I M Perfect lady

Tag: abuse

  • Less than a point.

    I heard today that they fired the coach from Penn State, the coach who knew for 9 years that he had a pedophile working under him…today the truth finally caught up to him.

    What will he now be remembered for?  

    It is my hope that this will open the eyes and hearts of many who know something, and for whatever reason…be it a friendship, a game, a reputation, etc, is keeping silent.  It is my hope they will learn to take action today.  To keep telling someone until someone listens.  

    In the 9 years that the Joe knew, how many little boys suffered under the hands, strength and power of this pedophile?  How many little boys wondered how they could shake down this whole big powerhouse, when the head coach knows and does nothing?  

    So many have such high remarks for the way this coach IS Penn State's money maker, mover shaker etc.  If that is so, doesn't it just beg to be asked, then why oh why didn't he use his influence back then to clean house in order to save his team's reputation?

    It makes it much worse, for this man/coach was a man of power, who had the ears and eyes of so many along with the trust, that IF he had spoken up, many boys, now young men, would have been spared the ugly imprint of abuse.

    While some want to keep his 'goodness' off to the side and have his many years of football go untouched.  Interesting, "untouched"….that is exactly why he didn't tell.  He didn't want any bad publicity to mar his team, his staff, his game.  So, he did as many do, he preserved a team while sacrificing young boys…their lives meant nothing to him…or perhaps it is better stated, his football team and winning meant more.

    I am thrilled that he was fired.  It isn't that his career just soured, it has had this running underneath for all these years.  It is just now that the public knows what lies beneath.

    This gives me great hope, it fills me with confidence, that no matter how big or how powerful or how long a reputation is, a voice of victims still out weighs their past. 

    I am hopeful he will be defined now as a man who put football before helping out young boys from under priviledged homes who were being abused by someone he knew and protected.  He played for the glory and turned away in their greatest time of need.

    I am happy to see that heads are rolling…even if it is 9 years too late.  Let us hope he becomes the poster child for keeping silence. How wonderful we have such a big figure to show the world what silence does.

    May this help in the healing as these boys and young men work on healing their psyche.  For it does matter how you all see the real man….not the coach, but the character of the man.

    Who are you when you can know that boys are being hurt while you are tossing a ball around a field for points?  Points?  Surely this is the land of pure insanity.  

    It is beyond what a heart and mind can comprehend.  That these young boys lives were worth less than a point.

     

  • Holding it all Inside.

    I didn't catch the speakers name, but heard her on Sirius radio say, "trauma is experienced in the right brain and stays there until you express it.  The left brain categorizes our experiences and it needs to be expressed or it gets left on the right with no way out."

    I had never heard trauma explained quite this way.  I had looked at trauma being felt in the body, but I hadn't considered the brain, except to note that my category lady was filing things in a haphazard way.  And actually, she was doing a fairly good job without the experiences noted of abuse.

    When you connect the trauma and file them in correct categories, you then get a complete picture of reality. 

    As a child, my trauma was not allowed to be expressed or let out of the right brain…so there was a divide between what the left brain was saying and what the right brain was holding on to.

    I believe that while the right brain is holding on to trauma, it leave little room for creative tasks, or space for love, peace or joy. The overall humming of trauma, the screaming fear muffles out the music of our souls.

    When my niece spoke up, she opened a pathway to my left brain, allowing the trauma to escape my right brain. It started as a small trickle, but a waterfall of expressions flowed forth.  In a short amount of time, my trauma which had been stuffed in my right brain for 40 years finally made connections with my left brain.

    It is quite incredible how the two sides are designed to work together and when the right side holds back expressions how frozen you become or numb and unexpressive in all areas.

    When Dr. Jill Bolte-Taylor spoke of the right and left brains, she wasn't speaking of childhood sexual abuse, so I failed to understand the meaning of what happens when traumatic emotions get lodged inside and have no way out.

    Dr. Jill did say that the duties of the left brain is to weave the most plausible story with the least amount of information.  What I hadn't considered is how a story is written minus expressed emotions.

