Abused-get over it!

Get over it.... Tell it to the little child who was just recently found in the dumpster dead!
I found some interesting facts on the Internet to pass on to you
How many children are abused and neglected in the United States?

Each week, child protective services (CPS) agencies throughout the United States receive more than 50,000 reports of suspected child abuse or neglect. In 2002, 2.6 million reports concerning the welfare of approximately 4.5 million children were made.

In approximately two-thirds (67 percent) of these cases, the information provided in the report was sufficient to prompt an assessment or investigation. As a result of these investigations, approximately 896,000 children were found to have been victims of abuse or neglect—an average of more than 2,450 children per day. PER DAY!!

2.6 of 4.5 were made known...!  I believe I was one of the half that wasn't found out about. There wasn't any help for me or my brothers.

My abuse wasn't known by anyone, so they say. My Mother stated once, she isn't responsible for my abuse, she stated Very loud and boldly, SHIT HAPPENS and repeated it 3 times, she was pretty admit about it too. She takes no responsibility for her actions and closed her eyes to the fact that I was being physically mentally and sexually abused, by the husband she chose for herself, ON A DAILY BASIS, most of the time while she was sleeping in the other room, and even after she found out about him, she chose to stay with him. She allowed him to openly beat her children daily until they bled, for 13 years!
      The abuse she dished out wasn't any better,  because of her neglect we were taken and put into a children's homes, not once, but twice before I even made the age of 4.  I had to watch my siblings as they were ripped away from me while I was taken to a separate facility. I can remember to this day the pain of that separation when I watched my brothers being taken away. Each one piled out of the Child Welfare Car  one by one and I was held back, they were taking me somewhere else. I remember the pain and the anguish in my heart so bad, that it seemed to want to burst out of my chest.  No one heard my screams of pain that day as we walked down the long hall of the place I was in, I can still remember that feeling of fear and anguish, when they put me in a room alone in a crib with very high rails, no blanket or pillow, cold lonely and frighted. I remember crying silently hugging myself til I fell asleep. Alone and Cold.
   Heaven help us all if we gave mother any stress, to add to the trauma of being beaten, she used to make us find, the extension cord that she intended to use to beat the living hell out of us with. I remember the baby sitter feeding us bread with mustard and sugar on it because there wasn't any food in the house, and sitting in front of an open oven to keep warm because the electric was turned off.     
  Recently I was told I have a love hate relationship with my family. I don't hate my family your wrong reader,  I have 4 brothers and one sister. My sister didn't suffer the chamber of horrors that my brothers and I did, mostly because I protected her with my life. I was her stand in mother for the first five years of her life, after all she was put in my bedroom, someone had to get up for those 2 am feedings and diaper changes. I adore her, and she feels the same about me, she has turned into the most beautiful caring woman, and my closest friend.
    My brothers, and I  never talk much any more, we are all too busy with our own dysfunctional marriages,  divorces, and plastic lives, but the love still runs very deep, and no one will ever get in between our love for each other, not even their spouses or children can come between that special bond we all share, because it runs to deep to compare to anything else. My poor brothers have many emotional scares that will never go away. We don't talk about the abuse when we are together, we don't want to talk about it. It's the past, and just Getting over it isn't an option for us, because the ability to forget such a traumatic life experience isn't a luxury we as humans possess.     
      My reason for this blog isn't to slam family, although it would seem so. It's to bring out the truth of  abused children, to make an awareness that, it is in your own back yard.  Our home wasn't simple discipline, like neighbors thought, it was abuse, neglect, sodomy, rape, brutal beatings, and corporal punishments!  When a child is neglected, abused, sodomised, and beaten, it does something to the mental status of the child, it causes so many emotional problems that will continue to plague them forever, hindering them from ever having any kind of a normal adult life. So those of you who like to say, GET OVER IT, you are just as abusive, your blunt words do not heal they add to the pain we suffer inside. Just because you think we should get over it! Do you think for one moment, that we are going to completely change our way of life, a way that was beaten into our minds from the time of birth?  It don't work that way. I believe you want us to just get over it, so you don't have to feel anything about yourself, including some hidden guilt you hold, from the last time you hit your kid, or said something so nasty that it cut into his or her heart like an extension cord to the skin.
     Another famous saying is, forgive and forget,  God can only forgive you if you forgive them, and you can't get to heaven if you don't.  When you are already in a, LIVING HELL, that sure makes a lot of sense! Some of you God fearing people are so heavenly conscious that you are often no earthly good.  Some of you people really need to wake up and smell the coffee.

