There is absolutely nothing special about me….It’s about them

 

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You have no idea how many times I’ve asked myself this question over the last five years. It has been day after day of questioning; ‘Trish, what in the hell makes you so damn special that you believe anything you have to say matters to anyone?”

I’m not anyone special at all. What have I done? I simply survived, studied, and personally worked through ten years of very challenging recovery processes to find out who I really am and then put myself back together into the person I wanted to represent and help others. Those years have not been easy, and many of the emotional challenges have been almost as difficult as the actual brutality I’ve managed to survive. This is what it takes though, nothing less; it absolutely has to be something you need to clean out of your system and recognize the broken pieces, then rebuild & repair what has been destroyed by the actions of others. Just because its very difficult however, does not mean it’s impossible. After all I’m still here and I’m still talking, still working it through challenge by challenge and so can you. There is nothing special about me.

Yes, what I went through was fierce, it was evil, it was outright brutal, but I know hundreds of others who have made it through these very same things. Some who I’ve helped to become marvelous advocates today and some who have helped me. This is how we manage to get through the tough days, simply helping and listening to each other.

Thank heaven for the internet and all that connects to bring our world so much closer together. Remember what it was like before; we were all struggling silently; wondering why and who in the world would ever believe what’s happened. It’s that simple.

Millions of people in every single generation have been the beaten, molested, raped, traded, used, and abandoned children. Millions of people in every generation have been the beaten down partners, wives or spouses of constantly unimaginable dominating persons who use their fists, their words, their financial power, their daily threats and desires to hold us down. The dominators who enforce (their way or no way) by means of constant terror, direct use of weapons, brutal violence beyond measure, rape, threats of death to control our silence and isolation; all of it to make certain there was never any prosecution for their crimes of harm and no one ever willing to believe how horrific the attacks were and all they had forced us to do during our entrapment. We lived through it without anyone to help us or encourage us to escape and help ourselves.

However, we can find our way to something better, something SAFE. We have all endured these monsters for different reasons, some for the welfare of shelter & support for our children, care for ourselves, for our survival. However, most importantly – if you are an adult, have the ability to work & support yourself, then you also have the ability to leave. You have the ability to simply walk out the door and never look back.

Yes, it is a damn hard choice to make because then you have to put your broken pieces back together again, but it is absolutely possible. It’s hard because you have to find a job to secure your life and (if you have children) you are now the primary provider for all of their needs. In today’s world that is not an easy thing to do and almost impossible if you haven’t had a chance to build a career, get an adequate education, or handle a checkbook, balance a budget; basically you have to be strong enough everyday to bring home the bacon, fry it up in the pan, put dinner on the table, and before you can rest you, have to help with homework, bathe and tuck your children gently and reassuringly into bed. Each morning you have to wake up and do it all over again, but this is what we call LIFE; it is what is expected of us and it is damn difficult if your inner self is reeling from the previous trauma, fear, and pain you had to live through. Survival damn sure is not easy for anyone, no matter what kind of trauma, but for a silenced, terrorized, trafficked, and continuously raped child, survival can be almost impossible until we put ourselves back together again. 

I’ve been that broken disaster of a person, going through my breakdown and rebuilding myself while providing a home, food, shelter, and fun for three incredible children. I’ve done it not just once, but more like four or five different times. Suddenly having to run to save my life; leaving with absolutely nothing or being kicked out and having my children stolen from me. The key to my making it through is nothing spectacular, I simply never ever gave up. I just woke up, put myself together to face the day’s challenges, and then before walking out the door, staring in the mirror as I gave myself a pep talk…..

‘It’ll be alright Trish. You’ve survived this far, and you can do this. You have to do this. Get through today and then handle tomorrow’s problems tomorrow. Just smile and go take care of it. Girl you’ve done it before; today just might be a little bit better.’

