Category: FALC

  • Before I broke my silence.

    Today I rode the mail route with bits of sadness tagging along…and parts of wonder.

    What I have been fighting against is the sentiment that I am unkind.

    I am a wild and mental lady, angry and cold-hearted, judgemental and self centered…one who has tossed aside her family for her own personal gain.  Gain of what, I am not sure of yet.  This image of me I have felt for years coming at me…in concentrated waves of stony silence…rebuffs.  

    If I could only articulate the feelings of being asaulted by indifference while standing up wounded…you would see the contrasts.  

    What have I done to deserve this title of unkindness and cruel silences?

    In the video you see my brother's wounded heart.  His emotions are the feelings of the child who is unseen and unheard. It is also the scene of being heard and being seen.  He has an attentive audience.

    My mind cannot wrap itself around the fact that we have to educate and teach how to respond to a wounded human being.

    And yet, we awkwardly will deal with wounded humans who hurt others by treating them as normal, kind and nice.

    Somehow there is something way way off, when the abused is treated like the abuser and the abuser like the abused.

    Can you see it?

    My greatest sadness today is to feel the wounded child being seen as unkind.  Today, I felt and fully embraced my kindness.  Can you look in my brother's face and call him unkind?

    It is an act of kindness to speak your truth.

    It is an act of kindness to break the silence.

    It is an act of kindness to feel emotions.

    It is an act of kindness to put up barriers against evil.

    It is an act of kindness to show the church that their forgiveness doesn't heal the wounded child.  

    To me, and call me mental, it would be unkind to do the opposite of what I have been trying to do.  

    My brother and I were both wounded in our childhoods, we are showing our wounds in public. And some are not willing to see them…or God forbid comment on them.

    I have had wonderful comments of courage, bravery, wise, etc…all for being real.

    Being real is unkind?

    Really???

    How?

    Or, how is it judgmental to point out the silence?  Isn't that what the church has done…deflected the wrongdoing on to the abused.  How am I more wrong for seeing the silence than those who are silent.

    I know I am supposed to find a reasonable reason as to why some turn away…in order to keep them kind.  I can't.

    Here is what I do know. When I was unaware of my own abuse, I was unaware of others wounds. I was unaware of my hurt, I was hurtful in my blindness.

    My favorite detective, Tom Rosemurgy asked me, "What could we have done to get your attention when you were unaware of your abuse?"  I still don't have the answers, but I am working towards solutions.  I am doing my best to shake, rattle and roll the ironclad beliefs that held me in the dark.  

    I just don't feel that by me NOT addressing my feelings about the silence would be helpful.  The truth being put out there time and time again is the only thing I feel that can poke holes in denial.

    Maybe I am only judgmental and unkind to those in denial.

    And, if you want to remain in the dark, you don't want to see the wounded.

    For once you see the wounded, you see too much.

    Here is what I know for sure.  I saw my wounded self.  I saw the little girl whose love, and trust had been ripped to shredds.  Her broken heart.  (see my brother's piece) and I fell in love with her.

    My heart opened wide for this girl. The one who had been abused by her father.  By her father.  I held her in my heart.

    So each time I am unseen and unheard or turned away from or shrugged off with indifference, it is denial denying me.

    It would.

    The question is why?

    In the past, I thought it was me. I was not kind enough, cute enough, articulate enough, my words were not soft enough or more christian sounding.  Now, I know it isn't me.

    There simply isn't nothing this wounded adult child can do to make you see.

    The video clip does not show unkindness or cruelty of the wounded…at least not the wounded who are aware.  It is those who are not aware of their wounds who wound.

    Kindness flowed in me…unchallenged by your indifference.  It didn't matter today.

    My brother's wounded emotions are the visual picture of kindness…a child with a broken heart isn't unkind.

    A lady who is trying to draw attention to the beauty of the wounded…isn't unkind.

    I know I have been unkind. But it was before I broke my silence.  

     

    I am posting it again! Call Me Mental…

     

     

     

  • My Episode.

     

    Well Here it is!  Thanks David Cowardin and Lola Visuals, and NDC of Duluth and Carolyn Phelps for her kind words!  It has been nothing but a great experience!  Thank each of you for being you!

    May this project go on and inspire, challenge and touch folks in ways we can't even imagine! 

