Riled Up/Call for Change

Have you seen that video yet about the 16-year old girl that secretly taped her father beating her with a belt for 8 minutes? Me neither. Actually, I watched the first 30 seconds. I couldn't make myself go on. But here's an article that will fill you in on the details: click here. And it's not just the beating that's horrifying, but him screaming at her that he's going to beat her "into submission" and her mother telling her to turn over and take it like a woman. Yeah. She said that. Oh, and did I mention that he's a judge that has ruled in child abuse cases? And that the girl is now 23 and there is only a 5 year statute of limitations on child abuse cases?

I don't know why this particular story has me so mad, but I AM STEAMED. It's probably a combination of things, but that's not where I'm going with this. I'm not just mad at this idiot. I'm mad at ALL the idiots. Men (and women) are getting away with this everyday. And so many think they can get away with it or that there's nothing wrong with it. There is some discussion in the article about the fine line between discipline and abuse. Well, let me help clear it up.

THIS WAS WRONG. THIS WAS ABUSE.

I don't give two shits about the people belly-aching that child abuse laws are too strict, or that they're afraid to discipline their children. If you use half a brain, you'll be fine!! What's more I don't care who this offends anymore. I'm sick of the ignorance. Both people being ignorant about the effects of abuse and thinking that they are entitled to handing out this kind of degrading punishment and the people who just don't seem to care, even if they don't abuse their children.

We have to work together!

Survivors of any kind of abuse, I'm begging you to find your voice. Speak up. We have to do something to help the next generation and the generation after that. I know I'm asking a lot. I know a lot of you have never told anyone what you've been through. I know a lot of you have "dealt with it" and don't see any reason to revisit your past in anyway. I get that. I really do.  But look into the eyes of a child. There's your reason. 

Can you imagine the impact if every man and woman who was abused as a child stood up and shared their story? What if we all worked together for harsher sentences for child abuses? What if we worked together to prevent child abuse? What if we worked together to educate our communities on how they can prevent child abuse and what signs to look for in children that may be being abused?

Please, help me help our future children. There are a lot of good people and organizations out there that you can get involved with. Volunteer for them. Donate money to keep nonprofits running. Be open and honest about your story. And seek help for yourself.

I'm sorry for the angry tone of this post, but I'm not sorry for anything I said in it. Something has got to give. If you have any ideas on how we can get a lot of people to have their voice heard all across the country to really get something started, by all means, let me know. I'm not saying I have the answers, but I do see some problems.

Thank you.
Rachel

The Next Layer

I'm not even sure where to begin tonight...

My mood - This has been a rough several weeks for me. I could feel something starting to bubble below the surface. I was really emotional and weepy. My mood has slowly slid into a darker place since then. This past week/weekend has been the worst so far. I've been crying at the drop of a hat, often for no particular reason. I've been talking to Simone about it, and we both agreed that something was going on, but it was hard to say what. It seemed as if my subconscious was trying to protect me from something. Often, in traumatic situations, the psyche will create a "protective self" that is only useful during the trauma. However, old habits die hard and that protective self doesn't know that its job is done. This seemed as if it could be a direct correlation to the dream I had about the dead woman. A sense of dread kept me from exploring the situation further.

Last week in therapy, I was talking about some of the abuse. I became abnormally emotional when I related how my dad would put the responsibility on me to stop the abuse. After he was done, usually after he ejaculated, he used to apologize, say it would never happen again, but to just say "no" if he ever tried again. Obviously, I tried that, and it never worked out too well. When he was diagnosed with prostate cancer, the abuse stopped for about a year when I was 16-17. I thought I was finally home-free (from that part of the abuse anyway) until his treatments were done and he got his libido back. I fought harder than ever to "just say no" and was devastated when I lost the battle. In therapy today, I commented that I couldn't remember the first time it happened after that year, but suddenly recalled sobbing in my bedroom. Honestly, its hard for me to even think about it further without becoming emotional. Besides my family letting me down, it has been the greatest disappointment of my life thus far...

So I think there may be two things at play here. First, I was taught, in a very big way, that just when I think things are going to be ok, everything will come crumbling down. Just when I started to believe that it wasn't going to happen anymore, and was growing stronger and stronger in my belief that I could stop it if it started again, I lost.  So now, when things are going well in my life, you can almost set your stopwatch for the inevitable fall.

The second thing I realized on my drive home tonight. I think I am actually starting to face the abuse. I've been facing the after affects, but not the abuse itself. I think that may be a major part of the next "layer" I have going on. I usually don't cry so easily when talking about it, and even when I did this last time, I didn't let myself let go and "cry it out". I composed myself. So I know there are more tears there, waiting...

