Lost in Translation…

What is it about Oprah’s many segments on child abuse or a news story’s flash of a child’s picture with a description of a previously known sexual offender that makes most people teary eyed and totally sympathetic but makes more personal stories much less worthy of the same attention?

This is not a long post but more of an honest interest in the answer.  I find that people identify with strangers more than they allow themselves to sympathize with those they know and care about.  If anything, shouldn’t the hurt of another realize the pain of a friend, relative, romantic interest etc?

Help me figure this out…

“It makes ME uncomfortable…”

I asked one of my friends to give me some constructive feedback on my blog.  After talking to her, she said something that though it made perfect sense to me I found it to be really interesting.  She told me I needed to make my blog a bit more accessible so that more people would respond and share.  She felt some barrier while reading the posts; like the “general audience” (those who haven’t been abused) wouldn’t connect as easily partially because my posts are…about me.

When I decided to blog, my goal was to share and encourage. Thinking that my postings would create a space for people to learn, be aware, pass it on, for survivors to find comfort and for EVERYONE to participate.  I do want to use various mediums (videos, articles, stories,etc) in order to have a well-rounded experience for my viewers but I also think that approach is easy.  Any ‘ol body can talk about incestuous child abuse/child sexual abuse but there’s something especially rich about getting the story, the “underbody” from a real live survivor.  My attempt here is to share life through the lens of  someone who has lived it.  My life is just a springboard for a universal issue.

To be honest, making folks uncomfortable doesn’t bother me.  Child abuse should make more people uncomfortable.  People should squirm right into a movement for change.  I see that as a first and crucial sign of possibly making a difference.  The funny thing is people comment all the time on things they know little to nothing or about.  While I’m not encouraging displays of ignorance, I am firmly saying that I want the worry of not knowing what to say or it not “being your place” to have an opinion to comfortably vanish.   People shy away from survivors for plenty of other reasons.  Discomfort cannot be one of them.   It’s not that I don’t understand the hesitation but there can’t keep being excuses not to dialog about a trauma that can cripple a person’s lifespan.  Simply put: there is a need for   people to be talking about child sexual abuse.  Start adding to the numbers.

Watch this CNN Video…

http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/crime/2009/05/21/edward.uk.pedophiles.ITN?iref=videosearch

My only comment stems from one of the last things said in this video: Who says being abused at the ages of 2, 3, and 4 is too young to be affected in the future by the experience?  What about body memory? Recurrent memories? The fact that children that age are very much capable of retaining information and at some rudimentary level processing their surroundings??

Your thoughts…

The Aftermath pt.2

Soooo, with all the pot holes and “under-construction” moments I’ve had in the past year, it’s clear the effects of childhood abuse are relentless and not completely what the therapist or any research says.  It’s a game with no odds.

The quote isn’t a vanity thing.  It’s more like a refresher for a bit of a bitter topic: University of Michigan. 

It’s so important for survivors of any trauma to have a safety net; a place for regrowth and heavy nurturing.  This is especially true on the tough trek to academic and career-based success.  When putting me and the Univ. of Michigan in the same discussion, all of the above is a big ‘ol ball of disillusionment.  This is not a whack at the kneecaps of the school, but what I do think it is is a overall observation of institutions being (overtly and covertly) desensitized to trauma survivors and what that “title” actually means.

Back-story

I transferred to U of M after attending school in California for about 2 years.  Although Pitzer was a really good school, the very reason why I left was I didn’t feel the support I needed after just telling my mom about my abuse as a senior in high school. Some may say I should have opted to take time out after high school but I’m not really the type to place a pause on academics if I can help it.  At any rate, taking a moment to get myself together is exactly what I had to do.  California was emotionally draining so I came home, attempted to take a course, but I still wasn’t ready to perform in the classroom.  The next step, I decided, was to take 2 semesters at University of Michigan-Dearborn, earn all A’s, and then ultimately transfer to Ann Arbor’s campus.  And that’s just what I did.