    You can read Carolyn's response to my episode and her thoughts at http://callmemental.com/episode-2-beth-jukuri/

    I feel that this is a full circle moment…where I am being affirmed and supported and tag teamed with folks who have the same interest as mine…removing the stigma of being abused and its affect of mental illness, replacing it with Self Love.

    I am proud to be part of "Call Me Mental"!

     

  • Backs My Soul

    For the past many years I have given up praying or any thoughts of prayer.  I know this will seem shocking to many, but I have come to learn that the only prayer that has any substance is "I want what God wants." Period.  The end.

    The Universe has a ruling sequence that is the cause and affect…and I have seen the choreographing of lessons and life experiences that were all used to set me free to be me.  There is no part of my journey you could take out and call useless.

    It was all perfectly perfect for me.

    There were moments that I was blown away by what IT was asking of me, the sheer madness it seemed…only to have revealed to me my strength, courage and success  at accepting what is.

    Bowing to the flow of free will…and seeing the consequences of my choices.

    I truly am left prayer less.  What can I possibly pray for that God doesn't already want?

    I love that I can stand behind the mystery and magic, like a huge organically moving Art piece and know that our free will is painting our lives.  We act and IT responds.

    It never fails.  

    The Universe has delivered to me the exact and perfect answer often before I ask the question. 

    Deepak Chopra says, to put your intention out there and then let it go.  

    It is the letting go, removing your needs, desires and wishes. To not try and control that which you have no control over.

    What I have learned, when each of my limited desires were not fulfilled, is that I was given what I needed in order to grow and heal.  I had to walk into places and out of relationships to know what love is.  I never walked alone.

    My small self was often in battles with my soul.

    The Universe only serves the soul.  

    My personality often balked at the needs of the soul.  Eventually my soul outgrew my little self.

    I think we can see life through two eyes…our personality and our soul.

    What is good for the soul often feels like hell to the personality.

    I love that the Universe backs my soul!

     

  • Disgrace back to you.

    From my Brother Carl's Facebook page…And this quote Dr. Brene Brown say's in this piece is for you:

    "It is not the critic who counts, nor the man who points how the strong man stumbled or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly…who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at best, knows the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."
    Theodore Roosevelt, 1910

    This quote means more to me today, than it did even one short week ago…while I awaited the photojournalist to appear with all his gear to set the stage for my voice to echo beyond my blog and local town.

    I am daring greatly.  I am in the arena trying to articulate the cause and affects of what we call mental illness in regards to the sexually abused.

    Some will shout TMI; too much information.

    And I say, the only reason I am on camera is for the lack of information that has been presented and discussed and acted on from my childhood up to today.  There is a lack of information for those who are abused.

    What is the churches message and where do folks like me go…where is their information?  

    Same goes for family.

    IF I am displaying family secrets, that means this information has been lacking.  I didn't have too much information as a child of sexual abuse, but rather the total lack of information of who is who and who is doing what to whom.

    I am daring to show the totality of what has been lacking.  

    It isn't what I knew that had me out of sorts with reality; but what I did not know.

    I am hoping that by sharing my story, others will know.

    This is the arena of knowledge; of what is.  I am attempting to show the landscape as I experienced it and how it appears today. 

    Can there really be Too Much Information in regards to sexual abuse of children?  And, who wants this kept silent? Who doesn't want me to speak out loud?

    I am once again pushed back by the silence of many, as I entered into this arena.  

    Those who know, but who do not cheer.  

    Do they hear my words? Will they see my images? What stops them from even virtually joining me with a "Like" on facebook.

    I wonder why?

    Is it me?

    Is it the topic?

    What keeps them silent again…another generation, new friends…not applauding the adult/child of abuse.  Who would they cheer for and which arena will they sit in?

    I appreciate those cheering me on,immensly!  It almost appears you have to be brave in order to be with me.  This seems so odd…like why is it bad to stand by me?

    This experience has given me a rapid review of how a child who is abused IS treated.

    We know who you are by how you respond.

    I know who hears me.

    I know who is silent.

    I know a child feels this too.

    It makes those who are in this arena with me mean more. Thank you for not making me stand alone…soul bared…truth showing.

    Vulnerable…is when you hide nothing, knowing some will turn away.

    What is odd.  Years ago when the story broke, they were silent then, and some appologized years later.  We formed a tenuous loose friendship.  

    It isn't that they didn't know.  It is that they are unable to stand by me.

    This is the stigma…that we somehow are made to carry.  We are treated like a disgrace; so we internalize it.