This is how I managed to handle more than thirty years of insane murderous attacks all committed by one evil monster after another. The reason I went through so many men & three husbands, hellish violence, pain, and terror; this was my developed sense of normal. I was told almost daily from about age nine, I wasn’t worth having; there is not a single person who wants a whore for his wife, so the only thing I had was what my stepfather and all those different men did to me on a regular basis. It changed my thoughts about myself, destroyed any sense of self appreciation or respect; the only thing I would ever be was ‘Malcolm’s trained and terrorized whore’. This is all I ever knew and sadly, if they weren’t beating on me then they must not actually care about me. If they didn’t insist on this type of sex, or this type of perfection, this type of cooking and caring about meeting every single need they had; then they must not care one single bit and I must be doing everything wrong.

Yeah, this was my idea of normal life; each of my relationships built from degradation, control, and constant brutal beatings. It must be because I’m ugly, just like they always said. All of those who approached me for a relationship, all from ‘good standing’ families, but each time they started beating on me, it always involved smashing my face in the mirror and yelling at me because no matter how clean I was, how skinny I was, and how sexy I tried to be; the greatest problem of all was my scarred up  skin and my broken black holed rotted teeth. Hell, I still see this reflection in the mirror everyday.

It’s not like I can get complete plastic surgery of new skin, or spend $10,000.00 on a new smile. This is the part of me as a child, which my mother didn’t give a crap about, nor did she ever take me in for medical or dental care. To be quite honest she didn’t consider me to be anything except her housekeeper, cook, caregiver, and the child forced to play out the sick deviate behaviors of the man she chose to marry and stay with, regardless of what he ever did to me. This is the part of me my parents and the town of Freeburg all allowed to rot as it destroyed the outer beauty of a young prepubescent little girl.

I remember the times for school pictures or trying to impress a cute boy I like, this is when I squished up small pieces of bread to use as fillings for the black holes of my front teeth. Actually I hoped; perhaps my smile would look somewhat like everyone else’s, but it never did. Hell, not a single part of me to this very day looks like anyone else I’ve ever met, Sadly it’s just something I’ve always had to live with and try to cover up as I went through life. You should have seen the way people judged me, considered whether or not to hire me. Could they put someone who looked like me in direct contact with their customers or clients? Would people be shocked or sickened by the way I looked, regardless of how skilled or perfecting I was at my job, there would always be those glaring looks of disgust. It’s brings to surface the anger over how so many adults and small town kids all looked away and whispered about the little girl who couldn’t seem to find a single soul who gave a crap about what was happening to her each and every day. They all simply figured I wasn’t worth their time or concern; I was the 13 year old child tagged with the title ‘Village Whore’. Girls were not allowed to hang out with me and the local boys were not allowed to date me. I was nothing but HIS garbage child!!!

Yes its tragic, but its something I’ve had to accept. Do you have any idea what it’s like to have children stare at you like you’ve got a third eye; to have other women sit there and whisper about you as you tried to work with them; to never ever allow your husband or special someone to caress your legs or arms; to cringe away at their touch, afraid all anyone would ever see is the ugly destruction I am forced to carry with me every single moment of my life.  Yes it was hell, and it still is; even my grandchildren have rubbed my arms, questioning what happened. Hundreds of people have stared at me with that horrific shock on their face, especially when they see me smile.

This is a part of my life that no one else experiences. This is the part that hurts my heart and makes me wonder what the hell it was about me that no one ever cared to question the many years of filth, rot, and infection they watched destroy the outside body of a young girl. Today I think back about the many schoolmates and husbands of my mother’s friends, or coworkers from the mine; all those many who felt up, played with, or paid a few bucks to see just how far she would go, especially if  my constant threatening and brutal attacking ‘terrorist’ was right there to make sure I completed the ordered and paid for deed. The thrill he got talking about all the gory details of the many private parties he arranged with the local boys. All the vicious disregard in using the filthy, rotting, child as their toy to do with as they please anytime time they wished. None of my pain, sadness, fear ever mattered, it’s just what was my life and I simply had to live it; just hoping everyday I would somehow get away and they would never be in charge of what or how I did things ever again. This was my only goal, this was my dream and although it simply has to be an acceptance of the parts of me ALMOST destroyed.

I’m still here, I’m still alive, and I’m telling all the secrets.

