I M Perfect lady

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  • Silently Supporting My Abuser.

    Having lived behind the scenes of a CSC case, and only as a second party or perhaps a third…I know that what you read in the paper is the tip of the iceburg, that for one person speaking out, there are much more being silent.  

    I know that the courts and lawyers have their own agendas, and will work each case to their benefit, heedless to the outcome and what message it sends, and to whom…however, the rest of us too, work each case to either further our cause or to run from our truth by remaining silent.

    Each of us sits with a vantage point, and what we do with it, will move our lives or our lives will be used.

    When you silently disagree, you are not standing in opposition, but actually with. You are consenting by passive actions.

    This passivity is a worker for crime.  It is a helper for the perpetrators…and it sends a signal to the victim, whose side you are on.

    If, we are expecting victims to come forth and use their voice, give up the names of their abusers, we as witnesses to their courage, have to be willing to do the same.

    What I recall most, what sticks out like a silent scream, is the silence.  The utter and complete silence I had when standing up against my family.  

    You receive no cards, saying "congratulations" for turning in a criminal…for lending your voice and your story to help build a case.  Nothing.  No response.

    The aloneness seems to permeate this walk…

    The voices you do hear are the ones wanting you to be silent.

    It is my intention to make some noise, to lend my voice and my journey to be supportive when others make this walk.

    Eventually, I did begin to pick up cheerleaders…and each one was the wind beneath my wings.  I would have done it regardless, but it sure helped knowing someone out there wasn't silently supporting my abuser.



  • A bit over nothing.

    On the front page of the paper yesterday is another CSC (Criminal Sexual Assualt) sentencing, a reduced charge and I wonder what is going on behind the scenes.

    The story kept coming back to me…and many thoughts came to mind.

    First of all, I am happy to see he was caught at 25, sad that he only got one year for having intercourse with a child 15 to 20 times.  It is insane…how there is not an outcry on the courthouse steps is beyond what a mind can hold.  Yet this child who spoke up, even if it was years later, still has labeled this man, so others can be aware.

    What this shows is how upside down our justice system is that he can plea bargain his way down to one year, with time served…about 100 days left on his sentence…for multiple rapes of a CHILD.

    How, How, How did we as a society get here?

    What most fail to recognize is what signals this sends out to other victims, that your rape, molestation isn't 'bad' enough…that you go through the whole trial and end up with a 100 day sentence.

    What I would like the victims to know though, it is not for naught.

    You are shedding light upon a very sick person. You have warned others.  You have found your voice.  You can now begin to upright your world, even if the world at large is upside down.

    I have a mind to write a letter to the paper…to congratulate this child.  To show there is someone in society that feels that even if justice wasn't served, she did her part.

    Her part isn't in question or should not be.  It is the folks in the courts who play with her history…her truth. Turning it around until it has a sentence attached to it that the defense can live with.

    If, we started actually trying these guys on the actual act, and holding them accountable and then having them serve the correct jail time, I wonder if the numbers of child abuse would fall?

    What we also all have to keep in mind, EVEN IF, the courts reduce the crime today, it Doesn't change how it originally happened. It doesn't make the intercourse a fondle or a touch.  It doesn't reduce the number of times he raped her.  Nothing changes, but the words on the paper.

    We once again, have to keep with reality and in doing so, will support the child.

    I don't know this girl, but wish her strength, and courage as she walks away from this trial.  She did her best…and the rest did a bit over nothing.

  • I Hope I Never Recover.

    As I thought about the word, RECOVERY, and what that truly meant for a child of abuse, I had to first look up its meaning. 

    Recovery, "Return to a normal state of health, mind, or strength…"

    Perhaps the burden to return to normal is what is truly felt by each child who has a parent expecting it to be so.

    When I look at the overall picture of abuse, I see the abuser not being asked to recover his normality, yet he is granted it.  In fact, most will not even put him into the category of being NOT normal.  And the child instead has to work to make Him (the abuser) normal in her mind.

    Oddly, my father didn't have to recover anything, for he never lost his original position as father.

    I however, felt the strain and stress of their annoyance and disappointment, that I could not recover my original state of mind.  I wasn't able to return him to father, and it wasn't HIS problem, but mine.  I am still in 'recovery'…is how they see it.

    I am not normal.  I haven't returned back into the family.  I refuse to fall into line.

