I'm writing this a year in advance. In fact, Christmas Day 2016, was just yesterday. Things are beginning to get back to normal. Email and social media feeds are starting to liven up again. Trash pickup just went by trying to collect everyone's trash from yesterday. So, yeah, Christmas is over once again.
However, I thought I would write this because someone asked me if I would do anything different the next year. I had written earlier that I struggled to deal with the holidays. I'm one of those where the hurt and pain shows up with the fun and presents.
Growing up, my mom did her best to really go all out celebrating Christmas on a shoestring budget. Yes, we were envious of our friends who got a lot of presents, but my mom tried to make it special in other ways. From decorating Christmas cookies, to the food and candy she would make and to just decorating the house, it became a special day.
Unfortunately, in the midst of all of it there was a lot of stuff that hit the fan. There were many moments that are painful and in fact so painful, that I can't even talk about them yet. I've done a tremendous amount of healing and forgiveness but the stuff is there in too great of quantities.
So, when Christmas comes - it isn't easy. The turmoil that hits me emotionally and in my mind feels like 200 MACK trucks hitting me at about 100 mph every second of every day. It isn't easy. Lord knows I've tried to find ways to deal with it, but it just is not easy. If you're like I am, than this isn't news to you.
Here's some of the things I did in 2016 and I'm writing this to my future self so I'll remember what worked and what helped.
We were able to take a trip for a few days leading up to Christmas. In that final week before Christmas, I truly struggle, and so this helped keep my mind off of dwelling on it.
I tried to slow down for December. Even half of my normal speed is almost too much. A few things to do can quickly and easily overwhelm me. So, it's best to slow it down a lot!
I made sure that anything I wanted to get done to celebrate Christmas was done by the middle of the month. I knew that the last week or two, I just needed to coast through it. Any more than that and it was too much.
I reached out to my partner and tried to explain things about what I needed. He was very loving and compassionate and worked with me.
I reached out to friends, and they were a support during this time. In fact, I tried to help be there for them, and I think it helped me in the long run.
I recognized that this was a tough time and tried hard not to beat myself up for it. It is the way it is, and there is no sense in shaming myself into what my "surreal concept" should be for Christmas.
I tried to get in extra exercise and activity by walking and worked to not let myself isolate from others or the outdoors. Fortunately, I live in a warm climate, but just being outside in nature and the sun helped me greatly.
I looked for ways to be creative, but not necessarily that I had to complete a project. Creativity helps me deal with life and stress and the past. If I embrace it, it helps me.
I would look for moments of quietness and stillness to just take care of myself. I didn't do this to hide or isolate, but to just give myself a chance to breathe.
I worked to help connect with my mind and body through awareness and breathing so I could give myself a boost in energy to deal with all the pain I was facing.
For the most part, these things helped. Yes, I did get depressed. Yes, I struggled with anxiety. I already try to stay out of the stores right around the holiday because people are usually rude and inconsiderate. It takes very little to push me over the edge.
I do avoid any parties because I just don't do well at this time. On Christmas, I stay away from family functions because it is just too much for me to sort out. A good video and downtime from the computer are far more welcomed to me than having to negotiate family pain.
These things help. I just know that it isn't an easy time and I've learned it is okay to be okay with that. The "beautiful family gatherings" may exist out there, but I know many who struggle with the pain it brings. If we honor and respect where we are, what we can do and that we have so much going for us, it can make the days go a little easier.
What do you do to help yourself handle Christmas? Leave a reply and let me know.
This is a big trigger for me, and right now it is in full force. It isn't just one trigger, but multiple ones from multiple sources right now. Being ignored is not something that is easy for me to deal with in life.
At one time, the abusers sought to ignore me if I didn't do what they wanted. It wasn't just me as they did it to everyone in the house. Ignoring you meant you were less than and not worthy of love or attention or even one iota of concern. This was in addition to having to fight for attention from others in the family that did so much stupid stuff, they readily got attention.
I don't deal with this well. In fact, as I'm writing this I think I should just go completely quiet and never speak to anyone again. I'll stop tweeting, texting, and blogging. That's the way I feel at this moment.
For me, my friends and people I know mean the world to me. You don't get past that wall very easily, and when you do, you're very special to me. I realize that everyone has their busy lives with jobs, work, family, and other things. I get that. I really do.
Some days, I feel like if I went and ranted and raved about the latest political firestorm of the day, others would listen and want to engage. I just have no desire to swim in that mud pit. I'm not about to start because I see the political firestorms as being nothing more than people screaming while no one is listening.
I feel hurt when I think I'm being ignored, regardless of the reason or issue or who is doing it. Most likely others don't mean to ignore me, but it feels that way. When I feel that, it triggers all kinds of bad thoughts in my mind of not being loved or wanted just like many years ago.
For now, I'm probably going to take time away from answering any emails or trying to initiate any emails. I'm going to ease up on social media a little more because to be quite honest, I'm not sure if it is really worth it. Maybe this is the way for me to see this. I don't know.
I try to be there for many, but some days, I feel like I walk alone. I'm feeling hurt right now and unwanted and unloved. Maybe tomorrow when I wake up, it will be a new day. One can hope, can't they?
After reading Jody's last column, it got me thinking. In the column, she wrote about "how it feels to be adopted." I love how she shares some of the most personal parts of her life to help others find healing in their own lives.
For a long time, I thought I was adopted. I truly did. I had nothing to back it up with, and while every account made it sound like my parents were really my parents, it was hard to believe. I went through life thinking that I had to be switched at birth or adopted or something.
How else could you explain the horror and torture, trauma and abuse that I went through? I didn't think there was anyway a normal family would do this to their kid. I figured I had to have ended up in the wrong family. Surely then, I was adopted.
Finally in my adult years...
It probably wasn't until well into my adult years that I got to meet some of my cousins. The physical characteristics were similar in many ways. Even though I didn't want to accept that this was my family, I began to see that I was NOT adopted.
I know there was a time early on in my life where my mom had to choose between me as an infant and my dad who had hepatitis. From what I was told, it was very contagious, and for some reason, she chose him over me. I don't know all the particulars or details and probably never will. However, I always felt that separation anxiety with my mom, and it never left even until the day she died.
