There is light at the end of the tunnel #WhenIBecameFree

I can remember curling up in a fetus position and be lying as close to the wall next to my bed as I could get. With my back up against that wall, the cold emanating from it was, in an odd way,  comforting. During my teens years I spent many of a day in my bedroom. Although, it was not by actual choice as I was usually there on bed rest after being released from the hospital or battling yet another infection or virus.  Yes, I was a sick child, but even so, I would venture to say if my bedroom isolation wasn't mandated by doctors, I more than likely would have made the choice to hide there from the world.

I often refer to my teen years as the Dark Ages. A place I never wish to return to and while there, wished I could just disappear. The pain and confusion in me were that deep. When I wasn't sleeping I would watch television, play with make-up, or get lost in flipping the pages of a magazine or book - anything not to think. The thinking was too painful - too many flashbacks to being a young child and being sexually assaulted by too many hands.

I didn't have to worry about school, doctors saw to that when they pulled me out when I was 14 and all because that spleen of mine kept growing and they didn't know why, they worried about it rupturing.  The tutors that were supposed to come to the house slowly stopped showing up.  They couldn't keep up with me, I'd work far ahead of the lessons they were giving me - I had nothing else to do and the work was a distraction from thinking about why I was so confused and the pain of those deep wounds. Somehow my education fell off the school's and my parents' radar - there was just too much chaos in our house - I was sick, my father was battling Rheumatoid Arthritis and heart attacks that felt like they came every other month. His alcoholism and all those medications he was on, took the greatest toll on his health.  There was some other drama going on in our family, so, yes - I fell off the radar unless I needed to go to a doctor or be hospitalized.

Looking back, much of my teen years is just a blur. In a way, that is probably best. By the time my health had gotten to that point, at 14..15..years old, I had already attempted suicide, pathetic attempts, a couple of times. When I tried to see a future, make goals, all I could see was a darkness, no light at the end of a tunnel.

Some kids who have experienced childhood trauma lash out, then there are those like me as a teen, who lash in, keeping our wounds raw and always fresh.

I did write a journal back then, included in it was bad poetry and the scattered thoughts of a young girl. Growing up Roman Catholic, I had faith. Actually to the point where entering a convent was a refuge I thought about often.

I was reminded of those years this past week after meeting with a handful of young ladies. A mix of those who lash out and then ones who lash in, sometimes doing both at once. My heart cried for them as they spoke about life at home, their fears, and ever so nonchalantly the crimes against the childhood - against their souls. To witness someone I view as a child still speak about being beaten and/or sexually assaulted without emotion in their voice, I could feel the pain the wall they had up was trying to hide.  It is not something you can hear one moment and forget in the next. It stays with you, at least it does me.

I know for them the best thing I can do is actively listen. They need to get out the poison, they need someone to know that they exist in the way they do and they need someone not to judge them or the people they love. They need understanding, compassion, and love when they feel unworthy. So, that is what I do and then I tell them about possible resources and remind them that this is just one chapter in the book of their life, there will be better ones to come. There is not much I can offer except to possibly plant a seed of hope that will one day grow to bring beauty back into their lives. I know their healing is a process that no one can dictate, it cannot be commanded to happen, it has to come from within them, and it begins with compassion and love of their own self, even if it is just fleeting at the onset, the healing will begin and grow. Patience is the hardest thing for survivors to learn.

After listening to so many tragic stories I was thankful for yesterday. Yesterday we had a meeting. The "we" are some of the survivors I've highlighted in #WhenIBecameFree. One of those seeds of hope is growing in my local community. A rural community with few resources. Survivors Offering Support (SOS) Juneau County is forming and will work towards bringing about awareness by educating the community on the forms of abuse, what is needed to help victims, and then support the victims aching to be a survivor. We will work towards getting a new program started, Kelli's Haven. There we will work with area businesses, churches and organizations to provide safe places for anyone needing to exit abuse. In their storefront window will be a symbol designating their location as a Kelli's Haven, a place where a person can go, find a safe room to call local police and/or advocates for help. There will also be resource material for whoever needs it and those participating will go through a training on how to work with people in crisis, including the importance of confidentiality.

I am in hopes that Kelli's Haven will not only help those exiting abuse but also spread awareness in a new way, plus show to others who normally would not notice, just how little there is in many rural communities for victims exiting abuse. Maybe then people will stop judging and asking why women go back, maybe then they will understand the symptoms of someone living in a personal Hell, and why they might choose to numb themselves with a substance. Maybe then the judgments will end and compassion will be at the top of the list.

The survivors I am working with are strong women. They've lived through a lot and now are willing to give it their all so that no one else ever has to have doors closed on them, phone calls reaching out for help not being returned, or an attitude of if there are no bruises or broken bones it was just a "squabble."

When I started #WhenIBecameFree as a writing project I had no idea what would become of it but now to see this, witness these survivors take charge and create a new organization and program in our community proves to me something I always felt would help, all survivors really need is to feel validated and their story heard, healing will follow.

I wish I could go back and tell that little girl I once was - hold on, there's light at the end of the tunnel but I guess in the long run, for me, it is a case of Everything Happens for a Reason.

Stayed tuned, there will be more in this story in future posts........













SUPPORT WHEN I BECAME FREE!

Support the #WhenIBecameFree project by wearing awareness! For every shirt sold, $10 will go to support the project - getting it completed, published and distributed.  Shirts may be purchased here. If you're local to Juneau County, just email me and I will send you an invoice w/o a shipping charge.

Your support will help keep the project and me going to completion. All stories are being compiled into a book and mini documentary - at least 50 percent of the profits will go towards a crisis fund to help survivors rebuild their lives as the learn to fly free.

Any and all donations are welcome!

Go Fund Me Page

Any way you choose to support this effort is greatly appreciated! Even if it is just sharing my blog, the website, or liking and sharing the Facebook page.  

Thank you to Wisconsin River Meats  and Benders' Family Restaurant for being official sponsors of #WhenIBecameFree. Give a like to their their Facebook page (click links above) and let them know how appreciative we all are that they are supporting survivors finding their voices!

https://www.wisconsinrivermeats.com/

https://www.facebook.com/bendersfamilyrestaurant/