This is much bigger and nicer than the one I
visited, but you get the idea...

I revisited the dream with the dead woman in my inner work last week. I tried to get closer to investigate, but the rungs on the ladder kept snapping in half every time I stepped on them. My protective self did not want me to go any further, emotionally or even in the dream. I did some more inner work today, in which Simone led me to a house. I walked from my "happy place" (working on a new name for that...) to my safe place and saw a house plopped down in the sand to the left (to the right are the cellar doors). The house was white, with aluminum siding and black shutters. It was very typical and blase - nothing that would grab your attention. The inside smelled like it had been closed up for quite some time. It had a few furniture pieces, but nothing ornamental, as if though nobody lived there. Simone asked me to look for a message of some sort. I noticed some writing appear on the wall to the left. It said simply "Why are you here?" Not really sure myself, I responded by writing on the wall "I'm exploring..." I then asked if there was a message for me and got the response "Keep looking..." *On a side note, a house can often represent one's self.*

From there, I walked into a large empty room and looked out the windows at farm country. As I walked closer, a vicious dog barked at me from outside. I jumped back and headed to the stairs on the other side of the room. I got the sense that I had "beat" my protective self, that I had gotten inside before she could stop me, so I was free to explore. I walked up the stairs and saw the hallway from the house on Monroe St. I was drawn to my old bedroom. It was pink and deliciously girly. My 12-year old self showed up and seemed to be doing ok. I realized I needed to be with my 17 year self, who was completely devastated that the abuse was continuing. She wasn't coming to me, so I realized I needed to be with her. Suddenly, I was in my bedroom in the basement, holding her and letting her sob. I let her cry it out for a few minutes, then shared with her that it was all over. That "this" wasn't reality. I waved my arm, and our surroundings disappeared like a crumpled up backdrop. We were left in a blank white space. From there, I took her back to my bedroom where I began. I shared with her all the little things in my life that I had that I knew she dreamed about. I was free and independent. I was someone she dreamed of being but would barely recognize as herself. I was a woman and no one was going to make choices for me like that ever again.

I always find it funny that when I start posts with a comment like "I don't know what to write" or " I don't know where to begin", I quickly figure it out...and then some! I have some other things on my mind to share on here, but I think I have enough for now.

Rachel

Warning

I was speaking with someone today about their friend has schizophrenia. As she was describing her friend's delusions, a light bulb went off in my head - it sounded exactly like my dad. My family and I have always known something was wrong with him, but I think we generally attributed it to the alcohol. In retrospect, I believe he may have been secretly abusing drugs, but that is more suspicion that anything else. I did a little research and found about half of those individuals with a schizophrenia diagnosis also abuse drugs and/or alcohol. I believe if he is not schizophrenic, he has some sort of similar psychological disorder.

This idea has crossed my mind before. But I couldn't bring myself to explore this option. Regardless of the reason, what he did was wrong, but I hate for him to have any kind of excuse at all. It was bad enough that the alcohol was involved, but he wasn't always drunk when it happened, so that couldn't be used as an excuse.

On the other hand, if he was mentally ill, I have to question why those around him didn't get him the help he needed. From what I understand, he had problems long before he married my mom - why didn't his parents intervene? He was in and out of doctors constantly from the time I was 15 right up until I left home. Why didn't any of them see it? Or did they and he never told us? And I hate to bring this back around to my mom again, but why didn't she force him to get help? I'm not trying to blame any of these people, but it was obvious that something was wrong with him. If you marry someone and you don't want to do anything about his issues, fine, that's on you, although probably not wise. However, if you bring children into that marriage, it's not just about you. I'm not trying to say all mentally ill people shouldn't have children. But there were warning signs in this particular situation that we were not safe. 

It's not use going around in circles about why no one intervened, except to serve as a warning to others. Mothers - please put your child's safety first. That is your job. It's the most important one you will ever have. If you've already made a mistake and married that wrong guy or had children with the wrong guy, do something. If your children are in harm's way, if there are red flags going up or alarm bells going off, please, take a step back and look at the situation and protect them. 

Again, I have to say this is not about all mentally ill people. This is about situations where children are put in danger.

If your son or daughter is behaving in a way that seems particularly dangerous to themselves or others, get them help. If your nieces, nephews, grandchildren, friend's children, students seem like they could be in danger, do something.   It's easy to assume that you're imagining things, or it couldn't possibly be what you think it is. Listen to your gut and investigate just a little. Call CPS. Confront someone else in the child's life.