Things were O-kay my first semester. I did well in one out of three classes.  I dropped one and the heightened stress from my PTSD caused me to fizzle out in the other.  But just as Fall semester was ending, I realized my stress and emotions weren’t 100%.  I continued on anyway and things.fell.apart.  I had nightmares, cried before and during class, either I couldn’t sleep the entire night or I slept all day.  I felt like I needed a sedative to survive.  Campus counseling didn’t work and the medication the nurse practitioner prescribed made me even more weepy if that was possible.  My first year was a flop and to prove that, U of M suspended me with flying colors and didn’t honor the withdrawals I requested leaving me with E’s.

With medical documentation and my personal statement I turned in my first petition. Not only was I not readmitted for the next semester but I didn’t find out until the first day of class. And that was only because I walked into the office myself.  I worked on the second petition with a faculty member and had them speak with my therapist. I worked that summer and throughout Fall semester and included a letter or recommendation from  my supervisor. I was denied my second petition for readmittance and in sum was suspended from the University of Michigan for a whole year.

I filed a complaint with the Department of Education Office of Civil Rights because I thought everything about what I experienced was both rediculous and flat out wrong.  The lawyers in their department found that the investigation was inconclusive.  I took classes at Dearborn’s campus once again but was seriously discouraged and angry and also had real thoughts about getting myself out of an environment where I seemed to be so disposable.  However, I decided not to transfer a second time.  So here I am again, preparing to file a third petition filled with classes, consistent counseling, a punch of perspective and a chance to give those E’s the boot.

Here’s the thing: Let’s say I wasn’t ready last Fall but was I really not ready for a WHOLE year?  Michigan had no faith in my ability to heal.  Complete with responses like: “Well sometimes, we in the academic world, know better than doctors…” or “How are we to be sure that ‘this’ won’t happen again?” and even speaking with my therapist and discounting her strong approval of me attending classes.  It took me to struggle and fail for them to notice me as a student.  Institutions allow students, employees, people to fall through the cracks and if you are actually human and feel the crack seems to be a bit bigger for you.

I agree that lecture halls and cubicles can’t be this odd marriage between memos and “couch sessions” but at some point folks have to feel and there must be allowance and accomodations for that.  One of the board members reassuringly told me that I was being treated no different that just the other day a girl came in who had lost her father in Iraq and had a host of other issues and they suspended her too….(sigh)….(sigh again).  The most polite thing I can say is reassuring and fair is beyond the last thing I would call it.  Insensitive doesn’t even hover the surface.  What on Earth happens to these people in utero?!

There needs to be overkill discussion on what trauma is and how it spills into every aspect of life.  What it means to be a hurting human being but still a person.  The crud doesn’t disappear but it does get better.  It mends itself like any broken limb and just like with anything broken there are remnants of pain.  Now what we would if we started ejecting everybody who ever had anything broken?

The Aftermath

I haven’t blogged since last summer…Ha! Does that mean something?? Just a little negligence…But with a little  good intention and lots to say this blog will come in two parts.

Soooo, with all the pot holes and “under-construction” moments I’ve had in the past year, it’s clear the effects of childhood abuse are relentless and not completely what the therapist or any research says.  It’s a game with no odds.  With that said there is not only a real need for a true understanding that symptoms and effects are both tangling and expansive but also a harsh reality check that there simply lacks support.  And sometimes  from where its needed most: friends.

I’ve had the unique experience of having most of my current friends since oatmeal paste and color coded scissors days but that doesn’t mean we’ve always understood each other.  On one hand, it must be completely unfathomable that a friend can have an experience so horrifically traumatic.  However, in a thing called life the unthinkable or the unexpected is common.  Friends are supposed to help you roll with punches, especially when you didn’t even start the fight.

Someone told a friend of mine it was difficult to be my friend, they didn’t like my lifestyle or life choices, that Brittni = too much drama but they could still tolerate being around me…(sigh).  Besides the fact that I appropriately addressed her, the situation made me realize that friends seem to associate a great deal of angst with being a survivor’s friend.  NEWS FLASH! Being a genuine friend is a hard task under any circumstances.  And being a friend to someone who has survived abuse isn’t any more taxing, it just requires a person to be a different kind of friend and perhaps a better friendship–maybe not as shallow. To be quite honest, the ‘angst’ is a cop-out.