There was another time I was told that when I was very young, something happened and I came to live with my cousins for a time. I don't remember it. I don't know the details, but once again I was separated from my mom.
I struggled to be away from my mom...
When I would go to church camp in the summer, I struggled to be away from my mom for a week. I was always worried that she would be there when it was over. When I would see her at the end of the week, I'd cry uncontrollably making my dad feel very uncomfortable.
It always felt like I had to be good enough to get chosen or loved by my mom. My dad was another story. I don't think he ever really wanted me that badly and my life made his life feel threatened.
Even until this day, I struggle with feeling that people who love me are going to leave me. They will want nothing to do with me. They will choose someone else. I struggled hard with that. I think this is the part that really resonated with Jody's column post.
I'm glad she wrote the post because it helped me to explore this further. In my relationships now, I struggle to think that anyone would love me enough to keep me. I feel like I will at any moment be cast off as not wanted or not needed. It affects my relationships because people do love me, but I'm so afraid of being abandoned that I hold others at a distance.
More and more I'm coming to terms with what that felt like to be passed over and not chosen. I know I was too young to put it into words, but it impacts me in a big way. I do try to keep telling myself that what I went through years ago, was what happened then. It is not what is going on now.
One day I hope I will understand this more, but without the details of what truly transpired, it is hard to put it into context. I was NOT adopted, but some days it felt that way, and at times, I wish I could have been born into another family.
There are very few things I read that have such a great impact on me. This book that Laura Corbeth wrote, My Courage To Tell, is one such book. I'm stunned with how much it touched me. I'm stunned at the way a chance connection made this possible. Soon, I'll be sitting down with Laura to conduct an interview that will be shared on this blog.
Anyone who has followed this blog for very long knows that I too wrote a book about some of the experiences I went through growing up. It is called, Hope And Possibility Through Trauma.
Part of what I experienced, in addition to the sexual abuse and torture, was psychological abuse like what Laura shares in her book. I've actually never heard anyone talk about it so eloquently as she did. She shared her story and through it, her own self-discovery and realization of healing her life. Laura was so open in what she shared.
The psychological stuff for me included the following... and this is only a minor list.
My brother tormented me all my life. He lied a lot, and that’s one of the things that resonated with me from her book. I used to hate his lying so much. He would lie about the stupidest things. We had these tiny little plastic American Building Bricks that I loved to play with. When he would lie, my dad would get mad at both of us and threaten to throw them in the fireplace. I finally got to the point where I’d speak up because I was tired of being punished because of his lies.
He did many horrendous things to me. Another that resonated from the book was how he would pin me down. He was overweight and much larger than me. I was a small-framed kid. He would get me down on his back and jump up and down with his knees on my upper arms as he stretched them out on the ground. I still suffer from the physical pain of that.
I was beaten and hit by my brother and dad. I’ve had a garden hoe taken to me, a shovel and belts/boards – whatever they could get their hands on, they would use on me. For a long time in my life, I would find rocks and sticks to hit myself with when life got too rough. As a kid, my older brother hit me with a round point shovel and caused me to bleed. He tried to keep me from going inside to get my mom to help me. He didn't want to get into trouble.
When Laura talks about the frogs, I’m overwhelmed. I saw what my brother did to a frog with his bicycle when I was in kindergarten. I saw my dad kill my pets to help silence me. I saw my brother and my dad be mean to my pets. My dad got mad at my dog and shot the dog as it was running down the road. When my dog finally died of cancer, I was in college, and as it spent the last few days at the vet’s office, the vet and I cried over the phone – when he saw the buckshot still lodged in the feet of my dog. I’m a fierce protector of animals. I have a degree in animal science. No one ever got away with hurting any animal under my watch.
So many things that Laura shared in her book sounded all too real to me based on my own experiences. I still struggle and deal with what I went through because it runs deep. I continue to work through them, and heal my life to the core with every new realization that appears.
I cannot believe I survived and made it this far in life. I'm beyond ecstatic to see someone like Laura share her story in the way she did.
When I was reading the book, it took me a day and a half to finish it. I could not put it down. Laura does an excellent job of weaving the events together into a story that captivates you and holds your attention.
I strongly suggest you check out her book, her website, and the podcast interview she did because it is very enlightening. See the links below.
We've all got our stories, but if we don't share them, the abuse and horror will continue. It is up to each one of us to do as Laura did and share your story. You will touch others, and through touching their lives, they will find more possibility and hope and healing.
Our silence gives a fertile soil for abuse to continue. Make a difference by speaking up and telling your story. If you would like a platform to do this, let me know, and I will help you. I'm always careful that it is not about vengeance, as Laura discusses, but instead that it stands up and says, "I'm taking back my life."
I used to hate having to go get tools for my dad. My older brother would treat me the same way as my dad treated me. They were too freaking lazy to go get the tools themselves and so I’d have to trek all the way to the barn where we had them.
Of course, the tools were never where they said they were. Of course, they didn’t know how to properly identify them. So, I would have to guess and hope I brought the right one back.
Most of the time I failed. I would be berated with the following statements:
"You don’t have any common sense."
"If the tool would have been a snake, it would have bit you."
"Can’t you do anything right?"
Those and many more statements filled the void around me. They made me nervous. They caused so much anxiety in me.
If my dad got real mad, he’d pick up a shovel, a garden hoe, a board or anything else within his reach and beat me with it. Minor infractions meant that he would just kick you, and I mean physically kick you.
Afterwards, I would get blamed for not putting the tools away in the correct spots. There were no “spots” for the tools, only general locations. My dad would never return things back to where he found them, but it was always our fault. Then we’d have to clean up the barn all over again, only for the scenario to repeat.
I remember one time in college, I had come home and changed the oil in my car. I put things back where they were supposed to go. Days later I get this letter from my dad. Now, my dad could barely put words together to form a sentence on paper and hardly ever sent a letter to anyone. This letter was blasting me for how irresponsible and immature I was because I left his “garage” a mess. It wasn’t me that did that. It was someone else, but of course I got blamed.
Fault in the smallest of things...
Nothing I ever did was good enough for my dad. He would find fault in the smallest of things. Even in the music that I created, I can still remember him criticizing me because it had mistakes in it. His anger fumed at me when I replied to him, “but how can it have mistakes – I’m just creating it?”