    I wish I could make it about me…this time.

    But, this time I am handing the disgrace back to you.

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  • Keeping the Silence!

    Was it really just one week ago that I met David Cowardin and heard the about the documentary- "Call Me Mental"?  It has been a roller coaster week with journeys back to the past and dreams of the future, memories drug into the present and new thrills and possibilities.  The combination of mixing the old with the new the good with the bad, left my body in a state of contradiction.

    Moments of fear tingling with terror slamming into excitement and choreographed magic.

    The colliding of my past, present and future…and the feelings and emotions each carry.

    Being pulled back and forth…and with new revelations.

    It was to go on visual tour back; a life review but with the eyes of someone who sees…and a new friend who believed me.

    Most often, it feels that I have to work really hard to articulate and prostrate, to explain the insanity…to make believable the unbelievable.  Trying to explain how what appears normal is actually insane.

    What struck me to the core years ago was that I was seen as mental.

    And, the drive in the old neighborhood, gave me the clear view of another girl who appears like me.  Who didn't have access to a photojournalist, who didn't have the books, the tools and the means to right her own mind; against the backdrop of insanity.

    I know how it feels to be the lone voice of 'reason' and how they feel free to berate and dismiss my truths as evil remonstrations against 'good' folks and institutions.

    The brilliance of this film are these daring free spirited, soul-full, kind photojournalists, who have taken on the stigma of the mental, is that they are willing see the world from the eyes of us "mental" folk.  

    They are not interviewing the families or friends to show our insanity, but instead seeing our lives through our eyes. Seeing our experiences and how we came to be this way.

    I see this project as being the tipping point to upend the 'normal' and show its ugly underbelly.

    To see what sends us over the deep end.

    It isn't our minds.

    It isn't our experiences.

    It IS the blind eyes upon evil that drive us nuts.

    It is the dismissing of wrong doing.

    It is not believing in the pattern and the gravity of its long reach.

    The discounting of children's lives and their innocence…as they uphold the fake image of good of adults and churches, and who delete the actions upon children.

    I love that this documentary is dancing on the lip of exposing the insanity that lives in the lives of the so called normal.

    This so called normal is the good ole boys club phenomena…where we do what we do without question, just because it is what we were taught.  Not because it is right.

    I see this documentary as furthering what I have come to believe…that we as society are in need of a great Ah Ha!  

    Reactively we have stood by the institutions and the elders…without question or challenge.

    "Call Me Mental" is the uprising of children against these old paradigms.

    We know what doesn't work.  It is time for a change. I am proud to be part of the parade of children speaking out! 

    My hats are off to the guys of Lola Visuals…may the power of the Universe lead us forward!  Giving us the platform for which we can shout…I no longer feel that my voice is just a whisper.

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    I hope my voice is clear and that it can articulate what those who went before me could not say!  I speak for those who have been silenced by a label "Mental".  

    Call Me Mental, but I am no longer keeping the silence!  

     

    Please show your support to us mental folks by going to "Call Me Mental" facebook page or to their site, and donate to the cause for breaking the stigma!  http://callmemental.com

     

  • A Mom like Me

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    This "Valentine" Lady was created in 2012.  

    Grey and burdened, raining pain, she bows to the emotions, is chilled by their feelings.  

    Is this a Love expression?  

    Are feelings of a broken heart evidence that you loved?

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    Is a whole heart is formed from the brokenness…you enter.

    Feeling the broken pieces…you feel love. 

     

    Last year I tried to make another Valentine quilt. This one remains unfinished, just didn't speak to me clearly or loudly.  I didn't know it.

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    I had added the words and bird trying to make it make sense or have a theme….

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    It appears that she is on the road…crossing the road.  Perhaps she is the transition quilt…  While pondering this, I then wondered if she felt safe to remain in the middle of the road and not veer off the sides. That love is to not rattle cages or upset others…Perhaps the safety of the middle of the road didn't speak for I had left the safety zone.

    This is my 2014 Valentine Quilt…

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    To me, she represents the courage it takes to love your self and to embrace and celebrate who you are.  She is not weak in her self love.  Her love has strength.

    On Valentine's Day, we see love in chocolates and hearts. We don't see the love in breaking the silences…the courage it takes to stand for love and not cower out of fear.

    Love isn't displayed when you do nothing when children are still in danger.

    Taking the ride past our old house yesterday, was a reminder in how much things have stayed the same.  

