Helping officers understand why victims stay or deny harm inside their home.

VPC Seminar – Trauma Informed Care – Training Sheriffs from South Central Illinois
May 4th, 2017

Why do victims stay? Why do they deny? – Hopefully, in this seminar, you’re able to find something to help you. The moment you walk through that door, what do you need and how can you better assist and understand the dynamics of what this person or family is going through; the fear of staying and what will happen if they leave. These calls are the most dangerous for you because you don’t really know just how bad it might be inside this home.

As a survivor, I’m here to share my experiences in hopes of providing some insight as to what happens to the victims long before you’re ever called to the scene.

As an advocate and mentor I want to share this, but be aware some of it might truly offend you. It’s only to help you understand some of the mentality of the persons you are being called to assist.

I’ve learned about the how & why of my choices in these past 10 years. Tragically like millions it was set in motion by the early distortions and beliefs created by my mother & stepfather. They didn’t raise a child, they terrorized and enslaved to create The Perfect Subservient Victim

My childhood was filled with some of the most grievous actions and terror you could imagine. However, the terror is still the single most contributing factor. My mind still cannot let go of the 24/7 threat of harm, which had been clearly stated by my stepfather within the first few weeks of meeting him. There is no doubt if I didn’t do exactly as instructed all those years, I would’ve died and absolutely no one would’ve cared.

I was his terrorized victim at five when he first threw me on the couch and violently molested me in front of my brother. Then he shoved me to the ground, grabbed a handful of my hair and said; ‘If you say a word, your mom will be angry and you will be taken away’.

I was his kidnapped victim at nine when he called me inside from playing with my brother and sister. He pointed to their bedroom, where I was told to take off my clothes and get into bed with him. As I lay there I could hear the kids still playing outside, but the steel cold in his eyes let me know I had better not make a sound. I don’t know how long it lasted, but Mother walked in when he was trying to put his thing in me; she didn’t do anything. In fact, she yelled at me. He shoved me off of the bed and she growled for me to get to my room. That’s where I had to stay for the night, hungry, alone, scared my mother would send me away. He knew from that moment he could get away with anything. She honestly did not care what he did to me or how he used me.Just two years later I became his actual slave when she purchased him a little brass bell, which no one else in our house was expected to answer but me, even if they were sitting right in front of him.

For twelve long terrorizing years, almost every day was haunted by some act, threat, order or extreme sexual fear. He was very loving towards my mother, never raising his voice to her, and rarely ever intimidating my siblings. She ran the dynamics of our home and could have stopped his actions at any time, but she chose to become part of them and train me to be her family’s caregiver, cook, and housemaid.

I was his target and he made sure I acted as his slave; he would ring his bell for a glass of tea or to begin my night of terror. I grew up without any sense of personal identity, only serving him and all the men and boys he brought over to our house for the late night private parties. He sold ‘special’ time with me at the small local bars, where Mother worked and all their friends hung out. He and Mother took me on their dates; dinner and then the bar for dancing. He would find random men and bring them to our table. At 12 I was drinking whiskey & 7up, so it could easily be passed to Mother. They would encourage me to drink, allow the men to flirt, dance, rub or even take this little girl out to their car.

The use of weapons became so common for me, that by 18 I stood in front of one such threat; ‘Go ahead, do it’. Sometimes I really wished he’d pulled the trigger. My stepfather first threatened me when I was 9 yrs old angry over some mess I hadn’t cleaned up. He pulled out his 12guage, put the shells in it, held it an inch from my face, cocked it, and said; “You are just useless and ugly’. Just a few years later he used the barrel to rape me as he gripped his hand over my mouth to hold me in terror. I could feel my insides ripping apart. I was hoping my brother or sister would walk up the stairs; they were watching our favorite television program just at the bottom of the stairs. He did it to silence me, to take my voice away and keep me from ever objecting against him ever again. I had begged my mother to make him stop coming into my room and watching me shower all the time, but sadly no matter what I did, how many times I ran away; she always brought me back and nothing ever changed -I was simply told if I said anything to anyone ever again, he would blow my head off from the inside out.