When I bought my first pickup, it wasn’t good enough because I didn’t ask his permission, even though I was out of college, working a good job, and paid for it on my own. He thought I should get his approval first. It did not matter that I got the best deal I most likely ever got on buying a vehicle.
When I got tired of waiting on him to help me build a hay feeding bunk for my sheep, I finally just did it on my own. The sheep needed it badly and day after day, he kept telling me he was too busy to help me. No, it wasn’t perfect, but it worked. He could only criticize me and it for every little flaw that he magnified in his own eyes. Nothing was ever good enough for my dad.
When I would play the piano in high school choir events, he would gloat that I was his son. It wasn’t that I played beautifully. It was about how I was related to him and he made sure that he was the focus of the event to everyone that knew us. His responses to me in private though were nitpicking how much he hated the music I was given to play. This was from a man that had no concept of music, but he sure was a critic.
When I tried to go to college, he was all for it if I got a good paying job and it was more of a hands-on trade. Yet, my dad resented the money I was offered for my first job. While in college and for years after, I would hear that I was nothing more than an over educated college idiot. No matter how humble and true I was with people, my father resented that I was doing better than he was.
Jealous of me...
I dealt with my older brother and my dad being completely jealous of me in everything I did. They expected someone to walk up and hand them what they needed. I, on the other hand, worked my butt off to get what I needed. I was well known and successful for my hard work in the area where we grew up. I never had to look for work. It always found me. Regardless, though, I had to deal with the never-ending jealously by my dad and older brother. Anything I had, they thought they should have, even if they did nothing to get it.
I’ve been called so many names. I’ve been hit and beaten so hard. I am not sure how I made it this far in life.
I always try to stay humble and be who I am. However, that was never enough for them and it made my life hell for many years.
In recent years, I’ve started to really come to terms with that, but I would be lying if I said that none of what I had been through with my dad and older brother did not impact everything I do to this day.
It is my goal to keep reminding myself that they were the bullies in my life and because of their own shortcomings, they felt threatened by me. However, that is their circus. It is their dysfunctional issues. I no longer desire to own them.
When you grow up in situations where trauma and abuse along with emotional and mental manipulation are what you know, you never quite have a fighting chance early in life. How we learned to deal with trauma and stress was anything but normal for us.
We were never given the tools to know what to do. We were never taught how to deal with the situations in which we found ourselves.
We grew up learning to survive. We grew up learning to find the way through what was happening to us in the best way we knew how. We often were focusing our attention on that moment of abuse we were enduring. There was no learning how to deal with the trauma, let alone the stress in our lives.
Many of us found coping mechanisms to escape what was being done. Some of us just stuffed it deep down inside. Some of us tried to match the pain through the self-inflicted harm we did to our bodies. These were survival techniques we employed because we knew nothing else.
As life continued, we faced new stressors and situations in life. The usual part of growing up in a world that is sometimes far too harsh presented more challenges. Our early go-to techniques did not match up to what we needed for those moments, and so the trauma replayed over and over. The stress continued to build.
Foreign Invaders Of Our Mind and Body...
Regardless, we knew we had found a way to survive through all the abuse and trauma we had once endured, so we didn't give up. We kept fighting. We kept trying to figure it all out, but far too often, our insight was formed because of what we had to do to survive. What we needed to do for our body and our mind became foreign invaders that we did not trust.
As we get to our current day, the techniques that once served us well and how we survived now fall short. They exhaust us because they no longer do what we need for them to do. We struggle, and we fight. Some of us fall victim to this through suicide, cutting, chronic conditions, conversion disorder, anxiety, depression and a whole host of other outcomes.
Healing is not easy. Learning to deal with trauma and stress without the necessary tools is an epic challenge. I know in my own life that I had to see the things which once helped me survive no longer serve a useful purpose. In their place, I needed to find new tools that would help.
When you have been through abuse and trauma, you become the parent to yourself and so starts the journey of learning how to deal with all of this. You become the teacher and the student at the same time. We did not learn to deal with trauma or stress, and now it impacts every facet of our lives.
This is where support of others who have been through this comes in to help. It is where therapists and qualified practitioners that know how to walk through the fires of trauma and abuse help our healing. It is where the process of healing, little by little, unfolds and helps awaken us to more of who we are, that we have hidden all these years.
Learning to deal with trauma and abuse is not something that is easy. It is a challenge on our best days, and a horror filled nightmare on our worst days.
I have found in my own life that regardless of what was done to me and what I went through, I can heal and thrive and conquer so much of what was done to me. I will not say it is easy. I will not say it is a quick process, but I know it is one that I'm winning.
I have learned that to heal, I must feel in my body and that the more I can safely do this, the more I comprehend. The trauma and abuse were stored in our body, and for me to fully heal all that was done, the body is at the center of these endeavors.
Yes, I have my good days and my bad days, but my life now is much more hopeful and full of possibility than it once was. I know that even though I never learned to deal with trauma and abuse as a kid, I'm now coming to a greater understanding of what that means for my own life. There is hope and possibility through trauma.
This Unified Therapy session wasn't easy. It was tough beyond any words that I can write. In fact, just getting myself to see Dr. Canali was more than difficult. I procrastinated. I tried to wish it away. I tried to numb it away.
No matter what, as hard as I tried to wish it away, my avoidance was not helping the issue at all. I was begging for mercy. I wanted relief. I could not find it on my own no matter what I was doing. As I wrote a few days earlier in a blog post, it was the Rash That Won't Stop that got me to the point where I finally went to see Dr. Canali.
My life had become one of so much difficulty with little sleep. The burning and itching I described in that blog post were no lies. It was all too real. My anger was hard to contain with everyone and everything. I did not know at that moment before the session if I could make it through this. I was not sure if I could make it through this. The session with Dr. Canali had become my last hope.
What I had written, I shared...
I shared with him what I had written in that blog post. I couldn't even manage to get the words out. My voice would not articulate them. As he sat down beside the massage table and read them out loud to me, my eyes welled up with tears. To most people, they are words on a page. To me, they were heartaches and pain from the abuse I suffered.
As we began to go into what was coming up in my body, it was evident to Dr. Canali and myself just how locked up my pelvis and abdomen were. In fact, most of my pants were not fitting at that time. They felt like 5 sizes too small. The itching in this area was intense. Any touch anywhere close and the pain would shoot through my body like there was no end.
