Unitelligble Mayhem

The misunderstood infliction of one soul upon another.

The Poster Child for Abuse

I really didn't know where to start with this post. Each dysfunctional family has a blue print unique to that individual situation. There are still many similarities between the various abusive families, sometimes the connection is drug abuse, alcohol abuse, financial situations, illness and health issues and can also be ignorance, lack of education and others times its simply being caught up in the cycle of abuse. There is no trauma to the heart, soul and mind that is less or worse than another. To the children involved each is very, very serious. A slap across the face, a beating till a child can't walk, sexual abuse, verbal, fear, hatred are all ugliness in the weak threads of life.

Many of us don't look like the average poster child for abuse. But that does not make the crime against humanity any less painful. Even when we don't realize it, we are in a cycle which will provide the next generation of child abuse. Can we stop it? Will we stop it? Some will and some won't. I believe with all my heart that children are born pure. I had at one time believed that a child who grows up to an evil adult was born of a bad seed. But the more stories I hear of child abuse, I find that they each lack various ingredients necessary for a stable and healthy atmosphere. How do we give love, peace, respect, to children who have never experienced those various emotions. To a child who has been stripped of their individuality and ingrained with fear from early on in life.

Fear is what and abusive child is taught early on. It can make a child hide within them self, become hateful, angry, lonely and lost. I think in this era we are blessed with technology which allows us to educate, understand and share in our own personal stories. The more we open up and the more we talk about it, the more we reveal what power the abuser has on a child way after they have grown up.

I wish there were easy answers and I could save the world and all the children in it. A child is born to be loved and with love I believe we can change the outcome if only one child at a time. The poster child for abuse is not one but many, of every color, ethnicity, income brackets and place in the world. There are the children that are obvious who live on the streets who have no restrictions placed upon them and they are easier to recognize.There are many more who don't fit the look of the obvious poster child and yet the cries are just as loud and their pain and their needs. I am not sure why such ugliness exist in the world, but it does. I cry for the many children who will never get a chance to break the cycle of abuse and for my sister who's smile was removed way to soon from this world. The only way we will ever slow down the cycle of abuse is to intervene earlier in the lives of children and parents alike. Yes there are classes now for young parents and youth groups and yet this is still not enough to stop the violence. What will it take? We have enough money and resources on this earth that no one should starve, go without shoes, or lack quality education. Each child that is born gives us an opportunity to make the world better. Guidance and education are part of the intervention process. They say that people get what they earn and that the wealthiest people at the top of the chain deserve what they have and that the share no responsibility to those who they feel are leeches on society. I am talking in dreams of a Utopia , it all seems so easy, just replace hate and greed with love. Just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love.just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love. Just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love.just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love. Just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love.just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love. Just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love.just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love. Just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love.just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love. Just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love.just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love, just replace hate and greed with love,just replace hate and greed with love.

I was hoping if I said it enough times I could make it a reality... but unfortunately hate and greed exist and will prevail as it prevents us from curing the world of the viscous seeds of abuse.

May you be blessed with the holiday spirit everyday of the year

I think of each day as a holiday, a celebration of life. I always keep a turkey in the freezer for when my own children come home so that we will be able to enjoy each others company and celebrate and eat. When you are sharing a moment or a day with friends and family it is a true thanksgiving despite the holiday calendar.

I have not always made the right decisions when it came to my own intermediate family. I tried so hard not to pass on my own childhood dysfunction. I guess you would say that I struggle with the past even to this day. Not necessarily with the stories or the facts of the individual violent episodes branded to my soul but with my ability to deal with, understand and in someways know what is right and wrong.

As an adult I made every attempt to hide the negativity and to treat each situation differently as not to repeat the errors of my parents ways. Yet in some bizarre way I found myself in a situation that was eerily familiar. How I react and I struggled to surface above it was much different than my mother and yet it was as if we dealt with the same situations in our unique way.

I do believe when you have a supportive cast you are much more able to comprehend and rise above circumstances, such as financial, control, heartache loneliness as well illness, accidents and yes dysfunction. I find that like many I nearly drowned in the pressure and stress that became an everyday occurrence. I feel that it is important to be taught survival skills and I find it ironic that what is normal behavior to some is not to others. I have at many times waited till I couldn't take anymore to stand up for myself, like a rat backed into a corner fights back.

