Secrets & the Unknown

It's really hard for me to deal with secrets and the unknown.  I remember the obvious abuse that happened to me at the hands of my stepmonster, but there are times I feel I may not remember everything about that.  I get worn down by secrets and not knowing what really happened to me growing up - the full picture.  Some tell me to let it go, but I can't.  I know it wasn't a great childhood, in fact, many would say horrific, but I still don't have the full picture of what happened to me.  I want to know and feel I have a right.  I'm not angry at them, I just want honesty, and I want answers. 

I keep finding out little things about my childhood that I've never known.  When I actually gain information from family members, my reaction is one of shock and relief.  Things make a little more sense, but then I go back to shock again.  How I was treated as a child is deplorable, but here I am in one piece - shockingly doing okay in my life.  Who was that little girl and what happened to her?  I struggle for answers.  Not many family members are willing to talk about it.  They tell me that's all water under the bridge - well, it's water under my bridge and I don't know anything.  Tired of people protecting me for what they think is for "my good."

I recently found out from my father that my mom used to give me vodka when I was a baby because she thought it was funny.  When I was 2, my dad came home after work one day and he said I was a limp noodle or a wet rag.  He was so upset that he wanted to take me to the hospital.  My mother said I'd be fine and that she'd only given me vodka - she thought it was funny.  He insisted and I was looked over by a doctor.  The doctor could smell the alcohol on my breath.  My dad said that I was taken away from both of them for a bit and lived with my aunt.  I remember living with my aunt, but didn't ever know why.  This explains it.  I would live with family off and off in my life because my mom would drink herself to death and end up in the hospital numerous times. 

I remember a few years ago my aunt telling me a few stories over tea about when I was really little.  She seemed very uneasy talking to me about it because she didn't want to betray my mother, said that those stories were for another time.  She did say that when I had come to her house to stay as a little girl, I was just skin and bones - as though I'd not been fed or taken care of.  This is upsetting, but why would my mother do this?  My mom used to tell me I used to be her "torture doll" and that she was mean to me.  She was surprised (and relieved) I didn't remember.  

I'm on a mission to fill in the pieces of my childhood, and to learn more about what happened to the little girl I was.  From what I've experienced and remember as a little girl, and from what other family members tell me, it's a miracle that I am the woman I am today.  I never once gave up, I never tanked my life and I rose above the statistic of what I "could" have been.  Other survivors who are walking this path CAN do the same...

Abuse - EVEN in Your Neighborhood

There was an older lady that thanked me for sharing my painful story with them at a regional Kiwanis meeting I did a presentation for this evening.  She recently became aware of the prevalence of child abuse.  I will never forget what she told me so I’m passing this along...

She said that there was a group that came to speak about child abuse at another function she was at. The speaker had challenged all of them to step outside their house and to stand in the middle of their street – turn a circle and look as far as her eye could see down her own street in either direction – statistically, at least 2 children were being abused in her neighborhood. She did in fact do what the speaker had suggested, but still could not believe that a child on “her” street in her “good” neighborhood would be suffering abuse. She told her husband that she just couldn’t believe this to be true. A few weeks later, she saw police cars at a house diagonal from her’s. A boy had been sexually abused for years by his father. She felt great guilt and pain for this little boy. It wasn’t until that moment that it hit so “close to home” she believed. 

Friends, this is real and there is STILL a problem. Be aware… If you suspect child abuse, please report it to your local authorities. 

Fighting for Hope

In this picture, you see a 9 year old little girl.  What you don’t see is that by this point in her life, she had been sexually and physically abused by her stepfather for over five years (and will endure another 7).  She didn’t know any other kind of life.  The only safe place for her to think and reflect was on the roof of her home.
 

But she never, ever gave up on herself—or on life.  She had amazing fortitude.  I know this because I am the little girl on the roof in this picture.

This photo, as you can imagine, is hard for me to look at.  I just want to grab her (my child self), hug her tight, and tell her she will be okay.  Tell her that she will rise above the ugliness that she is going through—that the woman she will become will be a fierce advocate for children who are survivors of abuse.

Unfortunately, this topic is hard for people to wrap their minds around. It makes them feel squeamish when it’s brought up.  But this is real, and it’s happening to children at an alarming rate.  It’s heartbreaking. 
 

Our mission at Sparks of Hope is to help these hurting children see a brighter future filled with joy.  Simply, a life of hope.
 

~ Lee Ann Mead