parents during their court processes, produced a booklet for children of abused children, and we successfully distributed an abundance of information throughout the community.

     Unfortunately, this group soon developed into a disaster. Strong personalities and an extreme need for recognition eventually lead to jealousy and bickering, and the group soon reflected more negative than positive. Our biggest obstacle was not having a trained facilitator to launch these evenings. This group had both survivors and non-offending parents, and though we were instructed by professionals that the issues and aftermath for non-offending parents and survivors needed to be dealt with separately, we foolishly did not take their advice and continued down the path of ruin.  We were a crew of concerned citizens without direction.  Looking back, I compare the situation to that of too many cooks in the kitchen. The group spiraled downhill, and within the first year the group members dwindled down to a handful of incompatible, unhealthy individuals who were not working productively as a collective. All too often, not just mine, but several other great ideas were greeted with no enthusiasm.

     One such incident involving me was when I approached the members with the prospect of creating a newspaper column. My request was addressed with strong opposition, and I was informed that the idea was unrealistic. Being a strong-willed and opinionated person, I begged to differ. I was confident this was the perfect break to educate the public. So I went ahead without the backing of the group members, and I met with the editors of two newspapers. The first wanted no part of the idea, and the second one said he was intrigued but would need to discuss the proposal with his boss and then contact me with a decision.


 Although I clutched to the hope that the dynamics of the group would improve, I realized after a conflicting year and the disagreement regarding the newspaper column that things were not going to improve.  And so after 52 two-hour-weekly meetings, into which I poured my heart and soul, being full of devastation, in order to keep my sanity, I finally did the only thing I felt I could reasonably do---I resigned.  However, on the very day I walked away from the group, the editor notified me with an acceptance to do the column. I was elated!  I attentively worked to produce 100 articles to submit to the editor, authored by myself and with the permission from other organizations throughout Canada and the United States. 


About six months later, I approached some of the members who had left the previous group in order to start another group. They declined due to the activities that happened in the first  group.  I, on the other hand, was determined not to give up on educating the public, and I soon found two other ladies, and we three soon began enthusiastically brainstorming and making plans to specifically do awareness events for abuse issues.  In the midst of our talks, I mentioned my idea of producing a book. I also discussed it with some of the professionals that I had met during my involvement with the first group.   I received such great encouragement that I ended up applying for a community grant for help with start-up expenses to produce a book.  One of the stipulations to qualify for the funding was to obtain five letters of recommendation from community professionals who would support my idea. Mainly as a result of my previous efforts to raise awareness, I had no problem gaining letters that gave credit to my dedication and my character.  I submitted my proposal, believing my chances of getting funding were slim to none, but in my heart I knew one way or another that I would develop and distribute a book within the community.  I had already begun constructing my book from the perspective of a non-offending parent, and I had permission to reprint information from other organizations for the newspaper column, so I figured if I did not gain funding, I would approach community organizations to assist me financially. When I received the call of congratulations that I had been nominated to receive funding, I was in seventh heaven.  And since I already basically knew the book content, all I had to do was hire someone with a computer to compile the information. During my involvement with the other group, I became acquainted with a lady whom I occasionally met for coffee. I did not know her well, but she seemed like a decent person, and when I told her about receiving the grant, she volunteered to type the information for me for a small fee. 

A few weeks later, the two ladies and I teamed up with another organization, and four of us began working on our first event which was an evening affair with a panel of guest speakers representing the legal system to discuss the legal aspects of sexual abuse as well as a day affair at a mall. We believed my book would be printed by the time of our event, and it would be a perfect time to promote it.  Before our actual work began, I met with the coordinator of a sex offender group to design a proclamation. We then scheduled a meeting with the five mayors in the surrounding areas to have the proclamation signed and our public awareness day officially declared. We spent three full weeks planning and another six to eight hours per day, Monday through Friday, attentively organizing and tying up loose ends. During the week we made phone calls, and on Saturdays we gathered the donations and delivered flyers. We literally obtained hundreds of contributions of money, food, beverages, candy, clothing, as well as gift certificates for haircuts, meals, and sports equipment.

  Four weeks prior to our events, I contacted the lady doing my book to make arrangements to review the work she had done. After failing to reach her, I paid her a visit. After an exchange of hellos, she gallantly said, "Something happened to my computer, and everything is a monstrous mess."

     Instantly my face flushed, but I said, "Oh well, we’ll chalk it up as a setback, and we’ll start over. I’ll just pay you some extra money. No big deal."

     Her eyes darted from mine to the eyes of her common-law husband, and to my horror and to worsen matters, she announced, "I don’t know how to tell you this, but um, um, my daughter, um, um, accidentally disposed of all of your information."

     My response was, "Can you please repeat what you just said because I think my ears are playing a trick on me?"

     My body was quivering.  To say the least I was mortified, stunned with disbelief, and struck with the feeling of someone pulling the rug from beneath my feet. Without hesitation or another word, she handed me my discs and my papers, and in a horrified daze I made a dash out the door, speechlessly trying to digest what had just transpired.

I went to not one, not two, not three, but four stores to have my disc checked, in denial, praying, praying I might be able to retrieve some of the data.  At the last store, when I was informed that a deliberate puncture was made in the plastic screen on the disc, all I could do for several seconds was blankly stare at the clerk.  When I finally gained my composure, I asked him if he was serious. After a mini-nervous breakdown, disbelieving my luck, and thinking: "Now what," I went home.

     A few days later, I spoke with a police officer who asked for an update on the book. When I told him about the story, he grew quiet and had an odd, somber expression plastered  on his face as he asked, "Did you know the person you hired lives common law with a child molester?"  What an unpleasant adrenaline rush! If the person delivering this news had been anyone else, I might have questioned the truth, but sadly and sorrowfully it was the truth.

     In the next few weeks, I inhaled criticism and blunt speculations about my intelligence for attempting to write a book with a grade five education. These comments shattered my already low self esteem and pushed me to reflect on memories of my stepfather’s remarks about me being too stupid to do anything right.  I cried many tears because of the cruel remarks as I came to the realization that it would be necessary to start my book from scratch, and I would have to recreate my book as I had previously planned it to be.   

