You hold the tools to change your life beginning right this very moment!!
Author/Advocate/Key Note Speaker/Radio Host/Survivor
Founder/CEO; Butterfly Dreams Abuse Recovery
Always believe anything is possible with you in the active equation~~trish mcknight
As a person rebuilding your life after someone has taken your value there are a few things I would suggest doing to help you through.
1) Make a list of long term goals; You can start by creating a list of long term goals, such as I want my education or to build may career in abuse recovery. This will give you and end goal and when you hit this mark you will see yourself as a true thriver, not just a survivor.
2)Make a list of your daily goals; This can be anything from cleaning out closets, going to the grocery store, or checking into a school to begin those classes to keep you as an employable person, which then makes it possible for you to earn a paycheck, pay for housing, food, clothing, vehicle or other transportation. If you have had to relocate to escape your abuser, moved away from your parents or your abusive partner, you may want to have your goal list include such things as; applying for work, finding an apartment, apply for assistance through the state to help with shelter and therapy services. These daily goal lists are important to keep you going. You will see yourself checking off your accomplished tasks, doing silly little things by yourself and getting them done teaches us that we CAN do and CAN succeed at taking care of ourself, supporting ourself, and you will begin your life over again.
3)Start a Positivity List; this list is important for you to realize the good in you as an individual. You want to take a good look at yourself, not necessarily physical traits, but more about your inner person; such as, I’m nice to other people, I have good manners, I have good hygiene, I can accomplish my daily goal lists. These little positives will help you when you rebuild your self esteem from that inadequate sensation your abuser drilled into your head. Many times our abusers have to strip away our value and make sure we are dependent upon them, so we tend to lose sight of what is good in us. Make your list and add one new item to it each day!!! If you are around family and friends who support your healing, it is good to ask them to write down one thing they see good in you. This helps you to see that others have value in you as a person, so you don’t feel as if you are all alone in believing your personal worth.
4) Learn About Your Wounds; It’s important to understand how the abuse has effected you in other ways and learn to recognize the wounds you carry inside. There are many levels of emotional damage that come from the abuse. Every abuser is different, while they may have many of the same traits, their abuse is carried out in their own dark ways. This means that not every survivor is effected in the same way. We are all different souls with different tolerance levels. While one survivor may be able to walk out the door of their abuser and never look back; others may hang onto the abuser because of the deep need for parental approval or because you truly loved that particular partner; when it was good it was good, but when it was bad it was evil type of thing.
Having gone through multiple abusers and relationships myself, there have been different reactions to the leaving and rebuilding, recovery aspect. Each abuser left different wounds from their emotional degradation, control, battery, rape and attempted murders. Therefore, I find it important to understand what wounds you carry from the abuse.
1)Do you have issues with anxiety over small things that wouldn’t matter or seem important to a ‘normal’ person?
2)Do you wake with nightmares or have flashbacks which make you feel your life is still in danger?
3)Do you have those really down days and not sure why?
These are all signs that your wounds are emotional and mental health scars such as; Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Depression, Generalized Anxiety because you were always living in high alert of the next action against you. It’s important to know the scars you have and understand how to live with these scars of your abuse.
Recovery and rebuilding from abuse is like trying to put the pieces to your personal puzzle back together again. We may have known who we were before the abuser got to us, but then we have to learn who we are now. I have had many different issues from the abusers in my life. I’ve had to study on these conditions to learn how they impact my life now. Once I began to understand the why and the how of these conditions it has made it more possible each day for me to live in my present day life, rather than thinking constantly about what happened in those thirty-two years of hell. There is a lot of personal strength gained from being an abuse survivor. We have to live as ‘normal’ in society while carrying these physical and emotional wounds from the trauma. We still have to support ourselves and society expects us to act as if nothing happened. They often don’t want to hear our sad story of pain. They don’t want to understand how we have these scars that still effect us. In most cases of family abuse (child sexual abuse or incest) the family will ignore it all together. No one will acknowledge the abuse or that it has any lasting affect on you. No one will stand up to protect you, instead they protect the abuser.