They taught me that none of my fear mattered, I wasn’t allowed to cry; I wasn’t allowed to scream; regardless of how much pain he caused. Over the years the parties began including pornography, marijuana, and instructions for whose lap I should sit on or who I should let touch me. When He called at 10pm on Friday night, Mother walked into her bedroom, looking back she said; ‘Have fun’. The later in the morning it got, I was told who was allowed to take me out to the camper on the back of his pick-up. When I got back in the house, most everyone had left, so I was told to clean up the mess. When I wanted to lay down; he came in wanting to hear all the dirty details of my night. If I didn’t respond quietly and exactly how he needed in that moment, he would grab my throat and start squeezing tight, then reach inside my panties.

 

His threats and beatings were constant, sudden and relentless. As much as our neighbors whispered, as much as the men talked about the ‘child whore’, as much as the classmates pointed and shamed; still nothing ever seemed to affect my mother, my siblings, our neighbors, or any of the many family friends who had seen or who had been privy to what happened.

I was beaten on the street and dragged across the road by my hair in the middle of the day. I was cursed and shamed by my mother, my brother, classmates, teachers, family friends and neighbors. They had a special name for me, they talked about my looks; my rotting skin, my rotting teeth, my weight, even how lazy I was not to get my homework done.

I gave up trying to bathe around 12 yrs old; after he had raped me over the vanity one night and then used his leather strap to beat me as he threw me onto a pile of dirty laundry. For the next five years I barely wiped off with a wash clothe, so the dirt caked around my wrists, ankles, knees. I began to break out in this rash which I scratched at each night as I lay there waiting for him to come stalking in like a lion after his prey. He would creep in silently, then suddenly his hand would grasp over my mouth and he held me there, not able to make a sound as my little sister slept right next to me.

Around 13/14 I rarely smiled, as shame and fear needed to cover up the four broken black fanged front teeth. I was never given a toothbrush or toothpaste, never taken to a dentist or taught how to care for myself at all. I actually tried using rolled up little pieces of bread to use as fillings but there was just no base of the tooth to hold them in place.

The kids at school mocked and whispered, teachers avoided contact, and the neighbors and local police just talked about what an evil man my stepfather was and how mean he got on the whiskey, but not a single person ever asked me if I was alright or if I needed some kind of help. I was trapped to live with them, she was my mother and they hadn’t permitted any contact with my father or his family since they got married. There was no place I could hide and no way to escape what was my brutal early life.

The child who walked inside the shell of my body felt everything but had to bury it all and not shed a tear no matter how afraid or how bad the pain. Drugs and alcohol were a major part of how he got me to interact and entice the other boys and men; it became my coping skill. A way for me to get through my life; I could empty myself of the pain and pretend to be ‘normal’.

At 17 my stepfather talked of putting me on a country lot by myself where he could have his own key and bring his ‘buddies’ out to party anytime he wanted. I knew what he wanted to do and I knew I had to get out. My escape came in the form of a 25 yr old man who’d recently split with his longtime girlfriend- within weeks I left my parents with a determination never to return.

Lance was my first love but he was not at all safe. His manipulation started early, to keep me inside without any friends or ability to associate unless he was right there. He constantly got angry over how I looked and my face was smashed against the mirror; ‘You are so ugly, look at you. You’re lucky I let you live here’. He locked me inside the 2nd floor apartment while he was gone to work, sometimes tieing me up and leaving me there through the night. Other times he would come home drunk and yank me out of bed by my hair, drag me to the bathroom and try to drown me in the tub of running water. He beat me beyond my own recognition and threw me around like a rag doll. My head was smashed into every solid surface you could imagine, including a huge tree slab stored on the bedroom floor. We lived above a hair salon, but it didn’t stop or change the time of day or the level of rage that exploded in our home. His family and friends witnessed times he strangled me or through me against the wall. Often they said – You shouldn’t get him so upset’. Well, I was sleeping when he woke me tapping my forehead with a shotgun, then holding me cornered and naked at three in the morning; no way to escape, no way to call for help, no one who would care if I did. I hadn’t done anything, and he always came back with a tearful apology.

I stayed for two years, despite all he did, because I didn’t want to go back to my parents and I just didn’t know what else I would do. I wasn’t allowed to work or have my own money, so I was completely at his mercy for the most basic needs. Unfortunately, it was meant going back as an adult; protecting myself as best I could or die. My stepfather wasn’t able to attack me as he once did, but he constantly intimidated me every chance he got until I was 40 years old.