Moving through things, everything from the itching to the heat in my body and the pain would kick up. We would take it as far as we could, and then Dr. Canali would allow me to drop back down. It felt like a physical workout. It felt like there were moments that were almost too much. However, I knew that this was part of the healing process.
An empowerment boost of healing...
The more I started to see that we could go into all of these things and then drop back into a more peaceful state, the more empowered my body became. It was as if pushing into these difficult moments and then dropping back was an empowerment boost. A boost that kept me taking on more of the trauma my body had been holding for many years.
Some of these trauma memories of abuse that I was dealing with, I have seen in other forms and ways at various times. However, this one was the more physical side of being raped and held down with no way to stop it. It started by the time I was around six years old and continued until I was much older.
As we moved through the session, we discussed those things, and I was allowed to share them. It wasn't easy to say the words. It wasn't easy to recognize just how much the evil and darkness of these abusers and tried to squash any hope for light and existence I had.
The Body Shows The Trauma...
The physical trauma resides in the body. The body remembers even if we attempt to keep it from reliving memories from years past. The brain will try to block it, but when the body shows the evidence, it is then that the brain is in survival and numbing.
As we went through the session, I could feel the physical tension leaving my body. It was more than if I had gotten a relaxing massage. It was where my body goes into that deep peace and rest that it desperately needs. The itching came down. The pain came down. The elevated body temperature I was feeling dropped down.
I noticed as we left the office and went out into the summer heat of a South Florida afternoon, that I was tolerating the heat much better. Before this moment, I could barely stand in the summer heat for a few minutes.
I noticed that the world around me seemed more at peace. I sensed the quiet stillness accessible to me even though the hustle and bustle of the city continued. I felt lighter and more joyful. I felt more hopeful and alive than I had a little while earlier that day.
As we left to go back to the hotel, I started to notice that the pants which were tight on me before the session, were now needing a belt. There was so much physical tension in my abdomen and waist that had released that I could barely keep my pants up. It shocked me because it showed me just how much trauma I was holding in my physical body.
I went from not wanting anyone close to me touching me to allowing myself to be touched. I went from wanting no intimacy to welcoming it happily.
In that session with Dr. Canali, so much physically changed in my body. It was like I was coming back into my body and learning to live life again as was meant for me to experience.
Healing Is More Than A Mental Exercise...
Once again, the work and concepts that Dr. Canali has discovered are helping me understand what trauma does to the body and how we store all of this for years and years. It is not just a mental exercise. It is an exercise where you connect the mind with what comes up in the body and then you are gently guided in different ways how to let go of it all. It is a process that helps you find deep healing and peace, that is more than a quick point of change. This healing is lasting.
As I write this, several days after the session, I can still feel my body letting go and processing all that went on in that session. I can feel how little moments in life kick up the body temperature or the itching while being able to talk myself back down and put reality in perspective with what I am feeling.
Yes, I've had moments of anger and frustration, but I can deal with them more appropriately than I was. I'm able to go in and stop and rest and allow my body to just be in the moment. I've been able to be in a hot tub and sauna, be outside in the heat of an afternoon and not feel like I was going to lose my mind or pass out and drop on the ground.
I'm working to take care of myself, changing how I see things in my life and observing how I react. I want the reactions to be from a more mind and body centered approach than feeling like an unwilling participant. I'm focusing on the bigger picture of my life much more than I have been and seeing how all of this plays into where my life goes.
I'm monitoring how much I let in from the world that is full of screaming, anger, rage, and disrespect because the actions I see every day do nothing to help me in my own life. I'm allowing myself to disconnect from them and replace them with things that are genuinely helpful. I know that if I get caught up in the darkness of the day, it will do nothing positive for me.
Most of all, I feel better. I feel more empowered. I feel more centered. It is like there is now hope where I thought I had lost all hope.
I'm thankful for Unified Therapy and Dr. Paul Canali and what he knows and how he helps me. He is one of a kind. If there are others beyond him (and a few other practitioners) that can do what he does for me, I have not found them. He is a pioneer in the field of healing trauma.
This is not a topic I write much about because even with the years that have gone by, there's a lot of pain in the walls of my heart when I try to share it.
It is hard to write about because while I miss my mom, I know she was part of the mess of trauma, torture, and child sexual abuse I went through.
No, she was not an active participant and I know she was beaten as well, but she was not able to protect me. Before she suddenly died in a car accident, I had not gotten to speak to her in many years. There are so many things left unsaid.
When the funeral happened, it was inside the hospital chapel because my father was still recovering from the car crash. Somehow he, the monster in the family, was the one that survived. The one that I wish would have made it, didn't survive. I have great amounts of anger over that to this day that I struggle with, quite honestly.
They did everything to stop me...
It was more than difficult to get to the funeral. In fact, the family seemed to do everything they could to keep me from going to it. No details at all. We had to dig for what was happening and when. I had been unemployed and just had started a new job a couple of days before the car accident. My anxiety about being back with the monsters in my family was overwhelming.
Fortunately some friends met me there and my partner went with me. I remember pulling up to the hospital, and it was almost too much. I wanted to flee. I wanted to run. I took my Xanax to help give me a little calmness for the day but even it was not enough.
I wanted to be left alone...
We waited until the last minute to walk in. My partner scoped things out. Then, it was time to go in to the funeral knowing I was walking in among the wolves that hated me for daring to break the silence. The minister came up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder and back and I jumped. I wanted none of these fake people to touch me. I wanted to be left alone.
I went to the casket and saw my mom. She had aged a little since the last time I saw her, which was about 11 years earlier. I cried. My younger brother at least came up and acknowledged me and gave me time alone with her. I introduced her to Jeff and told her I wish she could have gotten to know him. It was the last time I would see her.
Sitting through the long drawn out service was not easy. I sat in front of my friends, next to Jeff. Of course the minister started in preaching of how we should forgive one another and especially our family. I know who put him up to that line of preaching and I know it was directed at me.
Forgiveness was screwed up...