    It was shocking to be me as the first trickles of traumatic expression flowed forth, for it was very alarming in the velocity and strength, the years seemed to have added volume and force…or perhaps it was exactly as a 6 or 7 year old would have felt it at the time of the original event.

    Incredibly horrific and wildly freeing at the same time.  Like riding a wild horse yet fully in control.  Experiencing traumatic emotions, riding their waves to freedom…expressing and releasing myself from the years of holding it all inside. 

     

     

  • Whatever Reality Serves.

    My brother's blog (www.messyguru.typepad.com ) shows the switching characters that a mother often displays when faced with truths that directly oppose her life.  Her life and dream and ideals.
    I have somehow had this wrong.  I had presumed that my mother lived in truth and slide into unreality when uncomfortable subjects arose, but instead it seems she resides in non-reality and will slip out into reality every now and then.
    Although this is just hearsay on my part, for she never came out of her camp of denial, pretend, or righteous unknowing for me.
    She stayed true to the character of my childhood.
    I can't know what would be more perplexing on a child, to have her step forth in knowing, and the go back to unknowing or to remain steadfast in unknowing?
    While her actions aluded to the fact that her husband was in jail, for she seen him in an orange jumpsuit behind bars, she never not once spoke to me about why he was there.  
    This omitance echoes my childhood.  This is what I meant by she never once told me to fear my father, to stand clear, to not trust etc.  Instead it was always me that had issues, not him and certainly not her.
    However during the early months of this, since she wasn't speaking of this, not available by phone, I made my own conclusions about the lay of the land.  My body and I were in total agreement to who he was as well as to who he was married to and how this was able to continue on for so long.
    My mother's character never wavered from the mother I knew as a child.
    My father's character never wavered from the father I knew as a child.
    My character greatly changed, when I saw them in their true colors.
    All it took was one look, and my whole world shattered.
    The character that I had been playing, loving daughter, died.
    And in its place a new role was born.
    I gave up all outside roles and stood firmly in the role called me.
    I moved forward by what I felt inside.
    I responded in kind to what life served up
    When it served me a pedophile father, I walked in harmony with that.
    When it served me up a mother who was unable to step into my world, I accepted that.
    My new role is to walk in step with whatever reality serves.

  • Coming From Whence We Came…

    Our book club is reading the book, "leaving the Saints" by Martha Beck…this section was particularly affirming to me when I first read her book about five years ago.
    She recounts how her life began to make sense after getting the first waves of memories…
    Her memory " I am five years old, my hands are tied, and my father is doing something that feels as though it's ripping me in two.  I am stretched on my back, legs spread like a frog on a dissecting table, unable to see or understand what is happening, focusing as hard as I can on the cord around my hands, because it distracts me from what is happening elsewhere….The first horrific flashback was like a nuclear detonation.  It felt nearly real as if I were actually experiencing the original event, as though the nerve impulses for perceiving it had frozen into the tissues of my body, never reaching the level of conscious awareness, and were now finally completing their long-delayed journey…"
    She also writes about an extremely painful doctors visit that now made sense.
    "I am twenty-six, lying in another damned emergency room.  The Doctor has just told me that I waited so long to seek treatment for an abscess in the tissues of my perineum (look it up) that he's afraid infection might enter my bloodstream any minute. There is no time to put me under general anesthesia, so he gives me a shot of novocain in a very private place, then hands me a washcloth and tells me to bite down on it.  "please don't hate me," he says, and starts operating."
    "Numbed by the local, I don't even feel the first incision. But then he sticks a pair of scissors into it, and the pain is just absolutely incredible.  I've never felt anything this bad, not in childbirth, not when a dentist accidentally drilled right into a nerve.  I am positive that nothing could possibly hurt more than this. Then the Doctor opens up the scissors inside the incision, and I realize I was wrong.  And then, oh Lordy.  Then he starts to cut."
    "Out of all my medical misadventures, this memory stood out most in my mind the day of my first flashback – not just because the injury was related to those badly healed scars, but because the pain during that surgery was the only thing I could compare to the pain my mind and heart felt when the flashbacks started.  It wasn't simply the agony and degradation of being raped but, more, the absolute horror of a five year old who has just learned that the universe is ruled by an evil god and that this god seems to have commanded the most beloved and powerful figure in her life to destroy her in a manner much more devastating than death.  "We all have our little sorrows," said my Allusion Manager, quoting screenwriter Ronald Harwood even at this awful pass, "and the littler you are, the larger the sorrow."   Martha
    What I find so remarkable is that the physical pain is of a lesser degree in devastation compared to knowing that your father is capable of doing such awful things.
    That knowing is by far worse than any bodily discomfort. The body will heal and the pain goes away….but the knowing who your father is and what he is capable of doing does not go away.  
    No scar will form over this knowing…it stays an open wound.
    What is also comforting in a very horrific way is how she too experienced the time travelers that brought forth the exact feelings from her childhood.
    When my niece spoke up stating that my father abused her, my body responded before my mind could comprehend.  It shook and was filled with terror in every cell.  I knew without a shadow of doubt that she spoke the truth.  I too could not stop the mental tumblers from clicking into place and my life began making sense in a horrifying way.
    Her husband too was seeing her in a new light, she began to make sense to him…"That is why you space out when I touch you," he said.   "That is why you scream in your sleep. That's why you can never really relax."
    And while her direct honesty and openness about her abuse may be very disturbing, it is very comforting for an abused child of abuse.  It Makes us make sense.
    We make sense coming from whence we came…