The next abuser became my husband and father of my children; we were in love and he seemed perfect, but then we got his orders to go to England. He wasn’t much of a physical abuser, he was an emotional and mental manipulator. He made sure that I always remembered how grateful I should be that someone like him actually wanted to be with me. He constantly let me know that I would never be good enough and I was nothing more than his own private whore, that was the pillow talk in our bedroom. My heart longed for love and I had done everything I could to meet his ambitious military expectations of home and family; although I didn’t have much of an example to go from. I could only go with my idea of how I should be and the person I felt I was inside; the mother I wanted to be for my children. Still, the perfect subservient victim never objected and cried silently in her pillow wondering why she was always so alone and never worthy of anyone’s true kindness.

Because we had three kids together I wanted this family and marriage to work. He had many good qualities, even encouraged me to finish school; I stayed. After 4 years abroad, separation, my first nervous breakdown and failed suicide attempt; suddenly I get a call at work and our third child; he had packed up everything we owned and ran away with my children while I was at work. His sole purpose for taking them; because it was the only thing he could do that would truly hurt me. It crushed me

After picking myself up and getting a little bit of money; I took the only basket of clothing he’d left me and rented a Uhaul to get to Pennsylvania, chasing him down with a determination to get my children back. Arriving in an area, I’d never been in before, completely alone, with a total of 35.00 in my pocket. It took a lot of hard work but I built a life there and started to feel that I could actually survive and at least be able to see my kids. I fought him and his rich family constantly for any contact and then I started seeing bruises and bloody noses. He was hitting them but had them believing if they hadn’t done this or that, then they wouldn’t have gotten hit. Each time I saw them, they were changing; not my happy children any longer, but sad and afraid. I did not know who to turn to or where to go, I didn’t want to call the police on him and I didn’t actually see what had happened; I continued to fight; he ran again before they would come back to live with me their innocence and childhood were completely erased.

It only took six months after losing my children, moving to a new area, feeling alone and fighting to see them; that I quickly fell for my next abuser. I should have expected it when things began to change just two months into the relationship. During an argument, he grabbed me around the throat and threw me to the floor. As he was squeezing harder around my neck all I could think of was – Here we go again – Just kill me and get it over with- I was 28 yrs old. A part of me felt I deserved what I was getting because of the pain my kids were going through and somehow I had caused their dad to explode on them, run with them. I felt I deserved it because that’s how it had always been and every person I had ever had contact with had attacked me in some form. ‘Why should this be any different’. It progressed slowly; he would threaten to leave me alone. Then he would slam my head against a wall every couple of days, then bash my back over a hot stove or the bannister outside of my children’s bedrooms.

He got along great with my kids, he played with them, talked to them, even asked his father to purchase us a house when they came to live with us. When he was good he was fabulous, but when the alcohol and the behavior he watched in his father erupted during dinner at least two or three times a week; I was such a perfectly trained victim that I tolerated it all and never called for help. I calmed my children time and again; that bloody lip is nothing; that bruised up eye is nothing. I didn’t realize the deep sense of fear his violence towards me was causing inside my children. We are still working to heal their wounds and their memories of the threats and the violence they watched explode over and over again; the trauma and the fear that caused them to hide in the closets and bury themselves in the covers at night.

I’ll never forget how hard it was to leave him; to take what little possessions I could and walk out the door to find a place that my children and I could live. They needed to stay in the same school system. They needed their friends and I needed to find a job that paid enough to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. I didn’t have but one close friend, and thankfully she was there completely those first few months, but then it was just us and I had to keep us going. My life skills were pretty distorted and the injuries Matthew had left me with still seriously impact simple daily living today, in fact, they’ve gotten much worse. To say the least, I was a shattered soul with many wounds I had to ignore because it was simply about surviving and giving my kids a SAFE NORMAL LIFE.

This is a horribly frightening situation to be in and takes great courage to make that final choice to leave, to gather what little you can and try to start over without the slightest clue where to turn for help. Hopefully, they make that choice to never accept another act of harm against them or that dreaded fear to invade their children’s lives.

Most often family and neighbors will not make a call for help until it’s too late and someone is seriously injured or maybe killed. By the time you receive a call the victim, be they child, man or woman; will be terrified of what happens if they actually say something or you take this person away. Where will they go and how will they ever be able to take care of themselves, their children, or even their pet? What happens when he/she gets out of jail? How violent, threatening, stalking and maybe murderess might they become?