You see, in our family, you had to forgive those that harmed you. That was the way it worked. You had to act as if it didn't happen. Forgiveness was such a screwed up nightmare for me for a long time. It didn't mean they ever had to own up to what they did or how much they hurt you. It was "you" that had to make things right. Nothing like treating a victim like a victim!
So as I was sitting there, my anger was growing within me. The next thing I know I did was to flip the minister off. I don't know if he saw me. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't. It just felt so good to tell these kinds of people where to take their holier than thou attitudes and put it.
After it was over, my friends hurriedly rushed me out the door and got me out of there. They knew how difficult it was for me. I know that my family was getting together at my Aunt's house, but I wasn't invited. They were afraid I'd make a scene. I said, screw you anyway!
I left feeling dejected...
I left there feeling dejected once again. I left there feeling like I didn't belong in the family once again. It would be many days and months before I would be able to stop crying. It would be years before I would even get to the point of writing what I can write here today.
I don't know how I survived the funeral. I miss my mom. We had so much in common but I'm glad she doesn't have to put up with the monster anymore. In the end, the monster was responsible for the car accident taking her life because he pulled out in front of an oncoming vehicle. I'm not sure I can easily forgive him for that, and I honestly don't care what he or my family thinks of that.
Even this many years later, I'm reminded of losing my mom. I'm reminded of the horrors the family faced and how it made my life a living hell every day of my existence. At times, I still cry and mourn for her loss.
I know that not everyone had a good mom. Some had good fathers instead. For me, my mom meant the world to me. I feel so lost and alone without her. The process of grieving continues. The process of healing continues.
All my life I was taught one thing about this concept, and it messed me up for many years. Forgiveness is something that is often taught in religious homes of all flavors and in the homes of those that have been abused as children.
Forgiveness is taught as a weapon to get the children under control and to be subservient to someone deemed greater than themselves. It is taught as a manipulation, that you must do this and let the other person off the hook.
These are the murky waters of forgiveness because they distort the truth and manipulate those that are willing to follow. I used to live in those murky waters of forgiveness and if anyone dared to challenge me, I dismissed them at will.
I've struggled long and hard with forgiveness because in no way do I want those that hurt me so deeply and badly to have one easy moment in their life. I don't want them to think that what they did was okay. I don't want them to have an easy life where they don't fully realize what they did to me. I'm sorry, but I am human and I was horribly abused.
Was nowhere near ready...
I even had one church go as far as have me come up to the front while all these people prayed and laid hands on me. It was a forgiveness ritual. The thing is, I was nowhere near ready to even talk about forgiveness and I ended up resenting it even more.
When my mom passed away, I had friends of the family telling me I should forgive. They thought that I needed to move on in my life. However, they did not know the family secrets. It did not stop them from preaching forgiveness to me. I walked away and said, "enough is enough".
Oprah and Tyler Perry on forgiveness
When I went to the Oprah 200 Male Survivor episode, I heard Oprah and Tyler Perry talking about forgiveness. I thought, well how special it was that they can forgive. I wasn't really buying it at the time because I too thought, why would I ever let the abusers off the hook?
What I have learned though is forgiveness isn't what I was taught. It isn't about going down on your knees and praying for your abusers to be freed from the prison you live in. It isn't about them. It is not about them!
Forgiveness is not a process where you wake up one morning and go everything is over. That is a fallacy on so many levels that is widely practiced today because of religious teaching. I'm sorry, I don't believe that is how forgiveness works.
I learn to let go...
Forgiveness is a process where I learn to let go. It is where I allow myself to start disconnecting from all the horrors and hurt and pain I have been through. It is about my own healing and discovering who I am. It is about me learning to deal with the anger I have, the pain that permeates the deepest parts of my soul. It is about letting go of it all and learning to walk forward without all of this.
Forgiveness is not about letting them off the hook. I fully hold the abusers in my life accountable for what they did. It is their job to ask forgiveness of themselves and of me. Until they do that, I will never let them off the hook. I'm not even sure I could at that point either.
I don't care what my abusers wish from me and need from me. They destroyed my life, so they no longer get the option of having that control or say in anything I do. They gave that up when the violated me.
Forgiveness for me is letting go. It is stepping away from all that hurt; not ignoring it, but working to move on in my life and heal my life. It is about me becoming all that I can become. It is about giving myself a chance for the future.
The only person I have any control over is myself, but if I harbor the anger and resentment toward those who did those things, it will have an impact on me physically. That is not helpful for me. Forgiveness is what I need to let go of and I do it by healing and becoming all that I am and was meant to be.
I know, you're not supposed to feel this way. I realize my name is my vibrational marker in this world, but oh - what I wouldn't give to change it. In fact, I almost did change my name but got cold feet.
You see, I was afraid of what my family and my friends would think if I changed my name. It is probably the one thing that held me back from doing this.
Growing up, my Dad used my full name starting with my first name of Donald as a way to indicate he was pretty angry at me. If I heard it, I cringed.
I knew what was coming and there was no escaping it. The more you tried, the worse the punishment. It didn't matter if you had really done nothing wrong. It only mattered that he needed someone to blame for whatever it was he was upset about in that moment.
On top of it, my dad loved nicknames. I was a small baby at birth and so they nicknamed me pee wee. I can't actually believe I am even writing about any of this. It feels shameful and humiliating to me. Even though I had to endure this at home, I tried my hardest to not get names attached to me in school.
One day in Kindergarten I took a new plastic truck to school for show and tell. My dad thought I needed to put my name on it even though there is no way I would have let that toy truck out of my sight. We didn't have many toys in the first place. The name he wrote on the bottom of it in big black letters - PEE WEE. Talk about making your stomach turn flip-flops all day.
I also remember hearing my dad pound his fist on the table and scream,
"we're family and we will be proud of our last name. We will love one another no matter what or I will make sure we do."
He preached the last name as if it was something great. I cringed in these multi-hour tirades he would have where you had to sit at attention and listen to him intently or he would keep going longer.
He was so proud of the last name and it sucked to me. To me, it stood for sexual and physical abuse. It stood for mental manipulation, mind control, thought control and no freedom. It stood for anything but love and respect like he demanded that it did. He is more than welcome to be proud of it if he wants, but it has a devastating effect on me.
