Posts tagged ‘Child abuse’

November 16, 2011

Why some people do not report child abuse

According to americanhumane.org people do not report abuse for many reasons including:

  • Choosing instead to effectively intervene independent of the formal system.
  • Fear or unwillingness to get involved.
  • Fear that a report will make matters worse.
  • Reluctance to risk angering the family.
  • Concern that making a report will negatively impact an existing relationship with the child or others.
  • Belief that someone else will speak up and do something.
  • Lack of enough knowledge about the abuse

So why did McQuery not report the rape of a ten year old boy?  Sadly, his reason is most likely not on this list.  He most likely reason… money!  Penn State was ranked in the top 5 when the alleged incident occurred.  And let’s face it; some colleges often do not report crimes for fear of scandals which can lead to lower enrollment.

Amazingly, the lives of children have a price tag.  I wonder what the answer to the question, “What is a child worth in dollars?’ might be if McQuery was asked?

So why am I picking on McQuery you might ask, I mean there were other people involved in the cover up right?  Because he was there!  He saw it.  How a person could witness an assault on a young man and do nothing will forever be beyond my comprehension!

Something is so incredibly wrong with our society.  I realize that abuse has been happening since man could stand upright, but we are supposed to be a civilized world.  And the US is supposed to be the “best” nation in the world.  But we are not!  If we allow this type of behavior we are not!

McQuery, by his own admission, is guilty of not protecting a child and who knows how many after the one he witnessed were hurt.  He should be prosecuted to the full extent of the law!

A message needs to be sent that we, the people of this supposed great country, will not tolerate someone walking away from seeing a child being raped!

I am sickened and extremely saddened that we, humans, brush this off as a “sad” situation. This is an outrage and we all should be outraged, angry… hell – we should be pissed off!

 I am!

 

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September 14, 2011

Labels

I have been thinking about all of the labels;

Labels I gave myself: damaged, broken, unlovable, easily abandoned, fat…

Labels someone else gave me: depressed, manic depressive, bipolar, histrionic, major depressive…

I am not any of those things. Was I ever? Who cares!

I have no labels, I removed them because they did not belong! They were confining and I attempted to conform to them. Once removed I was free! I am free! Free to be happy. Free to be OK! Free to be ME!

Do you want to know how to remove yours? There is no secret to it. No Goo-gone needed. Just never again say “I am bipolar, depressed, a victim …”

Replace them with true descriptions: hungry, tired, excited, human…

Labels are for boxes and you certainly are not a box!

September 12, 2011

Taking responsibility – a response

It is easy to blame others for our problems. But as long as we blame others for our issues there is nothing we can do to overcome them.

Being depressed, manic, addicted, etc may be blamed on the fact that we were abused, neglected, molested, or just mistreated as children. As long as we stay in the blame mode we will continue to be depressed, manic, addicted, etc. It is my experience, however, that once a person takes responsibility for their depression, manic behavior, addictions, etc., a person can take actions necessary to not only overcome those issues but thrive and truly find happiness.

Everyday I am faced with challenges. As I am sure you are as well. Everyday I am given choices to make. I can either make good choices or bad choices. I consider the choices I make everyday. I am not perfect, I still make mistakes. When I do make a mistake I reflect on what I could have done differently and choose to do that next time.

Am I unique, am I so superior that I am able to do what no other person can? Of course not. Any human can choose happiness.

So why do so many choose to be depressed, manic, addicted, etc.? I believe many people do not realize they have a choice. No one has ever told them they have a choice. Sadly, even therapist, psychologist, and psychiatrist do not share this information. Instead they say take this pill, or they help place blame.

As I have said before, some people need medication because their brain is just so overwhelmed. But good therapy should follow or accompany medication.

After my last post I rattled some cages. In response…

Let me state clearly, I am not placing blame on the victim. I have taken some time to respond because I chose to really consider this post.

The answer is… stop being a victim! Be a victor! Choose happiness. Work to be happy. And if you do not know how, then go to every therapist in the phone book and say “I want to be able to choose to be happy – can you help me do that?” Find one that says “Yes, I can!” And then hold them to it!