   I am here to tell you that taking a pill doesn't' make the scares heal either, they just dull the senses so you don't feel, so that the truths of your life stay hidden and  unexposed.  I want to feel, I want to be alive, and I want to be healthy, and I want you to know how it feels to be abused. My childhood was stolen from me and this blog is helping me to get back my life. If you want me to get over it then pass this blog on to everyone you know. Help Stop CHILD ABUSE !
keep your neighborhood safe, check out the sex offender free scan of your neighbor hood.
Pictures on this blog are from sites on Child Abuse.  Just Google Child
Abuse and you will see many more just like it. I am not a random case it's every where.  Here a a few for you to view.

http://helpguide.org/mental/child_abuse_physical_emotional_sexual_neglect.htm

 http://www.neighborhoodscan.com/FamilySafetyReport/

Abused-the demons with in

Did you ever have a secret you just couldn't keep....especially growing up, when a friend told you something special and asked you not to tell? Are you one of those people who had to tell someone, or did you keep the secret? Did it depend on what it was, or who was telling you?  I can't speak for anyone else, but for myself the secret was kept for so many years, that it caused me to live in a world with out light or life. I felt no one cared, who I was, what I was, or anything about me. When in fact it wasn't them  that didn't care, it was me! So afraid of letting someone know my secret, that it caused seclusion from the rest of the outside world, keeping out any ray of light that could spark a flicker of hope for acceptance from  any stranger. I didn't have any friends close enough to speak to of such things. I would intentionally drive them away so I could live with my torrid little secret and keep it around myself, like a cloak of protection. I often ask myself was it fear of not being accepted or fear that the secret would be told?
     There was one sibling that knew what was going on, in that house of horrors, not everything, ... but he knew of the severity of my beatings, as he was forced to watch. I am sure he felt every strike of the cord along with me, and out of love, he would feel my pain as it would cut into my skin with each blow. But  he never tried to intervene because he would be beaten too, if he even dared to come between the whip and me, his fate was sure to be matched with mine. My sibling was paid off with bikes, toys and special treats just to keep my step father informed on my goings and comings, and the dark secrets that covered our house, heaven help him if he should leave out any minor detail.   My step father was saving me for only himself and wasn't having any part of me having an interest in life beyond our doors. If I was caught as much as saying hello to someone, I would be beaten and grilled for hours. I was afraid to even look in the direction of a boy with out fear of beatings
    What kind of monster was this demon spawned creature that took away my freedom of a normal life. Nothing could ever be normal about that childhood, especially when Mother would ask why the bruises? He would come up with some fabricated story to make her believe I had been disobedient. Her responses were shallow at best, uncaring and unresponsive, other than to scream orders at me to get those dishes out of the sink!, or clean up that living room or I will give you more of the same!
       As I got older the abuse became an every day occurrence, I stopped asking God to save me, I stopped screaming, I stopped crying, I stopped feeling, and I stopped living. Inside me was empty, and the well of life had been drained from what used to be a happy go-lucky, thumb sucking little red head in curls, to a lifeless shell of a young adolescent, wishing death would come quickly. Every time I was attacked, I would have these out of body experiences, separating myself , just floating, no longer feeling the pains of my reality.
       The horrors never stopped and neither did my nightmares. For years my demons haunted me, and they still haunt me from his grave. I am learning little by little to let go, and forget the horrors, but scares run deep, and each waking day is a reminder of what was. Every time I see a child, hurt or abused, I feel the pain all over again. . Heaven help these little Children. Those that haven't survived there horrors, are now at peace, but what about those who have to live and endure and abusive life. Who will stand for them?
      I didn't give my childhood away,  it was stolen for me. Today, I am lighting another candle to light my soul, and I am slowly taking back my life.

