Why would you just stand there and watch me die?

This blog takes me deep into thought and I wonder about even publishing, but to heal I must see the reality of my world.

You all allowed this to happen!! What the hell did I ever to to you? Then you have the audacity to turn away and abandon not only me, but my children. My family actually damns them because of what our parents created in me. The town of Freeburg, Illinois watched for NINE LONG YEARS as I rotted in the hell of my world. Not a single one of those 1500 citizens ever questioned or urged someone to get involved.

‘Why would you just stand there and watch me die?’

‘My Justice’ is a cold hard look into what you all watched or took part in throughout those many years. Sure there are those who were only children, as I was; still many of those young men enjoyed the whore this man created and shared or encouraged others to play with; still everyone ignored her existence every day.

It is not possible for me to complete my healing until I have processed all the emotions I was forced to bury. The tears I was forced to swallow, the madness I’ve carried and the pain I felt. There was not a single day that I didn’t pray someone would help me. There was not a single night that I didn’t ask God for His mercy to take my out of my nightmare.

‘How am I supposed to deal with all of this now? Should I look back and say they didn’t know what to do? How can I blame them for what my parents did?

What would you do if it was you?’

Is it possible that you would see the reflection I see and feel no pain or sadness? My skin is covered with the scars of the rotting infected sores. You remember, the ones you saw on me and made sure your children didn’t associate with me because of what they might catch or what they might be lured into doing? You blamed me and judged me, shunned me and saw a young girl as the village whore. The one your sons were never to date. The one who might infect your child with some skin eating disease. You remember me now? How would you feel if it were you? Would you have allowed this to happen to any other child? How do you see your moral standards now? Is there any remorse for your ignorance?

‘Why would you just stand there and watch me die?’

‘Do you understand what happened and just how serious, almost deadly, these grievous attacks became? Believe me, Mona and/or Malcolm committed or silenced me in servitude and protecting my personal terrorist?’

To the school officials and teachers who I had contact with every day; those from Carl L. Barton Middle School during the years of 1974 ‘til 1977 and those of Freeburg Community High School. Although I started school and moved to your town when still a very young child, entering third grade with Ms. Boyer; it wasn’t until I was around 11 that things really started getting deadly in my home.

Was I really that transparent that you didn’t notice me at all? Seems a bit funny to me since the P. E. teachers and kids would not only avoid any and all physical contact with me, but you made sure to shame me in front of the others. You stared at my filthy unwashed uniform filled with the stench of my unwashed body. You glared at the scabs and flesh eating sores that covered my arms and legs. The girls who I changed clothes with in the gym locker room for six years stared and whispered about the rumors and bruises that often cover my young body. These are my memories of you and I cannot erase my reality.

To the law enforcement; you knew of his alcoholic rage and perverted behaviors. You knew, around 13 years old (1975 – 1980), that our home was constantly the party house. Almost once a month these parties consisted of one grown man, one young girl, and at least 5 young boys. You heard all the rumors about the pot that was smoked or the girl offered out like candy. You definitely knew from the kids wandering around inside and outside, each holding cups or cans of beer; the loud music and traffic that concerned the neighbors, but you did nothing.

In my eyes, none of you were not brave enough to do your job and check on the children of this home. When you stopped me out on the street, to either talk or question me, you saw the rotting teeth and in our roasting hot summer days you saw my arms filled with filth and huge sores. You did nothing!!

You knew either by rumor or being told by the bar owners, that he was so dangerous when drinking my mother warned all of the tavern owners to ban him from whiskey completely. However, since they too were afraid of what he might do, they watched his fury grow, then sent him home; knowing there were young children. Remember the little girl who came in to get her mother a pack of cigarettes almost daily? Remember the man that charged his beverages and never paid you back? Remember what you thought of the man?

 How could you just stand there and watch me die?’

For the adult men and family friends who came through my life; you supported my mother and felt pity because of her husband. You looked at her and said, ‘Poor thing, she’s got to put up with so much hell from that man.’ Do you know he would have crawled naked over fire for her, not once did he ever threaten or harm her, she had the power to stop him and chose to pretend there was nothing wrong with it at all.

The adult men who knew me, watched as he first began exploiting at just 11yrs old at JB’s Tavern. You all got a great thrill out of feeding me Vodka & Orange Juice, or Seven & Seven. You enjoyed watching me ‘shake my a**) as he ordered me to play the jukebox, entice you all to buy him drinks. What about those who came to our home on those late Friday night’s smoking joints & groping a child as you passed her from lap to lap as you watched ‘Debbie Does Dallas’; have any of you ever thought about that child? Did you even pay attention to the filth, the broken teeth, the sores on her body? Your kids all shamed me about it in school almost daily. Eventually it became just the way I was and this is when the mothers prevented their kids from hanging out at our house, friending me, or permitting their sons to date me. Did any of you ever wonder for a moment about that young girl? 