The reasons that I discuss all of this is because I’m watching the ongoing emotional destruction which is hurting my daughters and messing up the safety of my grandchildren. I am sick to my stomach with worry and concern for their wellbeing, but not a single person seems to care. Not one person I’ve tried to beg for help, investigation, or even helping my daughters to help themselves and change the path for their children; no matter how loud I am or how obnoxious I have been with phone calls and emails, still no one is helping the lives of these children.

In truth there are over 3.5 million reports of child harm every year in our country alone.

Every day at least 1 in 9 children are suffering in sexual harm and possible secret trafficking by a person within their family.

Every day at least 1 in 3 children are suffering in physical harm, most of them are between the ages of 0 to 15 years old, both boys and girls, but suffering in an ongoing acceptance of family harm, which not even our government wants to get involved to truly help protect them.

It is our greatest human tragedy and something which will continue, like my life, my children’s lives, and now my grandchildren; this same generational pattern will also invade your family and grandchildren until we use our strength as a united human society to make our legislative leaders and law enforcement do their job; give the terrorized child victims the right to be SAFE which is written into our laws and in our Universal Human Rights. Crimes like these, the most evil and grievous harms against the youngest of our society; these are a terroristic control and brutal destruction which must be ended if we are to ever begin the change in respecting ALL human life as deserved. There is not one single human being any better than another. Not one child who is more worth saving than others. Not one community riddled with suffering that isn’t worth helping.

There must be a deterrent for these types of crimes. There must be a criminal prosecution and a sense of justice for all those generations of millions of destroyed and murdered children. There must be a way to balance our system and protect the given Civil & Human Rights to be protected as equal under the eyes of our laws. How can we continue to watch as our children, their children, and the next generation simply keep exploding in violence and brutalizing each other? What will it take for us to help these kids before it is too late and we have an entire generation once again left to suffer, left to be sold, traded, used, and beaten; left to be destroyed because our society is not yet ready to admit just how evil it can become within the sanctity of our home. We all see it everyday, the extreme bullying at school, the violence, the guns, the need to have power over others, and the gangs waiting to suck up the lost souls using them and selling them, beating them down however they wish, and then all of us stand around talking about; ‘Why in the hell can’t we do something to stop this? Dammit each of us can do something, we just have to take on the responsibility and do it!!!

I don’t know about you, but as being one of those forgotten rotting children, it absolutely disgusts me that so many powerful adults are only willing to do so much to help those abandoned and throw away children, but if it is a child in a home; rather than provide a way to get help, we all just turn away because it is the way it’s always been. I believe it’s time to change what we are used to accepting as our normal. I believe that if WE do not take on this responsibility, and all we do is talk about the outside dangers against us, then our children will grow up asking; ‘How in the hell could you just simply stand there and watch me die?”

If you are ready to do something, help out any service you can across the country and in your community. If you are ready to ask for a Federal Legislative Policy to get involved and end this vicious human destruction held secret and private within our homes, then help me and my two incredible partners (Ms Lisa Chilton & Ms. Dana Pfeiffer) as we try to get a voice heard for these types of terrorized victims, in the proposal of the;

‘Family Crimes and Terroristic Abuse Act’ – You each have the power to do something in your family circle, but also you can insist our government get involved when it comes to the extreme dangers that harm the most precious of our society, the victims without a way to escape or help themselves, the victims who are 15 years old or younger and completely dependent upon the adults around them and our society to make sure their right to be safe, and provided with a decent influence of life moving forward; we are here begging you to get involved and help us today to ensure that NOT ANOTHER SINGLE CHILD BE FORCED OR ABANDONED TO LIVE IN THESE TYPES OF TERRORISTIC HARM.

Thank you for every share you give this message, every signature you can rally on this petition, and most of all every discussion you can inspire to help our teens begin to see how they can protect the beauty of human life, rather than hate and destroy it.