abused-affliction

Child Abuse is an Affliction, that a little child can't fight alone. They need our help. Have you ever noticed a child who is with drawn, overly shy and fearful of any quick movements, they cling to siblings and cry continuously? Children that are hungry, un-bathed too many black and blue marks, parents never around, take a second look when you see the these signs. Please don't pass it off and think someone else will handle it. Make the Call to any child welfare office in your county or call
1-800-4-A-Child (1-800-422-4453)  or go to http://www.childhelp.org/ it is totally anonymous, so stop peeping from the curtains, if know a child is being abused MAKE THE CALL! Don't let any child suffer or die! It's real and happens right under your nose. It could be happening to one of your own. Are your eyes open? My own family stated they never knew...hummm I wonder. MAKE THE CALL

Abused-Human kindness too..

Once I lived on this Island that was completely self contained, we had our own schools, stores, several neighborhoods, a pleasant place to grow up. It was kind of nice have our school right across the street from where we lived, because we never had to ride the bus. The problem was living across from the school gave me a time limit, of how long it took me to go or get home. My Step father would sit with binoculars watching out the window to see that I wasn't talking to the boys, ... or girls, for that fact! He would become totally enraged at the very site of me speaking to anyone before, or after school, and if I was one minute late, Heaven help me, because  the moment I walked in the door, I was punched in the face and kicked to the floor. WHO WERE YOU TALKING TOO!!!? Was screamed in my face, not really having my bearings I would respond no-one! With a few more blows about the head and face, and a few more kicks to the gut, I would answer, just class mates no one special, just to make the beating stop. He would shout, I SAW YOU, who was the boy, or girl depending on the day? He too, lived in fear that one day I would make a friend, and tell his torrid secret.
   The school was one level, and had big glass windows, you could see into the class rooms if you used the binoculars, and if you knew where the classes were, you could get vision of everything going on in the room, pretty weird, isn't it? So you can imagine how I felt day to day wondering, was he watching me, living in constant fear that if I talked to anyone, I would be found out, and severely beaten when my returned home. I used  to go to the auditorium or behind the girls lockers, just to talk with class mates, so I wouldn't have to suffer the consequences of not following his orders. One day one of the seniors boys asked me to the prom, we knew each other from drama class, he was shy, but very nice, and noble too. He asked me at school about the prom, and I told him I would never be allowed to go, and thanked for asking. So the boy being noble, with his red hair and freckles, decided to come to my door and ask my parents for himself.  When I answered the door and saw who it was, every ounce of color drained from my face, my stepfather pushed me aside and asked the young man what he wanted, the poor guy didn't get two words from his mouth, before the answer was, NO!, she isn't allowed to date, and he slammed the door on him. I began to tremble as I knew what was coming next, grabbing the extension cord he began to beat me repeatedly, screaming at me that I have betrayed his trust. This went on for what seemed hours. Just another day in hell for me, I never knew the true joys of friendships or any kind of relationships with my peers, it was not permitted and I was kept like a prisoner with no way out.
  Word got out around school of the incident at my door that day, no doubt the boy was pretty upset at the ordeal himself. I wore turtle neck long, sleeve sweaters the rest of that week to hide the cuts on my skin.  One day, my science teacher, told me she wanted to see me after class. I didn't think much of it at the time, so when class was over I stayed to talk with her,  she had soft short black hair a soft voice, and her leg in a cast from a skiing accident, if memory serves me correctly, she walked slowly towards me and  tried to give me a hug, and I jumped to my feet and scrambled back a bit.  She at first was startled at my reaction, and then her eyes began to well with tears, as she saw the horror on my face at being touched, she quickly said; no, I won't hurt you I promise, I just want to talk with you. She said she had heard the rumors about the school and was very concerned about me.  I quickly told her no... I was just fine not to worry, she began asking me questions about the sores on my neck, she said she saw them when I was reading my book, I explained it was just a scratches, that it was no big deal, I just couldn't reveal the secret, if I did, he would surely find out and kill me.
  This teacher was the first person in my life that ever cared enough to even ask, she saw the signs of an abused child and showed me a bit of human kindness that I had never known before. Even though I couldn't tell her anything, out of fear of my abuser,  that kindness to this day, has always touched and warmed my heart, and still manages to bring tears to my eyes when I think of her. I will never forget her, she was a person who had a special way with kids, and she shared a bit of human kindness with me.
  Teachers you can, and you do make a difference, the life of an abused child is devastatingly cruel, and you can't begin to imagine how it feels unless you were there. Just a touch or any eye of understanding is all you need to give one moment of peace in that child's troubled soul. The peace in my soul was taken from me, I didn't give it away, it was stolen. Now I am taking back my peace. Thank you teacher where ever you are.