  • Freedom isn’t gained by doing Nothing.

    We do not err because truth is difficult to see. It is
    visible at a glance. We err because this is more comfortable.     ~Alexander
    Solzhenitsyn

    While I have known that it takes folks with great courage
    to speak out, I didn’t realize ALL can see, but only a few will give up their
    comfortable seat and do so.

    It isn’t that they can’t see, IT is because they don’t want
    to be uncomfortable.

    Isn’t that odd? We see the truth, but err in acting so not to be uncomfortable.

    We don’t want to experience perhaps the rage or dislike
    another may send our way, if we dare to mention the unmentionables.

    The truth sits there in its uncomfortable glory, shining
    forth and many will glance away so they will not feel uncomfortable.

    What happens when a few good folk don’t want to feel
    uncomfortable? What do you all believe happens to the pedophiles, while you are choosing comfort over speaking out?

    As I wrote on my brother’s blog, “It takes great courage
    to 'tell the authorities' but if you don't, your truth and words get stuck in a loop within the structure of abuse. You are the one who needs to bust out and speak their names. Until then your silence cements the structure in place, the bars on the cage    .” www.messyguru.typepad.com

    Do the people sitting in their ‘comfortable’ spot really
    know what they are doing by not speaking out and feeling uncomfortable?

    I see it as either you are relaxing in the cage with the
    abusers or you are outside of the cage speaking out. To me neither seems comfortable, but only one is constructive or actively shutting down the cycle of abuse.

    Even if you only have hearsay and you are keeping that
    quiet, you have no idea which part of the puzzle piece you carry, which part of the big machine you are keeping in place.

    Each of us holds part of the cage together, and if one by
    one we start speaking out, the cage begins to fall apart.

    All it takes to get the ball rolling and to open the cage
    and let the flood of victims come forth is one voice. One voice will carry the others forth.

    The word has to get out that it is okay and normal to feel fear and terror as you break the silence, as you rattle the cage of abuse…It is the only way it will end.

    Someone has to bend the bars of silence by talking to the
    authorities.

    The reporting voices are the heroes and the heroines. They walked in fear and terror, but take the step anyway.

    They speak of fathers, brothers, grandfathers, uncles,
    neighbors and friends. They share their stories of abuse…letting go of the shame and guilt, ridding them of the load they carry.

    They are willing to be uncomfortable to save a child from following in their footprints. Until and unless the abuser’s names are brought to the authorities, abuse will continue forth.

    Silence locks the cage.

    What I still find hard to believe is that it is more comfortable in a cage with a monster…than it is to leave and break the silence, yet I do understand.

    We get comfortable or numb to the fear we know…and are more
    frightened of a new fear.