    Child abuse is a crime that doesn't just affect the child. The wound ripples into the family, for it is usually someone they know and of that 50% a family member.

    The abuse shows the abscess in the family unit.  But, what usually happens, all look upon the child as the abscess, and not the abuser…and not the family as a whole.

    The legacy of this disease is that the family structure isn't seen as the problem and NOT the child.

    Expecting the child to only recover its normal state of mind, is to be in a huge state of denial.  The child, in my opinion is the one with the least amount to recover.  They are the ones saying what is wrong.  Usually, they speak up and then…nothing happens.

    No family implosion…there is perhaps a bit of wobbling, but the family unit doesn't fall down.  It stays standing.  They will Bless the 'sins' of the abuser….and return to work as usual.  

    And the child is expected to return to a normal state of mind…and slip back into the family with an abscess of abuse still alive, well and even in the home.

    In my case, I had to make the abscess normal and Me not normal.

    Recovering my normal state of mind was only gotten, by me leaving behind the family.

    If a family doesn't implode, the child has to leave…in order to recover.

    If a family imploded, it would show that they believed the abuse happened and it AFFECTED the family.  It took a once normal family unit and infected it. Yet, more often than not, the reactions of the family – Not imploding- is what set the child up to be the only one who sees this as wrong.

    Yet, in order to fit back into the family unit, you have to make up something in your mind to make it okay.  Usually, you are a child without a healthy adult supervision, so you make up the most plausible story…and return to a 'normal' family.  Never knowing you have just done what your relatives before you did.  Make abuse normal.

    If indeed, you stick your ground and refuse to recover the family unit, you will be ostracized.  You become the abscess.  You are not recovering…and seen as still being 'affected' by abuse.  Like, I haven't gotten over it yet.

    What they fail to appreciate is that I can't recover my dad or my mom.  They have been completely changed when I was abused.  By him abusing me and she did nothing. That is my abscess I can't recover from.

    Not the actual act of sex.

    It is the meaning of mom and dad.  I won't recover and return to my original state of mind.  I refuse to call them mom and dad.  Until I do, I am seen as not recovered.

    Looking for a child to return to their normal state of mind, to me means….to get back to the original relationship. And in order to do that the child has to give up their truth and pretend it didn't happen.  I still have a dad…and mom.

    It is my intent to never recover.

    I want to always remain connected to the truth of my past.

    When I look upon the way the FALC dealt with abuse, they make you recover quickly by the forgiveness of sins.  You are not allowed to remember, but made to forgive and forget.  You quickly MUST recover and return to the 'normal' state of mind.  

    The third party that failed me was the church.  Its foundation is created by washing away the image of abuse, to return my father back into a father. They never kept him as a pedophile, but washed his actions away.  They recovered his father image…and in doing so made me a liar.

    In order to be a good christian, I must return him to father…and her to mother.  Remember, "Honor thy mother and thy father…"

    I hope I never recover.


     

  • A New Reality.

    I am reading a book that I picked up at Dial Help, titled "Helping Your Child Recover from Sexual Abuse."  By Caren Adams and Jennifer Fay….written in 1987.

    There is an inner battle with my mind and body, for it will makes sense to one or the other, but not both.  I can read this from a parent view, but feel the ineptness as a child.

    Interesting.

    They give a scenario and then "What to say".

    I can see that this would be helpful to read Before your child was abused, but after, I believe you will be too distraught to find the page with the right phrase.

    In speaking about family and who to tell, they write;

    "If your child wants to tell everybody she or he knows, it could be that she/he has been rewarded for telling the story, and wants more reward.  In that case, try to reward your child in other ways, and limit the telling.  Everyone does not need to know; it's not a secret, but it is private. A child who needs to tell everyone in the world really has another need.  It is up to you and/or the child, to decide what to tell. It is not necessary for everyone to hear the details, even if they press you for them."

    Under What to say.

    " Who do you think we should tell about this?  Who would we tell if you broke your leg?  Had your tonsils out?"

    "I know this is embarrassing and sometimes people say thoughtless things, but I need support.  Shall we tell Grandma?  Aunt Pam? Your father? Your Teacher?"

    Okay, I am sorry, but being sexually abused isn't like a body wound, it is a huge blow to your inner self.  It isn't embarrassing, it is trauma to your emotional body. What is embarrassing is that the people you thought wouldn't hurt you did.  You misjudgement of character is what you feel taken aback by.