Trish, Dana, Lisa

https://www.change.org/p/family-crimes-and-terroristic-abuse-act-amending-prosecution-amp-policy-provisions-in-crimes-of-family-related-exploitation-trafficking-extreme-acts-of-grievous-bodily-injury-threats-to-create-a-believed-sense-of-certain-death-terroristic-violence

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Calling on Your Angels…..A Great Coping Skill!!!

***Warning: May cause triggers, but I’m sure many will find this particular blog uplifting and hopeful in many ways!!!***

This is a lighter side of the blog “He’s Back Again…”, which you will find below. I know it’s been awhile since I’ve been here, somethings been flying around that I couldn’t quite get a grip on, but here it goes anyway.

So, as I shared in the previous mentioned blog, I have been sucked back into the darkness a bit and actually went running to my wonderful therapist Marjorie for some help to get through. She’s been a blessing in my life at giving me coping skills to stay in my present and work through the darkest of moments, so I couldn’t go without her expertise; I just wouldn’t be this far without her in my world.

As I sat in her small, but quaint decorated office, with pictures of Oriental Art placed about and hung on her walls. You can look into these works of art and wonder about those who created them. They tend to pull you into a world of opening up your spirit and touching base with what lies within.

Many times, as survivors of child sexual abuse, we carry a feeling of extreme violation in our hearts. This can only be described as evil but your soul still carries the innocence of a child. There is and will be a life long impact from child sexual abuse. It does rewire your perceptions; re-align your normal behaviors; it will be scorched into your memory never to be forgotten. You will have periods in your life when you feel surrounded by the darkness and you may even feel your life invaded over and over with the fear from these particular events.

“This is normal. You are not insane. You are one of the many who’s lives have been impacted by the very personal violation of child sexual abuse.”

These remembered events are the darkness that hovers around us, it challenges us, cages us. When these events are play out in our heads, we become that panicked child all over again. Often, as we grow older, we are distraught with the ups and downs of re-living these horrific acts. None of us ever forget these moments!!!

A victim who has gone through such attacks will often go through a cycle, which I commonly refer to as the Rollercoaster of Memories. You may have those off and on again reactions that seem to haunt. At time we think we cannot conquer over them, we fear not being able to just live and exist in the present; appreciating all of the small moments of joy that have crossed our paths.

Recently this is what’s been going on in my head. I feel a bit overwhelmed; flashed back into the memory of when stepfather used the shotgun barrel to rape the little girl. My head has been swarming with a vivid motion picture of that horrible night. I’ve questioned, cried, stomped and prayed; all trying to extract the remembered emotions of terror. I have been in the huge spiral of a downward racing coaster.

As a survivor who puts forth a continued effort to help empower others and inspire them to chase after the life of happiness they deserve; this leaves me feeling like much the hypocrite since I couldn’t seem to help myself. However, I’ve been blessed with some pretty amazing folks who have showered me with prayers, love, little jokes, and tons of well wishes. Still the Demon would not leave me.

The other evening I did the best I could to help myself break through the dark storm. Going to see Marjorie was the best I could have done for myself, as I said she has played a huge part of where I am today and helping me to gain some sense of peace in my world. She has kept me living in the present and filled my soul with the belief I can indeed help myself, so long as I use the coping skills and truly focus on what I aim to achieve.

“Don’t we all have to do this in some way? Isn’t this a very common place of self-doubt that every human endures at times? Isn’t this the basics of living and achieving? If we do not focus on the end result, on the goal at hand, how will any of us ever battle against what holds us back?”

These past two years, since truly being happy and with finally finding my voice; also relating with so many other amazing advocates and survivors, I have found one common strength between us all.

“We all have a belief in some greater power that has kept us alive and guided us to where we are.”

My particular belief, my hope, my continued strength to battle onward, comes from faith. Faith there is a God and He did not intend for my life to be stripped away by the evil of my parents. I believe the few who have loved me, who now exist as Angels, are still around me and will protect me. This is the power that helps me hang on and move past this dark storm. The aura of stepfather with the gun, the pain of him tearing me apart as I lay there silent on the royal blue quilted bedspread; this is my most darkest haunting and I’m sure you each have your own particular event that seems to never leave.