August 28, 2011

It bothers me, “the blame game”

It bothers me when I read of people who are stuck in the blame game. I know that it shouldn’t because I lived there for so many years.

I think it bothers me because I know what life can be like when you let the blame go.

I once blamed my bipolar, depression, chaos, etc, on my mother and father.

True, they could have been much better parents. True, I was really dysfunctional because it was the only thing I knew. But I took responsibility for my actions. I took me away from them! I took the initiative to learn a different way to live.

So many live everyday in despair and it breaks my heart.

I read many blogs. Blogs that are authored by people who were abused.

My hope is that they read my blog. Read it so you will know you no longer have to live in chaos. You can make this life the best life ever!

You have to work hard, you have to choose to be real with yourself. You will have to choose to be honest with yourself. You will have to choose to see the ugly truth. The truth is your chaos is YOU! Not your parents, or your abuser, or who ever you blame.

Your life today – the chaos, depression, bipolar disorder is not someone else fault, it is yours!

August 24, 2011

Normal?

It is hard to gauge, when you have a history, what is normal and what is not. As I mentioned in my last post I was not sure if I had the will to be OK. I felt as if I were cracking into pieces again.

The first months after my Dad died was very tough. The truth is it would have been tough for most people. The difference is history. My history!

As each day passed I began to sleep, which as I have mentioned is a big part of the battle!

But after a month of struggling I knew it was time for action. First order of business – call Sinead and make an appointment. Sinead helped me gauge where I was. That is – where I was in the grieving process.

Everything that I was describing to her was normal. A normal part of the grieving process.

I was not creating chaos. I was not overreacting. I was not staying up for days at a time. I was not agitated. I was not irritable. I was just sad.

I was going to be OK. But once you have been down the road such as mine you know you must still be proactive.

In order to continue on the right path I needed a voice. A voice to finally say so much I had held onto for so long. My Dad was gone and he would never hear what I had to say, but I needed to be able to say it anyway.

I started this blog, one year ago, August 27th.

I choose my path – not bipolar disorder, not my Dad, not depression.

I have chosen happiness. I have chosen to remove all the labels!

And through this blog, I have chosen to no longer live in the dark. I live in the light, and I love every single moment of it!

August 18, 2011

Cleaning out the freezer

My Dad had a freezer in his garage.  It was not a working freezer.  It was chained and had a massive lock on it to keep people out.

It was full of guns and stuff that was special to my Dad.

I was not in charge of cleaning out the freezer, however I was there.

Inside the door was an envelope full of pictures.

Pictures of children.

I destroyed them the minute I saw them.

I was numb. I was mad.  I was sad.  Lastly, I was in shock!

I had no idea…

My Father was not only a molester of little girls, but also little boys.

I cracked just a little bit more! Broken all over again. That night I did not sleep. Over the next couple of months my will would be tested. The will to be OK without medication. The will to not jump at the chance to be manic, where my world felt so good and exciting. The will to not crash. The will to overcome. The will to make good choices.

August 4, 2011

His final words

He told me he would die soon. He said he was ready to die. He said the cancer had won, he hurt all the time. He was tired. He would shoot himself soon.

We made small talk for a moment.

Then…

He told me how much he still loved my Mother. He told me about when they met, what he first thought when he saw her (an injured bird), and how he fell in love with her the moment he sat eyes on her. He went on and on for what seemed like an eternity about Mom. When he finally stopped talking I said,”It is so sad that she died so young.” He replied, “Yes, but that was the way it had to be.” I responded, “She just could not stop drinking, she was so drunk when she died.” And he said…

“Actually Veronica (he inhaled and sighed), when I saw her, she wasn’t that drunk.”

I never followed up. I never asked, “What does that mean.” I never said a word. I just sat there, dumbfounded.

He then changed the subject and asked me if I really thought I had a chance at finishing school. I did not answer right away (still in shock I guess). He then said, “You know Eva (my step sister)… blah blah blah” that is all I heard. Then he said, “Well, I guess so far at least you have a good GPA, maybe you will finish, who knows.”