As you gradually begin understanding how the abuse has effected you, then you too will learn how to see the new you.
Find and Treasure the piece of you that was taken so long ago; FIND YOUR VOICE!! Hold it tight, admire its power. You can use its power to heal you.
Recovery and rebuilding from abuse is like trying to put the pieces to your personal puzzle back together again. We may have known who we were before the abuser got to us, but then we have to learn who we are now. I have had many different issues from the abusers in my life. I’ve had to study on these conditions to learn how they impact my life now. Once I began to understand the why and the how of these conditions it has made it more possible each day for me to live in my present day life, rather than thinking constantly about what happened in those thirty-two years of hell.
There is a lot of personal strength gained from being an abuse survivor. We have to live as ‘normal’ in society while carrying these physical and emotional wounds from the trauma. We still have to support ourselves and society expects us to act as if nothing happened. They often don’t want to hear our sad story of pain. They don’t want to understand how we have these scars that still effect us. In most cases of family abuse (child sexual abuse or incest) the family will ignore it all together. No one will acknowledge the abuse or that it has any lasting affect on you. No one will stand up to protect you, instead they protect the abuser.
Positive Thoughts About You
You deserve a safe place to sleep
You deserve respect
You deserve kindness and support
You deserve as much love as you freely give to others
You deserve roses in your garden of life
#MARSocial Author of the Year Competition – Give it a share and help get our survivor stories recognized for the numerous voices of silent children still living in this hell today!!! Thank you tons
Forbes Thought Of The Day
“ A truly strong and sound mind is the mind that can equally embrace great things and small. ”
— Samuel Johnson
After an exhausting courtship of just over a month and a half I was lucky enough to marry my soul mate. Yes, just a month and a half from the first moment we met to the exchanging of our vows, in my house with our friends and family, exactly twenty minutes into the New Year. Some may call it my way of never forgetting our anniversary date, but I look more at it as fate.
We try to do the proper, reasonable thing during a break-up. We don't want to be "mean," and we do want to uphold our "dignity" throughout the process. Denial about the seriousness of the abuse has set in, so we don't think we are in danger. These are the mistakes we make that can ultimately get us killed.
Part of the problem is that we still love our abusers.
‘This amazing story of survival will capture you from Prelude to Ending. It will shock and disturb the deepest parts of your being. In it you will walk the path of a little girl so utterly destroyed by those entrusted with her care; abandoned by all those who could have and should have been concerned.. You will feel her strength to survive as the townspeople around her ignored the child’s cry. Trecia Ann will allow you into her thoughts; her exasperating fears which haunted her soul
A True Crime Memoir of Horror, Evil, and Courage
Patricia A. McKnight
Fndr/C.E.O. Butterfly Dreams Abuse Recovery
Trecia Ann is an adorable little girl with bright blue eyes and long brownish blonde hair. At the age of five the sweet kindergarten child is filled with joy and innocence. Her mother spends time each morning preparing her child for school with braids in her hair and a kiss on her cheek to start her day’
Then it all changes when hell fell in on the child’s world as the devil with dark coal stained hands reached in to terrorize and steal away her voice. It was a cold December evening in Southern Illinois. She and her older brother anxious to get inside, guarding themselves against the chill of the winter wind. However, as she stepped into the threshold of her home, suddenly everything she knew about life was filled with fear. The hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up as she caught the cold blue steel of evil glaring from his eyes. In that sudden brief second the rush of fear that shot through her soul was colder than the winter wind throwing the leaves around and slamming them into the ground.
This devil that dominated their house from that moment forward, would control every moment of her days and terrorize each of her nights. This man would degrade, beat, stalk, taunt, molest, rape, trade and sell this girl for the next twelve years. The mother she loved would no longer care if her beautiful daughter rotted in his sadistic attacks. Trecia would be denied any medical care as her young growing body rotted away in the filth, leaving the deep pitted ugly scars that would cover her skin and her soul for the next 40 years. The beautiful child that once was, would become just an object for his evil games.