So what is the amazing coping tool that my dear Marjorie has given me this time? The power, the belief, to CALL ON MY ANGELS!!!

My particular Angels are the three main people in my past who have loved me, but who God has taken.

The first of these is the one I feel closest too, the boy who came to live with us at fourteen and suffered through many of the outbursts of rage from stepfather. His name was John and he did all he could as a young man to try to protect me, show me kindness, and be more of a brother than my real blood brother could have been. He was and always will be the brightest moments of my life from age twelve to twenty-five. He never let me down. He distracted stepfather many times from getting to me with those raging fists. If it weren’t for John, I would have been killed at a very young age.

The second of these Angels is my Grandma Ellen. I remember still the power of that last beautiful hug she gave me. I can still feel her arms wrapping around the small child and letting her know that she meant the world to her. Grandma Ellen was given my baby crib, for why I’m not sure, but she kept it in that old ragged farm house on the top of one of the many mountains of Southern Missouri. The road to her house was a golden red gravel and it went up and down a series of five or six hills to get to her drive way. The farm house was made of old tattered barn wood and the linoleum floors were worn. The last night I spent in that house with her was on my fifth birthday and she still tried to put me in my crib. I remember telling her that I couldn’t fit, even though I was very small, there was no way I could sleep without fearing falling through the bed. It’s a funny pleasant memory that I hang onto and one I use to fill my head when the dark seems to threaten my day.

The next and last of the Angels I treasure is my father. I don’t have many memories of him, but those I have are all pleasant and I know he would have rescued me if he had known that such evil was murdering the little girl he created. He didn’t CHOOSE to leave my life. In fact some of my memories are of him coming to visit after he and mother split up. He’d swing me in the backyard, he’d pick up mother, brother and I to take us for drives in his beautiful red convertible. I’d get to sit on his lap while he drove and he’d work the pedals I couldn’t reach. I got to go watch him drag race and he was a winner with that car. When he’d win I got to keep the trophy, but my collection disappeared when stepfather moved us into the house he wanted.

This is my spiritual coping tool. You see stepfather has me somewhat terrified of even my afterlife. A part of me, no matter how silly I think it is, still believes that somehow he is going to be waiting for me there. He is going to be there and keep me from having peace. In reality I know this is very doubtful, but unfortunately, the fear of having to face him again; the fear of the evil he spoke coming true, this is part of my dark storm.

So now as I chase out the feeling of this demon once again, I know in my heart that these three Angels are fighting with me, circling me, protecting me and they will indeed carry me through to my afterlife. They will get out their powerful swords and conquer the dragon that swoops down to grab me. My Angels will protect me and I know if you think of your Angels, they will swarm in, circle and protect you, carry you through to the life of peace and happiness you deserve.

I hope as you read this you feel the power of connecting with those you’ve lost but who were most special in your life. Feel their love for you. Remember the happy moments spent with them. Allow them into your thoughts and see how they chase away the bad, the evil, the demon can no longer control, there is no space for him now. In this battle you have protectors and those special protectors will never leave you. They are always with you. They will create a castle of safety for you to spread out your wings and fly with them to the magic of your life.

Feel the magic of your Angels!!!

**In closing; if you do believe in the power of spiritual healing, I want to give you the other half of this coping skill. As you bring in your Angels to circle around, think about what power the demon has in your thoughts. Once you’ve got hold of it, throw your arms outward and say to yourself: “Me and my Angels now chase you away. You (say the name) have no more power here. You are banned from this castle and you will not return.** If you are one who believes in the aura of a bad spirit hovering around you. This coping skill gives you control over that aura and you can banish it away whenever you feel its presence. The power and control belong to you, the living, not those who hover around in our thoughts or who make their person felt in our homes. It is our safe castle and we say who crosses over the moat and who is banished to be eaten by the gators below if they return.

This tool has given me a renewed sense of strength. It allows me the power to push away any bad and call my protectors in to circle. Give it a try for you, hope it gives you that same sense of being in control.

Good luck, peace within, always in strength & in spirit!!!