How could you just stand there and watch me die?’’

I write this and feel the anger boiling in my soul. I know the mix of emotions racing about trying to figure out who to forgive and who to blame. What would you do if it was you? Was I not human? Was I not a child? Do you see the many torturing wrongs you allowed by your refusal to intervene? Do you see that when you chose to ignore the screaming, crying child you watched get beaten in the street or passed out like candy, how you abandoned her and deepened the belief she was his object instead of a little girl?

‘How could you stand there and watch me die?’

‘Why did you shun and abandon me?’

‘What am I supposed to do with these memories now?’

Comment about ‘My Justice’ from my therapist; ‘The entire town of Freeburg should be required to read your book so they can see what they allowed to happen to this beautiful little girl’.

My therapist tells me how wonderful I am, how the horrific childhood didn’t destroy the good loving soul within. She tells me to see the beautiful person she sees, but how do I do that? The pieces of me are torn apart and thrown around in the wind as if merely dust. My heart lies on the side of the road as if a pile of shit left by some creature! How do I grab these pieces of me and mold them back together to see the wonderful, happy child God created?

I feel her strength in me. The child who held on through every night of his disgusting, horrifying, brutal crimes has finally come to the realization that she is a human being and more importantly that she matters. That little girl has found her voice in the midst of all those swirling particles of madness and she speaks to anyone who will listen.

 ‘Please look into the world of the children around you. Look deeply, through the many silent screams; is there darkness or evil around them?’

There are millions of children who are still being harmed today; in this country, right at this very moment! Do not judge them, shame them, abandon them, blame them;. Rescue them, help them, support them, encourage them, inspire them!

 Or, Will you just stand there and watch them die?