A child has no idea about walking through the system or even surviving without their parents; they’ve probably heard the threats, the verbal control and the dominance that is their environment for years before you ever see them. More than likely they might be having behavioral outbursts at school or when playing with other kids. Chances are they don’t realize it’s actually wrong, they are simply always afraid and have no clue how to associate in the typical social setting.

An adult probably has some kind of history in either watching violence and control, addiction or erupting mental illness in their lived chaotic or maybe terroristic childhood experiences. Maybe they have learned or been manipulated and broken down piece by piece by the person they actually fell in love with, keeping them in this quietly controlled behavioral pattern since early on in their relationship. We might never know just how extreme the threats and mental distortions are before an outsider finally gets involved.

Changing means changing everything that is ‘normal’, the learned acceptance of these offenses. Change will have to involve a great many life skills with a strong supportive network. It will have to include everyone; our friends, neighbors, schools, medical providers, and our law enforcement. Change is something we have to begin with a single first step. As officers, you might be the first one to see the control and fear before it becomes a deadly situation or a lifetime behavior.

I’m so glad to see all the work being done to educate and provide help in ways that we have not done throughout human history. The VPC has been crucial in helping me to stay involved and stay informed; to trust myself and my voice in helping others see just how trained in this tolerance of harm we have become and all that circles inside these types of homes with economic distress, addiction, and distorted behavioral beliefs. The end of this year makes twenty years since I first took that step to end any type of harm to invade our lives again, and even though I’ve worked through the worst of the panic and trauma; a part of me and the reflection I see in that vanity mirror – still carries that deep sense of fear inside.

You can help them believe that no matter what has been happening or what their abuser has told them; no matter what they might believe is easier to handle -this is not a place for any person or child to endure. This causes a lifetime of trauma and learned tolerances, a sense of shame, and a desperate need to bury our pain; maybe even die.

You can help them believe people will care, that they don’t have to do this alone. There are organizations and advocates who will help them, but it’s not an easy path to go through. This learned behavior of accepting harm, or committing harm, is the most dangerous place in the world for them. It might be a challenging path, but they need to believe they can survive; live a life without harm or threat of harm.

For me, it’s been a life filled with trauma & terror leaving me permanently injured. Now regardless of how happy, SAFE, and loved I am today, there are many lasting effects from those horrifying and terrorizing 37 years of rape, violence, trafficking, and the never-ending sense of fear. These wounds, the friends & colleagues I’ve made these last seven years; they’ve all inspired a strong voice and spirit for the wellbeing of others, a right to be safe. There are many things I’m still repairing within myself, including the distorted and negative identity. For every victim you may be called to help, please remember a positive first response from you could be the very beginning of a new way of life for them.