Abused-Human kindness

I was asked by a very dear friend of mine to pass this little story of humanity along through my e-mail but I felt given the nature of the story my blog readers would enjoy something nice. It isn't all bad out there if you give someone a little piece of kindness. It can go a very long way ....

What would you do?....you make the choice. Don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway. My question is: Would you have made the same choice?  At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its  dedicated staff, he offered a question:
 'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?'
   The audience was stilled by the query. The father continued. 'I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature
 presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.'
    Then he told the following story:
 Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps. I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around
for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our
 team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.'Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a
 broad smile, put on a team shirt. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again..
 Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.
  At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?  Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.
 However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact.  The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow
 ground ball right back to the pitcher. The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game. Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first! Run to first!'
 Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled. Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!' Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball. the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team.  He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home. All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay' Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third!
 Shay, run to third!' As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!' Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team
 'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world'. Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that
 winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!
             AND NOW A LITTLE FOOT NOTE TO THIS STORY:
 We all send thousands of jokes through the Internet without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people hesitate.The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through
 cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.
 If you're thinking about forwarding this message, chances are that you're probably sorting out the people
 in your address book who aren't the 'appropriate' ones to receive this type of message Well, the person who sent you this believes that we all can make a difference. We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the 'natural order of things.' So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people
 present us with a choice:
 Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process? A wise man once said every society is judged by how I treats it's least fortunate amongst them. You now have two choices:

 1. Ignore
 2. Forward
 May your day, be a Shay Day!!!
God Bless the Children

Abused- do you close your eyes?

When it comes to things that make us a bit sick, we have a tendency to close our eyes and ears. Are you one of those who just can't stand to listen to bad news, or look at graphic pictures? You just can't stand to listen to the real truth about whats going on in the world today? Well your not alone. Most people don't like to hear bad things and usually don't want to get involved, unless it's something really juicy like, Tiger Woods cheating on his wife, which is still making head lines as they uncover sorted details, or better yet , the news of Michael Jackson's death, it was on the news for months and is still on the airways, people thrive over it! One day the guys a child molester, paying off the families for their silence, next thing you know he is the worlds king of pop music, dead from drug over dose and adored the world over! I guess any thing goes with the right publicity when your famous. I am not making judgement on Michael Jackson, or Tiger Woods, just stating facts, I wasn't there, so it's not my place to say.  But when news casters give a molested child a blurb, and a small by line perhaps for one day maybe 2 days, and only if the child died, then something is very wrong. Is everyone so appalled that they just don't want to hear, or is it just not  juicy enough. Children are killed every day, by abusers, right under our noses. Children are found dead in dumpsters, and storage units, in a plastic bags! Who will speak for them, will you? They have been tossed out with the trash for God Sake!People open your eyes!
   I have just recently been told someone I once knew is into child pornography now. I must say I am not surprised, perverts never change, they just get better at concealing it. What I am shocked at is, that there are thousands of sights on the Internet that support this persons filthy habit. It's out there and only a select few are doing anything about it! We need to spread the word, this has to stop! Become an advocate and join my cause to stop Child abuse. If everyone that stumbles across one of these sites that exploit these innocent children, was reported, it would make it a lot easier to nail the creeps, and keep them from putting it out there. Who's child will be next, it could be yours.
  Did you know that you can call child abuse hot line and stay anonymous, no one has to know you told. here's the number to call 1-800-4-A-Child (1-800-422-4453) The call is free and totally anonymous
 or go to http://www.childhelp.org/

 In my blog I have been sharing bits and pieces of my life to clue you in on how these children feel and what happens to them as they become an adult, that's if they make it to adulthood. Follow my blog and help me to help kids who suffer just like I did. If you know of a child that is being abused and you don't help, then you are part of the problem and not the cure. Get involved make the CALL!! Stop hiding behind the curtin and make the CALL! Save a life.