My life was forever changed by my dad. The person I was going to be was murdered. I'll never know who she was. Please understand that you can save someone's life by taking action. Thank you.

Rachel

*Squish*

A couple days ago, I did some more inner work in therapy. I knew the time was going to come when I would need to face Dad again in therapy so that was the plan for this particular day.

I had some trouble getting to my "happy place" this time, perhaps because it had been a while. My mind kept wandering to other topics, but eventually I was able to reel it in. When I finally arrived, my actual self was there, and I immediately called upon the "army of me" - all the representations of myself at different times in my life. I led them on to the  area below my safe place. We walked down the stairs and through the doors to the main hallway.

As soon as we entered, Dad was standing in front of us in a green plaid shirt and blue jeans with his penis exposed. Immediately, the eyes of all the other me's clamped shut with something resembling cast-iron eyelids. Have you ever seen an old baby doll, where here eyelids aren't really attached, but slid back over their eyeball? It was very similar to that, but heavy and almost mechanical. I needed to find a way to protect them but keep them with me, and so this is what I came up with.

As I stood there, trying to decide the best course of action, I heard my therapist say something about deflating him with a pin as an option if he seemed to be looming over me, larger than life. So I did, but he came right back after that, although this time with his pants zipped.

I looked at him and started to get upset. I told him that I, and those with me, deserved better than the way he treated us. I told that I didn't care what he had been through in his past. If he had been hurt, he should know how it feels. As I was yelling at him, I realized I was growing larger. I grew to gigantic proportions, until I was looming over him so far that he looked the size of a cockroach. I looked down at him and stomped down on him. He was completely squished. All that remained was a black blob and green guts.

I herded my little army back up the stairs and to my happy place. I reassured them that I would be back. I don't think I'm done with him yet. Even though I destroyed him, it felt very anti-climatic. Besides, they do say cockroaches are near impossible to kill. At the same time, it's the closest I've gotten to a physical confrontation, so it's still progress!

Rachel

Raging Goblin

My danders up. It started yesterday. Something deep inside me started simmering after I wrote my last blog post. I wasn't sure what it was at the time. I just had this uncomfortable restlessness - an agitation. I slept terrible all night long. I had nightmares about my step-dad, although now, I couldn't even tell you what happened in most of them. The one I do remember, I'd rather not share on here, because it was too terrible. I woke up feeling tired and emotionally needy. 

I went through the day like this, not sure exactly what all the emotions were bubbling up towards the surface. I came home, and watched an episode of Dr. Phil on DVR. It was an episode about a man with a sexual addiction. He had a pretty extreme problem, and his wife apparently had decided that the best course of action was to go to Dr. Phil. That same wife is also the mother of their 2 year old daughter. I'm not going to spell out all of this man's problems, but he did admit that he had felt aroused by his daughter sitting on his lap on 2 separate occasions. 

WHAT THE BLEEP IS WRONG WITH THIS WOMAN?!?!

Why in the world is she still living with him and putting her daughter in that situation? From everything that he had already admitted to, I would not be the least tiny bit surprised if he had already behaved inappropriately with her. And instead of leaving him, she goes on a TV show? Don't get me wrong, I'm a Dr. Phil fan, but for the love of Pete, use your brain! Use your maternal instincts! Don't you have any? She claimed she had wanted to take her daughter and run and never look back. Bullsh*t. If she wanted to, she would have. I was getting very angry. Then, the man starts "crying". I put it in quotes because there were ZERO tears.

And this was when my rage peaked. I wanted to call CPS right that minute. A lot of good it would have done - "Uh, yeah...I'm calling about the people on Dr. Phil..." I also realized that I had been feeling angry all day. I had been looking for a fight. I wanted someone to say the wrong thing about sex offendors or victims or children. I was angry and needed someone to be angry at. 

Once I understood the emotion, I realize that that has happened to me before. Some days I just want to go on a rampage. PLEASE, give me an excuse! I want to get angry and lose control!

Of course, it never happens. And truthfully, it's displaced anger. I should be angry at my step-dad. But he's not here. I can't see him. I can't scream at him. I can't shoot a gun in his face. 

So I need to find something to do with this anger before I just become a "Raging Goblin".

"He raged at the world, at his family, at
his life. But mostly he just raged."

I don't want to be angry at the wrong people. But right now, if I were to cross paths with any of the "right" people...heaven help them.

Rachel