SURVIVORS

SHARE YOUR STORY
This site was created for the purpose of encouraging survivors to share their stories and help those who are still living the horrors of abuse by giving them hope and strength to survive.
Rachel- Age 21
My Story
Hey guys. You are probably wondering why I decided to start this site. I got the inspiration after reading a bulletin post from one of my friends. It was a sad story about a woman who was violently raped as a child. She shared her story with others giving them courage and faith. Her story gave me the strength to share too.
I read in the book ‘Miss America By Day’, written by Marilyn Van Derbur, a former Miss America and incest survivor, that the healing process is started by talking about your experiences and sharing it with others. After reading her book and seeing the post I decide that it was my time to start my own healing process. I have been living with guilt, shame, and anger for too long.
This is my story:
I grew up in an Ultra Orthadox family. My parents raised us the way they were- by the hand. When I entered the 7th grade I met a girl and we soon became best friends. I would spend almost everyday and night at her house. By the time I was in 8th grade (13 years old) her dad would join us in our rooms when we would get ready for bed. At first we would just talk (with a small massage). He had a strong grip on me. He was a very controlling and demanding man. I was afraid to tell him that I was uncomfortable. Late night talks soon turned into a bit more, but I still kept going back. Everytime he came into the room he would go further and further almost as if he was testing my limits. I never said anything to anyone not even to his daughter- my best friend. I was too scared. I was 14 years old and in the 9th grade when it happened. I pretended to be asleep the whole time afraid that it will only be worse if he knew I was awake. He finally left the room (which I shared with his 3 daughters) after about an hour only to return with a camera! The bastard took pictures of me vulnerable and exposed. (He did have the decency of covering my face with his hand. How thoughtful!) He molested me for an hour while his daughters slept only a few feet away from my bed. They slept through the whole thing. After that night I was banned (by the father) from being his daughters friend. I haven’t spoken to her since. He is now suspected of doing things to his kids and others too. Now, I am almost 22 years old and I still suffer.
I didn’t tell my parent what happened until I was in the 12th grade. I was attending an out of state high school. My parents were planning a trip to my high school graduating and had arranged for my little sister to stay at this family’s house while they were gone. When I heard I got very scared. I was afraid the bastard would hurt my little sister too. I had no choice but to tell my parent what had occurred more than 4 years before, and I’m glad I did! 8 years have passed and only my 2 best friends and my parents know about it. Now so do you!
Would you like to share your story too?
Send me an email with your story and Photo(optional!!)and i will post it on the site. We can all help each other with our healing process.
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National Domestic Violence Hotline
1-800-799-SAFE
-or-
1-800-787-3224
National Sexual Assault Hotline
1.800.656.HOPE
Free. Confidential. 24/7
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
1-800-273-TALK (8255)
24-hour. Toll-free Suicide Prevention Service

Petra Luna
My School Years by Petra Luna
The Lavender Power ladies have asked me a few times to write my story. I was trying to oblige them but for some strange reason, I was having some sort of writers block and was not able to do it. It took a tragedy to make me see why.
I was watching a TV show about the Virginia Tech Massacre and they showed a video of Seung-Hui Cho going on and on about how the kids at his school would bully and pick on him. The worst part is that the kids who he killed did not even know him, much less torture him.
This tragedy and many like it are caused by 3 factors;
1.) Mental illness, an area where the parents and the mental health system failed. Somehow these people slip through the cracks and go unchecked.
2.) Easy access to weapons. How this man was cleared to have those handguns is uncomprehencible.
3.) The problem that created the rage to make Cho commit mass murder. The bullying and teasing that is hard enough for a normal kid to handle but impossible for a mentally ill person to even deal with.
When the show was over, I had these strange feelings that ovewhelmed me and I wasn’t sure what it was. I just knew that when he was talking about the kids picking on him, I remembered how when I was a kid, how so many times as a result of being bullied and picked on, I wanted to lock the doors of my school and blow it up with all those horrible people in it. The difference between him and me is not the rage but that fact that he acted upon those urges and I didn’t. I can remember being asked to come to a reunion at my High School. I was so upset and angry that that woman who was on the side of the kids who tortured me would have the nerve to ask me to a reunion. I sent her a letter stating I was working on a new CD and would be in New York that weekend and to never, EVER send me her junk mail again. I was not good enough for them then and I have no use for them now. She replied saying that they would love to get to talk to me and know me now. Yea, now that I have done something with my life. My brother who remained in the area where I was raised would always say to me, “They were just kids back then”. (There were 3 brothers. This one did not get picked on.) Sorry, not good enough. Yes, I have unresoved issues here. I am only human. I will never be proud to announce where I went to Grade School or High School. Those people and those places are dead to me. Damn, for me as a kid, there was no safe place at home and no safe place at school.