Abused-hiding out

If your a victim of abuse you know already where I am going with this title. After all isn't that what you have been doing for a long time? Hiding out.... from yourself, your family, your friends, and any one who makes a difference in your life. Your so afraid for anyone to find out about your past that it is crippling you. Who are you protecting with this secret? What are you afraid of most? If someone just happen to find out about you, what do you think will happen?
   The biggest thing we lose total sight of is the fact that keeping it secret is allowing the abuser to continue on his or her path of violence and invasion on your life, or perhaps the life of the next victim. Even from the grave my abuser continues to abuse my mind, my dreams and my life. I had been abused for so long, and kept it secret so much so, that it left everyone wondering why I never told anyone, and only leaving their sick minds to think perhaps I was a willing party. In the first couple of years, I really was to young to realize what was happening to me, I was unaware of the fact that I was being sexually abused. I didn't know about sex, all I know is that I didn't like what was happening and with each attack it because more over powering and abusive. As he would force himself on me I would begin to cry but a few good slams, throwing me about the room, slamming me against walls and then his hand over my mouth, would usually do the trick. I knew screaming would be death for sure. When a child is told he or she will be beaten, they usually submit because they don't want to hurt anymore. Especially if they had been beaten in the past. One thing you know for sure, and there is no doubt about it, that when they say, shut up!, you better do it, some children didn't learn to be quiet, they didn't know any better, most of them aren't here to tell their story. They didn't get the luxury of getting to put their abusers away for life.
  Every time any of us were beaten we were told to shut up and if we didn't, the blows would come twice as hard. Have you ever been beaten with an extension cord, when it's wrapped just right it leaves deep cuts in your skin that bleed and ooze for days, and it leaves scares on you skin for the rest of your life, much like the scares of a whip that are seen on the backs of slaves. You hide them with long pants, long sleeves and make up. These abusers are criminals they don't deserve to be kept secret. For the longest time I though, no I won't tell because it was so long ago what would it accomplish. It will only destroy the lives of innocent people. But I have come to realize my silence has opened the door for all abusers to do the same thing to another child. Don't close your eyes and pretend it won't happen to you, I was happening to me right under my mothers nose. I won't hide any more, I am on a quest to stop child abuse, to give these scums of the earth just some, of what they gave their victims. Join the fight, get involved. Know who and where your children are at all times. My childhood was taken from me, I didn't give it away, it was stolen. I can't get back my youth, but I can take back my life! Join my blog tell your story, expose these people for who and what they are, save an innocent life by making people aware, join the cause to help fight child abuse. God Bless you and God bless the children.

Abused-are we animals or people

I just love animals, dogs, cats, horses, you name it, if it's furry and soft, I love it! They don't hurt your feelings, they keep all your secrets, and most of all they love you unconditionally. They know when your happy or sad and will sit at your bed side watching over you when your sick. I have even heard of dogs that know when your going to have a seizure, and they alert you so you don't hurt yourself. In return for this unconditional love and devotion, all you have to do is feed them food, water, and give a little attention once in a while thus giving you a friend for a life time. Yet I have seen dogs who don't get one ounce of attention and are treated so  bitterly nasty by their owner and still the animal licks his hand. But sooner or later if you push that animal into a corner with no way to get away from the pain of his beating, the animal will snap and turn on the abuser, in some cases leaving the abuser for dead.
  I think that's part of what this blog is about. I got so tired of holding in the pain, feeling trapped and scared and I couldn't get free from the past abuse. I could no longer lick the hand of my abuser that kicked me and pounded me for so many years.
   The abuser doesn't' see you as a person they see you as the junk yard dog if you will. If you beat the animal it more than not, he will obey, but on the other hand if you reward  they also will  learn to obey , does the animal that has been asked to roll over for the treat, resent you, no of course not. Does he enjoy it. No he enjoys the treat.  When you ask him to roll over and you beat him until he does it, what is the out come? Simple, he does it out of fear! he learns it's easier to obey then be beaten,  thus he learned the trick. He does it out of habit and fear, non the less he learned the trick.  With the treat he still learned the behavior and the trainer also got what he wanted, so end result was the same. Does the animal  enjoy rolling over on command? Interesting question, the answer is No he does not, the trainer merely  manipulated a natural behavior and twisted it to get what he or she wanted on command. Then they delude themselves into thinking the animal enjoys the attention.Trust me that dog would be much happier running after the cat!
    We have a tendency to want to please our abuser, It's called survivor mode, we learn very quickly to survive, just like the dog being trained, by doing what he or she wanted us to do out of fear of being punished. Either we got beat, or we didn't get the treat, either way it is a manipulation and an assault of an innocent mind and body for which the abuser had no right. We are not animals, we are human beings with a heart and a brain who trusted that authority to guide us, and care for us, not to abuse us!
   Don't kid yourself into thinking somehow you were guilty, because plain and simply your not. Did you enjoy jumping threw hoops, I think not ! You were manipulated into doing what your abuser wanted, no matter which method he used, it was still abuse, he took away your free will and got what he wanted.   No way will I feel guilty any longer about telling of my story, I have nothing to feel guilty about. I was a child who was trained to roll over out of fear and anguish. He stole a piece of my innocence. Today I am taking that piece back! I didn't give it, it was taken from me!

