Dismissed By A Child Molester

Written By Don Shetterly

Years ago when I was going through some of the roughest healings, I decided to call my dad late one night.  I planned on confronting him about what he did to me.  It took a great deal of courage for me to get to this point.  Having friends close by helped so much.

It isn't easy for me to talk about this to this very day.  I get scared that if I speak out, bad things are going to happen to me.  After all, I was threatened that if I didn't shut up, that they would come after me.  My older brother left that clear message for me at my job.  So this is not a made up fear.  It is real.

At the time anger fueled my reasoning for calling my father.  I was dealing with very rough moments in life as a result of what I had experienced.  It took the anger to confront him because I was so frightened then.

Actually, I'm frightened now with speaking out publicly more, but I know I must.  There are far too many that endure molestation and child abuse.  I am honestly at a point where if they want to come after me, I'll expose every last bit of what they did to me in a public way that will make them regret their threats and actions against me.  I'm tired of hiding it because of what they might do to me.

When I called him up that night, my mom picked up the phone.  Yes, it was late in the middle of the night, but I wanted him on the phone, not her.  So I hung up and called back.  I have my issues with what my mom knew or didn't know, but I wanted him to be the one hearing what I said.

When I got him on the phone, I laid into him.  I didn't let up, and I didn't let him talk.  There was no way I was holding back, and so my anger and pain came out in full force.  I only got about a minute, or so I think of saying what I wanted to say before he hung up on me.

Just before he hung up on me, he said, "GROW UP Donald!"  That was the name he used when he was angry at me.  My final words to him were "GO TO HELL!"

I have never spoken to him since, and I have no intention of doing so.  He made his bed, and now he gets to lie in it.  I have no desire to communicate with him because there is no apology from him.  He doesn't think he did anything wrong.  Molestation was normal to him it seems.  I know it is up to me to continue moving forward and letting go of what he did.

In the news are stories of someone being molested by a prominent figure and they are getting the same treatment.  They are being dismissed by a child molester (or should I say, alleged child molester).  It triggers me back to the memories of what I went through.

Will my Dad and brother ever admit to molesting me?  I doubt it.  They've already convinced family friends that I was brainwashed by Psychiatrists and that I'm crazy.  I was the one that was wrong in their eyes for daring to speak up and expose the secrets.

You see, child molesters stop at nothing to convince the world that they are great humans.  They have no problem with blaming the victim.  They don't care that the child was helpless when they abused and molested them.  It is all about convincing the world that they didn't do anything wrong.

In my case, I'm sure if anyone confronted them, they would also say that "God has forgiven them."  Unfortunately, to me, that does not mean that you act as if nothing ever happened.  That is being a coward in my view.  Either you own up to what you did or don't tell me you've been forgiven.

Just a note here that in my house, forgiveness talk is not as it seems.  It means, forget it and act as if we didn't do anything to you. I heard this line about forgiveness so many times.  It usually was right after they did what they did to me.  I even heard it after my dad would beat my mom.  Thus, forgiveness talk to me is cheap and shallow.

Being dismissed by a child molester is what these people do.  They cannot allow themselves to be exposed to their secrets and lies and abuse.  They blame the victim.

To people that defend what child molesters do, you are not human in my eyes.  You are part of the problem that allows child abuse to continue.  Either you stand up for the rights of all humans, or you need to go find the door to your cave and crawl back inside.

Dismissed by a child molester just seems normal to me.  I almost expect nothing but the blame they put on their victims.  When I see news reports about others, and I hear the perverts attack the victims, my anger boils.  Child molesters don't have any business being on this earth.  When you harm the life of an innocent child, you give up all rights to be human in my view.

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Blog Post And Images (c) 11/30/17 by Don Shetterly

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Bully In The House

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.

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Blog Post And Images (c) 2016 by Don Shetterly

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The Abuse Seemed Normal To Me

Isn't it obvious?  Can't you see it?  I mean, everyone else can!  What am I talking about?  It is about how we often don't see the abuse that is happening before our very eyes.  We don't fully see all that we've gone through.

Usually this is for a good reason because if the mind had to confront everything that was happening while it was happening, it would short circuit and not be able to handle it all.  For an adult, it is hard enough, but for a young child, the mind really gets challenged when it is being abused.

A child is born into this world looking up to their parents and family for sustenance, love, support, encouragement and safety.  When a child is abused, these things are tossed aside in the trash and the child is left to comprehend a world that goes against biology.

When a child goes through abuse, whether it is sexual abuse or physical and emotional abuse, often the kid has no idea that anything else exists outside of this behavior.  It becomes the norm in life.  It becomes the world that the child knows and so it almost looks normal.

There may be a part of the child which knows the abuse isn't normal, but the abuse is the only world they know.  With the family secrets and the shame and the pain, there is no way the child can discover a different world beyond what they see every day.  The biological body and mind knows no different and through these things, it is kept in the dark.