    However, this new fear and terror of speaking out will free you from the cage of abuse…it is the only way out is doing what makes you uncomfortable.

    Freedom isn’t gained by doing nothing.

     

  • Unconditionally loving the Abuser.

    As human beings we are used to riding along and adjusting to change, but we are not used to being “the change you want to see in your world” as Gandhi put it.

    We want change and we want it now, but we don’t want the change to start with us.

    Most of us change only when forced, when death or tragedy impacts our lives, but rarely do we actively make changes.

    Besides the lack of being a self-starter, we find it impossible to see the enemies that walk among us, for we have called them friends and family.  (This of course is only for those of us who suffered abuse within our family homes, in our friendly neighborhoods, and churches.)

    Since 90% of the abuse happens with someone we know, and 50% with family members, that leaves only 10% to be strangers.

    The changes that need to happen are folks need to start treating family and friends like strangers.

    I know this seems backwards, but so is abuse.

    The legacy of abuse will continue to flow in your family unless and until you start treating folks who abuse like enemies of family and love, for they are.

    They are not there to instill a safe secure environment, nor sowing love and kindness, they are inside infesting the core values of what family means.

    Abusers can’t be treated the same as members of the family who mean no harm.

    In order to stop abuse, you all have to stop treating abusers like constructive members of your family, but rather the destructive people they are.

    They need to get help, be taken out of the family, isolated…in order to preserve the family’s integrity.

     However, in my experience, the child (grown adult child) must leave in order to feel safe, for the perpetrator was not made to go. 

    He was cared for and protected within the family unit.

    This is the sole reason that abuse continues.  The family refuses to treat him like a stranger who came in and abused the girls.

    And as it stands today, I am treated like a stranger and he like a family member.

    This backwards treatment alone keeps abuse going.

    Most don’t want to speak up and act like I did, for they know the outcome.  So instead of being alone, they will be part of keeping the legacy of abuse going.

    What happens is you become a stranger to your family as you fight against abuse…and for most that is too big a price to pay, so they will settle back into the comfortable routine of being a family…unconditionally loving the abuser.

     

  • The opposite of what it looks like.

    What I am continually shocked with is what lies beneath the ‘good’ Christian folks from the FALC.  How on the surface there remains a veneer of smooth carefully constructed Norman Rockwell painting and underneath lies the drawings of an insane mind.

    The juxtaposition between the two always catches me in the gut when they attack what is written by those of us who have left, their viper tongues never cease to amaze me. 

    The words and energies strike such a contrast to the ‘clean’ lifestyle that is presented to the world.

    Reminding me of the “Gates of Heaven” cult whose compound is in Texas. The women in the ‘old time’ dress, the lack of anything ‘worldly’ and yet the men are marrying girls of 12.

    It isn’t that I set out to uncover or discover that beneath the cover of nice clean living lies the devils playground, but I did.

    And each time a member comes in and makes comments to one of the blogs, it sadly affirms who they truly are. 

    Just as you can’t judge a book by its cover…so is it with the FALC.

    It isn’t how they dress or what they refrain from, but rather what lies within each person.  Their content is how they treat other folks who are not from church, or those of us who have left.

    The first public outing I had to make after my father’s Criminal Sexual Assault became public, (only to the church members) I had wondered what I would say to them, how I would be able to talk about it when they stepped forth. 

    Well it was all for naught.  For when I arrived at the school, the first person I saw who was from church turned away.  And so did the half a dozen or so more. 

    NOT one came up to me.  Where as in the past, we had a few social small chitchats, a smile and passing comments…but when my tragedy struck I became as a stranger.

    Their response to me added shame to my already fragile state…my abuse was to ugly to approach.

    They were unwilling to help me carry this burden of being abuse. 

    I had one phone call from a Christian Sister and said was, “Remember, there is no sin to great to forgive…”  Meaning my father. Her main concern was him.

    And that is the way they have continued forth…defending Him and ignoring me…or the bold ones will attack me.

    I have been left alone to carry my burden of abuse…and what I know to be true, this is exactly how they treat the children, the children are ignored and their main concern will be about the adult who did them harm.