When I was a child, my mother suffered from mild schizophrenia and paranoia and had many metal challenges. When she was around her kids she would abuse them so on most occasions she would just neglect us completely. My father was in a specialized profession that kept him away from home most of the time but he did the best he could to raise us despite that violent and hostile conditions. He is old school and divorce was not an option. Needless to say, I would go to school without being woken up at all. I remember someone always yelling for me to get up because the bus was at the end of the driveway. I would jump out of bed, put on the close I could find. It was usually the same thing I wore the day before. I only had 3 or 4 outfits to wear for the whole year and as the year went on the clothes got more worn out. I would also run to the bus in the snow barefoot because I did not have time to put on my shoes and wet socks were horrible to be in all day. My hair was never combed and I always looked unkempt. Breakfast was non-existent and I almost never had lunch money. Most kids had nice lunch boxes and cool food. I would catch hell for forgetting my lunch money all the time. The school cafeteria still let me eat and had my Dad pay later. I really wanted to be a part of after school activities but that meant I missed the bus home and with my Dad working late, there was no one to pick me up and I would wait outside the school alone on many occasions with no way home since my house was 10 miles from school. I was a perfect target for child predators. It’s a good things my angels were always watching me. Eventually, my Dad would come get me after work when it was already dark. With all that going on, I was the excellent target for being isolated, picked on, bullied and tortured by the kids at school. Also, coming from a big family, my oldest and one of my middle brothers were also subject to this abuse. I always say that those who are physically wounded usually always heal but psychological abuse can leave many permanently damaged.
Myself, my oldest and the younger middle brother always got abused by the other kids. We were always laughed at and never chosen to be on anyone’s groups or teams for class activities. In the 6th grade a bully made me run laps in front of the other kids and forced me to beat up my best friend. The younger middle brother was gay and was staring to act differently. He was beat up on the playground, more like the hunting ground, everyday. The oldest one came out OK but the younger brother could have easily become a kid that would shoot all his class mates now. His bullying and teasing case was probably the worst I have ever seen. The 3 of us hated school.
Now you have to remember that I never had any guidance and was starved for anyone to pay attention to me. I had no explanations of sex except “Don’t’ have sex with boys” and when I was trying to tell my Mom that I got my period, she yelled saying. “I am not driving you anywhere!” I cried and ran away. When I was a Freshman in High School and about 14 years old, there was a group of boys that were Juniors (2 years older). This group of boys knew me from grade school and though I would be a great target for their sexual explorations. One boy pretended to really like me and I did not know how to handle it. Because I was so afraid to loose that kindness that was being show to me by that boy, I gave in to sex and lost my virginity and was dumped shortly afterwards. It was a terrible experience. There was another boy in the group that I fell madly in love with and desperately wanted to have as a boyfriend. He did take me out a few times and was getting frustrated that I would not give him what his “friend” got. One weekend afternoon we took a drive with another couple. There was a boy and girl in the front seat and I was in the back with him. We stared to kiss and when I refused to comply with his wishes he raised his fist and proceeded to rape me in that back seat while the two in the front did nothing to help me. THEN, to add insult to injury they all went to school the next Monday and had me marked as the school SLUT! After that, I was never asked to one dance by one boy that went to my school. Not to mention the teasing and isolation was at an all time high. I remember a violent outburst I had in class one day after I just couldn’t take it anymore. I screamed “All of you low life small minded evil people are going to pay someday for what you did to me and my brother!”. The principal and I were well acquainted. I decided to defy all of them and got all As and went on to college. I also made friends from other schools. At 17 I left that small town never to return.
My brother did become a member on MENSA, a certified genius and was able work for a few years as an engineer but all the abuse caught up with him. Today he is pumped up on so many drugs that he is unable to focus or work and is going on disability. He has attempted to kill himself several times. I’m not sure if I could ever forgive those monsters. It would take a formal apology from those schools for me to even think about it and that will never happen.