Abuses/aren't Holidays are supposed to be fun?

I love Christmas! I love presents! and the lights, and the Presents!, and the tree all decorated, and the Presents under the tree for me!, and the smell of fresh baked cookies and pies, oh and not to mention the Presents!! Did I mention the Presents!!!
So getting up Christmas morning was always a real treat at our home. 6 kids scrambling down the stairs. to see what wasn't broken or crushed after the big fight that the parental figures had on Christmas Eve. You see he never worked a day in his life except to sing in some Congo band, and Christmas Eve, he was always entertaining, unfortunately for Mother he was taking some of the act on a more private level with some, chick younger then her in a back ally. You guessed it he would get caught, and they would fight like pit bull dogs until every dish and glass in the house was broken. We would all listen from our beds, hoping and praying the fighting would stop. The screaming wasn't limited to yelling at each other it was screams of pain and terror as well, because he was beating the hell out of her. Both drunk as skunks due to the celebration they had just come from, and the scene of the after party experience was just a bit too much to bear. Christmas morning was usually spent cleaning up the mess they made, including scrapping food and condiments for the walls and cupboards, so much for Christmas dinner, and forget about the tree, it was dead for sure. This was a ritual year after year, you could bank on it happening.  Sometimes my oldest brother would try to rescue our screaming mother and would get caught in the cross fire, he didn't always look so good after that. He sometimes got it worse then my Mother.  When he got old enough he would just stay at his girlfriends house,  just so he wouldn't  have to face it.  One by one all my older brothers left, but not me I had to stay. I wasn't allowed to leave. He wasn't done with me yet. I tried to leave couple of times, but I would get caught and brought back. which included a few more black and blue marks. No, I wasn't going any where, not anytime soon anyway. After all who would take care of the little ones and clean up that mess, and be at his beckon call every time he needed a quickie.
  To this day I still get all excited about Christmas, I want everything to be perfect, for everyone else. Everyone but me, I over give, I over spend, and I over do. Every year is the same. I want everyone in the house to be happy! HAPPY HAPPY!! But in my soul it is black an dark and the light of soul and my god for whom we celebrate this wonderful season, is out. I get depressed, angry, lost, and disorientated.
Doing all the work keeps me from going back to the place of total darkness that I used to be in. Making others happy keeps the peace and quiet. Evey Christmas Eve we open our presents, because i want to be sure they will still be under a tree in the morning, and I kill my self with work just too forget. The Sounds of Christmas.
I really want my light back on this one...I think i will take it this year, you see it was stolen from me many years ago. It's my soul and I am taking that peace of it back, this is my present to me this year. How about you doing the same. :)

Abused-Family Parties 2

   Holiday parties shouldn't be so bad, they should be fun and full of laughter and joy, but the fear factor invades my being, and turns me into a basket case, all because of the unknown. Night after night not knowing if he would sneak into my room, the the anxiety I would feel until I would finally fall asleep still haunts me to this day.