For a long time, I didn't realize that some of what I had been through was abuse.  I just thought everyone was forced to take baths with their older brothers and father, which resulted in constant sexual molestation.  I just thought that it was normal for all fathers to watch their children dress and undress even in their teenage years.  I just thought it was normal that if you didn't allow them to sexually abuse you, that God wouldn't love you and you would miss out on the affection shown to you by them.

There have been so many things that I thought were normal and now as I've been in a loving relationship with my husband, I've found out they were not normal.  When I have started to talk to others that have been through things and shared the details of behavior I went through, it is then that I realized, it was not normal behavior.  It was abuse.

Having a father demean you constantly and scream at you is not anything a child should ever have to endure.  Having to live in a world of chaos each and every day, tiptoeing around my father to see what might set him off in a fit of rage was a challenge.  The little things that could spark a violent tirade of abuse on myself or my mom and brothers was a random event that happened when you least expected it.  Usually there was no warning to what would make the bomb explode.

Being constantly told how worthless you were or stupid or how little common sense you had would rip any sense of self worth you had into shreds.  Those moments seemed normal to me and so I continued to live in a self-imposed world of perfection so I could try and find some value.  Plus, I didn't want to upset God because bad stuff would happen to me then.

Every bit of my life was controlled and manipulated and the minute you thought you had it figured out, the rules changes.  The behaviors changed.  The corresponding actions and results changed.  There was no guessing what would happen or when it would happen.  This was the world I grew up in.  It was all I thought existed.

One of the things that I see others struggle with just like myself in healing is that you have to come to terms with what was normal or not in your childhood.  To come to terms though, means you have to touch the pain and horror of those moments where it was not normal.  It is never easy to touch the pain and sorrow you have experience in life.  It takes courage and often a helping hand to walk with you through those fires.

For me, I had to walk away from my family in order to find myself and my life.  I had to say enough was enough and I will be the first to tell you that this was as difficult as it gets.  There is nothing that can replace the biological connection of a mother, father or family unit.  Yes, you learn to live and go on, but that biological cellular connection is always there.

We all learn from the behavior we witness and endure.  We all function in life based upon what was done to us and what we witnessed.  Healing is about learning which parts of our life no longer serve us now, even if they helped us survive those horrible moments.  Healing is about understanding that things were not normal, even if it is the only world we knew.

It is about learning to piece our lives together and helping teach ourselves all that we need in life.  Yes, we got short changed as kids, but now through healing, we can begin to create the life we want with the people in it that we want.

It is like the storybook of our lives where you can choose to put in each day's chapter that which you want and need and desire.  If it doesn't work out the way you want it to, you're always free to create something different tomorrow.

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Blog Post And Images (c) 2016 by Don Shetterly

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Wondering What My Mom Knew About The Abusers

I always wondered just how much my mom knew about what my dad was doing to us.  How he was abusing and raping and molesting us.  I know, its the family secrets I'm not supposed to talk about in life.  You know what though?  I think its time I say to "hell" with keeping my mouth shut.

There was so much going on and so much I faced growing up.  You can read more about that in my book, Hope And Possibility Through Trauma.  While it doesn't share all the details, you will get a better understanding of what transpired.

The nagging question always stuck in the back of my mind was how much did my Mom know.  She is dead from being the passenger of a car accident where my dad was driving.  So, there's no way to ask her now and get a real life answer.

Reading through some old letters as I prepare to write my next book, I could see some little indications that either she was so oblivious to what her husband was doing to his children or she just didn't want to know.  I still can't remember the time she didn't put two and two together when she walked in on a molesting session of my older brother.  Yet, another time I was forced to masturbate him.

It's sickening to say the least.  I've done a lot of extensive healing and work on it, but there are still many miles to go.  My family thinks I'm the one that went nuts.  My older brother is some "holier-than-thou" religious person that seems to hate everyone that disagrees with him.  I believe my Dad is in his last days of sickness in this world.  My younger brother is there, but has too much anger built up for me to connect with him.

The rest of the family just keeps their distance. I no longer have contact with friends of the family and the ones that are even remotely connected, seem to keep their distance from me and the subject.

When you're a victim of child abuse, you not only suffer as you are going through it, but you suffer as you're trying to heal from it and put your life back together.  You live with it every day of your life and although you work to heal and put it behind you, its there nagging and gnawing at the very essence of your life.

I'll never get the answer of what my mom knew and if she did, why she didn't flee the mother-F'r!  Yes, I know the monster beat the living crap out of her and she was afraid of him.  She didn't believe in herself enough to protect her own children.

What my mom knew will remain a mystery.  I guess if I realized she did know, then my curiosity would evolve to asking questions like, why didn't she save us?

The one thing I've learned in the healing journey of child abuse is there are never answers that make sense and add up.  There are never logical explanations to what happened.  There are never the answers that you can obtain and if you do, there is no easy way to deal with them.