Who do I blame? I blame the school first and foremost for forcing my brothers and I to go out on the playground for recess when we did not want to. They knew what was happening and chose to do nothing. I blame the parents for not getting a grip on their cruel kids, even when the school occasionally notified them. I also blame ALL of the kids that stood there and watched my brothers and I be tortured day after day and even be raped and did NOTHING!
How many more massacres is it going to take for us to start paying attention to this terrible problem? I cannot do anything about the mental health system or about gun control but out respect for the innocent victims of the Virginia Tech Massacre and their families, as the leader of the War On Abuse Movement, I SURE THE HELL CAN DO SOMETHING ABOUT BULLIESAND THEIR ACCOMPLICES!!! You can bet your bottom dollar I can and will! I am vowing right now to start a new child abuse battle dedicated to the awareness and prevention of schoolmate bullying and teasing. I will need officers for this? It is abuse and it need to be stomped out, PERIOD!
I am going to suggest training teachers to identify and act on this problem and for parents to become aware and find out if you’re their child is a victim, bully or an accomplice. If you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem!
THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION WAS ADVISED BY MOTHERS AND THERAPISTS
For those guilty of instigating and committing these acts, proper punishment should be the following;
1st offence-parents called and detention where the child has to write 2 letters. One, on why they did it and two, an apology to the victim.
2nd offence-parents called with suspension from school and community service. 3RDoffense-expultion and transfer to another school.
Also, any physical assaults on or off school grounds should be counted as a misdemeanor with community service.
Any further assaults are already covered by the criminal justice system.
For those who stand by and don’t report the incidents to the teachers, please see 1 and 2 above?
I also will suggest a class to be given on how to handle teasing and bullying in schools. These kids need to be responsible for their actions. THE BULLIER OF TODAY IS THE BATTERER OF TOMORROW!
Please note; this is still a very sore wound for me and I did not have to white this so please do not post a reply here that will make me lash back? If you need to object, just be respectful? It took a lot for me to write this and it is only one of my many stories.
Shirley- Age 44
A house of secrets.
Here are my cridentials or life experiences, I have survived my parents divorce (age 2) my fathers death (age 9), Rape (age 11), near death experience and torture trauma (age 12), childhood sexual abuse (11-16), neglect, the loss of a child to adoption (age 14-15), a couple suicide attempts, Physical abuse, emotional abuse, Postpartum Depression, Graves Disease-Thyroid (age 19), 3 step fathers, victim of domestic violence, the loss of my best friend Maureen to cancer (age 26), Complete Hysterectomy (age 41) 3 divorces and the loss of many family members.
I lived in a home where "I Love you" was never said. No hugs, no emotional support or nurturing. Definately no trust. I can't really blame my parents as they did not have it growing up either. To my parents credit, I had plenty of food, clothing and a roof over my head when I was not running away from home. My parents were workaholics and gamblers. I definately DID NOT learn any parenting skills. They were not around much. I had access to credit cards and anything I wanted that could be purchased. I just wanted to be noticed and loved. I wanted to matter to someone. I needed to know I had value and there was a reason for being.
I was invisible.
I had no self esteem or self worth. I felt like the loneliest person on the earth. Still do. I spoke to no one about my feelings until I was in my late 20's and it was a psychiatrist. That is still the way it is today.
I don't have friends anymore other than here on myspace. This is by choice. I have a hard time with personal relationships of any kind. My own son won't even speak to me. Which hurts me every minute of every day. I am currently working in therapy to find a way through it. Everytime I see an new therapist, I get a new diagnosis.
Recently I have went through some new testing to get a grip on what is really going on. It seems to be easier to say what I don't have. I doubt I will ever be free of therapy as I strive to fix everything. I don't give up easily. Some have said that I need to accept some things as the way they are. Some days I want to give up but, the survivor in me says "hell no", I will find a way to fix it.
I now survive with Chronic Depression, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), BiPolar II, Dissociation, ED binge eating and Borderline Personality Disorder. Those seem to be the constant and most diagnosed. This does not define who I am as a person. This is the illness not me. I am a work in progress.