 Although my book was not ready, I knew I had to put on a happy face and go into denial about my book when the day arrived for the public awareness events because these events were etched in stone and would go ahead with or without me.  We had a nine-hour day at a local mall with games, food, coloring contests, draws, guessing games, balloons, and face painting. We had an abundance of written material to hand out. Entertainment was provided by line dancers. The police did children’s finger painting. There was a family service worker, someone representing the prosecutor’s office, and some other legal system professionals---all who were on hand to answer questions as well as hand out information. Our long hours and hard work paid off for us, making it an extraordinary, memorable, and successfully productive day. It was the first of its kind in our town, and it is still the only such event of its kind to this day. I feel so blessed to have played such an important role in coordinating such an awesome day. That day was a blessing that will live on forever in my mind, and it is one of the best and most memorable events that has ever occurred in my life. 

Once the day was over, my focus returned to the book. It was back to the drawing board of what had to be accomplished to get my book done. I felt embarrassed as I contacted organizations to resend me the information, and I had to rewrite from memory. A little over one month later I had my book prepared, and then I hired another lady who came with references. Although I cannot recall why, a short time later she had to leave town. She called after a few months and told me she was not returning.  My first thought: "Lovely. Here we go again!" 

Several months passed before I received my information, and by then I was quite disheartened. These and other disadvantages made me contemplate abandoning my dream of creating a book. If not for my counsellor, I would have thrown in the towel. She helped me to maintain the hope that my book would one day get finished.

At the time, I was going through a lot of problems with my ex-husband.   Even though we had been separated for  a number of years, he was still in and out of my house whenever he felt like it.   Sometimes he climbed in my basement window when my children and me were out.  He would hide, and when I walked past where he stood, he unexpectedly leaped at me. He found my reactions humorous, but I can tell you, for me there was no delight in his twisted and deviant behaviour.

  There were many, many absurd incidents where he made my life unbearable.  The final incident occurred the night I returned from an evening out.   As I approached my house, I could see it was in complete darkness, but I gave no thought to it.  I assumed the sitter had fallen asleep. I waved good-bye to my friends, opened the door, and my ex briskly dove toward me, throwing and pinning me onto the couch, forcefully pushing a butcher’s knife on top of my throat, calling me names, and threatening to kill me. I would not be here today if my children had not intervened. My oldest daughter called the police. My youngest was hitting her father, and my son grabbed the knife to hide it.  When the police arrived, my three very upset children and I were escorted to a battered women’s shelter where we remained for about one month before I returned to my house.

     It was during my stay at the shelter that I came to a realization: having any sort of peace and escaping my husband’s control, I would need to leave the small town we were living in.  So not long after I went home, I walked out of my house, leaving everything but our clothing behind.  We fled to a town 180 miles away where I knew no one. I cannot say this was an easy decision nor one that made my life grief-free; nevertheless, it had to be done.

After relocating, I cut ties with everyone I knew due to the risk of my ex finding me.  I isolated myself from life, only stepping outside to shop for groceries, to attend school functions, and to attend appointments.  The distance between us did not eliminate my fear, and I found myself constantly looking over my shoulder.   I was relying upon social assistance to meet living expenses, but I managed to pick up a cheap computer with the intention of starting my book, but because I was an inexperienced typist who typed with two fingers, I was not making a great deal of headway in completing my book.  My life was at a standstill, enveloped in despair.  I found myself clothed in major depression, and I slowly began to develop agoraphobia.

Two years later my life was still a mess. Though I was making an effort to make my book a priority, between trying to overcome the reality of my failed marriage and dealing with a mind that was overflowing with horrendous childhood memories, counselling became more a precedent.  Several sessions later, the counsellor suggested that I register for a program that assists women who have been out of the workforce to ease them back into the swing of life.  At first, I refused to even consider something like that because I had become used to being reclusive and antisocial. Although I dreaded the idea, after mulling it over, I decided to give it a try.

Petrified does not justify describing  how I felt that first day.  Although there were only about ten other women in attendance, it sent me into a frenzy, feeling as if I did not belong or fit in. A half hour into the first day, I could feel a panic attack hitting, and I excused myself to go to the bathroom, then headed home.  When I walked in my door, there was a message from the instructor at school requesting me to call her.  Following my explanation of why I left so abruptly, she tried to entice me to attend the next day. I told her maybe, but I knew in my heart that I was not going back.  An hour later, I received another phone call from the instructor to tell me about another lady who was experiencing similar anxieties as me, and she encouraged me to contact her.

Several hours later, I threw caution to the wind and called the number I was given.  Oddly enough she and I shared an immediate connection.  It did not take long to realize that she was as messed up as I was and it felt nice to interact with someone who could relate.  After a lengthy conversation, we agreed to attempt to retry the class the following day.  In the next few weeks our discussions often turned to counselling.  She spoke about her experience with Christian counselling, explaining how helpful it was to her and how relieved she felt afterward.

For months I rejected the notion of Christian counselling.  My belief system was absent, and we had a few heated discussions about God.   Actually that's a lie - - - we had many discussions that ended on a bad note.   Nevertheless, her persistence and her suggestion that I had nothing to lose convinced me to at least check it out.  I accompanied her to a session, and before long I found myself attending Christian counselling every two weeks, for two to three hours a session,  for over two years.  During these visits, I began uncovering memories that I was not even aware I had.  I was struggling terribly to cope with flashbacks that made each day feel like a nightmare.  Although it was an emotionally crippling and a draining experience, for the first time in my life I felt like there was hope of healing.  I began writing my memories in a daily journal, and in fact it played a vital role in helping me.  Through Christian counselling I have gained the personal and spiritual growth that allowed me to learn how to step past what I mistook for shyness.  I have always been a very quiet person.  Until  that time I was under the impression that I was merely shy, but I discovered my so-called shyness was in reality, deep-rooted shame.
 
As the days rolled on, I slowly began to grasp that there was life beyond the doorway leading in and out of my living quarters.  With this awareness I began setting goals.  I wet back to school to upgrade my education, doing odd jobs, exploring the internet, and I gradually once again found myself focused on finishing my book. Somewhere along the way I switched directions with my book. Instead of just writing it from the perspective of a parent of a sexually abused child, I began writing about my own history and the aftermath of all I have encountered.   And thankfully, I learned to how to multi-task and thank otherwise, I could never have pulled it off. 
 