    The way they are talking about sexual abuse, feels to me like they don't know it by experience.  

    It isn't about who to tell or what, it is about keeping that child safe in reality.  It isn't about the other people, it is about what the child needs.

    I can hardly feel that the child will be seeking to be rewarded for telling her story.

    Rewarded, I believe for not telling it is more accurate in my experience.

    When 90% of abuse happens with someone you know, and 50% of that with family, the view point of abuse isn't typically like they are writing….for the most part it being a stranger.

    Recovering your child after sexual abuse, is more like recovering reality.  The child just happened to find a Cat in the matrix.  A person who isn't a 'loving friend/family' and now everyone needs to adjust to a new reality.

     

  • I gave up being Nice.

    Do you know what a Nice person is?  And is there a difference between a Nice person and a Good person?  This conversation was playing on Sirius radio as I delivered mail. (1999 re-broadcast of Oprah's TV Show)

    I looked up the definition of Nice.  "Pleasant, Agreeable, Satisfactory" were the first three meanings.

    I discovered, I am not a nice person, but that I am a good person.  I have moments when I am not agreeable and certainly not satisfactory, or pleasant.  

    However, for years I worked very hard at being Nice, pleasant and was extremely agreeable.  

    My main intentions was always to be liked.  I didn't have intentions beyond that. I wanted people to think of me as being nice.

    I gave up my personal integrity for the sake of being seen as nice.

    Now, I would much rather be a person of integrity, than be seen as nice.

    Nice now almost has a victim like status to me…or at least a person who is unable to stand up; it signals a weakness… not an admirable trait.

    Nice means you agree with all, and are never disagreeable.  

    I am finding it hard to quit going to a hairdresser, that it wouldn't be 'nice' to find a new one, to try out a new hair artist.  Same goes for groups I have been part of for many years, even though I know I have outgrown their borders, it would feel 'unkind' to quit.

    How odd is that, we focus on how our moving on impacts others, MORE than our staying too long impacts us.

    I did take the plunge and called a new hair lady…and I have a new Women's group in the works, so I guess instead of making an announcement I am leaving, I did make a point in talking of my newest adventure.

    Why is it so hard to leave groups to change relationships even if it is with a hairdresser?  

    Why is it seen as not nice when we take care of our selves and stand by our likes and dislikes, or make improvements, or seek groups that will take us to our next level?

    Somehow self-growth and our feelings have taken a back seat to appearing nice.

    What I know is that my journey in the past 7 years has given me a new label, and it isn't nice.  

    However, the woman inside is one that I am very proud of.  She is strong, confident and has no troubles standing up for what she feels is right or her truth.

    I like myself much better, since I gave up being nice.

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    My Lady isn't nice, she is many things, but nice isn't one of them.


  • Choose Differently

    "A responsible choice, is one you are willing to accept the consequence of that choice."  Eckhart Tolle

    This simple phrase when completely understood, will show how you are the creator of your own life, that karma unfolds, one choice at a time.  That each choice we make comes with a very specific consequence.  Not looking at the consequence is equal to making choices without thought…completely unaware or refusing to see the tag that is attached.

    The Universe isn't delivering the consequences, you are creating them.

    This is key.  Your power is at the level of choice, not hollering at the consequence.

    Hollering at the Universe for delivering the consequence YOU picked, is insanity.

    When my world was completely upside down, I had to start making choices that were the opposite of what I had chosen, in order to right my world.

    I had to look over what choices I had made that built the life I had.  I then had to start making new choices.

    These new choices were shocking to most of my relationships, but it turned my relationships completely around…it turned me around.  I was heading down the same path as my mother.

    I have heard, your life is either a warning or an example.  My mother's life was a warning.

    I had set the intention with my life, to not do as she did.  To make different choices…unknowing what the outcome would be, just knowing I had to steer clear of her path.

    It was remarkable how I was able to change my life, one choice at a time.

    At the time, it felt weird, awkward and extremely uncomfortable to stand in the new choice.  To not go to familiar places. To say things, I usually was silent about.  To step out of the old choice and into a new one, had me living very inept in my own life. 

    My awareness and consciousness was extremely keen, I would make no choice without feeling the consequence.  

    In the past, I was a choice maker without regard to the consequence OR the future, I lived very short sighted, like just this moment.  Very child like and irresponsible, not as a grown up at all.

    In fact, most of my choices were to dodge someone being mad at me, or someones disappointment, or to steer clear of a sticky situation, or to not face the truth of not only who I was, but who they were as well.