The adorable hero of this memoir wasn’t just abused within her childhood home, she was tortured. The entire community around her watched and judged, abandoned and shamed; tagging the child as the ‘filthy rotting village whore’ by the time she was thirteen. This is not just a horror, this is an extremely ugly truth that happened to just one little girl. Now that child has removed those thick black coal stained hands which ripped out her soul and held her trapped in the madness of destruction. This child was trained and forced into a life of acceptance and tolerance, slavery and torture, attempted murders and a battle ground in her home barely survived.
Today she has made it through, and as you read this journey, see what she does today, hear her voice and the voice of the silent survivors around us all; you too will be pulled into this world and forever changed. You will become a great defender of children and aware of the darkness that grows like a man-made cancer within our homes. Only you and I can eradicate this human behavior of destruction to provide at least some sense of safety within every child’s home.
Join in this mission by simply sharing this link and the links to other voices in this battle of change. It is simply about taking back our power as human beings, understanding that all living mammals are given the ability to live strong & fly free, creating their dreams and achieving their own true self.
You can also share with this empowering voice of just one girl, by connecting through our many social sites;
Check out my Vizify Video here; https://www.vizify.com/tricia-mcknight/twitter-video
Linkedin Professional Profile – http://www.linkedin.com/pub/tricia-mcknight/39/2a8/753/
Why even successful women are insecure about their looks.
You are unique, but then again so is everyone else, who are we to judge them?
On a TV show, designed to create argument and disharmony, where contestants are
scrutinised by millions of people watching on TV, any insecurities are always…
There are many different areas of being a survivor of hell which I’ve written about these past three years. In many writings throughout this entire blog you will find writings dealing with all the puzzle pieces we need to examine and shape into our present day lives. You’ll also find many writings which focus on the depression, P.T.S.D., anxiety, finding your center to begin your healing path, the anger which still comes and goes, and the severe neglect of all medical and dental care which has left me so tragically scarred.
However there is an area which still holds me back and one I haven’t focused on much, THE TRAFFICKING OF THE CHILD I USED TO BE!!
This is the process of stealing away who we are and ripping away any sense of value as they use us for trading, manipulation, and offer us out as an object without care of how we feel or what it does to our inner being. It all went along with complete disregard for all of my other care & feelings. It was also a huge part of what my small little community of Freeburg witnessed and knew about, yet chose not to be bothered, because as always ‘I simply was not worth the effort’.
When my stepfather started using me to entice the other men in our little village of Freeburg, Illinois; it was my 11th birthday. It was this day that I began feeling like nothing more than HIS OBJECT. Yes the molestations were actually just an insertion away from being rape at that point, and yes he was a regular visitor who attacked almost nightly as I lay in the same bed next to his own little girl and Mother just a thin wall away.
On this particular day, I was taken to the bar where Mother worked through the week and a family acquaintance who had been at our house with his own wife and young girls was bartending. They made sure I was drunk with double shots of vodka in a small glass of orange juice that day, one right after the other to celebrate my big #11. It was the first time he offered me out to a young miner. Thank heaven this guy was decent enough to say ‘No, she’s just a kid’. However, Malcolm banged my head off the dashboard of the car when we went outside and repeatedly growled at me, ‘You’re a fucking ugly bitch that’s why nobody wanted you in there’. This would not be his only or his last attempt. The one thing he found out that trip is that when he got me drunk he could manipulate me into using my body in a sexually enticing way to attract the attention of men and then they would continue buying the drinks.
Ah Ha, a way to get drunk for free!!!