I am an expert at loss. So, why not put my experience to good use. If I can offer support to just one person or provide a link, email or an instant message, then I know I survived for a reason. I believe that everything does happen for a reason. The only way to really understand what people are going through, is to have been there yourself. Well, I have been there and I SURVIVED. I have found great strength in living through it all. If I can do it, maybe others will find they can too.
Lynda - Age 43
Hello my name is Lynda I am 43 this is my life story. If I jump here or there, I am sorry. Hopefully you’ll understand.
I was born in Washington D.C. and raised in PA. I have one older brother. My parents are from W.Va. and my grandparents are from W. Va as well. At least that's how I've known them. I wouldn't change that in the world, I'll explain that soon.
My childhood life doesn’t have to many good memories except when I was with my grandparents. I remember my Mom being so angry all the time. I've never seen her happy. She took out her anger on me more than on my brother. I was physically and emotionally abused by my mother. Don't get me wrong my brother got abused too but not as much as me. I remember being left on the potty chair alone. I was left to go somewhere with my brother, I don’t remember where though but it was for a long time. I got smacked, punched and swung across the room. It seemed like I couldn't do anything right. My dad (adopted dad that raised me) was always on the road working, but when he was home he was the security blanket, I only recall once my dad raising his hand at my mom and that was to protect me from her. He knew I didn’t do anything. She had in fact done it herself and blamed me. That was the only time he ever raised his hand.
I started to give my parents a hard time by running away, skipping school and sometimes stealing. I was a slow learner and was an outcast in school. I got made fun of for everything. I tried to buy my friends using money I stole from my mom but that didn’t work. I wasn’t allowed to socialize. I desperately wanted to fit in. I started to gain weight and the tormenting and bullying became worse. Even my own brother didn’t help me. I had no one to turn to but my grandparents but they didn’t live nearby. My Mom and brother put me thru hell. It got so bad that I didn’t even feel the pain. I just stood there because I didn’t know how to fight back. Mom for blamed me for her difficult birth with me. I was also an unplanned pregnancy. I never felt loved or connected to her in anyway. My mom herself came from an abusive home. She didn’t know about it until I was little. She was removed as a baby and adopted by my grandparent. She carried a lot of anger towards her real family. My mother told me when I was 23 that I was adopted but she never revealed to me my father’s name. My brother knows who his dad is. It hurt so much to know that the man I consider my father isn’t really my dad. I will always consider him to be my Dad.
I ran away for the last time when I was 17. I didn’t go back for a really long time. Had I stayed with my mom I wouldn’t be the person I am today. I had to teach myself everything a girl should know. But with that came a low self esteem, fear and no confidence. I also had medical problems like seizures. I was never able to find the right medications. As a child I would stare into space not hearing anything around me. My grandmother used to tell my mom that there was something wrong with me but my mom would refuse to listen to her.
I was molested and raped by my neighbor for many years until I turned 13. I was also sexually abused by a family member. I couldn’t understand what or why they were doing this to me. The abused became so much part of my life that it consumed me to the point that I did not know that this was wrong. I became sort of a slut because that was the only way I knew how to love. I never told anyone about these ordeals until I was 16 but no one believed me due to my actions. After awhile they did believe me about the neighbor. I guess his granddaughter came forward. Nothing was ever mentioned about the neighbor again, but they still have a hard time believing me about the family member. I also got gang banged at a party I went to with my friend after drinking a few beers and whiskey.
My life kept getting more complicated. I got pregnant with my first son and I still don’t know who the father is. I became very close to a wonderful man I met at the time and he asked if he could give my son his last name. Good men like that are very hard to find. When Jeremiah was born I gave him my mans last name. Things just got worse. First Jeremiah wasn’t breastfeeding properly. I had to take him to the hospital because he wasn’t gaining weight. One night while I was holding him, I had a seizure. He fell out of my arms. The nurses said that he was alright but later I found out that he broke an arm and cracked a rib. I totally lost it. They wanted to take him away from me due to neglect. The last time I've actually seen Jeremiah was when he went to his foster home. He went to a very loving and caring home. I didn’t see him for a long time after that. When I called to find out if I can see him I was told about the closed adoption. I couldn’t see him anymore. I was really upset but by law I couldn’t do anything about it. It was probably for the best. My life wasn’t stable and I just hoped that Jeremiah had a good life and hopefully someday Jeremiah and I will meet. He will be 25 in May.