    My choices were based on skipping past the truth and hoping for a better tomorrow. Impossible to feel empowered…while making weak choices.

    Weak meaning, the ones that made the least amount of waves.

    The choices I now make concentrate on a few things; my intentions and what will the consequence be to me, my life and my tomorrow.

    I weigh it out.

    I had to make some extremely tough choices in order to exit out of dysfunction…there really were no easy ones.  No easy button, that will swiftly take you into a healthy lifestyle.

    It came with facing all I didn't want to see, feeling all I was too afraid to feel, and walking in directions I knew would piss people off.

    And I am still doing it.

    I am living my life based solely on the karma footprint to follow.

    I can't care today if you are sad, that is your business, not mine.  My business is to be a careful bookkeeper of my consequences.

    I only make choices that I am willing to accept the consequence to come.

    Being blind to the consequences, doesn't stop the consequences from being delivered. 

    My mother turned a blind eye, each time she refused to chose the child over her husband, and each time she did, she kept the gate open for the pedophile to abuse another girl…girls she was responsible for.

    Her choice led to more consequences….she is equally responsible for the girls being abused, due to her choices.

    I had to feel the weight of my choices…and how they affected my daughters.  I was the one who had not followed my feelings, and I stayed in relationships that were strained, that didn't allow me to be freely expressive.

    I forced myself to be with people my body feared and resented.

    The consequences were that my father had access to my daughters.

    I was shown all the places that I had made the choice to stay…and I now had to make the choice to leave…or be willing to accept the consequence.

    The choices are actually easier to make once you focus on the cause and affect of life.  Nothing happens without your consent.  Nothing.  You are approving your world with each choice you make or each new choice you fail to make.  

    There are no unwilling victims…just sometimes we have to give in to live or survive, but we agreed on some level.

    Knowing this, gives you the power to change.  Making the choice to not make a choice, is choosing to remain in the life you have.  Once you can see the choices you are making and how they steer your world, you will be able to play with the steering wheel; seeing what happens if you choose differently.



  • Notices the Lies.

    While listening to Debbie Ford talking to Oprah, she had an acronym for Denial; "Don't Ever Notice I Am Lying".  

    Isn't that clever?  

    And how often do we play this game, not only with ourselves, but with others as well.  We either say things we don't mean or mean things we don't say…we get in the habit of not speaking our truth, no matter how small and insignificant, we embellish it by not letting it just sit there in its glory….we lie.

    Who knew, lying is denial….

    When I think of the word denial, it was to put people in a state of not being aware.  I didn't put them actively participating in leaving reality; by saying what isn't true for them.

    It makes denial a less passive sport.  It makes it a personal activity.

    Most often, we know that our truth will ruffle feathers and sends ripples of waves in our 'close' relationships, so we hope they don't notice "I am lying".

    What I even believe, is that denial is rampant state of being, we are so used to saying not what we mean, that it is incredibly hard to not lie.

    To just say it as it is.

    We are addicted to the false sense of comfort of lies.

    This is especially true when you were born and raised in dsyfunction.  You don't really, really really want to know you are 'not normal' or that your family is not anywhere near the state of wellness.  You began living in this state of lies in order to survive your childhood, and then forgot to remember it was all lies.

    There has to be only two states of being. Denial…and lies or Truth and no lies.

    It isn't that we set out to be liars, but when abused, we are told to lie and lying becomes our way of being.

    We lie about how we feel, about not being afraid, about who we love, who we trust, we lie.  We lie in order to keep our worlds looking the same.  The world stays the same and inside we lie.

    Denial on the inside…so our worlds on the outside don't collapse.

    We then live rotting on the inside, while the outside has a mom and a dad, not a pedophile and his accomplice.  It is easier to lie, than it is to sit and feel the brunt of feelings and emotions that arise with the knowing of reality.

    My denial was brought into the open when my father was exposed as a pedophile, all my lies were found out.  I was a liar.  

    I would have thought our whole family would have been forced out of denial, but instead some were able to keep on lying.

    It was incredible and extremely frustrating and maddening and still is today…to witness the strength of denial.  And in order for them to keep up the lies, they can't participate in life with me.  I see now, I notice.

    I do notice their lies…which is what they push away from.

    I have had the opportunity to see my family and religious community in action when you bring up the words abuse or speak of pedophiles…They won't bring it in.