I cannot say there were never again times of discouragement where I did not contemplate throwing in the towel on my book.  In fact, there have been plenty of intervals where I have shouted, "Forget it!"  At times when I believed I was nearing completion of my book, there would then be a crisis involving my children.  My son had a near fatal car accident,  My computer got a virus and I lost a lot of my information again, the editor who began working with me had some problems which caused her to bail on me,  I began having flashbacks that were so emotionally crippling that I could barely maneuver my responsibilities as a parent and my day to day life. - - -  and  other personal problems made it impossible to move forward with the production of my book.   I cannot begin to clarify how difficult those times have been on me.  But thankfully my children, my one loyal friend, Patsy, and my boyfriend encouraged me with gentle reminders of: "You’ve come this far. You can’t give up now."  This prompted me not to lose sight of my dream of finishing my book.  Their unconditional love and support gave me the incentive to bypass my "forget it" periods.  

Creating my book has taught me many, many lessons. The most significant lesson I have learned is that sometimes when we encounter discouraging and devastating experiences that cause us to wonder why life is being so unkind, these are blessings in disguise among these encounters.   These blessings, I might add, enrich our lives beyond expectation.  Or at least that is what I believe.  Although not at the time during the periods when I greeted the pressing trials and prickly tribulations in my life, I can now reflect on those times as blessings that gave me some wonderful opportunities.  The most significant blessing that I was rewarded with is that I was able to reach out to others who are connected to abuse and to gather their experiences. These blessings will make my book that much more effective because there is power in numbers.  If I had produced my book before now, I would have missed out on offering others a vehicle to participate in public awareness.   While not all of the participants, some of these individuals are making written contributions, might not have been able to do so otherwise. These written contributions will form the second of my two books to be published in an e-book format. I can tell you that this excites me and makes me more happy than I can even explain.  I feel privileged, o be able to do such an honourable task.  

As I mentioned, I had an editor who could not finish helping me,  and as I also said, I had some "forget it" periods as well. Losing the editor was definitely one of the worst of them.   One night I received an email from a man, a retired teacher, asking me to consider adding his testimony in my book.   His letter was like no other that I had received in all of the time that I have worked on this project.   His letter brought tears, both for the struggles he endured in his life and also because of what he shared with me about myself.   His email was filled with such tremendous, in-depth compassion and validation of the struggles that I have experienced.  He gave me credit and recognition for what I am doing.   A few emails later I explained my predicament of having no editor, and because he was retired , with 36 years of teaching behind him, with great hesitation , and with the thought that all he can do is say no, and with crossed fingers,  I sent him an email to ask him if he would consider taking on the task of editing my book.   A short time later in that day, after I furiously paced back and forth from my door to my computer praying: "Please let him say yes; please let him say yes," and checking my emails for his response,  I received his positive reply.   I am so honoured and proud to say the name of the man who is editing my book: Bob Lipman.    For several months he and I have been diligently working together to prepare these two books which will make those who are taking part be pleased.  We are 95% confident these books will be in print in  2-6 months from now.

 

 With all this being said - - -

 

 

     If you are somehow connected directly or indirectly to the any type of human abuse, I would like to hear from you.  If you answer yes to any of the following question(s), I really hope you will consider sharing something in my book to generate awareness and to offer others encouragement: 

• Have you ever bullied?
• Did you endure neglect, and/or physical, emotional, or sexual abuse as a child by your mom, dad, sibling, cousin, aunt, uncle, grandparent, stepparent, neighbour, babysitter, family friend, someone of the same sex, friend, pastor, priest, or someone else within a religious setting ?
• Have you endured or witnessed domestic violence which includes physical, emotional, or sexual abuse?
• Have you been raped by an acquaintance, co-worker, employer, or someone who is an authority figure?
• Are you an elderly person or a parent who is being abused by your child?
• Are you a transgender, a gay man, or a lesbian who has experienced bulling, ridicule, or have been abused as a result of who you are ?
• Have you been forced to witness an animal being sexually abused or had to endure abuse perpetrated by an animal?
• Have you ever experienced ritual abuse, slavery, being in a sex ring, trafficking, prostitution, ***********, stalking, or being gang raped?
• Are you a parent or a family member of a child who has been sexually abused, gone missing through kidnapping, abduction, or has been murdered, or who has run away ?  Or are you being alienated from your child because your spouse relocated or Family Services has taken your child?
• Were you abused while you were confined in an institution such as a jail, reform school, or psychiatric hospital?
• Are you a child, relative, spouse, or friend of someone who is or who has been accused of being a sex offender?
• Are you a person who has an eating disorder, practiced self-harm, tried to commit suicide, or do you have MPD (multiple personality disorder )?

Keep in mind that the focus of my book is survival.  If you want to share details, that's great, as it will give more depth to your entry; however, if you do not feel uncomfortable with sharing the details,  that's perfectly fine.  All you will need to indicate is that you are a survivor of a particular type of abuse, and it went on for however long it did.  The focus is to be more so on what helped you cope, what helped you to survive,  and the impact it had on your life.  

 

 

    I am sorry, but I cannot not instruct you on how to write your story.   All I can say is that everyone begins their writing differently.   Some begin with why they are sharing their experiences.   Some start with poems.   Some share details of their experiences.  Some merely say they are survivors of whatever type of abuse that they have survived.  I cannot give you advice.  My only suggestion is to encourage you to write from your heart.  Express yourself as if you were telling a friend.   Please remember you are the person who lived the experience, and you know the details.  Let your heart lead the way.  As you reflect, maybe you can go with a rule we learned in grade school when you are expected to prepare an essay:  who, what, when, where, why, how.

• Where did it occur?
• What sounds did you hear?  The radio?  Talking?  Music?
• When did it happen?  At home? Someone’s home? In the public?
• Why you feel the way you do? Why do you want to write about this ?
• Who were you with?  Were you alone? With a friend? Family member?
• How did it happen?  How did you feel?  Were you shocked? Sad? Happy?
• What were you doing?  Were you sleep? Walking? Playing? At school?  At work?

   In general, people are permitted to add but are not limited to include some of the following information in the body of their writing.  Here is a list of possible things you may wish to add in your writing.  It may or may not be beneficial to you:

• Age the abuse started?  Type of abuse?
• Who perpetrated the abuse?
• Do you have siblings?  Were they also abused?
• Do you believe anyone knew the abuse was happening at the time of occurrence?
• Have you told your parents or other family members? If so, what was the reaction?  Were you believed or disbelieved?
• Have you ever approached the person or the people who have abused you?  If so, what type of reaction did you receive?
• How has the abuse affected your life?
• How have you coped with the aftermath of your abuse?
• Have you or are you attending counselling?  Self-help?  Support groups?  Is this or was it helpful?  Have you read any books that were helpful to you?
• Have you been involved with any type of legal issues regarding the abuse?  Outcome?  Length of time?
• Why are you adding your story?
• Do you have a specific message you wish to send others?