Anyway, I was living on the streets, drinking, doing drugs…etc… You know, my first drink was Jack Daniels. At 10 yrs old, my Mom found me passed out completely. I apparently almost died, but didn’t care. I kept doing it. I just got better at hiding it thanks to my brother. Speed, Mary Jane, and Cocaine became part of my life. I wanted all the pain to go away. I never knew how to get out of abusive relationships because that’s all I knew.
In 1982, I found a beautiful wonderful man. He was fun, loving, and one of the most caring men I’ve ever met. He treated me like gold. Then I found out I was pregnant. A few months into my pregnancy, he popped the question. I wanted to marry him, but before we could get married I had to tell him that I was cheating on him and wasn’t sure if the baby was his or not. After I’d told him, I think it broke his heart, but he stayed with me. His name was John and he was the love of my life. One day, in the early spring of 1984, John died suddenly from a heart attack. He was only 26 yrs old. After that, I lost my child. I later found out that the baby was his via DNA tests.
After that, I just didn’t know what to do. My life was upside down and I wanted to go back to my booze, drugs, bars, etc…I wanted the pain to go away. Once again I was brutally raped. I never did say a word. Then I met my husband in a bar. We were together for at least 2yrs, but it was an extremely abusive relationship. He had odd sexual fantasies that I would try to fulfill. He tried to cause bodily harm and when he did, he’d felt like he was fulfilled. We separated, but never got an official divorce.
But back to my son, Gregory. A little after his second birthday got sick. I was out all night before coking it up. Suddenly I saw his face turn blue I called the ambulance right away. His vomit had gone down into his lungs, depriving him of oxygen which caused brain damage. As a result, he became a Paraplegic with seizures and he also became blind. He was with me until he was 7. After that, his father kept my son away from me at least 13yrs of his life. In 2004 he called me, asking me if I wanted to see my son again. All I could say was “Duh you stupid fuck. Yes I want to see my son.” Little did I know, his father had planned to just drop him into my lap. My son had to relive that feeling abandonment again. All I could do was be there for him. He has been with me ever since. My son graduates this year. He is turning 21 in March. Even though we have our up and downs we are still getting to know each other. I love every minute of it.
Last but not least my life with the Man I am with now. First off we have beautiful daughter together she is 17 soon to be 18 in March. She is also having her first baby in March.
Her father David and I met on March 14 1989, downtown in my town at maple donuts shop. He had dated my girlfriend. She never told me anything bad about him. We started seeing each other and end up moving in with him because I got kicked out of my apt by my girlfriend cuz she was jealous of me. She kept everything I owned. I had to get a court order to get my things back. By that time most of my things were gone. At first things were going well buth then the drugs, and booze got in the way. Then the abusing started again. I was right back where I began, cheating and lying but I stayed with him. One day that after I was re-incarcerated and living at the halfway house I told him that I was leaving. He couldn’t handle it so I ran as quickly as I could. I had to pick up his sister but he got there first. I ran back to the car and raced to the halfway house. He wasn’t allowed in or to communicate with me unless I gave permission. That night he was in a car accident. That’s when he realized that he needed help and went to get it. It lasted a long time but eventually everything went back to the way it was. We would argue about stupid things all the time. One day he shot me with his gun. I was lucky because he missed me by a hair. He went to get help again. This time it worked. We made it work and we overcame our demons.
You see, my life was all about insecurity, low self esteem, thinking that I wasn’t a good person. I looked in all the wrong placea for love.
I remember back in January 1984 I saved 3 little girls lives from their father. He was molesting them. Then girls never said anything but everyone knew that something was wrong. The girls were 7, 5 and 2. Some how I got the oldest two to open up to me. It took a while but I knew the signs. I had them go to their mother’s best friend to tell her what was happening. When we first told the mother she didn’t want to believe it even though he tried something with me while my fiancé John (which you read earlier about) was sleeping. I felt something but didn’t think much about it. I looked over John and he was sleeping. I thought it was my imagination but then saw that he was in the room. I ran out and told his wife but she looked at me like I was crazy. She didn’t want to believe because she thought I may put this stuff in their heads. I told her to take them to the emergency room and she found out the hard way. That’s when she believed her girls. She had her husband removed from her house. She never told him why, only that she is getting a divorce and that he’ll never see his girls again. Later that day when I returned home with John we saw that the cops were there. We saw the father holding a gun to my friends head. The cops turned around to look who was coming and he grabbed me and held me at gun point too telling the cops to back off so that he can get to his wife. Somehow I got free and turned to him and told him that if he wanted to shoot someone he should let his wife and kids go and shoot me since I’m the one to blame. As he let them go he was caught off guard and the cops had him down. It was all over. The cops took him to jail. If I had to do it again I would. It was the only thing I’ve done right in my life.
