Child Abuse Awareness

This month is child abuse awareness month so we are reading about organizations that help keep children safe at a larger rate than we usually would. I am active on Twitter and many members are posting their thoughts, ads, etc. But I just cringe at every post because I remember the days when that was me. I remember the days when I was the child running from an abuser and hoping and praying that someone wouldn’t hit me or sexually assault me again.

I am one of the millions that stand today and are counted for. I am one that can stand and say, “I am an incest survivor. I was a victim of physical, sexual and verbal abuse.” But that’s not what I choose to do. I don’t put my story out there that often because my story is history. It’s something in my past but that I do deal with on a regular basis.
I developed anorexia nervosa as a way of dealing with the abuse. My goal wasn’t to become thin because everyone knew I was already a small person. My goal was to disappear into oblivion so that my abusers couldn’t hurt me anymore. Would they really find sexual gratification in a body that looked like a child? Would they want to hurt someone who was as innocent as a newborn baby? The answer was yes to both of those questions but it didn’t keep me from trying to protect myself.

Once I disclosed the incest I began receiving help. I went through eight years of intense therapy. I was hospitalized for the anorexia on four different occasions and each time I survived my visit to death’s door I kept realizing there was a greater purpose for me. So, was it good that I was a victim of incest or abuse? No, but it gave me a greater awareness about the issue at hand. I now have a greater compassion for people who have been abused. I am sensitive to the needs of others who are victims and I pray for them and yes, I pray that perpetrators might get help and stop the abuse.

Why am I writing today? I saw an article about Seal and he was talking about his scars and why he is glad to have them. Scars are a reminder of a battle you may have been in but they also serve to remind people that you survived. They say physical wounds can heal in time but the emotional ones linger. I don’t have any physical scars from the abuse that I endured for 18 years. They are all mental scars that remain in my memory. But when you see my lack of faith in people you see the repercussions of a girl who was abused by people who professed to love me.

I have been a friend with Marilyn VanDerbur Atler. She was crowned Miss America in 1958 and went public in the 90s about having been a victim of incest by a father who was a millionaire; possibly the wealthiest man in Colorado at that time. She is now a child abuse advocate and has opened many child advocacy centers across the U.S. as well as published her story Miss America By Day. Mrs. Atler says not to keep abuse a secret. By keeping it a secret you only serve to protect the abuser. Your cloak of silence only harms you daily as you struggle with something greater than you. You can read about her and her work at http://www.missamericabyday.com/

Take the time to reach out to someone who has been hurting. You may not know what to say but sometimes they just need a safe haven and someone who will listen to them. You might be the shoulder someone needs to cry on. You might be the one who wipes away their tears, gets them professional help or gets them out of an abusive home or relationship if they are still in it. Pay attention and don’t ignore the signs. Many abused people; especially children die at the hands of their abusers because everyone believes that if you ignore it it will go away. You just may be that person’s beacon of hope in a dark world. You may be the one that makes a difference in their life. I am here today because my youth directors believed me when I disclosed the abuse and they did everything they could to get me help and keep me safe.

In 1988 a little 9-year-old girl went public with a song about child abuse after she heard that a little girl had been killed. Sharon Batts decided to write a letter to the president to ask him to help her stop child abuse but she then realized that this problem was greater than anything the president would be able to handle so she penned her letter to the greatest authority known to man. She wrote her song to God. You can visit the following site to listen to the song, Dear Mr. Jesus, and see a video http://tinyurl.com/c4m6sc . This song transcended all genres. It was being played on the pop and country stations as well as the gospel ones. Sharon Batts released some CDs with a group called PowerSource. I have those cassettes and my family knew the significance of that song in my life.

Martina McBride also did a song called Concrete Angel and Jason Michael Carroll also did a song called Alissa Lies. All are heartwrenching songs about children who lost their lives at the hand of an abuser. It is my prayer that we can put a stop to this unspeakable crime against our children. Don’t allow another grave marker to be a reminder of a life we could have saved.

