tell your story
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Don’t children often blame themselves? Coming through abuse I not only blamed myself, but surmised I wasn’t worth very much. I couldn’t be and be treated the way I was treated. What value did I have? Very little. Was I valued because I was born? Did I find worth in my parents’ eyes because I…
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Memories for the abused are unwanted. In conversation, the goal is to listen to the person I’m talking with. People love sharing their stories and I’m a good listener. My memories aren’t worth being shared. A pretender I am not. Fishing through the past I could throw away all the burdensome darkness or I could…
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As she went she whispered to herself, “O Shepherd, when you said that Love and pain go together, how truly you spoke.” Hinds feet on high places, hannah hurmard An elegant gilded love triangle is built between abused children and their predators. If this abuser was or is your parent, that love triangle is an even…
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Add more “do” goals than “do not” goals.
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Skipping rope as child has its fun and it has the brittle failure that will happen when your foot stops the rope. For every action there is a reaction, right? When children are sexually abused nothing makes sense anymore and I do mean nothing. When your father or mother crosses the barrier of protection and…
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We leave our abusers kicking and screaming. Why is that? Shouldn’t we want to run away as fast as we can? We glorify them in our minds and say the sexual abuse was sustainable – it really wasn’t that bad. If it was family, we take it a step further and go underground so we…
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Isn’t life lived mostly in the meadows? Sometimes we hit high peaks in the mountains, sometimes we’re in a blue valley, but most of the time life is lived on an even keel for me now. It’s hard to be ordinary, isn’t it? It’s hard to live in constant pain and it’s hard to live…
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No child lived within me after the age of 3. I was grown by then. Given over fully to a life of survival. I don’t remember what act brought me to the threshold of the death of my inner child. Was it the death of a stranger I’d witnessed or was it the sexual assault…