If I really had a second chance to relive my life I would change everything else but my kids and saving those beautiful girls. As for the depression, I don’t know if I would have it or not.
There are people out in this world that have it way worse than me. I am still taking baby steps and probably always will to overcome all these mountains. This is my life so please don’t judge me. I'm not perfect and never will be. All I want is hope. There is help in this world you just have to ask for it.
Nancy - Age 57
Hi my name is Nancy. I am a 57 year old female survivor of child abuse and sexual assault. This continued into my adult years. Children live what they learn and become what they see every day as normal. I was born to teen age parents. Married and all the trimmings but unable to care for a newborn infant. I was shuffled from parents to grandparents, to aunts and to orphanages. I was starved and beaten. I had broken bones and malnourished, emotional battery of unrelenting and unbelievable horror. I was molested and then raped by my Father at about age 8 or 9. It is easier for me to remember in terms of how tall I was as opposed to age. I was molested by my cousin and brutalized by other cousins. I had two aunts. One of them was very kind. We'll call her Dottie. The other Aunt I still have horrific flashbacks and nightmares that wake me trembling in pain and grief. I never understood why she hated me so much, She does to this day and she is in her late late 80s or early 90s. When asked why she says I don't know why I hate you I just do, God forgive me I just do. I was a backward and dyslexic child, hyper and uncontrollable. We know this now as RADS reactive attachment disorder. I have learned to control it. I even learned how to re order letters and numbers into their proper sequences. I am still hyper and have OCD as well as severe and reoccurring depression Post traumatic stress disorder that is based in reality and never ceases. I live in a movie. Kind of like a DVD except there is no pause, no rewind and no stop. It just plays over and over with no end. Although I function, I function in many different worlds. Something like multi tasking I call it time warp jumps from one life to another to another to another and all the time I am aware of this time and space. On rare occasions I am slammed from one to another without warning. I stay in counseling and I take medication. They help but they do not cure. So I started my sites with my daughter as my partner and we work tirelessly to assist others in the same situation. We are happy to share our addresses are http://www.myspace.com/fallwinddancer and http://www.myspace.com/youhaveafriend our group is end the pandemic we too encourage your input there are many of us. Always remember I am one. We are many.
Carolynn Williams - Age 33
My name is Carolynn Williams. I am a 33-year-old mother of three. Of the three only one lives full time with me. I live in Cascade, Idaho just an hour north of Boise, Idaho. I moved here this summer in July. I love it here. Cascade is nestled in the mountains and just outside of town is a fantastic man-made lake. I found one side to be sandy with pine trees and a fabulous view of the mountains. I have come home to my roots and am becoming the person that I was destined to be.
I was born in Salmon, Idaho and lived in a little town called May, Idaho. My father died when I was 8 years old. After trying to make it for a year, my mom moved to Boise. We had to move because in that country you need to be able to go out and get your food and wood. There is not a supermarket within a mile or so. I moved to Boise when I was in the third grade. I hated it. I longed for the mountains and my home. My mother loved Boise so that is where we stayed. I grew up mostly in Boise and married at 17. I wanted out of the house and away from my mom. I met a fantastic guy and that is where my daughter came into play. Unfortunately, at 21, I decided that there was more life out their to live and left my husband. I had grown up protected and went wild.