He took a breath…

I said, in a whimper, “Yes, I think I can finish school.”

He said again, “Well, maybe you can.”

He changed the subject again. He talked about how proud he was of Jake.

And just about that moment, my son, Jake walked in.

He and Jake started talking.

I just sat there, feeling numb, disconnected. It was as if I was watching the two of them from somewhere else.

In that moment, all of the pieces that I had worked so hard to put back together felt as if they were fracturing. Chipping away.

My adrenaline was pumping. My heart began to race. My brain started banging around inside my head. My thoughts were flying fast. I was trying desperately to keep up with their conversation.

At some point, I interrupted their conversation, and began to argue with my father, over..? It had something to do with politics… really? Nothing, it was over nothing. Yet, it was an argument over everything!

He became irritated and ask me to leave.

I did.

About a week later, he shot himself.

July 24, 2011

After the reunion, what I always wanted to be

As I posted in this blog: https://nomorevictim.wordpress.com/2011/06/08/the-family-reunion/ I found that I had become very strong.  I could stand up for myself, I could face challenges, and I could walk away from a situation without feeling defeated.

This was a defining moment in my life. My life became clearer – sharper, and so did I!

Within a year, I decided to go to college. And soon I will be graduating with my AA and transferring to Sam Houston State to get my BA in Education! I currently have a 4.0! I am the student I always wanted to be.

I may have never asked my Dad those 8 questions, but what I did do was become the daughter I always wanted to be even though my Dad would never be the Dad I had always wanted.

I am the wife I always wanted to be. After that fateful day, I no longer leaned on my husband for emotional support. I discovered I could take care of myself. This new sense of self helped me to be the wife I always wanted to be. No jealousy, no anger, and no fear of abandonment.

Today, I am what I always wanted to be, but never imagined that I could be.

Happy!

But I will admit, it takes work and dedication to be happy. Is it worth it? Hell yes it is!

July 11, 2011

8 Questions I wanted to ask. . .

but never had the courage!

  1. Do you love me?
  2. Do you know that you hurt me?
  3. Does it matter to you that your hurt me?
  4. Do you understand that for many years I was actually beyond hurt, I was broken?
  5. Do you know what that means?
  6. Do you know that I hurt so bad that I wanted to die?
  7. Does that affect you, knowing that you are responsible for that kind of hurt?
  8. Who hurt you, why are you so broken?

Instead, I learned to play bridge and he and I would meet to play often, I met him for lunch, I helped him come up with a diet program, I listened to him when he needed, someone other than Elly, to talk about his cancer, I listened when he told me he had bought another miracle cure on the internet and I never – once judge him for it, I took him food that I had cooked or baked, I took him supplies after the hurricane, I cried for him when he told Nanny, his mother, that he was dying of cancer, and I listened when he told me he was going to kill himself: I never criticized him, I never told him not to do it, and I told him I could understood why he would commit suicide.  

What was my payoff?  Today I can tell myself that, despite him, I was a good daughter.  And why that matters to me, I really have know idea.  

July 9, 2011

One Year Ago

My dad and my brother, less than a month before my dad committed suicide.

July 7th was the one year anniversary of my father’s death.  My brother, sister, and I all met for dinner on Thursday.  We talked about that day:  how we felt, what we were doing when each of us received the news, and how we feel now.

Incredibly, I feel no sadness.  For me, my father is not really dead.  Since Elly made the memorial service about her and the fact that we were not allowed to see his body, my father’s death has never felt real.

In reality, it does not matter much to me whether he is alive or dead.  Oh it did for a little while, but today I feel neutral.

From 2008 until his death, I cared. I knew he would be dying sooner rather than later and I wanted to get to know my dad.  And the truth is, I kind of did.  But I was to afraid to ever ask him the questions I really wanted to know.

Being a victim of sexual abuse, I believe, makes you afraid to open up conversations with the abuser.  I was afraid to ask him why.  I was afraid to ask him anything about it.  I was afraid he would tell me it was all my fault!

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