The letters I received treated me as if I was the one with the problem.  I was the one brainwashed and coached on how to blame my parents.  As my mom said in the one of the letters, "psychiatrists always look for someone for their patients to blame to make them feel better".  RIGHT!  In my case, that never happened.  It doesn't stop the family from blaming you though.

I'm rambling now it seems.  I'm just dealing with this deeper level of pain and hurt wrapped in a thick warm layer of anger.  To this day, I can't make sense out of it and I know that this is how it works.  I just have a hard time convincing myself that there is only so much I can do.

I'm writing to share the pain in hopes it helps someone else feel not so alone.  I'm writing to help soothe my pain and let my words form into a soothing balm.  I'm writing so my brain can attempt to make sense of that which is almost impossible to make sense out of in this mess.

There are always questions but never enough answers.  Its the family secrets that prevent those answers from seeing the light of day.

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Blog Post And Images (c) 2016 by Don Shetterly

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Until The Next Time

A long time ago in a fairy land of make believe, there was this big evil monster.  He would slither around looking for ways to do what he wanted and then when he was caught, he would act all innocent.  His common line that he loved to make was "I asked Jesus to forgive me and so should you".

You might be thinking, well if someone truly asked for forgiveness and you believe Jesus forgave them, then why should others not do the same.  You might also be saying, well if you can't forgive them, then it is you that has a problem, and not the person committing the wrong.

Your logic could be convincing, except - it is all too often used for cover over the wrongs inflicted upon others.

You see, I heard this one a million times.  I watched my Dad and brother go to church and pray away their sins.  They claimed (in a very convincing way) that they would never do what they just did.  They would claim the devil got the best of them and now they have once again turned their life around for God.  Everyone would shout AMEN and sing hymns of praise.

If Children Talk About Abuse

Children sense - even if they are not explicitly threatened - that if they talked about their beatings or molestation to teachers they would be punished.  Instead, they focus their energy on not thinking about what has happened and not feeling the residues of terror and panic in their bodies.  Because they cannot tolerate knowing what they have experienced, they also cannot understand that their anger, terror, or collapse has anything to do with that experience.  They don't talk; they act and deal with their feelings by being enraged, shut down, compliant, or defiant.

(Quoted from The Body Keeps The Score, Dr. Bessel Van der Kolk)

Child Abusers And Rapist Take Away Your Control

Child Abusers And Rapists
Take Away Your Control

I was watching an old episode of Doogie Howser, MD (Neil Patrick Harris) on the HUB channel. We like Doogie Howser! He's so cool. The episode of this show was on a topic where Doogie opened the door one evening at home and was met with someone pointing a gun at him. They were robbed, but not physically hurt. Of course, after this, they depict the fear of the trauma that Doogie went through.

As Doogie is considering buying a gun to protect himself, the shooting range owner says something to the effect of, what did the robbers take from you that really mattered. It wasn't the items in your house because they can be replaced. It wasn't your physical well being because you weren't shot. The thing they took was the control. They took away his control.

Think Happy Thoughts

When I was a kid, I learned how to "hide" the world of horror that I was living in from the outside world. No one saw the abuse, the molestation, the mind manipulation that was going on in the world I was living in. Most of the time, we didn't even see all of it in our own family even though it was going on right before our eyes. To the outside world, we were a family of kids that behaved and obeyed their parents. We appeared to others to be just like everyone else with their own set of daily problems but nothing out of the ordinary.

Each day, I would go to school, wearing one of the few pairs of clothes that I had to wear. I would sit there next to everyone after only being allowed to take one shower a week which of course fell on Saturday night right before Church on Sunday! Every day in school, as the afternoon wore on and I knew that I would be headed back home to my world of despair, the headaches would hit me with a vengeance. My mind would daydream of happier moments hoping that somehow I could take myself out of this horror that I lived in, if it were only in a dream.

I could describe the horrors I faced on a daily basis but I'll refrain because if you have read my book, "Hope And Possibility Through Trauma", you will know just what these horrors were all about. They were many and they continued most of my life while growing up. My world was not one of being happy.

However, if you would have met me during that time, you would not have known just how miserable I was in my life. You would have thought that I was a happy kid, always with a smile and not a care in the world. You would have thought that I had it all together and really had control of my life. That is the facade I showed to the world around me and all the people I interacted with. It was the happy face, full of happy smiles, happy thoughts and happy feelings that everyone saw. I could have been the poster boy for being happy.

Yet, inside I was anything but happy. My life was falling apart and crumbling but I dare did not show it to anyone. My body hurt from the abuse it suffered, my mind struggled to find reality and yet, to the outside world, I showed the happy face. I showed the happy face that everything was okay and my life was normal. However, deep inside, it was anything but normal.

Today, there are so many circumstances and situations that I see people putting that happy face on and acting as if everything is okay in life. What we portray to the outside world doesn't necessarily mean it is what is going on inside of us. Yes, I do understand that sometimes if you think happy thoughts, you can change your physiology and biology. However, if you don't act upon letting go of the sources of these things than the happy thoughts become an illusion.