   The day to day events that took place in our chamber of horrors, never allowed me to be comfortable in my own home, just waiting for the other shoe to drop was exhausting. The only real rest we got was when the Abusers were gone for the day. You would never know what would set either of these parental figures off. Each contained their demons and each one was worse than the other on given days. Normally they were only social drinkers, so you can't blame the abuse on drugs and alcohol because they didn't partake in that scene, my opinion was they were just plane and simply evil. I would work my fingers to the bone to please them, try to make them content and be happy so they wouldn't hurt me or my brothers. Mother although not the sex abuser, but a mother who could put Joan Crawford in Mommy Dearest to shame, her weapon of choice wasn't a wire hanger, that hurt her hand, she preferred the extension cord, she believed in whippings until you bled or when she was tired. Her verbal abuse could steam the skin off a dead cat, to this day she commands and demands and has managed to drive everyone away from her. My siblings, still drawn to her for some estranged reason, can only take her is very small doses. They are still fighting to call us a family. What they don't' realize is that we were never a Norman Rockwell family and the gatherings of all of us together only brings us pain from the past, a place I would rather not go. I can't feel ashamed of saying all this because it's fact, I feel freedom at last to just let it go, I am taking back that little piece of my soul that was taken from me. I didn't give it, it was stolen!

Abused-Family Parties

       So now you know, the secret is out and I should feel very ashamed of what I have shared in this blog, but somehow I don't, I really don't.
   Most people that know me, wouldn't know what had transpired in my life, unless I told them directly. On the most normal basis I am a happy go lucky person, I like to please people, make them laugh. I do admit I enjoy the one on one of attention when I am with people I am most comfortable with. I enjoy teasing people, making them blush, most of all I enjoy laughter. How did I come out enjoying laughter is beyond me. I think the laughter covers and hides the pain that is hiding inside me. Like when ever I am invited to go to a family party, at first I might say yes just to make the family happy, but as it get closer to the party date I become agitated, nervous, and out in left field, my hands get sweaty, my stomach starts to act up, and I start into a full blown panic. I plain and simply don't want to go! I am in panic mode I have nothing to wear, I am having a bad hair day, make up isn't right. I will pick a fight with the husband, any thing to get out of going. The small family gathering now becomes a terror! I literally have to be dragged from my home when I can't come up with a good enough excuse not to leave the house. Once out the door the panic really begins to swell and I either become quite, or I just can't stop talking, there is no middle of the road on that one, after we have arrived I peek through the door and zero in on the first person I actually like, usually a cousin or an in-Law and stay there were it's comfortable and in my groove of things, a warm place to laugh and chat, have a good stiff margarita, comfortable corner, and I usually can have a good time. But still to this day that fear over comes me. Slowly I am learing to take back my confidence. It was stolen from me, I didn't give it away, Now I want it back!

Abused

As I think back I remember my mother sending us to church, while she stayed home in her warm bed, we would walk thru the snow to our Catholic Church. The"Father" would quote things from the bible like, the father that does not beat his child, hates that child. Another favorite was foolishness is bound in the heart of a child and the rod of correction shall drive it from him! That must have been the quote the Sisters used for an excuse to come after you with this heavy wooden yard stick, whaling and beating the living HELL out of you for speaking out of turn, or for chewing gum. I am sure that quote must have been their favorite of all.
  Yet I really don't remember anywhere in the bible, where it said it was ok to sexually abuse the alter boys, or beat the hell out of little kids. Where do you suppose they came up with that? I have read the entire bible from cover to cover, more than once, and have never read that passage. I must have been reading the wrong version. Silly me!
We are fooled by the portrail of, the love of God. We are taught God is love, he will protect and love us , yet his own people who claim to love and serve him, are beating and sexually abusing children in his name!
  Then we wonder why so many of us are screwed up for life.  People say they are just playing God, but some how I can't picture Jesus beating the hell out of you for any reason. So what really is their excuse for such action?
  I would go to church seeking gods help, praying and hoping he would take me away from my abusers only to be abused more. And you keep asking me why didn't you tell some one. Bull! who was going to listen. Back then abuse was called DISAPLINE!!! In fact that's how my abuse began. My abuser thought giving me the beating of my little life, and sticking his penis in my mouth, would surely cure my naughty behavior, and to put icing on the cake I was told if I hurt it, I would be beat again.  To insure my keeping the "secret", he said he would tell my mother that I was very bad; she surely would beat me too!  So what he was saying was, do it or die, and the message came accross quite clear, death wouldn't come soon enough if I told his dirty little secret.  Did I have a choice. I was 5 you tell me.
     I was a very bad girl. I made a little too much noise while they were trying to sleep. Oh man, did I ever deserve that whipping with the extention cord, and some big nasty thing stuck down my throat so far it made me throw up! BAD GIRL!
If this is something your telling yourself, you need to stop right there! You didn't deserve to be beat, you didn't deserve to be sexually assaulted! You didn't deserve to die, or lose a part of your precious soul!
Take back that piece of your soul, it belongs to you, your innocence was taken, you didn't give it!