There are many more things that have happened where I just hate my name. My full first name, Donald, was used as a weapon. It was not one of respect or love or compassion. When I heard it used, my fear went "oh oh... what did I do wrong now?" This was immediately followed by dread and fear and anxiety which happened almost every day it seemed.
Now at this point in my life, I made sure I had no kids. My siblings had daughters so there is no chance they will pass our family name on. I had no kids, so effectively it stops with me. I cannot think of a better way to win over what my dad did to me than deprive him of passing on the name he was so proud of when I was a kid.
I don't know if I will ever get to the point I love my full legal name, but if you meet me, there's a good chance, you'll hear the first name I go by now and you would have to ask me what my last name is. I don't readily give it out. I don't readily use it. I want nothing to do with the last name. If you call me Donald, you're probably going to get ignored or get an angry response.
It is difficult to deal with this part of my life. I know the vibration of our name means a lot, but it is a source of pain that I have to live with for the rest of my life. I may still change it yet, but now that I've got music and books out, that may get more tricky. I know it will follow me until the day that I die and I wish it wasn't so. Even if I changed it, the name is still attached to me and that sucks!
This study is one that needs to be told to every corner of the world. It was done by the CDC and Kaiser Permanente.
The study is often called the ACE study which stands for Adverse Childhood Experiences. It was one of the largest studies into the impact of childhood abuse on health later on in life.
Some facts about how the study was done according to the CDC.gov website.
Two waves of data collection between 1995 and 1997 with over 17,000 people.
Study comprised of 54% women, 46% male.
Ethnicity and race was 74.8 white, followed by 11.2% Hispanic and Latino with other groups making up the difference.
Age ranges were more heavily sampled on 60 and over at 46.4%
Major Findings According To The ACE study
Almost two-thirds of the participants had at least one Adverse Childhood Experience. More than 1 in 5 reported three or more Adverse Childhood Experiences.
The greater the number of experiences you have as a child that are adverse, the greater your risk for having chronic health conditions as you get older. This study shows that in no uncertain terms.
The following website, AcesTooHigh.com does a good job of explaining this in more detail.
As the number of Adverse Childhood Experiences increases, so does the risk for the following:
Alcoholism and alcohol abuse
Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease
Depression
Fetal death
Health-related quality of life
Illicit drug use
Ischemic heart disease
Liver disease
Poor work performance
Financial stress
Risk for intimate partner violence
Multiple sexual partners
Sexually transmitted diseases
Smoking
Suicide attempts
Unintended pregnancies
Early initiation of smoking
Early initiation of sexual activity
Adolescent pregnancy
Risk for sexual violence
Poor academic achievement
Adverse Childhood Experiences Definitions
Abuse
Emotional abuse
Physical Abuse
Sexual Abuse
Household Challenges
Mother treated violently
Household substance abuse
Mental illness in household
Parental separation or divorce
Criminal household member
Neglect
Emotional neglect
physical neglect
How To Calculate Your Ace Score
Answer the following questions to calculate your score.
(prior to your 18th birthday)
Did a parent or other adult in the household often or very often… Swear at you, insult you, put you down, or humiliate you? or Act in a way that made you afraid that you might be physically hurt? ___No ___If Yes, enter 1
Did a parent or other adult in the household often or very often… Push, grab, slap, or throw something at you? or Ever hit you so hard that you had marks or were injured? ___No ___If Yes, enter 1
Did an adult or person at least 5 years older than you ever… Touch or fondle you or have you touch their body in a sexual way? or Attempt or actually have oral, anal, or vaginal intercourse with you? ___No ___If Yes, enter 1
Did you often or very often feel that … No one in your family loved you or thought you were important or special? or Your family didn’t look out for each other, feel close to each other, or support each other? ___No ___If Yes, enter 1
Did you often or very often feel that … You didn’t have enough to eat, had to wear dirty clothes, and had no one to protect you? or Your parents were too drunk or high to take care of you or take you to the doctor if you needed it? ___No ___If Yes, enter 1
Were your parents ever separated or divorced? ___No ___If Yes, enter 1
Was your mother or stepmother: Often or very often pushed, grabbed, slapped, or had something thrown at her? or Sometimes, often, or very often kicked, bitten, hit with a fist, or hit with something hard? or Ever repeatedly hit over at least a few minutes or threatened with a gun or knife? ___No ___If Yes, enter 1
Did you live with anyone who was a problem drinker or alcoholic, or who used street drugs? ___No ___If Yes, enter 1
Was a household member depressed or mentally ill, or did a household member attempt suicide? ___No ___If Yes, enter 1
Did a household member go to prison? ___No ___If Yes, enter 1
Understanding The Score
Add up all your "YES" answers and that is your ACE score.
The higher the ACE score, the greater health risk you have. It becomes an index where your risk for the health factors listed previously become more a reality.
I'm a firm believer in that if you have a health condition, as long as it is not past the point of no return, I think a person can turn it around. Think of a train going off a cliff that once it gets to the end of the track, there is no stopping it. However, if we're not at that point, we still have a chance to slow the train down. I understand that I am often in the minority on this and many may think I just don't understand. I use my own life's experiences and conditions as proof of this conclusion.
So, I don't accept that any physical health condition cannot be stopped or reversed. This is my opinion and I cannot base it upon fact. So, please don't take this as medical advice because it is not intended to be that. Just don't limit yourself to the current medical wisdom out there. I believe there is far more within us that can turn things around.
In my own life, health problems that I thought I would have to live with are no longer a major concern for me. I don't take medication. Yes, I still have things that crop up on me physically and mentally, but I've learned the tools that pull me back out of hell. There have been some major physical things that I thought were not something I could change and yet, I've discovered that I can really impact them and sometimes pretty quickly.
Why Does All This Matter
When you have been through childhood abuse, if you don't deal with it - it will deal with you. You may think you're getting away with it and it doesn't affect you, but sooner or later it will catch up. It will bring you front and center with it. You may still choose to deny it at that point, but if you do, things will only get worse and I think you reach the point of no return.
From what I have experienced in my own life and through the healing work that I've learned, there is a way to reclaim your physical body and mind and heal from these adverse childhood experiences. Unfortunately, we often just give lip service to this concept while ignoring the true impacts and how we can have great influence over what happens as a result.