Published by @Trecia_Ann

Recently, Facebook locked and removed my decade long creation of work and public profile, which focused my work as an advocate, speaker, mentor, and creator of more than a few programs used throughout Illinois, but also shared nationally and some have reached international platforms. So.... let's start fresh and see where it goes! Please see the writings on this blog dating back into 2011, created after the publication of 'My Justice'. There are two specifically, which have been tagged and shared by many....."Judging Eyes" and "Triggers; what they are and how to handle them" I am a survivor of over thirty years trapped inside the silence and brutality of Family Facilitated Violence, Torture, and Child Sex Trafficking. In Feb. 2011, I chose to publish the secrets and the horrors endured; the many levels of destruction and decay which the community around me witnessed, ignored, condemned and blamed regardless of the injuries and tortures endured. It all became the learned patterns of self-hatred and tolerance which was a huge factor in my adult life. Have you endured childhood harm, or endured terroristic types of abuses? Did you feel unworthy of life, breathing, love or respect? Did you feel as if no one ever really saw you, heard you, or seemed to care about the silent cruelties of your existence? It wasn't until I honestly began a strong focus on healing myself, which took years of researching credible data and published research surrounding the lasting effects of abuse, violence, sexual harm, and human trafficking that I began to understand who I was and why there were many traits and tragedies that influenced my adult choices, relationships, the chaos deep in my soul and the behaviors used to survive. It seemed to control everything inside me and it was filled with pain, and tragedy. The research became my rebuilding journey and my road to advocacy, creating legislative changes, sitting as an active member and providing testimony in the creation of area task force operations, victim/survivor services, trauma informed awareness for law enforcement, educators, social services, healthcare and community providers. I began that research of understanding myself in 2008, wrote the memoir "My Justice' in 2010, began working to change statutes in my home state in 2013, became a Certified DV Advocate and Panel Member of DV Offender Education Program in 2015, which then initiated a decade long career as a trusted, confidential advocate, and a highly skilled and knowledgeable speaker/educator on the topic of Assessment, Family/Survivor Rebuilding, Trauma Informed Care & Response, with the primary focus on family/relationship acts of terroristic abuses and/or human trafficking. Beginning in January 2010 there have been developed programs and connected resources for men, women, children, and families who endured these same types of tragedies. Unfortunately, our human society still has barriers to seek help or speak openly about these types of tragedies, especially if it happened in our homes and families. The laws to protect from such harms were enacted for children in 1963, as an amendment to the Social Security Act. Domestic Violence was not a topic until 1995, when then Senator Joe Biden introduced the Violence Against Women Act, which has since been adapted to provide shelters, counseling, protection orders, and rebuilding services for ALL persons regardless of gender or identity. Although slavery was brought to an end by the historical act of President Abraham Lincoln, we unfortunately have millions of human beings still being traded, sold, controlled and trapped in a hellish evil, which often begins by a parent or intimate partner. Legislation didn't arise regarding the term 'Human Trafficking' until the turn of the new millennium. Protection for victims of human trafficking was signed into law as the 'Trafficking In Persons Act of 2000', which with modern day social media it quickly became a new hot-topic point, which then sparked the creation of Trauma Informed Care, Rebuilding & Trauma Therapy, and thus adult survivors began speaking out about the dark terrifying reality of Child Sex Trafficking. Today many use the term, Modern Day Slavery, and we have multi-faceted task force operations and rescue resources working around the globe to end this new form of human slavery. We also have a few hundred thousand or more who are adult survivors of histories involving Parental Child Sex Trafficking. In one recent study from 2018, they found 85% of these victims were trafficked by parents in trade for drugs, family needs, or basic human survival. As I look back on the career that grew from my own personal need to understand the chaos in my head, the constant failed relationships and almost murderous acts committed against me; as I deal with increasing health problems that includes multiples of head and spinal cord traumas; the most important goal for me from day one of this extremely personal experience; the healing and rebuilding of my own children and grandchildren who were all continued generational victims of the trauma influenced behaviors and choices that resulted from the destruction enforced by my mother and stepfather many decades ago. The little girl, 'Trecia Ann', she survived pure evil as an entire community witnessed, shamed, blamed, and dismissed the visible decay and rot, stench and filth covered, battered and intoxicated body of a young girl who was publicly exploited and shared in the bars of that small town, in her home with boys she attended school with and adult men from the local coalmine. It was as if they all got a thrill from watching her respond to the ring of that little brass bell. They laughed, molested, raped, and purchased for a few bucks or a few beers the sexual use of that young girl right in full public view! Her mother held the power to stop it all, but rather enjoyed having a 'slave' to cook, clean, care for the family as well as entertain the sadistic alcoholic man she chose to marry. Today, I'm so honored and proud to have that little girl's spirit with me. It is through the use of my lived experience, along with a decade of research, and at least five certifications in prevention, response, and trauma; I've assisted a few hundred survivors through the multilevel process of rebuilding and reclaiming their voice, their safety, their freedom! I've trained law enforcement, healthcare, childrens service investigators, our school educators, and co-presented in trainings with some outstanding experts in the field. For the many I've assisted or empowered, they continue becoming thriving survivors, advocates, authors, speakers, and most important of all; they are healing their children and grandchildren! It is a truly beautiful experience and I am so amazed to have been a spark, a