Abused

From long red curles to a bundle of nerves. As your awakened in the night with a hand over your mouth to muffel your scream and a fist to you gut, just so your shure he means business, you lay there and take it day after day after day. Who could we tell, the burses were hidden by clothing and your mind is controled by the fear. Your told you will be dead, your mother will die by the knife in her sleep and your brothers would be shot with the shot gun that hung loaded on the wall. Who could we tell then. As a child you think like a child this person who is abusing you is suppose to be your protector not your abuser. You hate him and feel petrified everytime he begins to wisper in your ear. The night is always the worse. Everyone is asleep so nows his chance to steel part of your soul and give a piece of it to the devil for good measure, possibley to ensure himself a spot next to thrown in hell. At 5 was I just to sexie for my body? What was the attraction, to this day I could not say. What posseses a grown adult to pry on a little child. There isn't a reason good enough, people say sick mind, not good enough, they were abused, still not good enough, they needed help, you know what, SO DOOES THE ABUSED CHILD!!!! Now who could we tell when such excuses side with the abuser? Does society give him a licence to hurt someone else with all the excuses that are forgiven in a court of law. Who helps the abused? Who do we TELL that will help us?!

Abused

We hear about abuse every day but did you know that 3 of every 5 childred will be abused by a family member or someone you know.  My abuse began at a very early age and continued on for over 13 years. The first question from everyones mouth is why didn't you tell someone. It would have been so easy just to tell a teacher or extended family member,they would say, they didn't realize, but I was telling them every day in every possible way. But no one listened, who would hear my cry, was there anyone out there that understood the reason I cried so much, or why I was anti social, at the age of 7 I learned to lock my doors. They didn't hear the muffled screams in the middle of the night, or see the black and blue marks or marks for tv cords. The didn't ask question why I sleep in the fetal position with one foot sticking out from under the covers? A thumb sucker until I was 12 years old, I would sit on my calves rocking totally zoned out in front of the TV.   Did they see, did they think I deserved it? Did they know my heart or my pain? The angwish every time my mother would leave me in his care. A once happy child with long red curles now nothing but a bundle of nerves. Who could I tell?

Abused and Battered Who could we tell?

This is the start of a healing process that I am slowly getting into. I have never done a blog before so bear with me. I am not a Doctor or a Minister or anyone special. You wouldn't know me if you saw me on the street because I don't make the head lines or even stand out in a crowd. Just an every day ordinary person like you. The only thing you can't see is the scares of physical mental and sexual abuse. The dreaded things most people won't bring up or are afraid to talk about, fearing they would be judged. After all who could we tell, no one would believe us, they would say your lying, or you made it up. Or more commonly you brought in on yourself.

The abuse started at a very young age, I think I may have been 5 or 6, Nice! A baby still at my mothers knee. But while she was away the cat would play. Sound familiar? I am now 55 years old and still holding scares and horrific memories of a lost childhood that was stolen from me with out a hint of remorse from my abuser. He got off easy he was able to take his offense to his grave, and even from the grave his evil continues to shadow my life.
If this nightmare has happened to you then join my blog and we can heal together. I'm no one special, I blend in the crowd, the only thing I know is to survive.

Just know my arms are around you and I care. I am here to listen and to heal,an ordenary person, just like you.