What I have learned in life is to be more honest with myself and when I am happy, I radiate happiness. However, when I am feeling horrible on the inside, I need to be honest with myself and not hide from the emotional turmoil that may be going on in my life. In fact, I know that through some of the most difficult times in life when things seem to be very rough, it is then that I am experiencing some of the greatest growth of my moments.

While most of us want the rough moments to scoot on by, they are here for a reason and if we allow them to help us find that reason, than we will grow in tremendous leaps. It is fine to be happy when you are but just for the sake of trying to prove that you are happy when the opposite is true, it is taking us from truly discovering more about ourselves. It is much better to be authentic with your emotions and authentic with being happy. When we radiate from our true self, it is then that we find our true self.



Blog Post & Images (c) 2/1/11 Don Shetterly - use by permission only
http://www.donshetterly.com

Healing The Triggers of Life

Note: This story may be triggering to read but it does have a happy ending to it. So, if you choose to read it, please know that all of what transpired here led to a deeper healing and a greater awareness which I am thankful for. The following article is what I recorded from the Evolutionary Healing Seminar in Miami, FL. on November 21, 2010.

“I feel so disconnected from everything and like I don’t matter!”

“When will I ever get things figured out in life?”

“No matter what I do, it just seems like I never get anywhere”

“Yes, I know many good things have happened in life but I still struggle – when will this struggle let up – when will it end?”

Those were the words I spoke after leaving the first day of the seminar with Dr. Paul Canali of Evolutionary Healing. Little did I realize that a discussion earlier in the day would have such a profound impact upon me. Little did I realize that the discussion was already impacting my life and triggering me in ways that I was not aware of.

All I felt in those moments going home was sadness, despair and hopelessness. I knew it was wrong for me to feel this way, or that’s what I felt in that moment. I just couldn’t shake it. I just could not walk away from it.

Leaving the seminar, I was fighting the traffic and becoming infuriated at the idiot drivers on the way back to the hotel . How dare they cut me off? How dare they weave in around me? How dare they, I fumed.

After supper, we went on a wild goose chase trying to find a grocery store to no avail. I was feeling in my own world, all alone and as if no one really wanted me or loved me. I don’t care if God himself would have come and sat in the car at that moment, I would not have believed love existed.

As my GPS went off trying to direct me back to the hotel, it was taking me onto unfamiliar roads and I was agitated, scared and anxious. I fumed and cursed its directions, screaming at it to shut up because it did not know where it was going.

My night came to a close as I dropped into bed, exhausted from the day and hoping in some small way, I might be spared another day to live through this misery. I did not voice any of this as deep inside I felt it was my own pain to bear. After all, I felt no one cared or loved me, so why would I expect anyone to show me concern? It didn’t matter that there were people there for me that I really trusted and that I knew loved me. I could not see it in this moment. I could not feel that. Despair and hopelessness were the only love that I knew in that moment.

The next morning came too early and the sadness in life was engulfing me like a fog. I so badly wanted to cry. I so badly wanted everything to end. I so badly just wanted to say *F*U*C*K* It all and go back home. To go and hide felt like the only refuge I had in that single moment. Darkness was all I could see and all I could feel.

Forcing myself to head back to Miami for day two of the seminar, I finally admitted to Jeff in the car that I really just wanted to kill myself. I’m sure that wasn’t a comforting thought for him as a passenger but there was no way I was giving up control of the car. It was the only control I had in that moment. He responded “Oh Don” with a concern of compassion that was reassuring to me. However, I could barely feel it. He asked me if I wanted to talk about it but I said, I can’t. For I knew that if I was to talk about it, I would break down emotionally and not be able to function in the car. Again, I clung to the control of driving the car. It was my saving grace at that minute. The radio played. I hid in my silence and cursed the traffic.

Arriving at the seminar, I knew I needed to talk to Dr. Canali (Paul) but I was so afraid. How do you tell someone that they triggered you without them laughing at you, becoming violent towards you or doing much worse? It was hard to separate out the events even though my mind knew that Paul and the source of the trigger were two different people.

Walking through the door, I paused to see him talking to someone else. Damn it, I thought in my mind. I then saw him walk in the room and someone else cornered him. Damn it! I was becoming furious thinking that I was truly alone and I would never get to talk to him. I didn’t know if I would have the courage to say something as more time passed.

Oh well, I finally surmised, I’ll just sit here and act as if everything is okay. Surely I can do that much right, I thought. The noises going on around me and the conversations seemed so distant. I felt like everyone was avoiding me although I really wanted no one to talk to me. I wanted to sit by myself in my pain without anyone getting close. I felt the intense shame that I thought was the only way I could see this right now. How could I? How dare I? How could he?

How could he talk about that in a room full of people? How could he bring up a subject like this? After all, I care about Paul and I respect him but had this changed everything forever? Had he become someone different to me? I wanted to run out of the room but that would have been noticed. I wanted to hide, but where could I go – there were people everywhere?