I think we shouldn't take children for granted. I spent a lifetime trying to hide abuse from my own children. Did I think because they didn't see the actual physical hit, twisting of arms, control and verbal abuse that they didn't know it was happening? What did they see, hear or understand? I know that I am not the same person I was earlier on in my marriage. I have learned that it takes a combination of factors to create the victim and perpetrator scenario. I do to this day battle both spiritually and physically to be stronger, smarter and more capable of preventing a negative situation from reoccurring.

Sometimes I find that I am so afraid of standing still that I may fall back into old habits and learned behavior of the norm for a dysfunctional family. I indulge in work so that I don't become weak and comfortable. Maybe it is the dreams that we are taught early on for a world that doesn't exist. In a dialogue with a friend of the family he said " I am not a stranger to tragedy" None of us are we all will at sometime meet face to face with death, sickness, finances and our own personal struggles. We are of course all human and will bare the trials of our human weakness. What separates us is the knowledge and our own survival skills as well as our own abilities to prevent stress and anxiety from taking hold and leading us down the wrong path.

As many of you prepare to celebrate the holidays be reminded of those who are alone, lost and struggling to find their survival suitcase. Sometimes it is a smile, a wave hello or goodbye, little things can become major things in the life of a person who is lost spiritually.

Suicides are typically up during the holidays. Many times it is because we see it as a big family get together. Many have no families, some are estranged and others have not realized that gifts and over indulgence in food does not make a holiday. Laughter, happiness, sharing and bonding creates memories that will carry a person through life.

Happy Thanksgiving! Share a kind word, a smile, a hug...

The Adult Child

I was watching a movie of a true story about a woman who was on death row. Throughout the story they tried to convince not only the jury but the viewer that it was because of the womans childhood or lack of upbringing that made her a candidate for murder. I can't remember exactly when I had a conscious understanding of right and wrong but I knew from very early on what didn't feel right or seem right. In many instances we do have roll models that reflect right and wrong. We look to adults in youth groups, neighbors, relatives and yes even other children and their families, etc. Even before we are introduced to the world beyond our own we have an internal understanding of what is expected or what is society's normal. I tried to think about my emotions and my thoughts in what I believed was a world of turmoil.

I can remember being ten years old very clearly. There was a merge of personality still part child and another part of me entering the world of adults. I always thought that any stability that I had came at this particular time but I also had a deep and profound understanding of the dysfunction in which we as children were raised. I thought it was pretty amazing how much you know and understand as a child without even discussing it with anyone. Repeatedly watching attempted murder is like watching a murder being carried out over and over again. The irony was that it was like the Bill Murray movie " Ground Hog Day" it was the same violent and disruptive life style over and over again. I don't believe we became numb to the violence but on the contrary we learned to recognize the signs and expect the worst. My mother was an obvious key, as it was her actions that prepped us both early in the morning and through out the day. I can remember laying across the bed and thinking about all the negativity with in my own life. I don't really recall wondering what my brother and sister thought, in many ways we each were looking for our own out. I believe early on that it was about own survival. The 60's came with their own set of problems, it was a time of rebellion and change in society's structure, especially closer to the 70's. People were talking more and less was being hidden in the closet. Because we really knew it wasn't right, it forced each of us to leave home at an early age, to find an escape. My brother was the eldest he joined the military, my eldest sister fought and earned her right at 16 in the courts when she won her right with minor emancipation. The third born was pregnant as a teen and ended up marrying the baby's father and of course dying way before her time. I went to live with my brother after his release from the military and my youngest sister left in her teens on a road of most would expect from a troubled teen. Choices we were at the age where we could decide to get away and we did. But no matter where we run the memories come with us. Almost all of my life I had this internal drive to run, run as far and as fast I could,but no matter where I went I had to deal with all that happen. I couldn't run fast enough nor far enough and I couldn't hide. The beginning of writing was the first step in standing up and accepting the past as a chapter that happened. Turning the pages and looking ahead to the future without the need to run was not easy but necessary. I understood at this time the importance of facing our ghost and acknowledging that in many ways our tools to achieve were limited to what we were taught as a child. Do I believe my parents loved me, strangely enough I do believe my father did, I thought my mother regretted having children. She always said she didn't want girls and she had four of them. She hated domestics cooking, baking and I can guess really what I learned about all the necessary skills of homemaking came from my eldest sister Lex. I can't ever remember her lovingly combing my hair an when I try to think of the time that was positive with mother in those early years I find it almost impossible. Except for one day when I was really small and I had to have an operation on my feet, I remember crying as they took me from her, " I want my mommie, I want my mommie" In most situations that is what a child wants is to be loved and I guess that is why even though it's wrong we love our abuser. Love is a need no different than food and water and a essential part of our internal human being. Whether our love comes from a dysfunctional parent or an abusive spouse, we seek and need to be loved. I am not sure why that is so, doesn't seem to happen to everyone that way, but as much as I love my parents, I hate them for what they did to five innocent children. I am not proud of that anger that has remained inside of me for so many years and letting it go is in itself therapeutic. I spent the better part of my life trying to understand why my parents were like this and the obvious always surfaces, they were two people who were never meant to come together and have five children. The love between them was weak and they didn't have what it takes to rise above the negative chapters of life. I shall not carry their guilt and yet when push comes to shove I have done all I can to continue to walk without ruffling feathers. Why? Because I am so aware of what people are capable of and I have learned that fear is the ultimate motivator in a dysfunctional family. Once that trigger of fear is pulled the gears are in motion and a life is altered.