 

 

     I want to clarify that I do not have a word limit for those sharing their testimonies; however, the bio should be no more than 65 words.  You may write whatever you wish, but please include the following information:  age, sex, occupation, marital status, and your general location.

 
 

 YOUR NAME

 

     You have a choice about how you wish to be recognized as an author. You may use your first name, or you can be anonymous. If you are an abuse survivor, please understand my position.  As deserving as it may be to publish the names of abusers, unless abusers have been legally prosecuted, I am legally bound to withhold their names which coincides with why I must refrain from using the last names of the courageous survivors who have taken part in my project.  There cannot be a connection to any abusers.

 

PAYMENT FOR YOUR HELP

 

     I regret that I cannot financially compensate people for adding personal experiences because there will be no financial gain whatsoever from the stories submitted by others.  

As a sign of my appreciation for being a part of "Shadows of Silence: Book 2," you will receive a copy of the e-book with the opportunity to purchase one paperback copy of  "Shadows of Silence: Book 1" at a 50% discount, which will include shipping and handling.

 

 

     My greatest desire is to do what pretty much every person wants to do.  I want to make a difference, and I do believe that I will be doing so by producing  these two books.  For those adding something in my book, you too will be making a difference for someone, possibly many.   For those who are audacious enough to share, you will be paving the way for others who might have silence surrounding their lives so that they can step out from the shadows that surround their silence. I can personally tell you that sharing my story has been an important ingredient in my healing process, and I have also heard other survivors make the same comment. 

 

 

 
  Originally I had planned to produce one;  however, circumstances changed and now I am doing two  

 BOOK 1

 

Table of Content

1. My Testimony
2. Legal System
3. Types of Abuse
4. Effects
5. Getting Help
6. Prevention
7. What's Happening
8. Sex Offenders

I will be adding resources which will include:

a) Descriptions of services provided by specific organizations
     
b) Book titles, some from authors who may be submitting information about their books themselves                              

 c) Written interviews between myself and the specified person                                                                                   

 d) Either actual articles or referrals to the places you may read them

e) Telephone numbers, postal and web addresses, as well as details for and about forums, message boards, and chat rooms

I am providing resources for two reasons. The first is to save people time.  The other is to direct those who might be too stressed to do the searching themselves.  I will never forget how frazzled I was at the time of my daughter’s abuse. It was bad enough dealing with the issue at hand, let alone adding the frustration of not knowing how to locate the help I so desperately wanted.  If I would have had access to these resources, I may have had less to deal with.

 

BOOK 2

"Shadows of Silence:  Part 2"

This is an anthology e-book with entries from men and women who were, through no fault of their own, suffered some type of misuse.  This book will feature no less than 500 and no more than 1000 entries.  These entries come from the courageous individuals who were victimized by someone who betrayed their trust.  These people are from most age brackets, from many walks of life, and from many parts of the world.

I am feeling something that I have rarely had the pleasure of experiencing in my life.  I feel proud of myself.  I am proud for coming up with an idea that is allowing so many people to come together within the walls of a book with personal experiences of most types of abuse.  I believe there is not a person on this earth who will disagree with me when I say,  there are some things in life that cannot be purchased for any amount of cash and there are some things in life that are far more valuable than any amount of wealth.   And these things that I am referring to are hope, understanding, and encouragement.  And in my opinion, this book will provide all of these things to those who submit their writings and those who care enough to read.

 

I have something to share with you, and you may think I am strange nevertheless - -  -  this is how I feel.

I am the founder of  "Shadows of  Silence: Part 2.”   I have gathered the entries that will appear in the middle of the front and last pages of this book.  I have entered into partnership with my wonderful editor, Bob Lipman,  to coordinate, organize, and edit this book, but I am not the author. Each and and every person who contributes their writing can now say that they are a published author. 

 

 

 

Most authors sell their books alone with nothing extra.  I am selling "Shadows of Silence: Book 1," which is an account of what has transpired in my life, for a price that will not not to exceed $20.00 with 10% of the profit being donated to an organization of my choice.    For those who purchase my book, they will receive the anthology e-book as a bonus.  I am able to give it because I am paying a one-time fee for the templates. 

 

I have had a few debates with people about the Internet my providing all the resources one will ever need.  And my response to this remark is;  Yes, this is true, the internet is a gigantic information highway, but - - - unfortunately, poverty provides a cruel reality that will forever remain a problem.   In every sector of our world, there are rural areas housing people who cannot afford the luxury of owning a computer.   If one has no computer, then how on earth can he or she gain an entrance to the internet?   Adding further to this, some people managing in poverty cannot even afford to purchase a book.  And here comes another but - - - thankfully in many third world countries, there are libraries which are able to maintain books through the donations from generous individuals who have some spare cash, they will donate money to purchase books which can then be made available free of charge to the public at large.  

During the making of my books, there were actually two groups that refused to put a entry in my book because  I did not agree with them when they stated that we will one day end abuse.   And when I wrote back to them to ask for an explaination about how they intend to ever do this, they did not respond.



What you are about to read is the reason that I work so hard to spread awreness.

 

I want you to know how committed I have been,  working to network with survivors and organizations worldwide.   I am self publishing which means self promoting.  Honestly, for the past year and a half there have been few days where I have not spent a few hours on a daily basis  sending out and answering emails.   I send my requests not just to ask for help but, also to make others aware of what I am doing.   I want to draw your attention to five sites that I house my information.  I am including the name of the site, the amount of people, and the page address to verify my efforts. 

 
 
I also have several other pages with a few hundred people on each site, which would likely amount to 2000.    Which means over 17,000 people for one person on her own.   I have personally made these individuals aware of my cause through emails.  Mind you I have received  some opposition;  nevertheless for the most  I have been greeted with support, encouragement, and orders for my book.    Adding farther to this, I recently  received a very generous offer from a news Anchor of  FOX 6 Television who is placing  information and a link on his site free of charge.  To me this holds the promise of gaining national exposure.    While it is impossible to predict anything, I am pretty optimistic that these books will reach a fairly large audience.