resource, or a friend in their life reclaiming freedom. The adult children of generations past have broken through the glass ceiling and finally there is a hint of change in the world. "A lifetime filled with daily torture, tragedy, and pain creates someone completely different than we should have been. We feel that person inside, but our lives are altered by the emotional and physical suffering. We cover it up and hide it deep inside through substance abuse, which falsely helps us believe we are doing fine. The extreme physical and emotional injuries leave our mental and physical selves terribly impacted. Thankfully there is more information and resources of help available today for all types of adverse or traumatic experiences. We have specialized therapeutic help and healthcare professionals developing new ways to identify and assist persons harmed or at risk of harm. We have so much more to do, so please help by having casual open conversations with your friends, family, coworkers, leaders, and especially our kids. Teach them early how to avoid both online and in person harms. Encourage adults and kids both to use the BDA Buddy Skills 2.0, which you will find through my list of assessments and prevention strategies. "My Justice' was written through my own beginning of acknowledging and releasing the personal destruction of the girl once known as 'Trecia Ann'. It is not an easy read, but it has opened many eyes about the reality of evil that occurs inside our homes, against those too small to protect themselves or understand what's happening. It was published to release the thick layers of trauma, sex trafficking, and disfiguring neglect. It is the voice of the enslaved child who existed only to answer the ring of 'his' bell, and the enforced burden to keep my own private terrorist alive. 'My Justice' is NOT SUGGESTED FOR ANYONE UNDER 16 years of age. It discusses the permanently wounding life and the cycle of destruction that held me in tolerating ridicule, control, and violence in my adult relationships. This truth was published to inspire others to take an in-depth look at their life and behaviors as a result of their past, in hopes they too will better understand their suffering today, the continued relationships with the parents and family who inflicted those harms, and finally breaking free from that pain so they can reclaim their voice and their true sense of freedom! We always have the opportunity to learn that we are worthy, capable, incredibly strong, compassionate, and filled with endless possibilities. It is a choice. It is a conscious decision to dig into our trauma, take ownership of our own failures, the harm our choices have caused, and the work we need to do to change it and succeed for ourselves and our families. It is such an honor to have 'My Justice' used at the collegiate level for psychology classes, upcoming therapists, and educators. Today my life is very blessed. I'm finally safe, feel truly loved, finally feeling the magic of life! Always choose to see your star and how it shines on others in your journey. My greatest power only began to show when I first made the choice to end the violent relationships and behaviors around my children; to give them something better, something SAFE!! In choosing to share my own story, I've also gone the serious extra step to educate myself through years of research, attending training opportunities, and collaborating with other advocate resources focused in human resilience and healing from abuse, sexual harm, and sex trafficking. Today there are experts digging deep to recreate help and healing. I've chosen to use my past as a way to inspire a greater good and; hopefully, somehow change the cycle of tragedy in our homes so that we empower our kids to live a more positive path. The best education we can give is healing our survivors of traumatic experiences so we understand what they felt then and what they wish they would have had available; those who could have and should have said something. We can change things for our life today, but best of all in healing our wounds, we give communities a supportive working strategy in assisting the people in our lives. One step at a time, one caring soul at a time, we can give them a path to changing our human society as a whole. This is a tell-all, which was written in the midst of my third nervous breakdown as I struggled to put all my distorted pieces back together, and help my children understand how the violence I tolerated against me invaded their well-being. My children have always been my world, but my behaviors, lack of healthy parenting and life skills, and an inability to remain stable have caused another generation of suffering for my grandchildren. This is a very difficult thing to watch and the continued tragedies that seem to keep affecting the choices in my family. Writing this book was only the beginning of trying to release all that has haunted me for so many years. I have finally removed his thick, cruel, coal-stained hand which trapped me in fear for decades. Those hands and his evil, her housemaid and caregiver; created a slave, and that slave submitted to horrific and brutal attacks but always felt it was her burden to bear. I lived with that hand holding me down, continually terrorizing and silencing, stealing my voice to protect their pure evil. Throughout decades the dysfunction caused by the chaos inside my head would affect every relationship, my children, and cast a shadow of darkness on everything good in my life. Living in the true spirit of freedom, I have now become a strong advocate against the life cycle of human destruction. If we want to control our life and achievements today, then we cannot live stuck in the tragedy of hardships and pain. Life is meant to be lived, to be enjoyed, to see what you can do and what you can achieve, to find out what is important to you. We all become adults. We all have a burden to bear. Stand up and keep moving, keep living, keep dreaming. You have two choices in recreating and rebuilding yourself. Do you stay stuck in the dark shadows of your past? Do you dig deep and find that spirit that kept you alive so that you can become the proud, strong, capable, resilient, kind human being? Which do you choose and how will that choice affect your children and theirs? We can be supportive, and provide resources and suggest help so that families suffering from addiction or past trauma can find a recovery balance to rebuild their family into a more positive life pattern. We will recover, we will rebuild, we will conquer the pains of yesterday to live in the true sense of life, freedom, and safety today. Patricia 'Trish' McKnight Author: 'My Justice' Fndr/CEO: Butterfly Dreams Alliance, NFP Mentor/Advocate/Speaker/Survivor

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