I am an advocate for child abuse awareness, prevention and intervention. I stay abreast of the issue thru professional books, periodicals and websites. My favorite site is http://www.childhelpusa.org/ and the following is a blurb from their site:

Four children die every day in the United States from child abuse; the equivalent of a Boeing 727 filled with kids, crashing each month; or a school bus full of children crashing every 18 days. Fortunately, for almost fifty years, Childhelp®, a leading national nonprofit, has been leading the charge against child abuse. Childhelp® is dedicated to meeting the physical, emotional, educational and spiritual needs of abused and neglected children and was instrumental in designating April as National Child Abuse Prevention Awareness Month.
The founders of this organization are also the subjects of a Lifetime movie For the Love Of A Child. To get more information on ChildHelp you can go to their site or call 1-800-4-A-Child.
“A little speck of hope never goes down to zero no matter how many times it is divided in half.” ~Author Unknown

A Bug's Life

In the beginning, two weeks ago, I went into the master bath and heard a slight racket. I leaned in toward the linen closet door and believed there was something in the walls. For those of you who don’t know me—I have an intense fear of bugs, critters, wildlife, etc. My heart started racing and a big lump rose up in my throat as I reached for the doorknob and hoped and prayed that something didn’t jump out at me. Much to my relief nothing happened. I treacherously began moving some things around to see if something would stir—nothing! I thumped on the wall to see if I could hear any motion—nothing! This went on for about a week and as the days went by I got more paranoid.

I began wondering what might be inside the walls. Was there a mouse in the house and if so, was it doing some major damage inside the walls? The more I thought about it the more worked up I got. Then last Sunday as I was stepping out of the tub I heard movement again but this time it sounded as if it was coming from above. I looked up just in time to see what I thought was a wing come thru the air vent. Thus, began the bird in the air vent saga. Was I relieved? No! Because now I began pondering how that thing got in the air vent and how it was going to get out. Okay, if it got stuck then it would probably die in the vent and then stink up my house as it was decomposing. Was I thinking too deeply now?

I got to work on Monday and began talking about what I thought was causing all my grief. My coworkers weren’t helping as they gave their personal opinions of what might be up there. Some said a small bird, a raccoon, and a squirrel and with each new suggestion I got more and more worried. Tuesday evening I noticed that the critter seemed to come to life when I would turn the lights on. I also noticed what I thought was tiny wings on the floor. I put them in a little pill-size Ziploc bag and brought them to work with me. I approached a male colleague who likes to hunt and asked him if he would mind coming out to check things out and he said yes.

I planned the whole rescue. I would shut all the doors so that if it were a bird it would be contained in my bedroom. I would remove the screen from one window and we would shoo it to the great outdoors. I even had an empty box so that if there was a nest it could fall from the air vent into the box and we would relocate the nest to a tree.

Brad got up to the air vent and turned on a light and told me that there was a huge spider in the vent. What! He turned a light on and showed me what appeared to be fangs. Well, you may have well have gotten the smelling salt ready because I was ready to pass out. Then the critter started moving again and he said, “Nope, it’s not a spider it’s a big bumble bee and he showed me the head.” That would explain where the tiny wings came from. I got a knife and Brad cut the head off. He tried to remove the vent cap but it was very secure and we worried that he might break it in removing it. I sprayed bug spray up toward the air vent and turned the vent on. We were pretty confident that there wasn’t a nest because while the vent was running Brad held a piece of toilet paper up to it and the air sucked it up. Thus, there were no airways being blocked.

Brad suggested the following as to “how” the bee may have gotten in. He said they come out in warm weather and get disoriented with cold weather. Our weather has been going to extremes so the bee probably thought it was springtime but then when the sunset it was very cold. Brad believes the bee may have flown into the air vent and got disoriented. Then I turned the blower on and the blades probably chopped some the wings off. The thumping noise was probably the bee trying to fly but it was hovering between the air vent and the blower blades. Once I turned the vent on and left it running for about 45 minutes I opened the flap and IF the bee could get above the blades it could get out the vent.

I am glad to say that I haven’t heard any more strange noises coming from the air vent and I haven’t discovered any more wings. I’m also glad that it wasn’t a spider or bird. Thanks to all my friends at Viewpoints and Twitter who kept me sane during this ordeal. This story, however, only has a happy ending for me because there is one less bee in the world today. They say every story has an ending and every ending is a beginning.