Oh yeah, I didn’t get my birthday that day at all. Mother was so furious he kept me out so long that she chased the girls home from the party, stormed up the street to yank me out of the car; yelled at me during the two blocks we walked home, and sent me straight to my room. Hmmm, again I was being punished, just as it had been when I was 9 and she walked in from work early to find him ready to insert his penis into her naked little girl lying next to him in their bed; the girl so terrified that tears were running down her cheeks. Yet I was always the bad girl, the one to blame for what he did.
It was just shortly after this experience at the bar when I was first taken out to the barge boat with a crew of about 10 young men. These guys enjoyed the entertainment Malcolm had brought them. All I knew that day was he had told Mother he was taking me fishing. We picked up a couple cases of beer and we drove down some back rode that took us to the edge of the Mississippi where this barge boat was anchored. It was in the middle of nowhere. There were not any barges around this tug boat was moving. There was just this small wooden dock which was shaky, seemed unstable. The boat was parked along the water’s edge with green grass and a big ol’ tree hanging there filled with beautiful green leaves. I remember getting on the boat, although it took some help from one of the guys because I’d already drank down about three full beers he had handed me during our drive. He used the excuse he was taking me fishing quite a bit. It was a staple he could always get away with and she never asked me if I wanted to go or why I didn’t want to go, she just simply sent me along as if to send me out of her hair for the day.
I always guess my teen ages during these events by means of what happened BEFORE he used his favorite shotgun barrel to rape me, and AFTER he used his favorite shotgun barrel to rape me.
This particular day spent with the barge boat guys was before, so I wasn’t yet close to 13 and my body was still quite small and under developed. I think back on these events and remember having more than one set of hands groping and probing me. I remember more than one penis being rubbed against my mouth and having to hold onto them, just like he had taught me to do with him. However, what I remember most are the faces of these young men, the many men. I can always remember the faces even if I didn’t know their names.
Malcolm enjoyed every moment watching me there with those grown men. He enjoyed them getting me high and feeding me more and more booze. He enjoyed them blasting a stereo with rock music, which he always hated unless it was for one of these types of ‘special days’. I believe they had an 8track with the Rolling Stones playing in the background. I remember it was making every bone in my body hurt as they banged away. If you remember the early Stones, it was actually pretty heavy during the mid 70’s as were most bands back then. However, the Stones have always been pretty recognizable by their music. To this day I cannot stand to hear their music because it takes me right back to that boat and again I feel the many men surrounding me from every angle.
There were at least three trips to that barge boat I remember, but the faces were not always the same. Most of the men looked to be shaggy, grungy, and about their around their late 20’s to early 30’s. I remember being terrified. I remember quite clearly not knowing what was going to happen, or who was going to do what. I remember not knowing who was behind me and not being able to focus clearly. This may have been my body dissociating because it was too traumatic or it may have been caused from the drugs or alcohol.
Lord only knows what they were feeding me to lower my ability to fight back and make a child so drunk she just fell into their arms.
There was the night I was ordered to have the party while he took Mother out of the house. Malcolm picked out what I was supposed to wear. He told me what boys I needed to invite and then gave me the instructions on how to start playing spin the bottle and allow them all to grope and take me into my bedroom upstairs. This happened on more than one occasion that would always lead to playing Post Office and I was the only piece of mail to handle.
I remember the school mates who lined up to receive the blow jobs or were ordered to take me into the next room and “give me the fucking I deserved”!!! I remember two school friends of my brother’s whom I thought I could trust as friends. Upon their invitation I went for a cruise to smoke a joint. The next thing I knew we were parked on the back rode, I’m thrown down in the backseat of the car with one of teens on top of me and my zipper broken as he ripped off my jeans. I remember well the face of the other guy as he stayed on the front seat with his head turned back, watching and cheering on as his buddy plugged away and I was crying for help. The guy in front was one my brother had been hanging out with for about four years or more, so they were pretty close friends; otherwise I never would have gone with them in the first place. He looked me straight in the eye while his buddy raped me and then told me what a ‘rotten fuck’ I was. ‘How disgusting I was and why did he think I would be worth fucking in the first place’.