    I am not telling lies out of school, but I am saying how I was treated…it is what it is.  I have experienced what lies beneath the clean Norman Rockwell painting…is the opposite of what it looks like.

  • A Pattern without Abuse.

    “Two wrongs don’t make it right…” came to mind yesterday and I can see clearly how a child gets so lost after being abused, how the negative energies keep piling up.

     ‘Good’ folks who are unaware of what their actions are saying to the child make matters worse and don’t even know it, know it.  They just are doing what their parents did unquestioning.

    The cycle repeats itself, by each generations same behavior.

     Yesterday while listening to a novel on CD, a sentence was spoken with awe, “She sure is her mother’s daughter…” and I thought sadly I am not, and felt sad pride.

     It was bittersweet to know that I didn’t have a mother who acted like me, that I have forged this new behavior alone without a pattern to follow.

    Not only no pattern, but I created this with no support from my family of origin…

    The patterns of abuse were not followed by m me, nor did I act according to family’s wishes, instead I did the complete opposite and it has brought me much disdain.

    Here is how I built a new pattern, I responded negatively to the abusers and I did what was positive for me. 

    This wasn’t a preconceived agenda, but rather an instinctual deep inside calling.

    I was not a child at the time of being aware of my abuse, but I still mothered myself.

     I was the mother and I was the wounded child.

    In each situation I would ask myself what would be best for the abused little girl inside of me, and each time I would then respond that way, paying no heed to the ramifications that decision would cause to the folks around me.

    My little girl inside was my number one focus and I never, not once did something that I felt would cause her more harm.

    While it seems counterintuitive, stepping away from my father and mother was the best thing for my little girl.

    Neither had taken good care of her.

    Once I learned to step aside from those who hurt me; that was my pattern.

    I step away from folks who hurt me. 

    It is plain, it is simple and it has had a positive change for me. 

    It matters not to me what their title is, all that mattered was how I felt in their presence and if it didn’t feel safe, warm, loving, joyful, then I would make my move.

    My inner wellness had to matter more than anything in the world.  It became my compass.  Like a very very stubborn child, even a bullhead, I continued with this new pattern. 

    If it hurts or feels bad, I move away.

    If it requires me to overlook or look around their negative behaviors, I move away. 

    If they are not accountable for their own actions, I move away.

    If it gives them more power and leaves me powerless, I move away.

    If they belittle and make snide remarks about my needs, I move away.

    If they holler and scream I am insane, crazy, not well, I move away.

    I have been given the luxury and freedom that most abused children do not have.  I am an adult with a voice and a choice.  I can support myself…I don’t’ have to put my survival in the hands of those who hurt me.

    Children of abuse are not given this new pattern to follow, in fact they are ‘forced’ to do the opposite of what I have done.

    They are made to succumb and return to ‘normal’ to get back in line of the family pattern, most often in order to survive. They are not self supporting.

    How their abuse affects the family shows the pattern from generations before. 

    If a child’s abuse doesn’t shatter the family…it is the normal pattern and the way things are in this particular family tree.

    If the child’s welfare isn’t put at the top of the list, the family’s pattern most likely is that the children’s needs are last, EVEN if the child has been abused.  They will do what feels best or fits best in the family pattern.

    It seems preposterous, but this I have witness first hand.  I seen my father’s case through the eyes of the wounded child, and what I saw was all positive for my father and very negative for me.

    Little by little I watched how my mother and siblings acted and how they responded, and who they took care of, spoke for and who they argued for, while I watched my father do nothing.

    He didn’t take one teeny tiny move that showed he felt remorse or that he wanted to get out from under his disease…he didn’t have to lift a finger; all were doing the heavy lifting for him.

    I watched and I witnessed this all with the eyes of the wounded child.

    I kept my view as a wounded child, not as a daughter or sister…

    I saw the family pattern being played out perfectly.  I witnessed how this abuse continues on. 

    The only way childhood sexual abuse can continue on is with the consent and knowledge of the adults or heads of households.

    Children depend on the adults for survival, cannot sway the family tree to act differently, their very food and shelter depend upon it.