Happiness

I pretty much digested the past and though I recognize that there is a part of me who stood witness to the crime of abuse. The merging of the present and the past allows me personally to move forward. I believe that denial and secrets just place added grief on a person, as if we are to continue to carry on the ills and guilt of domestic abuse. There are many who surface above and yes are survivors and that is truly a positive direction. How, when, where and why, it seems to all be part of our intended journey. Don't get me wrong I don't think we were necessarily intended to experience such negativity, but I do believe because of our human weakness and strengths we were able to experience and gather knowledge maybe in hopes that we will someday rid our world of such violence.

I rarely go back for one major reason we can't change the past and also if I dwell a little to long I get nightmares. You need to know when to step back and when to step ahead. All we can really be sure of is in what direction we will lead our life for the future, what do we pack in the suitcase to take along with us. With the passing of my father and my mother up in age, I feel as if a chapter has come to an end. So many tears have fallen those which are behind eyes and no one can see. I think at times we are taught to search for a fairytale ending and that in itself sets a person up for a fall.

I have been thinking about my future and what I want from it. That is always difficult because we have a variety of expectations for ourself and for our children. There is a gray area where the decisions we make today will lead us down the path of tomorrow. I can' honestly say there are days I rather just roll over and pull that blanket over my head and not get out of bed and other days where the bigger picture is just that much more clearer. Of course I want what everyone wants to be happy. Happiness is a form of contentment and that contentment has nothing to do with possession. Being in the arms of someone who loves you so is happiness, with that kind of happiness you can surface above anything and everything. What makes you happy?

There is Hope

I spoke with a friend today and though many times I think enough has been said, I am encouraged to write, educate and document moments of my own life. My dear friend said "give other people hope." I thought about that where I have been , where I am now and where I am going and what it took me to rise above it. It is true that writing in itself is therapy. In documenting my life I have been able to surface above it the negative. I am not sure where to start, so I will start from the beginning of my young adulthood.