    I understand to my bones, how impossible it would be for a small child to wake up these folks, for I have been trying to piearce their denial…and have failed.

    They keep lying to themselves…over and over, flinging back the truth and saving the lies. Their whole lives are built upon a rotting foundation and they will work on the rotting structure, making it appear undamaged…while damage runs free.

    I am utterly impressed with the volume of lies folks believe.

    And I have become the liar in their midst, while they cling to the image of father and mother.  Something has to be wrong, so it is I.

    I am the lie.

    And he is the truth…as a father, not a pedophile.

    In order for the lies to work, I am not telling the truth…they are or he is, or my mother is truthful and I am a liar.

    They will deny my words and cling to the rotting family tree.

    My experience of them is that I am the one to stand clear of and they have.  Step back from the abused and step towards abusers to protect their own lies.

    Even within the church, the churches hierarchy will not even begin an inside investigation, words of abuse falls on deaf ears.  Who are they protecting???  Not the children, so then who?

    It came to me yesterday, Sunday when the church is full, that they too are hoping "Don't Ever Notice I Am Lying".  The church is lying. It lies when it says it can make the sins disappear.

    It is lying.  

    And yet, bring abuse there and you will be treated like a liar, no one believes you…yet they believe enough to bless it away.

    Their business is to bless away reality, kinda like denial.  Hoping no one notices the lies.


  • Still Creating.

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    Another Beach Bum…with a Jeep.  

    I was trying to change the perspective by having the lady close and the palm tree and jeep in the distance.  I am not sure if I pulled it off, I have to sit with it awhile.

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    I plopped down the pink sun…and loved it.  It is the surprise color…the unexpected bit that just seems to be needed.

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    It is always a good Sunday, when I can play with my Art.  With only one day off, I feel that I have to do something I love to do…to play instead of doing all work.  

    I began my day playing with her and ended it by doing some machine quilting.

    We are back in the basement, but still creating!

  • I believe

                                "Believe, that I believe."  Cheryl Richardson

    My Lady quilts are back in the basement, their debut over, my coming out out.  

    It almost feels like the past two days, was about me going over the finish line, the ending of a birth…or even a return to just living.  For it seems like I have been on a dual journey, healing and living at once…with the emphasis on healing… and living was secondary.  It is like a huge job or task has come to an end.  

    Like I was in labor for 7 years and have just given birth.

    It is like I have been in mourning and creating a baby at the same time….and the quilts have equal emotions of sorrow and joy.

    A close friend and I were talking, and she shared with me how moved she became when trying to tell others about my journey, she couldn't get past the lump in her throat after a few quilts.  The emotion and feelings I had while creating them, are still there, lodged in the fibers, like my pain was removed from me and is now residing there, along with hope, confusion, lost self, etc.  They seem to connect with the subconscious places within…

    I hadn't counted on them being "moving" or that it would require others to feel so intensely.  I was amazed that friends who have been on this journey with me, who have witnessed huge portions of it, are still taken a back.  

    It was so unexpected…I was chuckling in the profundity of it all.

    Marveling at temerity of The Lady.

    I was laughing with my friend, but about The Lady… not her lack of composure.  

    It seemed absurd, that My Lady seemed to pull endless amounts of emotional energy, always deeply moving, no matter how familiar they are with me.  She still reaches deep.

    She never fails to elicite a reaction of the spirit.

    I am in awe of her power as well, it is way beyond me.

    I now feel like she is a complete set, that my work on getting her to her full power is done. 

    I created her and she created me, and we are both in a place now, where the deep excavating is over, we dug deep and rebuilt well.

    It was like my job was to create her and in doing so would heal me.  If at any time I would have stopped, we both would have been left incomplete.  I had this feeling of not being able to stop, that I was driven to create her.  It wasn't an option.

    Just as it wasn't an option to make a different choice, each time I was presented with following my truth or denying.  Truth was the only answer.  Just as working on ladies wasn't an option.  Nothing and I mean nothing else would raise my inner joy as she would.

    As I worked on My Lady; I was working on fixing my wounded self.  

    I see the story line quilts almost like x-rays of my wound being healed.

    While she filled my vessel with gallons of joy; she also carried away tubs of sorrow.

    Her and I are one.

    I can talk about myself in the third person when I have My Lady…she allows me to show my scars in an artful way.  She isn't scary like an abused child is, when you have no way of 'fixing' her.

