The Healing Page
IT
By Lynn
IT, the abuse, damaged the way I relate to people and situations. IT left a lot of scars, and really hurt the way I feel about myself. IT altered the way I worked in school and on the job. IT changed the way I raised my children. IT triggered something that caused me to continue to be victimized. IT, the abuse, altered my life.
What IT couldn’t do was take away my life or destroy who I am. I am not a composite of the damage done. I am the strong person with the amazing life force that survived all IT could do to me. I am the unstoppable being on this earth. I am the body God created to house his soul.
I am God’s child, created to be cherished and loved from the very start, from the beginning of time.
I am much bigger than it.
Daddy Did You Know
by TB
Daddy did you know when you came into my room that very first night that you would steal my innocence? You had no right.
Daddy did you know how much I loved you and trusted you?
Daddy did you know that I would never love or trust anyone so easily again? I was no fool.
Daddy did you know I would lie in my bed each night pretending to be asleep?
Daddy did you know that I would tremble as the door opened with a creak?
Daddy did you know how hard I tried to hold back the tears?
Daddy did you know you would haunt me for years?
Daddy did you know how much I wanted to yell? But I was afraid you said I better not tell! It would break up the family and everyone would be mad-
not at you but at me, Daddy, because I was the one that was bad.
Daddy did you know that you would take my whole childhood away?
Daddy did you know I hated the words "come on honey it’s time to play"?
 | ||||
Market Value by Lynn My father was a good provider. We had a nice little house in the country, with a big yard to play in and fields all around to explore. I always had the clothes I needed, and food to eat. There was a fund building for my education. It was a secure life, and all he asked for in return were my innocence and my silence. Those are the parts of me . . . that paid for my childhood security. My uncle was a charming man, and it was clear that he thought I was pretty. He teased me and flirted with me, and made me feel special. And for all that, he asked no more than my father.
Wow! Attention and security . . . for just those two little parts of me.
In college I was the track star’s girlfriend. People knew me because I was with him. He stood me up a lot, and let me know I didn’t mean much to him, but at least I was in "the right crowd." When he decided it was time to have sex, he raped me. When I got pregnant he married me. We had three children, a house in the suburbs, nice cars.
I was respected in the community . . . and all I had to give him was my dignity.
After my divorce I got a job in sales. The manager took a personal interest in me. He taught me the ropes, got me good leads, and tried every day to get me to go to bed with him. Everyone in the office thought I did, because I was so good at "playing along."
I needed the job to support my family . . . and all I had to trade was my integrity.
After years of struggling to raise the children alone, I married a man who could really be there for me. He offered a shoulder to cry on, strong arms to lay in at night, and his devotion. I had someone to really love me at last.
He wanted to make me happy . . . but he asked in return my independence and individuality.
I found I couldn't pay that price. I had discovered along the way that I could no longer trade off parts of me for the things I needed. I knew there was another way, and had embarked on a journey to find it.
When I wouldn’t give him what he wanted from me . . . he stole my sense of personal safety.
But I’ll get it back, just as I’ve gotten back all those other pieces of me . . . because I’ve learned I’m a person, not just a commodity.Photos by David Weible
| ||||
| ||||||
Sometimes when we’re hurting, struggling, overcoming - we have to write it down, paint it, sculpt it. These poems are just such pieces, created by adult survivors of childhood abuse. They reflect various emotions in each artist/survivor’s journey towards the light. | ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
Sharing our writing/healing journeys with others is part of the healing process. We respect and honor the words, voices, and spirits of others. We trust others will respect and honor our words, our voices, and our spirits through time-honored attention to copyright laws, permissions, citations, etc.
as found in the Wichita Eagle, 2/14/06
| ||||
Round and Round
by K
The world keeps spinning
Round and round,
The life cycle keeps spinning
Self-made obstacles abound.
Running away from problems
What would you do?
Daddy won't leave you alone - -
He's sexually abusing you.
Drop out of school
Need an excuse, I've got a lot,
I was just a scared kid
When will the cycle stop?
Seventeen jobs later
I want to quit this one too
I have to hold on
I've got to follow through.
Marriage number one
Marriage number two
Are these failures
Or do I quit relationships, too?