I tried to breathe and calm myself but the war of the ocean waves were churning inside of me. I fought back the fears, I felt the pain and I felt the anger. I was so angry at him for what he did. I was so angry at what I went through. I was so angry at what Paul said. It all seemed like it was Paul’s fault and I had no idea just what was playing out in the corners of my mind.

I could take no more of it as the lecture started. I could not look him in the eye. I didn’t want to be there in that room with him or anyone. But I had to hide this. I could not let anyone see this pain I was holding. I could not let anyone know of this shame I was hiding. I could not expose myself in this way.

As the anger surfaced, I knew I had to say something but I was so afraid. How would he react? What would he say? Would he get defensive and tell me to leave? Would he tell me that he never wanted to see me again? God knows, that was the punishment for speaking out. Would he just discount all that I was feeling? I didn’t know what would happen but my only choices were to have an emotional breakdown right there in front of everyone or talk to him. There was no way I was going to break down in front of everyone and be vulnerable. No way, no how!

The moment came and I quickly ran up to Paul and said, I needed to talk to him. What was I doing, I thought. Why are you saying this? Don’t you know what can happen when someone speaks up? How dare I be so stupid? No, I thought – I’ve got to say something. The other option of breaking down isn’t one I want to allow either. The war raged within my mind.

I heard myself get the words out, “What you said triggered me yesterday.” And at that moment, I began to cry. The tears started coming from my eyes. I couldn’t stop them. I didn’t want to seem weak. I told Paul that I really didn’t want to come back and I didn’t want to keep going in life. And then I waited for an eternity for what his reaction might be. Was this the end? Would he hate me? Regardless of all the experiences I’ve been through with Paul, I still could not allow myself to trust anyone. I was in so much pain, that I could not see through reality. I was walking in illusion but the illusion was just as real as the pain I was feeling. There was no separation.

Paul said in a surprised way – really, tell me about it. I was so shocked. What, he wasn’t going to hit me or tell me to leave or ridicule me or tell me how bad I was? He was going to listen? Wait, really? This is possible? No, it can’t be! My mind raced with thoughts.

He had me sit down next to him and asked me to share what had gone on. I struggled to get the words out because each one was like a knife being stabbed into my gut. I really could not even completely remember what all had been said yesterday, but knew it was something about how the autonomic system plays a role in sex, and that was being used as an example of how the parasympathetic and sympathetic nervous systems react with each other. Outside of that, I could not remember much more.

Of course, when I was in junior high, my dad was fixated on the topic of masturbation with me. He constantly wanted to know how much I did this, how often, the way I did this and every detail that one could tell. It was like he would get so excited sexually about this.

Wait, there he goes. Oh no, he’s doing it again. Why did I tell him? Why couldn’t I have just stayed silent? Why didn’t I lie about it and not give him what he wanted? I forced this to start. I caused this to happen. There he goes.. No I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to see.. oh my god, I hate what I’m feeling, what I’m doing. I hate how it feels in my mouth. I want it to stop. I want to run. Why are my pants down? What if someone finds us? I can’t deal with this. Look at the sky. See the birds. Wow, there are some pretty clouds today. The barn sure needs paint. I think I hear the sheep.

My little young mind just couldn’t process what happened. It happened with such a frequency that it felt more normal than breathing. It was hard to understand why I was not smart enough to stop this from happening. If only I would not have said anything. If only I would not have allowed him to get me alone.

Of course, all these details did not come out when I was talking to Paul. They didn’t need to. It was too painful to speak anyway and the main points were enough. I could hardly keep my composure. I really didn’t want everyone to see the pain I was in.

And so as Paul was talking, which I can hardly remember right now because my mind was lost in another world, I began to struggle with the constant tears. How could I sit there and deal with this pain? Then Paul knew I was struggling, and what I had shared with him became a perfect teaching tool for those in the room, and also for me to help me release some of the pain I was feeling and the energy of the pain.

He asked me to share with the room what had transpired. I’m thinking – there’s no way I can do this? After all, this was so hard for me, and sharing it with everyone would only be much more difficult. But I know that Paul and I have talked that the more you let this out, the more you reclaim your life. Why me? Why did I have to endure these things?

As I began to tell the story behind it, I only got a few words out and the tears started to flow like a water fall. I remember Paul just supporting me and holding on to me to let me know that I’m okay and that he cared about me. I remember seeing the faces in shock of what I was saying. In all reality, I thought everyone had felt the words of the day before were a trigger, just like me, but seeing the faces in the crowd, I knew that it was not the same. I’ll never forget the image of those faces being able to see the situation much differently than my mind was living it, and the support coming from each person.

The story doesn’t end here, of course, and it has a happy ending to it. Just like the angel card I pulled that morning which stated, “support – the angels are here with you and supporting you”, I was finding that I truly had the support of not only the angels but those around me.

When we broke for lunch, my stomach was in knots and I could not eat anything, so I just tried to find a sense of peace in the sun, clouds and trees as the wind blew against my skin.