PLEASE NOTE: MPD,(Multiple Personality Disorder)  is also known as DID (Dissociate Identity Disorder.   To shorten the length of my writing I will only use the word MPD.   

Did you know people usually develop MPD before the age of six?
  
Before you begin reading I need to clarify something.  I am not implying all abuse survivors develop multiple personalities, I am merely saying that some adult survivors will learn they have more then one personality because of the abuse.    
 
Some professionals who have been trained in this field of work will refer to MPD as mental illness or a disorder.  Others tend to view it as a protective, coping mechanism that allows one to function after they have either witnessed a gruesome event or who have endured severe, unimaginable trauma.     

As a result of my research, I have gained some insight that I would like to pass on to others, hoping it may remove some of the stigma fixated to these words.  While I am not a professional bearing extensive knowledge, I am a person who wishes to bring forth a better understanding towards an subject that is often viewed in a negative fashion.  While there are several characteristics that may indicate one has MPD, I am not at liberty to list them.  On the other hand, I am including resources for those wishing more in depth information.  
 
I can certainly appreciate and understand why a person who has MPD would be reluctant to tell others.  With good reason, they fear rejection, ridicule and being frowned upon.  In many cases their fears are confirmed after they tell.   To me this is one sad and terribly harsh reality.   What upsets me the most is the fact that the people who have MPD are not responsible for acquiring it.  Where is the compassion?    
 
I have to admit it upsets me to realize this topic has received a considerable amount of dishonorable attention and it is surrounded by several misconceptions.  Not so much now, but at one time, the entertainment industry, most especially movie producers, television programs, along with other media outlets had a knack for unfairly depicted people with MPD as someone sitting on the edge of insanity.  Lawyers have also lent a hand in adding negativity to the mix by using this as a defense in an attempt to get their client a lesser charge.   That is to the say the least a little discouraging.
I have to be upfront, I was, at one time,  no different then other’s who are uneducated on this matter. I too, believed MPD was purely a hoax.  I thought people faked it to get away with a crime, nevertheless,   as I explored this issue, I became more receptive to knowing as well as believing it exists. 
 
I am in agreement with those who suggest these individuals are quite intelligent.  How else could one be smart enough to detach themselves from the brutally of the disturbing situations that transpired in their lives?  
 
Awhile back, I spoke with a lady who was diagnosed with MPD.  In our discussion she revealed that when she approached her 12 year old daughter about having MPD, her daughter broke into tears and expressed fear of catching it.  This made me feel sad.   The truth is, MPD is not a contagious disease that can be passed on to another person nor can it be inherited from a relative.  Unlike depression or another illness, it cannot be controlled or cured by the use of medication.      

Most people who have MPD do not even know their others personalities are present until a time when he or she becomes involved in a counseling setting?  People with MPD have mastered the art of keeping secrets, not only from others but, also from themselves.  Somehow the traumatized person splits off in their mind, and another part is born to help him or her endure the circumstances they are not emotionally equipped to handle.  With the proper help this person who has split off into parts can learn to integrate and function as one person.   Unfortunately, this will not happen over night.  It takes a commitment and numerous years of counseling with the proper therapist who has been specially trained to work with those who have MPD.       

Do you know someone who has MPD/DID? 
Maybe you do,  there is a chance that you may be related to someone or friends with someone who has it and you do not you even know it.   
 
If a loved one or someone you care about discloses he or she has MPD, how you would react? 

Would you;      

• Believe or disbelieve him or her?
• Be afraid to spend time with him or her?
• Think he or she is a freak and try to practice avoidance?     

If someone reveals to you they have MPD, please keep the following facts in mind.

• He or she is the same person who you loved and cared about an hour ago.   
• This person is telling you because they trust you
• This person is in need of emotional support and encouragement.   

I can certainly understand why people with MPD would consider it a curse, but in the same breathe, I believe receiving this diagnosis should be accepted and looked upon as a blessing.  Yes a blessing.  The blessing that may have saved your life and allowed you to survive the horrific happenings in your life.
 




I enjoy reading this cute little poem by Charles Osgood    It is kind of fitting for this topic.
 


 ANYBODY, EVERYBODY, SOMEBODY, NOBODY

There was a most important job that needed to be done,
And no reason NOT to do it, there was absolutely none.
But in vital matters such as this the thing you have to ask,
is WHO exactly will it be who’ll carry out this task.

ANYBODY could have told you that EVERYBODY knew,
that this was something SOMEBODY would surely have to do.
NOBODY was unwilling, ANYBODY had the ability,
but NOBODY thought he was supposed to be the one.
It seemed to be a job that ANYBODY could have done,
If ANYBODY thought he was supposed to be the one.
But since EVERYBODY  recognized  that ANYBODY could,
EVERYBODY took for granted that SOMEBODY would.
But NOBODY told ANYBODY that we are aware of,
That he would be in charge of seeing it was taken care of.
And NOBODY took it on himself to follow through and DO,
What EVERYBODY thought that SOMEBODY would do.
When what EVERYBODY needs so did not get done at all,
EVERYBODY was complaining that SOMEBODY dropped the ball.
ANYBODY then could see it was an awful crying shame,
And EVERYBODY looked around for SOMEBODY to blame.
SOMEBODY should have done the job and EVERYBODY would have,
But in the end NOBODY did what ANYBODY could have. 
 



These books may provide insight   

• Banished Knowledge  by Alice Miller
• Dissociative  Children by Lynda Shirar
• The Body Bears the Burden by Robert C. Scaer
• Dissociative Identity Disorder by Lewis Cohen
• Memories of Sexual Betrayal by Richard B. Gartner  
• Unspeakable Truths and Happy Endings by Rebecca Coffey
• Living with Your Selvesby Sandra Hocking and Company
• The Power Model Life book for MPD by Kay Bennett & Susan Redford.
• Murderous Memories: One Woman's Hellish Battle to Save Herself   by Jean Small Brinson  

 For younger children  

• My Mom Is Different. by Deborah Sessions
• Bunny: A Storybook for Children who Have a Parent with Multiple Personalities by Lauren Lund
• Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD) Explained for Kids   by Barbara W. Boat, Ph.D. & Gary Peterson, M.D.