Life gets hard
I get out
I have to stand and face it
That's what it's all about
| ||||
On the Subject of Forgetting
by Lynn Shannon
On rare occasions a child is abused by an adult and
another adult finds out immediately and handles the
incident in the best way possible. In these cases the
child is not only told, but made to understand that the
abuse is not her fault. The abuse is given a name
that explains clearly to the child what happened. The
blame is put squarely on the shoulders of the abuser,
and the child is shown how much she is loved. She is
helped to name and understand the emotions she
feels. If all this happens, I think a child can deal with
the total experience and can safely carry the
complete memory throughout life. Cases of abuse
that are handled this well by the adults in the victim's life are very rare.
In all other cases the young victim, in my opinion, forgets at least some part of the abuse experience. Abuse is very emotional, spiritual, and social. Even verbal abuse without any physical contact elicits a physical response. Think about how your muscles tighten when you are being put down by an equal, let alone by the person effectively in charge of your life, such as a parent. Abuse intensely affects the victim. Unless the child is able to name the abuse, blame the abuser, feel the feelings and name them, and connect with safe, loving adults, it is simply not safe for her to remember the abuse in it's entirety. Something will have to be shut out. In cases of repressed memory, the victim forgets the whole incident. Others may remember the abuse, but not be able to connect any emotions to it. People who forget the emotions can tell you in detail the horrible things that happened to them, but they recite without showing any feelings, like it happened to a stranger. Other victims, I think, have "adjusted" the memories of the abuse and the emotions connected to it. If the abuse caused extreme emotional trauma, as abuse does, but other people told you it was something less than abuse, you might mentally scale down the abuse and remember only the kind of emotions connected with the "something less." Children believe the adults they love and will, I think, adjust their realities to fit what they are told.
Childhood abuse is very, very powerful. that's why almost all victims have to forget some part of it to survive childhood. At the same time, because it is so powerful, the effects never just go away. Childhood abuse will continue to disrupt the victim's life until she is able to deal with it the way it should have been dealt with when it happened: name the abuse, blame the abuser, feel the feelings and name them, and connect with someone safe and loving.
ONE IN SPIRIT
Your tears wash away time
And, surprised by remembrance
My spirit weeps
For your painAnd For Mine MG SISTERSI took your handAnd, walking through your painI found my ownUnrememberedUnweptUnmournedMG
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
Click to return
| ||||
M's Story
Not all children survive incestuous sexual abuse.
Not all live to deal with the adult adjustments and struggles of life after an abusive childhood.
There are those children, no less brave than the others, who decide if this is life, I don’t want any part of it.
M’s story is just such a sad and inexplicable one - the stuff of which TV movies are made but without any happy ending-- a senseless waste of life.
M was 17 when she sat in her car off the side of a Kansas highway waiting for a semi truck, any semi truck, to come off the turnpike. This was early one fall morning when she should have been on her way to school. She should have been thinking ahead a few months to prom, high school graduation, summer vacation and college. But she must have been thinking back to years of incest by an extended family member. Maybe she was thinking about the mental health facility where she had stayed from time to time for depression brought on by this secret - this incest. She was smart and knew what she had to say to
them in order to be released even though her meds for this depression, maybe, weren’t quite stabilized. The meds, of course, weren’t the source of the problem - the incest was. Whatever she was thinking, she took her own life that fall morning. She drove her car under that unsuspecting semi-truck that did, eventually, come her way.
M and her group of friends were good students, active in sports, music, student politics - several were valedictorian candidates, including M. She should have lived a long and productive life.
There were signs that all was not quite as it appeared. M did share her secret with a best friend and the friend shared it with an adult she trusted. But, nothing was done. Surely, it couldn’t be true. Surely her parents were aware and dealing with it. Surely, it wasn’t an outsider’s place. Surely it will all blow over.
If her story helps to inform and bring about awareness that the consequences of childhood sexual abuse do not just go away; that children do not just get over it; that incestuous sexual abuse, from fondling to rape, has long term affects on the child whether they’re 2 or 12 or 17, then, perhaps, we can overcome our preconceived notions and pass a Kansas incest statute that does not lessen or forgive the act because it was perpetrated by a family member.
M is gone. M’s promise is gone. The funeral is over. The secret is,
essentially, preserved. The perpetrator is still out there protected
by our silence and our laws.
Healing Page
| ||||||
Choose from these heartfelt, sincere, often disturbing poems and prose offerings.
(click on one of the titles or scroll down)
updated 12/01/08
Poetry and prose are presented just as the authors wrote them.
They have not been edited for content or style.
Click on the titles to the left to read these two stories in .pdf files.