Family life was extremely dysfunctional. I worked from an early age and attending school left really no time for socializing with people my own age. When I met the man who would become my husband, I look back and I don't really know what I thought. Life seem to be a day for a day with many struggles. Dysfunctional a family we were still taught morals, so there were many red flags, control being one of them, aggression, possessiveness and poor decision making skills. These are a few red flags that you recognize in a person but don't in your teenage years know what they mean. It was simple things at first, closing off contact with other people, not letting me have time with girlfriends, threatening my employer, staying at my place of work all day. At first I like many young women confused some of these signs with wow, he really likes me. Sometimes and I believe this to be true, dysfunction needs two pieces of a puzzle in interlock. You can't be an abuser, unless the other partner allows themselves to be abused. So I realized not only with my own daughter but with other young women that it was so important for them to understand the red flags of dating. What is socially a part of the norm and not is important for us to recognize and to get away before one becomes a part of the sickness. There were other issues that were never really acknowledged, how one treats you, compassion, respect and the importance of not giving in or up ones own personality.

Somethings were a minor adjustment, not seeing eye to eye, morale and religious convictions and our choices and responses to life. Of course you love a person or you wouldn't commit to trying to make a marriage. If a person and I mean any person, friend, lover or partner of any kind, belittles,downs your look, clothing, body, personality than one must take a serious look at whom they choose to surround them self with. At no time should one feel less than, hurt, Verbal abuse is real and it doesn't just hurt but it sets in motion the key of dysfunction insecurity. Once insecurity is unlocked abuse is set in full function.

Most things appeared minor some of it I just brushed aside. Flaws in ones character and the unrealistic set of goals where neither see eye to eye are all something to take note of. But I think it did start with sex, men will say " women use sex to control a man" and a woman says" that "man uses force in sex to exert his position as ruler" In reality aggression really has no place in a loving relationship. There is definitely a good and bad feeling that can be had. It is seems like the steps that chip away at a persons being are started even before they realize it. Sex between two people should be a loving experience and yet there are so many crazy things people do that just don't feel right.

I chalked a lot of the red signs up to being " old school" But as I am learning it is not about old school, or even the victims insecurities abuse is about the abusers insecurities. It is amazing how many have problems where alcohol and drugs have no part in.

If sweet talk doesn't work use fear. The abuser has many tools in which he uses to control his partner. They are extremely confusing because sometimes they are camouflaged as being a sweet action when in reality they are placing guilt. Many people have heard it, Look what I do for you, I am so sorry, it will never happen again, but I love you, I didn't mean it to happen.

Neglect, many people don't think of neglect as being abused. Oh but it so high on the abusive list. We as humans have many needs to be met, some of them are interaction, growth, education, community, this is where isolation comes in. These are all very, very minor and some may thing abuse is not yet prevalent. But as they say the wheel is being set in motion and period of outburst are part of the abuse pattern.

Easier at times to recognize the good in a relationship than to dwell on bad. If you have a good re pore and you have trust, respect, compassion and love, with no gaps in between than you will have avoided the foundation that is set for abuse.

I found that abuse is also a pattern. That there are steps to it. I have heard referred to as the honeymoon stage. It is where they are on good behavior and everything seems positive, promises of change. But that gives way to episodes that are unforgivable. One person doesn't need to be beat black and blue to be abused. Pulling hair, kicking pushing,bending arms behind their back, belittling are all unexceptionable behaviors. Some situations escalate and others seem to avoid the major explosions.

Breeding Fear it is amazing that a person doesn't need to be hit to create a situation which breeds fears. I can remember several situations, I try to forget them but some of the more difficult ones remain. I can see his face he is filled with hate and ugliness, I am not sure what is wrong, he has the gun in his hand, he is in the middle the yard and bullets are flying through the air, he is screaming, I am not sure about what,yelling for the neighbor to come out to kill him. Why is he doing this? I don't think to call the police oh it would be such an embarrassment, it would end up in the paper and everything. I need to calm him down, he is ranting, I am not sure about what, screaming about a car on the road cutting him off. None of it makes sense, I am afraid and not, I grew up in a dysfunctional home, I had myself convinced I could handle it. I talked him into putting the gun down after about twenty minutes of him screaming and shooting the gun off. My son running through the woods to get the dog that got loose, ducks the bullets flying past him. I don't think it was right to try to handle the situation, he had been on a verge of a break down many times and each time he reached for the gun to kill someone else or to kill himself. I was taught to be afraid of the system as much as I was afraid of the man who gave me more of a dysfunctional life. Here I am telling people to get help, but I didn't believe help was out there, part of me still doesn't that is the sad part, I don' t believe real help is out there. We are taught to fear the police, the courts and the system which threatens to disrupt an already disruptive life.