>

 

 
 
Just before Christmas of 2009, my son decided to go party with his friend.  One thing led to another and they decided to have a race.   Real brilliant!!!!!

Around nine o’clock at night, I was comfortable, content, in my pajamas, watching T.V when my daughter frantically zoomed in my door with her eyes nearly bogging out of their sockets.  As the details unfolded,  I was mortified, shocked, and entangled in many outrageous emotions. 

I thought the worst as we traveled to the spot of the accident.  My mind was boggling in negative awe as I was stepped out of car into the midst of a sky filled with flashing lights, a fire truck, police cars, a couple of ambulances, and swarms of people who were whispering, pointing, speculating.   I saw my son’s girlfriend talking to the police and I ran toward her.  The police officer did not know me and she told me that this was a private conversation.  I looked at her, without even acknowledging who I was.  In a grief stricken daze, I sauntered to my son's mangled car.   I gazed in absolute disbelief.  I was quite bewildered as I attempted to consume a reality that clearly felt more like a nightmare.  

One minute I was shaking my head, baffled about why my son would he get into his car, place the key in the ignition, turn it, then so mindlessly  race off?  And in the next breath, I was wondering,

•  Did he lose touch with reality?  
• What's wrong with that boy?  He knows better. 
•  Did he not understand the seriousness of his carelessness?
•  Did he believe he would pull something like this off, with out receiving any consequences for his actions? 

My eyes were scanning the scene for my son.  I walked past someone who suggested,  "He must've been thrown clear of the car."   

My son was nowhere to be found.  A K-nine Unit was searching the water and the surrounding area’s with no luck.  At that hopeless second I uttered my prayer aloud, "Please God, please, please, don’t let him be dead. He's only  26."   

Suddenly I heard a voice urgently yell, "We found him, he's ...........  " 

The dogs had tracked him.  He somehow managed to crawl several blocks to my daughter’s apartment building.  He had a minor, yet an outstanding warrant and he was hiding, afraid of going to jail.  

I rushed to the building, pushed myself through the crowd of onlookers, and after what seemed like an eternity, I reached the entrance of the  building.  I missed a few of the six steps, as I leaped to the bottom floor, only to be yielded by the police officer who was blocking the entrance to the boiler room where my son sat,  and he sternly hissed, “Move back!  No one’s allowed in that room.”  

I said, “I’m his Mother, I need to go in.”

The officer said, "Mam it's not a pretty sight.  For your own sake, I'd advise you NOT to enter that room."

After a few minutes of conversing, I waltzed past him.   I was taken aback and my eyes did a double take of the bleak, atmosphere in the room that was packed with paramedic’s, police, and firemen.  I felt faint as I gasped at the sight before my eyes.   As I spotted my son, I am sure my heart skipped a beat.  A lump immediately surfaced in my throat, as I quietly announced, "Oh my GOD." 

He was slumped forward on a bench.  His face was covered with deep flesh wounds, dried and fresh blood, but the worst thing I viewed was the brain matter that dangled on the side of his face.  His t-shirt was ripped, he was covered with blood and his face displayed a look of disorientation.  His voice was filled with such intense uncertainty and confusion.   His eyes were bright red, glazed with intoxication, and he had huge fast flowing tears gushing down his cheeks.  With a slurred speech he mumbled, “Mom, I’m so ugly now.  I'm so sorry I didn't I listen to you. ”

In my head blared the words, " Your son needs you to be strong."  

Although I had not been drinking, I staggered to where he was sitting, to hug him and I helplessly whispered, “You will never be ugly, I love you.  We’ll get through this.”

With God's Grace, I held it together for the few minutes before he was strapped onto a stretcher then rushed to an ambulance, to be taken to a hospital 30 minutes away because our local hospital was not equipped to attend to Justin’s injuries.  

I did my falling apart in my boyfriend’s arms.  He held me tightly and I saw his eyes were also filled with tears.  He was unsuccessfully trying to reassure me that everything would be okay.     

All I could utter was, “How could this have happened?  Why?? ”  

It was touch and go for a few days.  Things did not look real promising.  There was a mass of uncertainty surrounding his condition and a storm of unanswered questions.  He spent several hours in surgery having splintered bone fragments removed from his head.  He remained in the trauma unit for almost two weeks then transferred to the Intensive Care Unit for another week.  He lost sight in one eye, but he did not loose his life.  

Although he is not a hardened criminal, the law looked upon him as a flight risk.  In other words they assumed if an opportunity was presented, he would bolt from the hospital, therefore; he remained shackled to the bed for his entire stay, with a guard posted outside his room.   He faced
some nifty charges.  Drinking and driving, leaving the scene of an accident, endangering the public, and a couple of others.  He will appear in court for sentencing in a few weeks, and he will rightfully serve a jail sentence.  

Fortunately, he escaped with his life.  No one but him was injured.  I am thankful not to be a mother of a drunk driver who killed an innocent victim.     

I view drinking and driving in the same manner as others.  Despite his wrong doing,  he is my son. The child I gave birth to, cuddled, rocked to sleep, and that I watched grow. 

He made a mistake like no other.  One that he will pay dearly for.  An error that will haunt him for the rest of his life because he has a 50 stitch scar that will serve as a permanent reminder of that night. 

I hope you will enjoy your visit.




I hope your day is filled with:

• More love then hate
• More laughter then tears
• More smiles then frowns
• More positive then negative
• More kindness then nastiness
• More hope then discouragement.

Sometimes, we take our blessings for granted.  It may be because we are in the wrong mood, we may be feeling sad or  we may be having negative thoughts.   Nevertheless , we do receive blessings each day.   It is us to us, as individuals, to find our blessings, big or small.   It is my hope that you will recognize, and reflect  upon them, and  most of all gain appreciation for them.

• If you fail to recognize your blessings, just go for a walk downtown in the area that you live in.  As you walk, look at your surroundings.  Glance at the people who come into your sight.  You will always come across someone who is less fortunate.  
• If you fail to recognize your blessings just turn on the news, I guarantee you that you will will quickly see your blessings.
• If you fail to recognize your blessings, just poke your face inside your local hospital and/or in the doorway of someone who is in the trauma unit and without a doubt you will quickly find your blessings. 

Blessings are different for each and every one of us.  Sometimes the blessings we receive, will be not be considered a blessing to another, but just the same they can and should be a blessing to us.   