    Ironically, there are children now owning the homes they once lived in or live near by. 

    The children are now the parents of the children in the neighborhood.

    I wondered if this neighborhood was now different. If all the evil threats diminished.

    Can it be different, if the children are not different than their parents.

    Is the mind…the belief, the faith, the actions of love similar to when I grew up there?

    What has changed in the neighborhood, except that the wounded children are now parents?  

    How will they do better than their parents? What have they learned from their history? Will the fear of their own wounds keep the old neighborhood going?  

    Are they more aware than my parents and theirs?  Has enough changed to make it a safe place for their children?

    And, what needs to have changed in order for the threat to have been removed?

    What makes a home and neighborhood a safe place for a child?

    What kind of love is the kindest to children?

    What kind of mother do these new children in their neighborhood need?

    Will she look like me or like my mother?

    Will she be trying to shake and rattle the foundations that seek to hide abusers in their pews and families…and friends.

    Or will she be saying "It doesn't matter" what that crazy mental woman is doing, we are family. We have love.  

    There was a young girl in our neighborhood, who we knew had lost her mind….but actually she was trying, like me, to expose abuse. She had a mental breakdown, for no one believed her.  I know this feeling well.

    As I drove away from that old neighborhood, I felt that I too was seen as mentally impaired; for I see the perfect combination that is needed for the legacy of abuse to grow and flourish…all believing it is not there.

    Call me Mental, but I needed a Mom like me.

     

     

     

     

  • Beyond Faith

    I went back to my old church today…and I brought my new friend.  

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    A cold and blustery day.  It matched my feelings.

    Who would have thought that someday, I would return…with a photojournalist.

    Trying to capture how this religion played such a crucial part in my childhood abuse.

    It is the lens my mother couldn't see through.

    The child's wound remains invisible…as does the sin she blessed away.

    There was no longing or wish to belong.  No guilt or shame.  Just an incredible chill of what this structure is used for…

    Where a child's mind is bent and shaped to bend and shape reality to be different than it is.  

    Did my photojournalist see the truth through his lens?  IMG_1254

    Does a camera see beyond Faith.

  • “I am Mental”

    And, Alice Miller again!  

    "If I succeed in making even a few people aware of how the victimization of children is concealed by placing the blame on them, then all the misunderstandings and reproaches for being one-sided that I anticipate would be a very small price to pay, compared to the importance to me of what I shall have achieved."

    "Those who have read the first chapter of my book "For Your Own Good" will understand why Freud's first theory, his trauma theory, and my own findings that support it inevitably encounter much greater resistance than the theory of the Oedipus complex.  I see this resistance as a social phenomena and am prepared for the misinterpretations and reproaches it engenders.  If there were none, it would have been superfluous for me to write this book.  The heritage of millennia cannot suddenly cast aside.  As analysts we must be understanding of this, but we cannot be expected, on the other hand, to shut our eyes tighter than ever after analyzing patients all these many years and making discoveries no one wants to know about.  People don't want to listen because they are not ready to bear what they will hear. That is justifiable, for to achieve genuine insight is a slow process in which intellectual knowledge plays only a small role.  What is decisive is no doubt the willingness to remain open, open to what "the patients" and the poets tell us, to what our children have to reveal to us, and, finally to the discoveries we can make about our own selves once we are able to take our feelings and our fantasies seriously and see them as messages about earlier situations in our lives." 

    "As soon as opposition to the truth about the damage done to young children under the cloak of silence becomes less widespread and unyielding than it is now, these messages will not need much coding. Mariella Mehr's moving book, "Steinzeit (Stone Age), is an indication of this. At age thirty-two this woman succeeded in uncovering the most inconceivable martyrdom of her childhood and youth as well as a whole long and hidden chain of persecution and assault; she did this by experiencing her pain and other accompanying feelings in their full intensity, and in the process found her true self. The change from petrified, dehumanized creature to a vital, feeling, and suffering human being took place of primal therapy, apparently in its best possible form. In any case, we sense here the presence of a trustworthy nonpedagogical, empathic support figure, who is never placating, never conceals the truth with theories, ideologies, or mystification.  The only concession Mehr makes to the reader's resistance is her designation of the book as a "novel" thereby giving her reader the opportunity to take a psychiatric approach and call the whole thing the product of a "diseased imagination." But even the most horrible imaginings seldom approach the horror of reality. Mehr's book is an exceptional peice of work, both for its conviction as well as for the significance of its findings.  This work illustrates and indirectly confirms several of my premises."