     I acted against the pattern and look at where I am sitting.

     Alone in my own home… I am free of those who abused me.

     A child doesn’t have this luxury, they are held captive until they can support themselves. 

    They are subjected to years and years of abuse and live a few feet away from themselves, trying to survive they have to be disconnected…

    The sad part is, most are not able to reconnect.

    They have learned to be this untreated abused person.

    Learned to survive by blocking out their feelings, separating themselves from themselves.  Living as a person that isn’t who they are.

    I am not certain why I had the privilege to reconnect to my self, to walk with my wounded girl until we walked free.  But I have and I have carved out a new pattern…a pattern without abuse.

     

     

     

     

  • I took my life back, by walking away.

    On my last blog, I received a comment and a line struck me that I want to share. 

    “It was an error to not stand in front of your house and scream or picket or whatever else until your dad admitted it.”

    What I feel most families believe is that it is their job to be the law, that they had to have an admittance of guilt in order to go to the police.

    It does seem absurd, but I am sure that most people don’t want to get the police involved unless they are sure.  And that means him admitting it.  Since they have the one side, the little girls side, they are expecting to have a complete picture and they need his co-operation.

    This sentiment needs to be changed. It is not our job to get the admittance of guilt from the perpetrator, that is the job of the police.  It is your job to press charges, to stand with your daughter/son and walk through the court process.

    What I can only surmise, is that the realness of it all would come front and center and your lives would change if you pressed charges.

    And from what I am hearing your lives did change, were forced to change and deal with a girl who now needed therapy, couldn’t stay in reality, etc.

    I get it, I understand completely.

    It seems you are either going to deal with the abuse one way or another.

    I believe to the bottom of my soul, that IF adults in the lives of the abused children would believe them and support them and press charges and face this full on, there would be little residual negative results.

    The NEGATIVE results come from NEGATIVE actions.

    I wish I could imprint this upon the eyelids of parents.

    It isn’t the abuse that is so damaging, it is the negative results of the non abusing adults around us.

    While the commenter speaks of how broken hearted the minister was upon learning of his own daughters abuse, his failure to respond positively greatly affected MANY girls.

    Just in my time frame alone, three girls were affected.  And what I know is that he was summons time and time again.

    His negative reaction resulted in mental breakdowns. 

    It isn’t the abuse alone.  I am sorry to say.  My father’s abuse was the first punch.  The second and more fatal blows are the negative responses. 

    Being treated negatively after is so damaging and you have confirmed this by your comment. 

    The positive response is extremely hard to do.  But the results are completely the opposite of the negative ones.  

    The positive response is to step away from your father, cut all ties.

    The positive response is to step away from anyone who supports him by not moving away.

    The positive response is to put up boundaries against family members to isolate your self from any contact with this abuse.

    I have done the positive thing and I am standing outside of my family with one brother.

    Doing the positive thing is the path of most resistance. 

    It is a very hard road, but it carries the most gifts along the way.  While I am hearing that living with the negative results is horrible, I am here to tell you while it seems extremely mean, THAT is the easier way.

    That it is easier to deal with the negative results than it is to stop the world and go in a completely different direction.

    We can dialogue this out.

    But I feel…negative response will give you a negative result.

    The same goes for positive….

    I took the road less traveled and I have not regretted a moment of it.  I took my life back, by walking away.

  • We either hide your sins or own our lives.

    The main belief or what keeps the faith going is this one paragraph that Jim Torola wrote about in his Post, “Why no Movement.”

    “Or the FALC trump card, "it was forgiven in Jesus' Name and Precious Blood, thrown into the bottom of the sea of grace, forgiven and forgotten, and if anyone brings up this again, they will take on that sin."  Jim Torola    http://jimtorola.typepad.com/blog/

    Anyone who has not been raised on this concept may find this strange, but if you have been taught since you were a young girl, that this is true; you will not go diving into the sin lake to retrieve anything.

    Diving into the sin lake, sins will attach to you like suckers in a stagnant pond…and you are ‘bad’ for just wading into the waters, for ‘thinking’ about past sins…let alone going back in and dragging them to surface.