I don't know about you but, I feel blessed: 

• When I cook a meal and it turns out to great.    
• When I watch something on television and I can laugh or smile.  
• When I get on my bathroom scale and I discover I have lost rather then gained.   
• When I receive a phone call from someone who asks for my help and I can give it.
• When one of my children telephones me to tell me about their day. 
• When I do not prolong getting out of my bed.  Because I have had many, in fact , I have had far too many days where I have dreaded the day ahead and I spent many hours pondering the idea of putting my feet on that floor. 
• When I go to a waiting room such as a doctors office and I see a mother with more then one child and she's having a difficult time trying to keep the child or children pleasant, not running all over the place and I say to one of the children, "Hey want to read a story?"  The blessing for me is when the child says, "Okay. "      
• When I look at someone who I am approaching or passing by on the street and I say hello, how are you doing," then give a smile.   My blessing is receiving a smile in return or a nod, and a comment of not bad. 
• When I get through my day without crying or feeling depressed, because like so many others, I have had my fair share of hours, days, weeks, and even periods of months where I have been surrounded by nothing but gloom, grief, sadness, and heartaches.   
• And I feel so very, very, blessed when I sit  down, and I share my thoughts and others get something positive from my writing.        

 

While not at the time, when I am going through some rough periods, later after that time passes, I  will realize that some of my worst situations are actually blessings in disguise.

 

There have been many occasions that I have prayed, almost begging for a certain prayer to come true.  And when it seems my prayer is hopeless of being answered,  I give up, but with great disappointment and sometimes I will act like a spoiled brat, and I will pout and feel angry because I did not get what I hoped for.  Then weeks, sometimes months will pass and something occur rs in my life and my memory takes me back to that thing I so desperately wanted to happen.   And it is then that I become thankful and I find myself actually being thankful that my prayer did not come true.  It is then that I thank God that my prayer did not get answered because it would have caused me difficulties or I would have missed out on an opportunity that has made my life better.     And truly is is then that I realize , sometimes unanswered prayers are the answered prayer.    To me that is a blessing is disguise.
 


 
Has that ever happened to you?    I don't know you but I bet you will answer, "Why yes Sherry, as a matter of fact it has."





I believe  we should: 



I hope your day is a good one.

Many people who attend school, major in something. Math, English, whatever, however   I                                                                                                                  majored in depression. 

In childhood, my teen, and for a great deal of my adult life, the authority of depression placed me in suicidal mode.  I carried a backpack overflowing with such profuse gloom, loneliness, and experiences of betrayal.  I felt no one cared about me.  I rightfully felt abandoned because in all actually, my family discarded me at the age of 13 and I was placed into the foster care system. 

My stepfather’s words and my mother’s actions validated that I was worthless, stupid, and unlovable.  It’s truly ironic, how the two people who were given the undeserving privilege of parenting me and whose roles were supposed to be to love and honor me, knew I was being sexually abused, yet they chose not to protect me.  The emotional, psychical, and sexual abuse gave the message that I did not measure up and I had nothing to offer.  Trust issues planted an invisible wall shielding the people who tried befriending me.  Shame disarmed me with the ability to make direct eye contact with those who tried conversing with me and it earned me a label of being a snob.  Through counseling I learned to distinguish the fine line separating shame and shyness.  My shame delivered barriers that imprisoned me to exist without “real” or “close” friends.   I feared if people looked in my eyes they would know all about my checkered childhood.

Depression weaved itself around me, leading me to examine the destruction of drugs and booze.  Substance abuse provided momentary bliss. Suicide extended an appealing invitation that would bestow a surefire solution to release me from the gut wrenching pain serving me.  My life appeared to be meaningless and a waste of time.   For the majority of my childhood, my teen age years and some of my adult life, actually a great deal of my life was journeyed with, my stomach fluttering with horrible impending doom.  In my teen years, it was a combination of the above factors that contributed to my missing the miniature glimmers of hope that encourages people to go from one day to the next.  My circumstances carried me to the doorstep of three suicide attempts.   

Perhaps what I am about to write will be of no avail to you nevertheless, I still feel inspired to write it.  

Not then, but now, I can now say I am appreciative of my failed attempts.  If I had succeeded, I would have missed out on having children.  My children have changed and blessed my life in more ways then I can ever calculate.   

In my twenties and thirties, my children gave me the will to survive explosive suicidal thoughts and convinced me to choose life instead of death.  

The fate of suicide for my children would have sentenced them to circumstances that promised problems for them.  I lack the words to justify my feelings for them, but I can tell you three disturbing visions that impacted me. 

The first;  my children reaching adulthood longing for the mother who put her own selfish needs before theirs.   

The second;  there was a strong possibility that my children would be whisked away, separated, and placed with an arena of strangers who may not have loved and nurtured them properly.  

The third: the worst,  was they may have been destined to live with their father.

All my visions were accompanied by the sight of their little eyes filling with tears, and having no one to comfort them during their stormy grief.   

I want to speak directly to those who contemplate suicide.  You may not have children.  You may not have parents.  You may not be over loaded with friends.  BUT,  there must be at least one person who would be affected by your absence.  If you think giving up is best, you need to rethink. Think about the people or the person who will not leave this earth with you.  Will this person gravitate under self-blame?  

Would he or she be devastated?  Haunted with some or many, burning unanswered questions?    Think about that for one, two, no  ten minutes.  Take the time to ponder your answers to these questions.      




  If you take nothing from this page, please take this.  This is extreme and harsh to present, but it will make others aware of one situation of suicide aftermath.        

In the small town I once resided in with my ex-husband, I knew a lady.  Not well, but I occasionally ran into her along my travels and sometimes we chatted over coffee.   I learned she was a single parent to three children.  Two were under the age of eight, the other was a thirteen year old son.  Her son struggled in school, had few friends, and he was consistently bullied by others.  His relatives claimed he was “a trouble maker and a disgrace.”  His depression began at the age of ten.  Although this lady worried about her son’s recklessness, she did not think it warranted counsel.  Well, the untreated depression and other problems claimed his life.   

I paid my respects at the funeral and I listened to her closet friend say, “Ya  know, I couldn’t understand her.  She always had a bit of a drinking problem, but after_____ killed himself, she drank herself to a point of oblivious everyday.  I think she was on the edge of insanity when she suggesting her kids would be better off with-out her and that  she was going to visit her son.  She couldn’t get past loosing him.”    