My last comment wasn’t an insensitive one.  Of course it’s normal to be nervous; but only about as nervous as a friend would be if the bff said they had “some news to share”.  There’s the weird deep breath, a split-second thought that maybe not answering the phone would be a good idea, but then the concern takes over.  Snapped out of it, it’s time to help.  Unless a person has not reported their experience and needs to be encouraged to Just Speak, the only expectation of a survivor is that their friends are willing to help.  An honest “how are you” and not forgetting that the friend can and will have really bad times but the perfect cure is as simple as visiting them or doing their favorite thing is as far as the rocket science friendship goes.  The therapist comes up with the intellectual babble.  However, the therapist does not take the place of a friend.

There has to be someone else besides the therapist, a journal, or a relative to share that part of life.  Besides, some people don’t have any of the three.  If the friend has to selectively share, that sends pretty strong messages: That part of their life doesn’t fit into the “unconditional friend clause”, there’s something about their abuse that isn’t worth talking about or shouldn’t be talked about, and it furthers the feeling of being an outsider.  If those aren’t signals meant to be sent then SNAP OUT OF IT, IT’S TIME TO HELP.  Friends have to tackle it head-on and suck up the fear.  In all honesty, one should choose to be proud of their friend’s courage and their ability to weather the storm better than most can.  Otherwise, why should survivors lose out on friendships just because others don’t have the cojones to without any elaboration just be a friend?

Being a friend to a survivor or for that matter a friend to anyone, builds character and forces us as humans to dig deeper.  I’m sure I’m not the only trauma survivor who has had an acquaintance or a friend dutifully proclaim they couldn’t stomach some life choice.  When it’s all said and done though I embrace my life and who I’m becoming is a promising bumpy road that I’m willing to travel.  And on behalf of all other survivors, we only hope that more folks will come along…

 

 

Aren’t Children Responsible for their Abuse?

So, I came across this article by Nancy Faulkner, PH.D which discusses a New York reporter introducing the idea of children having some assigned ownership of their abuse partly because of a sexually unbridled society.  It’s thought-provoking and may represent some people’s opinions. I, do not agree nor does Dr. Faulkner. However, should we change our angle on child abuse? Merely a choice or just sex…

Adult-Child Sex:

Abuse or Misuse?

In a New York Times article, reporter Frank Bruni wrote about assigning child responsibility in adult-child sex. According to Bruni, experts believe that in some adult-child sex incidents “the victim helped foster the abusive relationship and allowed it to continue over time, apparently taking some comfort or pleasure in it” (11/09/97).

In a society of sexual freedom, are promiscuous children and teens initiating sex with adults? Should we revise the way we interpret and describe adult-child sex? There are some child advocates and professionals who have replaced the term “sexual abuse” with “sexual misuse.” The rational is that we may be overreacting and further damaging children.

In his article “In an Age of Consent, Defining Abuse by Adults,” Bruni reviews two highly publicized adult-child sex cases. Bruni cites these cases as examples that a child might be responsible for sex with an adult, and as justification for replacing the term “sexual abuse.”

One example by Bruni is the highly publicized case in which a teenage boy, Sam Manzi, was reportedly victimized by an adult who lured him through the Internet. Subsequently, young Manzi abused and murdered a younger neighbor.

Did Sam Manzi take solace in a sexual “relationship” with an adult male as a result of their meeting on the Internet? Bruni suggests that might be the case, since Manzi “smashed the recording device” when the “authorities tried to get the teen-ager to gather evidence against the man.”

Let’s assume that Manzi was seeking “comfort.” Is that what he ultimately received? Did Manzi’s behavior suggest he had been the contented recipient of “comfort” when he subsequently abused and murdered his younger neighbor ?…

The other case Bruni used as an example in his article was a 13-year-old male student who was reportedly sexually abused by his 35-year-old female teacher. The teacher pleaded guilty to sexual abuse; but the young student defended her in court when he said he initiated the adult-child sex.