After lunch, I finally got a chance to get on the table with Paul working on me. I wasn’t so sure about all these people around me but I felt safe with Paul. At first, I struggled to allow him to touch me. My body was reacting to the complete fear that I was feeling inside of me. Touch was not real safe, and if it would not have been for Paul asking me permission to touch, I would not have found that safety in that moment that I so badly needed.

At first, I could barely feel much in my body and then as we started pushing through things, my legs felt frozen and numb. They wanted to run but they couldn’t – just like any one of those days a long time ago. My body braced for all it would endure as the pains came up through my back. The muscles in my low back were so tight, just as if they were shielding me from the blows that my body would experience. And my arms had so much vengeance in them, as they wanted to strike out in anger but were never allowed to do.

As we went further into the session on the table, I could feel my body beginning to trust more and letting go more. The reactions seemed smaller than I feared they would be, and when things got too overwhelming, Paul brought me back to the safety of the place between my eyes or the music in the room. At one point, I remember him connecting me to someone else in the room who was crying, which of course connected strongly within me.

My body began to drop down as it dissipated all this energy that was coming up like a volcano from deep within me. I began to feel stronger that I could go into these things and reclaim them. I began to feel more connected to my body and all the energy and senses that I was once again realizing.

It was at that moment that I sensed all those supportive angels hovering around me and protecting me, giving me the strength to go through this. I heard them tell me that I was not alone and they were here for me. Paul had someone come over and be with me. The minute they touched me, I felt this intense sense of warmth coming from their hands. It was a beautiful moment and I felt so loved, so honored and respected.

I did not go to the seminar expecting this to happen, and I was so shocked by the events. I am so grateful for the support of so many and especially Paul for being there. The pure love that he shows to me is something that I was not shown all my life. Love was misused against me and twisted for these people to do sick and perverted acts upon me.

But I also realized that the trigger wasn’t as bad as it seemed to be. I realized that I could use the power of it to transform this part of me and reclaim the power that is a part of me. When I walked in the room that morning, life felt hopeless and I wanted to kill myself. When I left that afternoon, I had indeed killed the part of myself that I no longer needed. In doing this, I gave birth to a freedom and a new energy in my life of love, compassion and healing. I will always remember this day. It was my teacher and it taught me some very valuable truths.

And I know feeling the pains, the hurts, the anger, and all the other stuff I go through is the transforming fire that takes me through the healing and into a greater awareness.

(c) 11/22/10 by Don Shetterly - use by permission only.

Validation Of Child Abuse

I was reading about some of this stuff from the minister dude in Atlanta, Georgia (Pastor & Bishop Eddie Long) that is accused of molesting some boys. That in itself makes me want to puke. However, that's not why i'm writing here.

Many of the things that I've been through, sometimes it seems like no one else has ever gone through it, or I just don't often hear about it. And so at times, I fall back into the old tapes that I'm crazy, I've been brainwashed, etc. These are all the things that my family said to me.

There was one part in some of what I read on this current news story about the New Birth Missionary Baptist Church story where the one boy stated (and I'm paraphrasing), "it started out with a neck massage and then led to further things." When I read that, it hit me so hard. It was like the story of someone I never met was validating what I already know has happened to me.

My father used to always have neck, head and back pain. He knew that I had a touch that could do a little back rub on him and he would feel better. I was only a young teenager at the time much like these boys were in this church. The only thing is, that the massages often led to him pulling his pants down and then off into the land of sexual abuse. Writing about this still almost makes me want to go puke right now. And I've moved way beyond so much of this but it still hits me deep.

Its one of the reasons I think that I still struggle to do massage (I am a licensed massage therapist) which I enjoy doing and so many tell me I'm very talented with. I know my touch isn't like many other massage therapists because I sense, feel and pick up things that most don't. Yet, I'm still triggered back to those days of a massage where the the message is so mixed and confused in my mind at times. It is like trying to split the good part of massage from the bad part of massage where my dad molested me. It is like dividing water or so it seems.

But hearing this in the news is tough. I feel for these boys. Like these boys, I too, went through all the justifications of the abuse because of some scripture or interpretation of this being what God wanted my father to do. I ache for these young guys because I know first hand how freaking hard it is to deal with this. The anger within me rises!

While it is rough, I know this is just an opportunity for me to heal further and go deeper into reclaiming all of these things. After all these years of work, it sometimes gets tough. It feels extremely tough and difficult right now but I know I can make it through this - I've already survived much worse!

(Above Picture taken at Fort Lauderdale, FL - (c) 02/15/01)

*Read other articles on Mind Body Thoughts Blog

The Audacity

While this blog is about much more than child molestation, it is very hard for me to sit by and not say something. I was abused by two people in my life, who to this day have never acknowledged it and in fact have done almost everything in their power to silence me. I'm still standing! They have not silenced me and they will never silence me.