Fear from the abuser, fear of the system, fear of letting out those dirty little secrets.

Crazy is ..bringing children into a world and not loving them.

Spoke with someone from when we were kids. It made me think about a time that I had pretty much digested. One of the questions was why? Why was my sister so abused and she was. My father called it discipline, but it was anything but. You don't beat children till they bleed, you don' t make them stand on rock salt bare foot in corners till they can no longer stand. Yet that is exactly what my father did. It was a rather strict life style you either followed the rules or you were punished sometimes it was, no let me rephrase that, it was always unnecessary punishments.
My sister was very attractive she had sunshine in her eyes and a warmth in her smile. Dating was forbidden, talking to boys were off limits. I can honestly say that I don't really know why he chose to punish so aggressively. Could have been laughter or smiling, or being children. Lights out, than lights better be out or he would come up those stairs swinging that belt. It is funny if I think about it I can actually here the shuffle of his footsteps. I didn't want to go back, " don't you dare move!" if you jumped or cried he would swing that much harder. I remember the later years easier, if my sister skirt was wrinkled it would be a reason to beat her, if she put make up on, if her hair wasn't fixed right, if she spoke to a boy, if she was late coming home from school, if the dishes were not clean enough, if the table wasn't set, if she smiled, if she laughed, if she cried.
Didn't want to go back...no I didn't, but here I am. I see the gravel, the empty lot over grown with weeds, the railroad tracks, the river. the greyness of it all. I am not sure why my parents are yelling, my elder sister always got yelled at. "Take your little sister to her room," almost as if mother was prepared for an argument with my father. Get the little ones out of here! breaking glass, screaming, all night long, I couldn't sleep unless the train was going by... I learned to love that hum. I was nine years old, this particular argument escalated. My mother grabbed a knife, my father tried to take it off her, she was stronger than you would think a woman could be. My father turned to go out the door. Not once, but twice she placed the knife in his back, he called out for my elder sister as he fell to the ground. My brother and sister tried to stop the bleeding, it seem like forever till the ambulance came to take him to the hospital. Like the many times before and after he refused to name my mother as the perpetrator. Can't sleep, can't cry, holds my dolly. Every thing will be okay, daddy will be alright. Mothers eyes red filled with tears and rage. Why was this happening, did she hate him so?
The next day was quiet, my older sister spent the day cleaning broken glass. I went outside to play ball, the other children were not allowed to talk to me. Stay away from her, her parents are crazy. "Your mom is crazy, your mom is crazy!"Some of the children whispered, others chanted. I can remember their names, one day they were friends playing and riding a bicycle the next they were told to stay away from me. Was I bad? Is this why my parents did that? I was afraid, I was alone. We never spoke of it, we never asked questions. It was the secret that everybody knew. It was a rather confusing time, two people who held each other, hated each other so much that they destroyed each others lives. I talked to my Dolly's allot, I escaped into a world of fantasy. Children can be mean, did they know we were hurting inside? did they know we were confused?
I spoke with my eldest sister recently, she said"momma should have died when she jumped from the bridge" She said it would have been over, instead it happened over and over again. The short years of childhood were filled with violence, suicide, ugliness, punishments verbal and physical. The knives are hidden everywhere, don't touch them momma will be mad. They are under the sofa, under the pillow, in my bed, under the cushion of the rocker.She said "If he comes back in this house I'm gonna kill him" I heard the polices sirens I ran to the window, momma yelled at me" she said "run, run to the window, look for your daddy!" Were they taking daddy are they taking him away again? I feel like I am in the room I can see her holding a hatchet she is really mad, she really is mad at him, she keeps repeating she is going to kill him. She yells really loud to my sister, "I told you to get these children out of here. " She grabs my hand and puts my coat on, we go to the park and my sister see's her friends, I play on the swings. I am alone, "don't play with her, her parents are crazy." I have been alone my whole life, keeping the secrets so well hidden, that I myself had forgotten them, or did I?