At one time, I thought that physical ailments on the body and mind were life sentences. I shouldn't be standing here today writing what I am because everyone at one point thought my future was hopeless. I've battled the depression, anxiety, suicide, migraine headaches, ulcers, allergies, skin issues, high pulse rate and many other physical ailments. At one time, I thought that was just the way things are.
I won't tell you today that my life is perfect and free from all of these physical issues, but I now have more tools in my toolbox to help me deal with things, without turning to medical procedures, surgeries and medications. At one time, I needed some of those things, but it was because I didn't have the tools I now have.
It takes work and courage...
It takes a lot of work and courage to get to this point. It is not easy and I will never mislead anyone into thinking it is just a matter of changing one's thoughts or living by some platitude or meme. In order to begin healing, you have to go into those deep dark horror moments of life and learn how to take the power back from them.
This is not just a mental exercise, although the mind and your thoughts play a major role. This is an exercise where with time, you learn how to feel and connect to your body through the felt sense as it connects with your mind. When you understand that in order to heal your mind, you must feel in your body that which is hard to feel and is often blinded by fear.
Feeling in the body....
Feeling in the body is the most advanced way I have found to heal the adverse childhood experiences I have been through. My ACE score is very high. I've been through a lot and unless I would not have started to use Unified Therapy and the concepts behind it, I would have never made it this far. My life was crashing when I first started to understand and explore how to heal my body and mind.
Therapy and counseling helped me tremendously, but in the end, I had neglected the body part of the mind body connection. It is in the body part of my healing where I started to physically empower my life once again and heal in ways that I did not think were possible. It was not some pie-in-the-sky concept, but one that has been proven many times over on many people. It does work! You can heal!
Fear has been my constant enemy...
Fear has been my constant enemy that I have loathed and despised. It has held me back by fooling me into thinking that I can't heal and that none of my progress is real. Fear has kept me hunkering down in the corner hiding in the shadows as if that was the sum total of my life. Fear has kept me withering in life as if I had no power or worth or value.
We all have to find our way through healing and the experiences we have been through. However, I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that if the body is not engaged in healing, the mind will only take you so far. Memes, platitudes, and simple healing statements may have their place, but often they get in the way of the real - down-to-earth work that we need to do.
When life takes you far enough down the trail of no return, it either gets your attention or if you continue to ignore it, you will suffer greatly. We do have the power to change our life from the inside out, but only if we allow ourselves to go through the fear and find it. Often that requires a person who truly understands the effect of trauma on the body and there are far too few that do.
For a long time, I have known about the ACE study because of Unified Therapy by Dr. Paul Canali. He uses this with his patients and helps them realize the cause-effect between trauma and their current health conditions. It is a great tool to begin helping you see the relationship of what trauma does to your current health and well-being.
Further Information
Here is a video done of an interview of some topics, but one of those is the ACE Study. It is with Jim Fazio and Dr. Paul Canali. Jim is a practitioner that has learned Unified Therapy and is having wonderful success with it on his own clients.
Final Thoughts
Where ever you are today in your life, go further - discover more and realize that there is much more potential in healing than may seem possible, feasible or even real.
I really admire Dr. Paul Canali because he has helped me understand that the body connection is where the true healing is at and without it, I would not have made it as far as I did. He doesn't just understand the concepts of healing trauma as a pioneer in this field. He knows how to implement them and see results from one patient to another.
Years ago, they told me I would most likely never function 100% again. I proved the medical world wrong. At one point they were bringing me back to life and it was up to me from that point on to go beyond what I thought I knew so that I could truly heal.
Sometimes things can grow out of almost nothing. In one of our Earthboxes, we had a red pepper plant growing. Of course, the weather got to hot in our central Florida summers and so the plants died out.
There was no need to water it any longer as the plant was at the end of its life cycle.
Lately, we have not had much rain, other than foggy nights which bring a little moisture to our world.
However, I was looking at our red pepper plant and noticed that it had come back to life. In fact, it had a couple of peppers on it.
Now these peppers didn't look all that great. When you think of them coming from the neglected pepper plant, I think it is pretty cool what could be produced.
I'm still not sure how a plant with little water could revive itself and grow these peppers, but it did.
The earthbox is a self contained growing box that I love and does a great job. However, you have to add water to it. Water doesn't just get in there easily.
So, as I compare this to life, sometimes we think we are neglected pepper plants. Maybe our lives had experiences where we were neglected or mistreated or abused. Yet, somehow, we've made it this far. We've survived and we are growing and thriving. We're producing fruit from our life. Yeah, we might have some blemishes, but to grow something beautiful out of nothing is pretty darn impressive in my eyes.
So maybe instead of seeing all of the ugliness we have experienced, let us not forget to look at the fruit that was produced. As we reach out to others and heal ourselves, we're working to make a neglected pepper plant into something so needed to sustain life.
I tweeted this out the other day because I see many parallels to current events that were identical to what I went through as a kid. I take no pleasure in this connection.
It is extremely triggering to me. It allows me to see things from a different perspective because I have lived through them once before. The triggers are overwhelming right now and I really have to modulate my time seeing some events unfold.
I know I'm not alone. I know others have had to deal with this very same thing, especially those that have endured child sexual abuse. In order for abuse to take place, there needs to be someone in control. That person in control has absolute power over not only the victim, but all those associated with them.
The tweet I wrote was, "I grew up in a home where you could not disagree with those in charge. It allowed abuse to flourish. It was brainwashing."
I grew up in a home where you could not disagree with those in charge. It allowed abuse to flourish. It was brainwashing.
Not only was I sexually abused as a child, but the brainwashing that followed me every day of my life was one that I still struggle with today. I was taught how to think, what to say and what to do. At no time was I allowed to make my own decisions or follow what I thought or felt. I was not allowed to say anything that went against what the supreme ruler dictated in our family. The minister in the church was just as bad as what I faced at home.
Of course, the supreme ruler and his subordinates will be the first ones to claim I'm the one that is crazy. They will say I was led to say these things by others. They will claim that they gave me nothing but love and respect. They will claim that they were great and loving. They will claim that I was always allowed to think and say and do what I needed to. They will claim, I am wrong and have no clue what I am saying. They will claim, I was brainwashed by others outside of the family and church.
Their ego is too large...