When I just read the story of the Catholic Bishop in Connecticut on CNN.com, I became furious with the Catholic organization. The Bishop is quoted in a letter to parishioners stating the following:

The "legislation would undermine the mission of the Catholic Church in Connecticut, threatening our parishes, our schools, and our Catholic Charities," the letter says.

So let me ask anyone who is reading this: Is the church not there to bring love, peace and goodwill to all men? Are they not there to protect our children, as Jesus stated in the bible? Are these Church officials nothing more than a bunch of crime thugs trying to skirt the laws and protections of our land at our expense?

You may say I'm being too harsh and this has no place on this blog, but I know a countless number of survivors who it does matter to, and who have had to deal with a nightmare all their life. It has kept far too many from finding joy and peace in their lives, because of the living hell they go through on a daily basis. It has claimed the lives of too many because they were too afraid to fight and to stand up and break the silence. That is why I'm angry. That is why I'm furious with the Catholic Church.

Yes, I know it doesn't stop with the Catholic Church. There are other religious organizations just as bad, but so far, they've gotten away with what they have done. In time, it will come out. And anyone who supports the atrocities taking place in the Catholic church is beyond my comprehension. I understand you have your faith and your commitment. I respect that. However, if money is continued to be given to these organizations that support child abuse, then is it just the leadership of the church that is guilty?

I'm really bewildered that a Bishop would put out such a letter and I can only hope that the legislators in Connecticut do the right thing and stand up for what they believe. If there ever is a time for people to stand up and be accounted for, this is it. I hope that all people in Connecticut contact their legislators, and beg them to support the legislation. The victims of child abuse need this and deserve this. There have been far too many wounds inflicted upon the human mind, body, spirit, and our society to let this be swept under the rug again.

This is why I continue to speak out. This is why I stand up with others who have been abused to break the silence. It is hard enough for victims of child abuse to learn how to function on a daily basis, and the last thing they need is for the church to have their way in silencing them. It is a sad testament to this religious organization, and it must stop.


*For more articles, check out the Mind Body Thoughts Blog

SHOW ME YOUR FACE!

(c) 5/6/99 Don Shetterly




Where are you, I’m asking?
Why do you hide, your face tonight?
I know you are there
For I feel your surprise
But why, tell me why
Do you hide your face tonight?

I feel so all alone
The pain it comes and goes
Always asking why
Because you are hiding tonight?
Your shadow lurks in the quiet peaceful time
But why do you hide your face tonight?

The pain within me grows
The thoughts have grown so cold
I don’t know where to turn,
Nor do I see your face to burn!
Your presence consumes me
But why do you hide your face tonight?

I can strike the keys
I can raise the band
I can lift the sky
But you still hide from me tonight!
What will it take, how much must I face?
Before you show your face tonight?

Wake up you dreadful thing
I no longer wish you to be my king!
You haunt me all night long
And rob me of my most precious time.
Why can’t you leave?
Why can’t you find another home?

I have struggled for years to reclaim my life
I have fought the good fight
But now I am to tired and weary to fight
Please, I beg you leave me alone
Let me live in peace
And show me your face tonight!


Note: The Image was designed by Tami Donnelly - copyright 5/6/99. All Rights Reserved.

A Word About This Poem:
I first displayed this poem at a Voices (Victims Of Incest Can Emerge Survivors) Conference. The artwork was done by an office colleague of mine and was perfect for the poem. Much has moved forward in my own healing but I still am sometimes (like the current moment) faced with these very same issues. When I wrote this, I was struggling with sleep problems because of the nightmares never allowing my eyes to close. At this moment, I am facing the very same thing. May this poem bring some comfort to you that you are not alone. Others have walked through these very difficult waters.

The Secrets We Hold

Lately I've thought about all the secrets we hold as humans and they are many. Often times, we do not even own up to the ones that we hold so closely. Yet, they are numerous. Many justify these subconsciously in our minds every day and reinforce them through behaviors, beliefs, rituals and routines. The secrets can range from the more subtle to the extreme, from the almost innocent in appearance to the ones that would make a sensational news story on the nightly news.

In my own life, I've been told some whoppers! The secrets that have been carried down were once referred to me as "skeletons in a closet". I was told that often it is best to leave the skeletons alone because everyone has them. But is it really best to leave the skeletons alone in our closets? Who does that protect or benefit or hurt?

While everyone could make a strong compelling argument that holding on to these secrets is a way of protecting various people in our lives, the same case could be made that these same secrets hurt many more than they protect. We don't often think of that or of the people it may hurt when the secrets are formed. We don't often think of the future ramifications and the distortion of events that will occur with years of continued secrecy. It is as if, we are only trying to protect ourselves or someone close to us at the expense of others around us.

In my life, I have spent many years trying to uncover the hidden secrets in my life and of those around me. I have attempted to remain as an open book as much as I can and yet, I'm sure if I think about it, I have secrets that I have formed. And now, as I try to heal the intricate pieces of my life, there are many that are missing because they are locked up as secrets. Some of the secrets have gone to a grave and some will just never be told.