Is the teacher blameless because her student assumed responsibility for feelings he had for his teacher? And aren’t there notable differences between a 13-year-old and a 35-year-old? If the young student was infatuated with his teacher (which happens), wasn’t it the responsibility of the 35-year-old teacher to help guide the young person’s emerging fantasies into more appropriate channels? Aren’t teachers supposed to do that — develop and re-channel youthful exuberance?

Did this student and Sam Manzi “allow it to continue over time,” — and are they thus responsible for what happened — or at least for allowing it to continue? Are these two cases examples of children who promote and “foster” sex with adults? Child predators would quickly align with those who share this perspective.

If we, as mental health and juvenile justice professionals, diminish the term “abuse” and do not hold adults accountable, don’t we send the clear message to children that they are responsible? If we even casually suggest that a child is responsible for adult-child sex because of some “initiated” inappropriate behavior, are we not alleviating adults of the responsibility to be the guardians who guide children toward healthy development?

What about the references in Bruni’s article to children receiving “pleasure” from adult-child sex? In many cases that is in fact true. The world population would not be exploding if pleasure were not a factor in reproduction. In other words, sexual touching generally feels good.

Ironically, that same innate reaction of “pleasure” is also the cruel source of guilt for victims, — and for adult survivors trying to overcome the aftermath of their victimization. “Pleasure guilt” is best summarized in the self-condemning statement made by sexual abuse survivors — “It felt good, so I must be bad.”

Abuse survivors tell us that one of the problems that lingers into adulthood and that keeps the secret intact for years, is the child’s feeling that they were somehow to blame, and as a result, they are “dirty” or “soiled.” Sex offenders are smart. They know about “pleasure guilt” and may even emphasize it to keep the sordid secret, — “If you tell anyone about this, they’ll think you’re bad.”

 You can read the rest here: http://www.prevent-abuse-now.com/misuse.htm

Don’t You Care?

My title might be slightly passive aggressive, but I want there to be some itching motivation to comment.  Good, bad, indifferent. Women, men, teens.  Those who are survivors and those who may only be familiar with my type of story.  Although my main fight regards child abuse, feel free to give thoughts about the bigger picture women’s rights, domestic violence, etc.  So don’t be afraid. Let’s just talk…

Daddy’s Girl

My hope for this blog is to induce a massively raw and brave talk about child abuse.  With that said, I encourage honesty as well as respect when addressing a subject that so many keep a searing secret.

From the time I was twelve until I was fourteen, I was severely sexually abused by my biological father. Only, I don’t think I knew how “severe” my experience was until it was all over.  Admitttedly, I will probably see things through yet a different lense when I have my own children.  A new perspective not only because the reactions evolve but because the end of my abuse was met with an abortion.  Not the baby of a young lover but my father’s.  Being sixteen, and having to tell my mother I was not only abused by my father but I had an abortion too simply meant that I was not going to tell anything; and my friends weren’t going to either.

In retrospect, I think I told so many of my friends in a silent prayer that they would tell someone: a teacher, their mom or dad, my mom.  The last person I told was my godsister and she was the reason my mother found out.

He and my mother were never married.  She wasn’t even crazy about him.  What she was was a mother who decided to let her daughter get to know her father for herself.  Never in her deepest fears for me would she have believed that I would be abused by a man who had been in my life by default.  She had asked me several times if he ever made me uncomfortable and I always had the same automatic response: no. I was adamant and she had no reason not to believe me because her and I had were so close.  Of course she knew, despite her conflicting instinct, that if my father was any thing less than appropriate she could trust that I would tell her.  Finding out that she was wrong was hard enough but feeling that she had failed her only child was heart-wrenching. I never blamed my mother and I don’t think I ever will.  She was ill at the time and I never failed at giving a grammy winning performance.

The prosecutor’s office never prosecuted him.  I gave my statement at sex crimes and again while a female prosecutor scribbled down notes on her legal pad, asking repeatedly: “And your mother didn’t know?” The civil courts (Child Protective Services) charged my father with child sexual abuse, describing him as a known pedophile. Which I discovered at sex crimes his name meant he was “known” to some of his other children also. One of which he violently threatened.

I don’t have contact with my father at all. The best and most healthy thing I could have done for myself was to tell.  In retrospect, I would have told sooner…