You see, those that control others will never admit they are wrong. Their ego is too large. I used to think that people who controlled others were very strong, but I've since learned that they are so fearful of everything in life. They are so full of fear that they will do anything to keep others in their line of thinking and control, so as to not allow them to touch their own vulnerability. They will not risk anyone seeing the real person they are and they do that by controlling and abusing others.
But, it isn't just the ones that control others that allow horrible abuse to take place. It is those that sit on the sidelines with their eyes closed. They were just as plentiful back in the days I was being abused and raped and to this day, they still sit with their eyes closed. You cannot care about others and have love if you sit by and watch others be abused.
Humanity is not about the control of one another even though it appears that way at this moment. Humanity is about working together and coming to know more of who we are each and every day we are alive. It is about inspiring one another to be more than we are and reaching for the outer limits of what we cannot see in this moment.
Control and manipulation and abuse are not signs of a strong person. They are signs of a weak person. A strong person allows someone to say and think and do what seems normal to them, while honoring and respecting that individual as a human being. A weak person just controls and holds everyone down, thereby extinguishing the flame within us.
This was my life. I grew up in a home where the bully was in charge. The one that said, you must believe what I say or get out. The one that thought their way was all that mattered or it was the highway.
There was no dissent. There was no thought about dissent. There were many threats if you even thought about telling anyone the secrets taking place in the house.
If the threats were not enough, you watched as your pets were killed and your body was whacked with beatings and pain. You hunkered down as the violence happened and the yelling intensified.
I grew up in this home where you either believed and thought and talked like the bully of the house wanted or you were nothing in their eyes. If you didn't do as they wanted, you were outcast. You were shunned. You were given the silent treatment.
There wasn't just one bully either. There were two. The second felt as if I was the physical punching bag he needed. He was bigger than me and weighed almost twice as much. I still remember his knees jumping up and down on my shoulder as he pinned me to the ground.
Both bullies molested me and raped me and made me hate myself. It was the house I grew up in. I despise bullies. I despise child molesters and rapists.
The bullies used their church and the bible and their God to torment me, and keep me in line. It kept me silent. They used the teachings of Jesus to proclaim to me that they did these things to show God's love to me. They were bullies.
They brainwashed me to think that everyone else was wrong and should be despised and talked about and shunned. I grew up learning this and seeing it in action, even as they took time out to pray to God, read their bibles and preach love.
It is easy to say not all people are like that, but when you've been through what I have, you see that those words fall short. For you see what truly lies in a person's actions and words. You see evidence of it every day with grandstanding, but no matter what, the bullies are still alive and kicking.
I grew up in a house where I didn't know who I was and love was something that was proclaimed, but I knew very little about it from the example I was shown. You wouldn't have been able to convince the bullies of this. For they thought they were self-righteous and honorable and the best loving human of all times. They were the greatest in their own eyes and they made sure everyone knew it.
Little do they realize as they continue to practice their hatred of those who don't bow down and worship at their feet, that I no longer participate in their bullying practices. I no longer wish to allow them to rule over me.
Yes, it means that I no longer live in that house or talk with the bullies. It means that I am blazing my own path. Yet, I see time and time again, evidence throughout our land that the bullies I grew up with are present everywhere I go.
It takes more than words and actions. That's all a bully has to defy human existence and love. A bully will convince you they are not a bully, but if you believe that, you will sacrifice your own soul in the quest for life and for your soul's existence.
When we were kids, we had this beds that had oak slats in them. Sometimes we would jump up and down on the springs and of course, every now and then the oak slat would break. Generally when that happened, my dad would scream and get angry. But hey, that was nothing new.
Of course, he then figured out that the board made a nice punishment tool. In fact it was more effective than the belt he would normally use. It didn't give in flexibility like a belt and it inflicted more pain upon us kids.
I used to hate the thing almost as much as I hated my father. He didn't just punish us, he beat us. Often it was for some small thing that just set him off wrong. It didn't take much to find yourself on the wrong end of his anger.
The board was too convenient
Throughout the years, my brothers and I dealt with that stupid board. I tried hard to be as perfect as I could be for we were not only taught that Jesus wanted you to be perfect, but any little infraction would bring punishment with great pain by my dad. The board was just too convenient for him to use on us.
Since we moved around a lot, it was not uncommon to forget something. Most of the homes we lived in were rentals and there was always left over junk from before we got there and long after we left.
In addition, my dad loved to collect lumber. If he went by a railroad car with old lumber in it, he would go to great lengths to ask the right person if he could have it. Then, we would go and pull all of this lumber out and drag it home. Next, my brothers and I would have to pull each and every bent nail out of the boards. We spent hours doing this every day when we got home from school. Of course, my father never helped except to chastise us if we broke a nail off in the board or we weren't doing it fast enough or correct enough. I hated this lumber. I loathed him collecting it and most of the time it never got used for anything.
I was so tired of being beat with that board...
On one such move, I got smart and didn't tell my brothers or anyone the plan I had in my mind. I was so tired of being beat with that board, that I decided to hide it. The big stack of wood that he had collected was not going to go with us to our new home. It was too far of a drive and not enough space in the moving truck for it, so my father donated it to some friend in church.
Without anyone looking, I quickly took the board and ran to the wood pile and hid it so it wouldn't be found. I made sure no one saw me and if anyone walked around the lumber, it would not be seen. It was just before we were ready to get in the moving truck and leave.
Where did the punishment board go?
When we got to the new place, my dad was perplexed at where this board had gone. He surmised it must have been misplaced in the move or left behind, but he didn't know where it had gone. Finally, little bit of a reprieve, but not by much because he still had his belt and his hand and his tools to punish us with. He could still kick us too.
It was not until years later that I told the family what I had done with it. They didn't suspect it out of me because I was always the one that tried to behave and do the right thing. When I told them, I knew I was safe and while everyone laughed, I am sure my father probably wanted to beat the daylights out of me at that point. I won that battle. It was about the only battle with him I won.
I'll never forget that oak slat board he used for punishment. I so badly wanted to use it on him and believe me, if I still had it, I probably would. The pain we endured from those years has never left me. It remains a constant reminder to me.
I'm just glad I was smart enough to go and hide the thing and not tell a soul. I doubt I could have trusted anyone in the family to keep the secret which would have been a horror for me.