I can just hear the chatter going on in minds at this moment including, you should just move on, you should just let it go, you should not live in the past and so on and so forth. Those are wonderful statements for people who want to sweep the floor and push the dirt under the rug. However, I am one that would rather sweep the dirt out the front door, just not under the rug.

If you think secrets aren't as bad as I'm suggesting they are, than consider this.

Remember back when the Catholic Priests were being accused of child molestation? Each individual child thought it was just them and them alone. They did not realize anyone else had ever been molested by this person (generally speaking). So if they were ever to tell, in their minds they would question if anyone would ever believe them. However, when they began to expose the secrets, others realized they weren't the only ones and they began to tell their secrets. When the secrets were exposed in unison, it gave validity to what was actually going on. Otherwise, it would have continued to be covered up and allowed to continue.

For me, I was told when my grandmother passed away and I was just a wee little child, she was walking home from the neighbors house across the street and she slipped and died. To a little kid, that may make sense and a child may not be able to reason that this sounds ludicrous. And maybe this was part of the story but when you begin to lay in other facts around that event, you can see that there is probably more to the story. My grandfather was a proud member of the Masons who was an alcoholic. I remember my mom telling me stories of how he would spend more time with his Mason brothers getting drunk and drinking away what little money they had. I also learned that he was a mean drunk where he would hit and abuse his wife and my mom. This continued I believe until the day my grandmother died. Right after her death, my grandfather had an auction to sell off everything he owned and I mean everything. He then took the money and checked himself into a nursing home. Keep in mind, there was nothing wrong with him physically that he needed round the clock care. So he checked himself into the nursing home and laid in a bed hardly ever leaving his room for the remaining 10 years of his life. One could say he didn't take her death well and that could be but when you saw how the family behaved and that no one except my mom went to visit him, than you had to question a lot of things. Even the day he died, there barely was a funeral with anyone present. Again, the secret of how my grandmother died will never be proven for sure but I highly doubt she died because she fell while walking across the street.

Take another example with my older brother. On the night of my highschool prom, my parents received a call and had to travel 90 miles to Des Moines because my brother had just been accused of molesting two little boys that he was babysitting in the family that was giving him a home. I believe the family was either from the same church he went to or the Faith Baptist Bible college in Ankeny, Iowa he was attending. I have no idea what transpired because I was not there but I know that somehow the charges were dropped. Those two little boys had to grow up with the after shocks of what he did to them for the rest of their life while my older brother went free. Of course, if I would have been strong enough to stand up and tell someone, maybe I could have prevented others from being hurt. But it was my secret and the secret was not only belonged to my older brother but to my father as well. And one has to ponder just how many more there are out there that were affected by this secret.

For a long time, I began to go to therapy but I kept it a secret from everyone around me. Those at work were told I had something personal to do and I would try to schedule therapy appointments late in the day. My fear was that if everyone knew, they would think I was crazy and would think there was something wrong with me. It was shame, guilt and a poor self esteem that kept me from talking. It was more though because I had been conditioned to believe that if I exposed the secret, that my life would be in danger as had been proven on many occasions as a kid. As I got closer and closer to talking about some things, my secret came out in full force because even though no one in my family knew where I lived or that I was even seeing a therapist, I was so afraid to talk. I was afraid of the secrets I held. I was afraid of the power the secrets held.

I could go on and on with stories of many secrets. They are so numerous and are bountiful beyond comprehension to most people. As I try to piece things together in my life, to fill in the gaps that the years portray, I am met constantly with many secrets. For me, it is more than just needing to move on and to get over it. For me, so much of my past seems so disjointed. I have many questions as to where I come from, where I lived, how different memories even fit together and those things act as volcanoes in my mind, going off when I least expect them. It is about piecing my life back together where I have very little connected contact to it. Most people are able to talk to friends, family and relatives and reflects upon points in their life. For me, this is virtually non existent. For a long time, I wondered if I was adopted because all I know is the town I was born in and where I am at now in life. The things in between seem to have never existed. They were covered up by the secrets.

Most of my secrets were pretty dramatic but even the less dramatic secrets have an energy all to their own that robs us as being human. They make us less than human because shame, guilt, fear among other things, place a blanket over them. They hide them from our view. They alter us from reality. These secrets continue to not only consume us but perpetuate themselves so that they consume others in our path. Secrets not only affect us but they also impact so many others that we know intimately or we casually meet in our lives.

The purpose for writing all of this is that I hope each person reading it will stop and consider the secrets they hold in their own lives. What ones have you created? What ones were created and forced upon you? What ones do you know about and feel you are the only one?

I hope that you will ask yourselves these hard questions because the more light that can be placed on the secrets to expose them, the more freedom we will have as individuals and as a collective universe. In order to be truly human, secrets can not take up residence in our lives for they are an organism of poison feeding on our mind, body and spirit. May they be found out and may they be exorcised from all that we are. Let the secrets wither and die in the light of truth and knowledge.