These are the types of rapes and orgy type of events that were such a huge part of my teen years. Most of them took place after the rape via shotgun barrel, but it certainly didn’t make them any less traumatic. As I got older it became more difficult for me to be lured into the parties because I was finally working and did my best to be gone as much as possible, especially if I could work late shift at the cloak room of the restaurant. Thank heaven for work because it became my way to escape it all. I didn’t have to be at home slaving for them if I was working. I didn’t have to be available to attend the late night parties if I could work instead. Malcolm and I began fighting each other constantly.
I’m not so sure just how much my brother and sister knew about all of the parties, rapes, orgies, but I know they knew about the beatings and the molestations from Malcolm himself. Either way they too were just children and trapped in the same alcoholic daily fueled home I was in, so I wouldn’t have expected them to do anything for my rescue even if they had the chance. I know there were a few times when my adopted brother John protected me, which happened more so after my other brother went off to the army at 17. John was still living at the house mainly because he really didn’t have anyone else who wanted to claim him as their son. Mother opened her house up to any child that needed a place to sleep, eat, rest, call home for awhile or just needed some form of kindness. Funny though, she didn’t give a crap about what was happening to her own daughter. Anyone could do anything and she would call me the whore for allowing it to happen.
My God, what would it take for her to just see me as her little girl, her daughter, her flesh & blood, the child she created and carried, gave birth to and cared for; at least until the man she married began attacking me while she was home, in the next room, giving me away, parading me as if I was some type of treasure for others to use. A treasure which only he could determine who and what they did to me. A treasure he could force or coerce into whatever situation suited his sadistic pleasures at that time.
These days there is a lot of excellent work I’ve done in my healing from being a sexually abuse, raped & molested, beaten & tortured child. However, there is also a lot of accepting in what my body has been put through with the many other men. How do you tell people that before you were 17, you have no idea how many teen boys & grown men had used your body for sex?. How do you tell people about how they were multiples at once, not just a guy here or there? How do you explain to people that when you look them in the face, knowing they know all about your past, you’re terrified of what judgment passes through their mind?
So many had used me one way or the other, orally or raped, and then told me I was like screwing a dog or a horse. I wasn’t worthy of them even admitting they had sex with me. I can understand the older men in our little community, because I was just a kid and they were paying Malcolm to come to the parties so they could feel up the child who was forced to drink, get high, and be their entertainment; all while Mother sat in her bedroom watching TV and giving me a snide ‘Have Fun’ as she closed the door.
Its bad enough to accept that you have no clue how many men there were throughout those years. Its horrifying to know that I barely escaped as Malcolm wanted to put me up in my own little trailer; have his own little private lock with his own little private key; so we could have all the little private parties he wished and invite as many as would pay!!
Sadly, I’m not so sure that what’s been swirling around in my head lately is because I’ve been looking more into working directly with some anti-trafficking advocates & task force rescuers, or if its because I’ve been pushing myself to promote the book? Anytime I start putting myself out there on display, be it in promoting the book; or really, doing anything that brings the attention and focus to my special anything, I instantly start hearing all of those voices saying to me; ‘What a dirty, ugly, rotten fuck I was and they had no clue why they thought I would be worth their time or money.’ As I got older it would be boyfriends & husbands who smashed my head into the mirror while screaming about how ugly I was and why in the hell did they end up with me?
All of these condemning words accompanied any type of vulnerable position I might have been in and today as I’m reaching out with some focus on me and on the book, I am right back there again and it’s like a jagged knife ripping away at the healing I’ve built up to protect me.
How and when does it end? When will all that they have done to me be over and all their evil have passed through my spirit so that I can truly be on the other side? Why is it that during all those horrific teen years of my life did not one person ever feel like I was worth saving? What was it about the blue eyed child that made me such an outcast by all of those around me? Was it the rot of my skin, the stench of my body, the broken black fangs of my teeth? Was it the evil of Malcolm and his wicked games?