    1. it is the depth, intensity, and authenticity of experience that gives a literary work its force and not the psychological naivete (or lack of awareness of the unconscious) of the author; therefore, a writer's familiarity with his or her unconscious does not diminish literary power.

    2. The source of creativity lies in the creative person's capacity for suffering, not in his or her neurosis.

    3. Liberation and the ability to love are attained by experiencing traumatic childhood situations and articulating the resulting hatred and despair, not by acting them out.  Only if these emotions are dissociated from their cause will they lead to destructive and self-destructive behavior.

    4. Change in society is brought about by uncovering and recognizing the truth in its entirety, not by manipulative methods based on acceptance of social taboos.

    5. Old wounds will heal over if feelings find full acceptance and if emotional access to childhood traumas is provided, not if drive conflicts are intellectually resolved or if improved control and mastery over drive desires are achieved.

    6. Access to these traumas will be facilitated by a trustworthy, sincere support figure, not by complicated theories.

    "Once this access has been won, then the numbness that was needed to survive gives way, even in the case of a woman whose schizophrenic mother twice attempted to murder her as a little girl, a woman who was repeatedly raped and was forced to undergo electric shock treatments and disciplinary measures of unbelievable brutality.  No "mere" imagination could have invented all this, could ever have described it in such a consistant way. There are simply some horrendous things in this world tha the philosophers (the fortunate ones) have not yet dreamed of. But at the same time there are an increasing number of people who are able to see these things because at some point along the way they have found an aware and sensitive support figure. To be sure, the truth that individuals discover through their pain can be crushed over and over again by the tomes of pedagogical, pyschriatric, and theological wisdom, but it cannot be destroyed, for every newborn child has the capacity to discover the truth anew."  Alice Miller

    Alice Miller's brilliance is that she truly gets that the truth is there for everyone…and that you can't love until you first feel the trauma of childhood, and that it also takes someone who is willing to listen; be supportive to our truths.

    At anytime, if the listener leans away from the child to defend the adult, they have withdrawn their support.  It doesn't take much, and the trustworthiness is broken.

    What I also love about her writings and discoveries is that they match head to head with my own.  

    While I get lost in her famous Analysists and their theories, I am one with her on what works, and that is in direct opposition to these famous theories.

    I know what they were saying and why, but I also know how it would never support the child and their truths.  

    Just as I know the mission behind the FALC and their forgiveness of sins and how it doesn't take into the equation the wounded child. 

    When we don't see the child's needs, we are never going to fix if you will the plight of what most call the mentally ill.  What I know to be true, the only real mental are the ones who are not in reality. 

    Most of society live one or two or even three steps away from reality…and they call those of us who refuse to abide outside of reality Mental.

    I see the mental as living in the space outside of reality.  Believing that the forgiveness of sins can literally change the reality of what happened in childhood.

    And what society has labeled as mental…are those who can't live in the pretend world, but are locked into reality.  

    Our failure to fit back into a pretend space has us labeled as mental….when in fact we should come up with a new term, Reality Dwellers; those refusing to not see what isn't there.

    Byron Katie is a lover of reality…perhaps the "mental" folks are just that….Lovers of Reality. 

    And, their refusal to pretend has them labeled as mental.  If you could just picture the insanity of this concept, you would find that the majority of folks are truly mental and those who have carried the label as "Mentally Challenged" are not. 

    What they are being chastised for is their inability to pretend reality different.

    I have experienced this phenomena…when I failed to flip my father back to dad after knowing he was a pedophile.  My refusal to see him any other way gave me my label, "I am Mental".

     

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    This is the quilt that came forth after being with my estranged family….as they seen me, "not even humane" for standing by my truth.

  • Who is now a parent.

    Alice Miller writes in "Thou Shalt Not Be Aware"

    "The consequences of sexual abuse however, are not restricted to problems in one's sexual life; they impair the development of the self and of an automous personality. There are several reasons why this is so:"

    1. To have one's helplessness and total dependency taken advantage of by the person one loves, by one's mother or father, at a very early age soon produces an interlinking of love and hate.

    2. Because anger toward the loved person cannot be expressed for the fear of losing that person and therefore cannot be lived out, ambivalence, the interlinking of love and hate, remains an important characteristic of later object relationships. Many people, for instance, cannot even imagine that love is possible at all without suffering and sacrifice, without fear of being abused, without being hurt and humiliated.