    I know, to the depth of my being, to the first stitches of My Lady, that we are meant to be used to offer hope, to explain the affects of abuse and to display the journey out of the darkness, to show that it is possible to make it all the way out.

    We will never be able to erase a part, nor do we want to.  If we took out one quilt the story would be broken.  

    The beauty of My Lady, is that she began at zero, a nothing, worthless and faceless, she was born after her life of lies about destroyed her.  All she had was the love of quilting art…everything else about her was a lie.

    I had to create me again.

    My Lady walked with me, held my hand, kept joy when I was swimming in sorrow.

    Certainly, there were times when my life wasn't a life, but her life was filled with great mystery and excitement.

    Now my life and her life seem equal.

    We are both standing at the edge wondering what is next.

    When creating My Lady quilts, I would be intrigued in seeing if I could get her to sit down, to ride in a kayak, or dance and do yoga…now she will be seeing what she can make me do.

    Already, we have a book.

    We were featured in a quilt show.

    We have a second engagement scheduled for August 9th.

    We are gaining fans.

    I feel, and have always felt, she had magic, that she was of the Universe…that we were destined to be.

    It was for me to experience my life exactly as it has happened.

    That I have met the right people at the right time, all of them are handing me off to the next group, raising me higher and higher.  

    There is wind beneath My Lady and I that I am not in charge of.  Its course is already in the stars.

    What a ride, what a horrifying joyful ride…and I believe that the real work is about to begin, that My Lady and I are now ready to do what we were created to do, our life's purpose.

    As Cheryl Richard's quote says, "Believe, that I believe."  I have believed in My lady, always.  I have put my faith and my hope and my dreams and my life in her.

    I am her, I believe.

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    Photograph by Hannah Jukuri


  • To Be Heard, Believed and Loved.

    Yesterday afternoon, I went to see my display with a girlfriend, one who has heard hours and hours of my life story, who is very close to knowing and understanding me, and yet…when she stood in front of my quilts, she began to see me more clearly…and was blown away by the story unfolding in my quilts.

    By the fifth quilt, she was in tears.

    I had her twin girls and we browsed the rest of the show to let her read, see and feel the display.

    It is like a magical story line, an incredible unbelievable 7 year art project, created in the darkness and sometimes out of order.  Yet when it all together it reads like a novel, but is actually non-fiction and raw at its core. And even I, who created it, feel the incredulousness of it all.

    How is it possible to show how it is when you don't know how it is.  

    To know how insignificant you are, while not knowing it, yet create that image.

    And to chronicle the journey unbeknownst to yourself.  It is like writing your memoir without writing it.

    As we stood there, other women happened by.  I talked to a women, who listened and gave me a hug before we parted. She took a slip of the WIND info.

    I have heard from the quilt ladies, that women want to buy the book, ask about what patterns I used…are talking how truthful and out there I am…  My Lady is causing ripples of conversations.

    My friend didn't want to leave the display, she wanted to tell the new comers about the story, about the Lady and I.

    It was good for me to go and to witness the reactions of women as they were stopped by My Lady.  I love that she demands your attention, she is hard to walk by. Even her beginnings are striking…with no woman present.

    As I strolled through the rest of the show, I saw wonderful fabrics and patterns intricately pieced together with mountains of patience and time…and behind each piece stood a woman or man, trying to execute perfectly their vision.  I call these quilts normal quilts.  I never could do this.  It is very hard for me to follow a pattern, I get agitated and stressed trying to follow an exact way.  It doesn't feel good for me. I feel immediate rebellion.

    What is so odd or not, is that following a pattern feels like a prison to me.

    I am sure, coming from where I came, (cult like religion full of rules and regulations of what you can do and what is absolutely forbidden) I need a place to escape, and I choose quilting for my free expression.

    And when my life fell apart and I wasn't able to express how I felt to those who I wanted to listen, I spoke in my quilts…my feelings were being expressed, I felt heard.

    Abuse wants our silence, so this was another way to be outspoken.

    I needed an avenue to be heard.

    Now I am taking it to main street.

    I love that my Lady has an audience.

    I love that people stop and listen.

    What all abused children need is an ear to hear, and eye to see and a hand to hold.

    My Lady is holding court…her feelings are flowing forth, and she is getting a loving reaction.  No one can silence and ignore her now.

    This is the wish of every abused child….to be heard, believed and loved.





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