Perhaps one day my voice will be heard. Perhaps one day it will matter. More importantly perhaps one day this story will empower you to save the life of a child today!!

~~~~~ Never to be silent again~~~~~

I AM HUMAN! I AM WORTHY! I AM ALIVE!!

©Patricia A. McKnight

Author: ‘My Justice’              mj-2_thumb.jpg

Advocate/Speaker/Writer/Blogger/Talk Radio Prod & Host

Survivor/Founder: Butterfly Dreams Abuse Recovery

http://www.butterflydreamsabuserecovery.com

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/butterflydreamsabuserecovery

Facebook.com/triciagirl62    

Cycles of Abuse–Stop Whispering by triciagirl62

Thank heaven Miss Carrie Underwood says it clearly; ‘Blown Away’ Official video

Official video ‘Blown Away’ by Carrie Underwood

 

 

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The distorted views, perceptions, value I passed forward……

Coming from my history where sexual activity, alcohol, drugs, and value was only felt through being desired by a man; I’ve done some pretty horrible things in my life.

“If someone wanted to have sex with me, then I was worthy of existence”

My only perceived value was in my sexuality as an object, not as a person. Needless to say, seeing my value only through my being wanted by a man flowed into my adult relationships and my example as a mother. The broken spirit of ugliness, overweight teen with scarred disfigured skin from not bathing; black broken fangs for teeth from never having a toothbrush or given the human kindness and decency for proper hygiene; the teen I was with all my distorted perceptions felt grateful for any man wanting to be with me or choosing me as their wife.

“I was well trained to be submissive; accepting their degradation, control, beatings and almost murderous actions because I was nothing without them.”

Carrie Underwood– ‘Blown Away’

This pattern of life was all I knew, it was who I was as a person. The training of all those childhood nightmares was such a huge part of me and controlled how I viewed my self worth; how I behaved and presented myself to others.

“The value of me was only in what others allowed me to feel.”

To say the least my behaviors and choices we all made with a broken and distorted thought process. These distorted views drove who I chose to have sex with, who I chose as my husband or boyfriends and how I allowed them to control my world.

Sadly it was those ‘bad’ choices and ‘bad’ behaviors that infected my children’s world. It is the greatest regret and guilt I still carry today. They grew up believing that the men in my life were more important and I’m sure my behaviors are what led them to believe this.

“How could they possibly believe they carried more value in my heart, if all of the men controlled my actions as a mother?”

Throughout my marriages and relationships I did everything to perfection to ensure the men were never disappointed. However, ensuring their satisfaction was done for reasons other than their importance to me. I ensured perfection in all details of my home in hopes to keep the man from exploding, which was my biggest and constant concern. I needed them to love me, but even more so I needed them not to harm me or my children. Thankfully I can say none of these men ever charged and attacked my children. However, hiding in the closet filled with terror because your mom is being slammed and beaten is nothing a child should ever know. My kids saw their mother’s crying battered body trying to console them and assure them it was nothing. “He was just drunk, just upset because of something I did or didn’t do, or listen as their stepfather beat me and raged because of something the kids had or hadn’t done, which I didn’t correct to the standards expected. Of course there were the times when he raged and beat me damning the kids, “How horrible they were and how I didn’t make them do this or that.” My kids absorbed this and perceived the beating and rage as their mother being battered because of their ‘BAD’ behavior.

“I accepted and tolerated this and then went to be sure this or that was never done again. What view did this give to the children? How could they possibly see themselves as being my most important concern?”

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Artwork Created and Provided by the magnificent talent of Michal Madison

Advocate/Watercolor Artist/Talk Radio Host Butterfly Dreams Abuse Recovery Radio   http://www.michalmadisonart.com

There were extremes of these nights of rage that resulted in a family round table meeting with me, my 11 year old son, my 9 year old daughter, and my 6 year old daughter. Sometimes these round table meeting even included their father, whom I would call to come join us and then in my distorted thinking that I was trying to get them safe; I would ask my children who they wanted to live with and ask them to make a decision to leave me and go back to a man that ruled with an iron fist, a slap, a dancing leather strap.

“My poor babies, how could they think their mother wasn’t choosing to send them away for being bad or not worthy or not important enough for me to take us all and run?”

Thankfully, this is exactly what I started working on after a doctor insisted on my getting help at the local psychiatric counseling center when he was treating me for some broken bones and stressed out nerves. During my first round of therapy I began to understand how the demons of my childhood trained me to be so controlled by the men in my life and believe that getting beaten was completely normal. My eyes started to open and my soul started falling apart. A new me was found and the strength started to grow inside. The belief in my personal value was born and I started trying to escap0e the insane relationship. Twenty years of my adult life was spent in this destructive, volatile environment of distorted through processes and choices; even worse my children had to live and grow in this mess, be influenced and forced to accept it as well.

Thankfully I finally found the courage, the belief, the determination to leave and get my children and I into our own SAFE environment. Yes there was still the need to be loved, to find love, to have someone want me for me and there would be more boyfriends to come and go, but we would have our home and I wasn’t tolerating anymore raging, abusive, controlling behaviors. No one would control what my child did or didn’t do, except of course for me.

“It wasn’t perfect but we were a family. We were safe in our own home, although it took a couple years to finally get there. We were close to each other, had dinner together quietly, happily with laughter and tears as we discussed their day each evening. It was our SAFE HAVEN!!”

Unfortunately there was already much damage done by the time this happened. My behavior to go out drinking once a week, dress up sexy and go seek out the ‘value’ I still had issues with in myself, influenced my children’s view of personal value and what was acceptable behavior. My daughter’s were the most impacted by these behaviors and how they grew to see their own value through their sexuality and needing to be wanted and loved, accepted by a man to be a complete and worthy person.

Everything that encompassed how I viewed my own value by needing to have someone want me or want to be with me, all of these distorted thought processes is exactly what has left the deepest impression on my children, especially my baby girls.

This is now the root of all I commit myself to working on each day. It is my drive to end the insanity of generational abuse and/or the acceptance of family/relationship violence. It is an even greater hope that I can give my children a new perception of their mother and, even more so, themselves. To leave this world knowing that I gave it my all to change what I had so deeply wounded in them and distorted in their perception of their own personal value is what keeps my heart pounding each day. Every soul of broken mess that I can touch through the website, the radio shows, my writings; those who carry the same distorted perceptions because of what happened and how we are trained as children to see our value and worth, to be submissive and accept the brutal actions of others – this is the belief and the generational cycle of soul destruction we can no longer allow.

For my children; Brett, Jessica, Miranda…….

I give you this ————

‘The Reason’ by Hoobastank © 2003 Island Def Jam Music Group–Official Video

Change what you can for your children before there is no second chance. I am grateful to have this chance and pray that I change what I have influenced in their lives today!!!

~~Love you always my babies~~

~~See your value in all that you hold within~~

Patricia A. McKnight

Author: ‘My Justice’

Advocate/Speaker/Writer/Talk Radio Prod & Host/Survivor

Founder: Butterfly Dreams Abuse Recovery & Talk Radio Programming

http://www.butterflydreamsabuserecovery.com

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/butterflydreamsabuserecovery

http://www.facebook.com/triciagirl62

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