    3. Since the fact of abuse must be repressed for the sake of survival, all knowledge that would threaten to undo this repression must be warded off by every possible means, which ultimately results in an impoverishment of the personality and loss of vital roots, manifested, for example, in depression.

    4.The consequences of a trauma are not eliminated by repressing it but are actually reinforced. The inability to remember the trauma, to articulate it (i.e. to be able to communicate these earlier feelings to a supportive person who believes you), creates the need to articulate it in the repetition compulsion.

    5. The unremembered plight of being at someone else's mercy and being abused by a loved object is perpetuated either in a passive or an active role, or alternately in each.

    6. One of the simplest and completely unnoticed forms of perpetuation of the active role is abuse of one's children for one's own needs, which are all the more urgent and uncontrollable the more deeply repressed the original trauma.

    "I can imagine that this last point will bewilder many readers, who will angrily ask: Is the affection I show my child wrong, too?  is the love I have for my child also to be forbidden me? Of course this is not what I mean.  Physical attraction and affection are always part of love, and this has nothing to do with abuse. But parents who have had to repress the fact of having been abused and who have never consciously relived it can become very confused in this regard.they will either suppress their genuine feelings of affection for fear of seducing their child or they will unconsciously do the same with the child that was done to them, without having any idea of how much harm they are causing, since they themselves always had to distance themselves from their suffering. How can these parents be helped? There is probably no possibility of curing their compulsion to repeat without extensive therapy. It is indeed difficult for people who as children were the property of their parents to realize when they are treating their own children like their property.  Nevertheless, I see some hope if people becomes sensitive to the question, if they become conscious of these connections.  This assumes that a person can at least admit that his or her parents were not gods or angels but often deprived and emotionally very isolated people for whom their child was the sole permissible object for the discharge of the affect; these parents moreover, found justification for their behavior in various ideologies, including pedagogy and, not least of all even psychoanalysis with it's theory of "infantile sexuality."   Alice

     

    This explains, at least to me, the way abuse goes from one generation unto the next and how it is spread and why and then, what it will take for it to stop.

    This book has history of how we as a species have evolved…and until we see the child as innocent and not our property…we are going to NoT see how abuse is spread. 

    We will continue to teach good touch bad touch…while the parental role will go unnoticed…

    I find this chillingly tragically spot on…it is exactly as I know it to be true. 

    The parents are the grown child who has repressed his sexual abuse…the cycle goes on until you can see what you have repressed.

    The battle I feel I am fighting is for the plight of the innocent child…and what stands against me is the repressed victim who is now a parent.

    (The blueprint of sexual abuse within a family!)

     

  • Parents are unloving.

    When I have been contemplating and writing about everyday heroes, it came to me the twist between domestic violence campaign and how we view incest.  In the first we are raising awareness campaigns and urging them to leave the abusers.  And, in the second, children/adult children are made to feel heartless for leaving a family and even urged unwittingly to remain in the relationship.

    Why is it that we see a woman who escapes her abuser as being in a better place away from the abuse.

    And when a child leaves their family it isn't seen as kind or even beneficial to them.

    If divorcing a family was a socially acceptable option for being abused as a child, we would have much less stigma.

    Just as Freud found in the late 1800's, that when mistreatment of children caused hysteria in later years, he knew that the biggest obstacle he was up against wasn't the fact that his findings would not be accepted, but rather that the population wasn't willing to see the parents as responsible for a negative influence.

    What I have been banging my head against is the false positive read most have on parents.  Period.

    It doesn't matter the trauma they inflict, they remain in the light of love and honor; most refusing to lower them from their lofty stand.

    Animals in nature, who turn against their offspring are seen as an anomaly.

    Parents who strike out, are verbally abuse, as well as engage in sexual activities with their offspring are not granted this same title.

    And, those who see clearly this unnatural behavior are then labeled as the anomaly…and I guess we are. A small percentage of the population can even see the wrongness of sexual abuse WHEN it occurs In THEIR family.  

    Which makes denial among family abnormally normal…and those of us who can see the anomaly…not normal…among those whose normal is abnormal.

    Divorce is normal for those who have been victimized within a relationship of marriage…where the abuser fails change; the relationship must.

    Estrangement will someday be a normal extension of healing from childhood abuse… 

    It is not the disbelief of our sexual abuse, but rather the disbelief that parents are unloving.