    I am not sure I can impress upon those who are walking the narrow road what it is you all are actually doing.

    You are teaching children that when you tell, nothing will be done for them, but great magical acts will be done for the bad man.  And all matter of shame will be brought upon you for ever speaking of this matter again.

    As Pete Torola so succinctly put it, “What is your motive for telling?”

    Why little girl are you going back to the sea of Grace and dragging out Ray’s sins? 

    “Oh yea of little faith, don’t you believe it has been blessed away?”  To what end do you want to drag this dirty filthy deed to surface???  Don’t you know its bad to do this?

    What is so utterly mind blowing is that the adults never doubted the girls recounting, but instead did insane things with this information.

    If you only knew what that does for a child who has been abused, to be heard, but then no action to arrest, stop or curtail these activities.

    We tell the adults and the adults do nothing.

    Oh wait, they do do something, they take our pain, suffering, fear and anguish and toss it away, paying no attention to how we feel.  It is more important to bless the bad man and put his ‘acts’ away, and then threaten us if we bring it up…again.

    For they want to get to Heaven…and the way to heaven is to bless, bless, bless, repeatedly, forever, and NEVER speak of it again. 

    The way to Heaven is to make the bad men whiter than snow…and the way is littered with the souls of little children.

    I can’t know what you all feel as you sit your bottoms down on the benches, but I am here to tell you what your techniques of dealing with sins do for an abused child.

    It gives the abuse child nowhere to go, no one to hear, and no one to see them.  They become invisible and discarded, useless, worthless…trash, the litter along your path to heaven.

    I recall writing and actually giving a narrative of what it felt like…even without memories, I had a distinct recollection of not being able to get out of the hellhole.

    What is a hellhole many may ask? 

    You know what the hellhole looks like; it is the bottom of the Sea of Grace.

    Pedophiles swim down there and drag little girls there repeatedly…while you all ‘believe’ that they disappeared.

    A hellhole is a place where you have no power, no choice, no way out. You are left alone in your mind without adult supervision while your father does the unspeakable, you can speak, but you can’t be heard.  They can see, but turn away…you are too little and they are sooo big. You are living in an alternate universe from the adults around you. They speak of loving kindness, you feel utter helplessness and fear.

    I was lost in the sea of Grace and no one cared…

    In order to survive the sea of Grace you have to kill your spirit, drug your feelings, check out and live in the pretend place the adults live.  Where a pedophile is a dad…

    I know why kids do drugs, kill themselves; they can’t take the sea of Grace no more.

    While you all are blessing him, you are making us Live in the Sea of Grace…or what it really is The Lake of Sins.

    I lived and swam and finally got used to living in the Lake of Sins.  Its twisted mess became my normal.  Silently you swim around, not speaking of what you see, how you feel…you are disconnected like debris…unattached drifting amidst the other despicable things.  You fit in there, you feel as one with all the disgusting things, you are unworthy and useless, for the caring adults didn’t care.

    It is incredible to me, that when you don’t see our wounds we become them…you don’t have to bless us, we naturally are attracted to the sins you tossed away…

    When you don’t see us as innocent, we no longer feel it.

    Funny, in a tragic way…you always seen and made sure that Ray stayed innocent…

    He stays clean and I get dirtier…I have to keep this a secret so the adults stay clean. 

    I have broken the silence, the gig is up, it is over.  I came to shore, I left the Lake of Sin, and I am talking about it, writing about it, and hoping against hope, there is one little girl out there in her own hell hole who will hear me calling her name.

    I see you.

    I hear you.

    I know you are there.

    I am here to tell you, you are not alone.

    The only way out is to stop holding the secret.

    The threat of sins is simply that a threat.

    There is no sea of Grace, but a lake of sin.

    You live there and you can walk free.

    Get out.  Speak out. Stop holding on to sins of others.  We all carry our own…the sea or lake lives within us.  We either hide your sins or own our lives.

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    What we feel like before we were abused…

    Smug mug pics 1428 
    and how we feel after… This is the Sea of Grace in the FALC where

    the abused children are made to live, for the 'dad' is clean and we are not.