The story does not end here.  I will be as polite as I can in my description about the backwash of this mother’s suicide and I will try to restrain my anger. Not only did this devastated mother leave two children motherless, she summoned her surviving children to live with a man who was merely an occasional father, and definitely not father material.  Somehow this savage gained custody of two young helpless children who were to young to grasp the trouble they were in.   He was granted parental rights, I believe, mainly because their was a shortage of foster homes and because no one else stepped up to the plate.  I am unaware of the other reasons, but I do know this man was a poor excuse for a father.  He was  was a disturbed, selfish , and abusive drunk.  

With a father like this, how do you suppose those kids were cared for? 
What kind of life were they forced to live? 
How is that for cruelty and an unfair reality?   


 
While I do know most of the specifics, I will not retell how life showed these kids no degree of compassion.           

Without question when people are challenged by drenching pain,  exploring thoughts of self-murder is a common occurrence, but it is NOT acceptable to partake in suicide.  Adding further to this, I don't necessarily think these people want to exit their life, he or she just desires to banish the pain they are piggybacking.   

I would be a complete liar if I said, I have NOT had suicidal notions as an adult.  I have and I may again, but when I do have these birdbrain ideas, I also consider those remaining behind.  This seems to direct me away from actually committing the deed. 

I’m not a professional, equipped with the knowledge of how to help others to by pass this life altering hurdle, but I hope what I am sharing will  allow you to realize you are not alone.  There are countless others who will confirm it is possible to get beyond the pain.          

Some of us may not recognize the onset of depression.   Nevertheless if you are feeling sad more then you are feeling happy, or if you are crying more then laughing,  then it is safe say, this is an indication that it is time to seek help.  Confessing your need, holds no shame, but it does classify you to be a courageously, strong individual.   

This is another one of those instances that carry no proud moments, and it is difficult for me to share so please, try to appreciate it for what it is.  When I was my thirties, there were two times that seriously pinched me and lead me to battle with ending my life.  During these periods, I resorted to calling a help line to vent because I knew I could not conquer life over death alone. Pen and paper became my closest companions.  Talking and writing kept me alive. 

If you are feeling suicidal please hold on.  If  you fear picking up that phone because you do not know what to say then PLEASE just have the strength to say these five words, “I feel like committing suicide.”  Or, “I don’t want to live.”  Or. “I’m sick of it all.” The person on the receiving end of the phone will do the rest.   If they are unable to assist you, they will direct you to the support to help you get beyond the dreadful time.        

Keep in mind that suicide is irreversible BUT problems are repairable.  Many people experience and understand the mass of confusion you may be dwelling in with the debate of suicide.  I  do not know where you located so I am including a few numbers.  I think these lines operate 24 hours a day.

In the UK call  01706 214449

In the U.S. call 1-800-273-8255

In Canada call, 1-800-448-3000

Writing and venting are the keys to unlock the pain while facing a crisis or traumatic events that often lead people to a death trap.  There are many  Suicide Forum’s where you can express yourself and interact with other like mind people.  I am listing one.  http://www.suicideforum.com/

Some helpful books

• Suicide and Attempted Suicide by Geo Stone
• How I Stayed Alive When My Brain Was Trying to Kill Me: One Person's Guide to Suicide Prevention by Susan Rose Blauner
• Hello Cruel World: 101 Alternatives to Suicide for Teens, Freaks and Other Outlaws by Kate Bornstein and Sara Quin

Books that give understanding about the impact of suicide on loved one.

Voices of Strength: Sons and Daughters of Suicide Speak Out by Judy Zionts Fox and Mia Roldan

 

I believe I am no different than most parents who teach their young children about taking and keeping things that do not belong to them. We tell them, "If you take something that does not belong to you, then you must return it."

It’s just an appropriate thing to do.
 
As I worked on recovering from my abuse, I sometimes shook my head wondering why on earth I carried the weight of a secret that did not even belong to me. All those years I so readily lived in the shadows of silence, claiming ownership of a secret that was not mine to keep with-out knowing why?
 
And now I finally have my answer.
 
It was because I was too young to understand the lies my abusers were installing into my innocent mind as they  victimized me.  Back then I had no idea they were conditioning and influencing me to believe them when they alleged, "This is our secret" I thought they were telling me the truth when they whispered, "You can't tell anyone about what "we" did because "we" will get in trouble."
 
Well one day, not in childhood, and not in my teen years, but many years after the fact.  As an adult well into my 30's, a light went off for me.  I then realized I needed to practice what I so often said to my children. I discovered that I was guiltily of keeping something that did not justly belong to me.  Something I definitely should have never held onto.  It was the blame!   Yes, the blame.  The blame for my abuse.  
 
There is one and only one person who deserves the blame for abuse and it is never ever, the person who has endured the abuse.
 
It took a long time to grasp this truth.  While I still have my moments where self blame wiggles into my thoughts,  for the most, I am proud to say I no longer carry the blame for something that did not rightfully belong to me.  I guess the key to this realization came with knowing, I did not ask, initiate, provoke, want, or enjoy my abuse.  This recognition made it easy to deliver the fault to its proper owners; the abusers.   It required a lot of soul searching to understand that when it comes to sexual abuse, or any other type of abuse, there is no such thing as "we.  Abuser’s want us to believe there is a "we" but, truly - - -  in all actuality, - - -  there is no such thing as “we”.   And to be brutally honest, I had no business taking possession of  the blame or any part of the of secret connected to my abuse.
 
* Not for a year!
 
* Not for a month!
 
* Not for a day!
 
* Not for a minute!
 
* Not even for a second!
 
It was never my secret!  It was never my fault!   The blame in its entirety, belongs solely to my abuser’s.
 
 
Coming to this conclusion did not arrive easily.  It took a lot of self talks.  In fact there were many days where I silently repeated, I am not to blame.   I believe if we can learn something then we can also unlearn it too. 
 
There is a very valuable quote that seems we must focus on regarding the blame for abuse.  "Let the truth be known."  And the truth, there is one and only one person who deserves the credit for abuse and it is never ever, the person who has endured the abuse.
 
I would like to end by saying I believe as parents, it is absolutely imperative, before the fact, to explain to our  children, when it comes to sexual abuse, there is no “we” and there is definitely, never under any circumstances, an “us".