Maybe one day I will get my answer, but truly I’m not so sure that will ever come. As I’ve said, this has been eating away inside this past couple weeks and I feel like, as one dear friend put it so well, ‘Like Trecia Ann is screaming I’m alive and no one is listening, no one feels that I am worthy once again.’
What a tragedy life can be at times. How horrible the feelings of being a sex trafficked child and knowing in your heart that so many knew and chose to do nothing. How am I supposed to feel about all of it now? Angry, yes I am, but trying hard not to express it. Who would I express it too, there is no way to address all those who took part, witnessed, or just didn’t give a damn. Malcolm is gone now and Mother made sure he was buried with full military honors. Mother is out of my life and we haven’t spoken but a few hateful words in the past five years. None of my siblings want anything to do with me at all, and that was way before the book went public or before I even thought about writing it at all. Who should receive the anger, myself for what I took part in with the alcohol and weed, cocaine and a few downers? Could I have escaped any earlier than I did? Could I have done something to stop it all from happening? Was I that trained to just simply obey or did I know the beating may not be survived if I turned them all down and started screaming?
I’m not so sure what to think of myself now. I’m not so sure how others will accept this when they read it. However, something tells me much like my writing to help those molested and raped by their parents and others, this too is a way they will be able to feel and process another part of their own pain. I’m taking a huge chance at putting this out there, I can only imagine what whispers will be shared. However, in my healing and building a new life for myself, one without shame and without pain, this is a part of the process I must work through. Let’s pray that it reaches those it should. That it helps just one young person who has been forced to endure these same types of vicious crimes. Maybe someday it will all be done and I will then simply be able to just be me and just be happy.
‘I am screaming, I am alive, I do matter!!
Butterfly Dreams Abuse Recovery
Author: ‘My Justice’
©Butterfly Dreams Abuse Recovery 2012
Butterfly Dreams Talk Radio
Featured Broadcasting Program
Male Abuse Awareness Week
Presented & Provided by
Founder; Pluna Foundation
Special Radio Interviews
Nov 25th – Dec 7th
Official Press Release by P Luna Foundation
Nov. 25th, Monday – Philip Paris; Author ‘Men Cry Alone’
Barbara Ochoa & Stephen Spires
Nov. 27th, Wednesday – Dave Pittman, Fndr – Together We Heal
Blair Corbett, Fndr – Ark of Hope for Children
Nov 29th, Friday - Dean McVay, Survivor & Childhelp USA Rep.
Jim Schwartz, Pluna Foundation Board Volunteer
Dec 2nd, Monday -Molly Wolfe, Research on Male Abuse
Lori Barnes, Representative Pluna Foundation
Dec 3, Tuesday – Ms. Jennifer Irons, C.E.O. MEStudios/Writer/Producer
‘Shame’ Short Film, Domestic Violence Male Victims w/ Cast
Barbara Ochoa, Fndr. PLuna Foundation / help4guys.org
Dec 4th, Wednesday – Michael Skinner, Fndr Surviving Spirit & Musician
Harmini, Christian Rap Artist/Actor/Model
Barbara Ochoa, Fndr: Pluna Foundation/Help4Guys.org & Musician
Dec 5th Thursday – Mr. Bill Murray; Advocate/Speaker/Survivor
S.C.A.N. Blog Talk Radio Programming
Fndr. National Assoc. Survivors of Child Abuse
Dec 6th, Friday – Martha Flores, Research & Studies
John Miller, Survivor & PlunaFoundation Rep.
Butterfly Dreams Talk Radio broadcasting time zones:
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Join us for this very special event in tribute to all males harmed by
the ugly & painful acts of abuse, violence and/or trafficking!!!
Let’s Hear It For The Boys!!
©Butterfly Dreams Abuse Recovery Nov.2012
Patricia ‘Trish’ McKnight
Fndr/C.E.O. Butterfly Dreams Abuse Recovery
Butterfly Dreams Talk Radio
Author: ‘My Justice’