My 20's were full of senselessness drinking, and painful memories. One not so painful memory is the birth of my second son. Knowing that I was not a responsible parent I consented to signing 80% of my custody to the fathers of my kids. Don't judge as my kids always had a roof over their head and they never woke up to drunks, parties, strangers or drugs. I did not do drugs, with the exception of an occasional Pot. I was ignorant of the effects of it on a person. I did not think that it was harmful. I was very wrong. However, I have not smoked it in nearly 10 years. As for the rest of the drugs, I never liked them. Thank God for me. I tried meth one time. I have no reason why. Personally the obsession with cleaning was just down right annoying to me. I hated that I could not focus and really do not see the hype in the crap. I went to Alaska twice. I loved it. I married a guy that turned out to be a real loser after spending a year with him in Maryland. Maryland was beautiful. There were way too many people for me. I moved back to Boise. I divorced him and moved on to another loser. Ah but this loser is the reason that I am who I am today and why I will become great. Well great being that I will devote the rest of my life to helping people. That is GREAT.
I spent seven years of hell with an abusive man that was incapable of loving me. I have a beautiful son that I love and hold very dear. I came to Cascade in order to escape from harm. It was here that God opened the doors to me with a job, apartment and friends. My son will start school this week.
Since we have been here we have lived. We have been Whitewater rafting, swimming, camping, picnicking, bicycling, and walking. I even learned how to ride a four-wheeler. The experience was truly empowering to me. I am all about empowering myself, and my son, family, and friends and any other down trodden soul I may come across. I was lucky enough to find a job that provided me with a place to live as part of my salary. I look out my window and see pine trees, deer, fox, mountains and to one side of me a large vast valley.
What happened to me to bring me here was horrific and scary. I made it through and with God will live as a survivor of domestic violence. I will not be a victim in life from this day forward. I refuse to take the role of a victim. What happened to me will not be the end of me but rather the beginning of a new person. I will not ever take the role of the victim again. I will not allow anyone to ever abuse me nor will I take for granted my life while on this earth. Though I am a fourth of the way through my life I intend for every day forward to matter and mean something to someone. I plan on going into some kind of advocacy not just for women and children of domestic violence but I want to be a voice for all the little guys out there. I want to stand up for what is right, and defend the weary.
I will do this I assure you of that.
Yudit Kohar
Well here it goes. I was a very happy girl when i was small. Like all children, you play and dance and dream. But on my 6th birthday my world was shattered. I was having one of the greatest birthdays a kid could have. I remember going into my house for some water and then the bathroom. when I came out I was asked by a family member to come and see something. I went....that was the most dumbest thing I did. But then again I was just a child. Well when I went this so called adult said they wanted to kiss me. I said "NO!" but then they blocked me from the door and they said that I could not leave the room till I did. I remember just feeling awkward and wishing someone would come in the house and save me. But no one came. This person continued to harrass me and then I just gave them a fast peck because I wanted OUT! But when I did that they grabbed me. They put their tongue in my mouth and I bit it. I was so scared. Then they said to let them do something else. I was so scared and they were wearing me down because I wanted to go outside from there, I wanted to be free! But I was like a bird in a cage with some ugly cat trying to get me. I dont know what happened next, but soon I was laying down on the edge of the bed and something was going inside me. I left my body, I think. I like left from there and went somewhere else. I NEVER wanted to be there and in my mind I floated away. When the jerk was done he let me go. I remember I ran. My underwear felt wet. But I was just happy to be outside and I did not know what had happened! I was just happy to be free. That night when my mom was taking me a bath I noticed she smelled my underwear and said "what happened" I said nothing, because I really didn't know what to say. But when I went to the bathroom it hurt and burned so bad. I just cried in the bathroom by myself. Then as I grew I didn't want to be a girl, I wanted to be a boy. I remember taping my breast down and cutting my hair short and wanting to look ugly. I thought if you are ugly then no one will rape you or even look at you. So I became a tom boy and I got fat. I wanted to be the most unattractive girl in the world. I was a special kid and was very gifted in the Arts. I played the piano and violin. I could draw and paint. But one day I told my mother what happened. I was older and had debated if I should but I though to myself.."That is my mother, so I should tell her." Well when I told her, she slapped me. She said I was a liar and I needed to quit saying lies! I was devestated. The person I trusted the most was not there. I had no one. So I went in my room and made a vow! I said that I would not only become ugly but hateful and that their was nothing to live for. I was an A,E,E student and I went to F,U,U student in a matter of weeks! I got into the punk rock scene because I could identify with the hate they were screaming. Then one night when I was about 16 I decide to kill my parents. I remember going into the kitchen and getting the knife and planning it all there in my mind. I got to their dorrway and then the strangest thing happened. The knife I was holding felt like a million punds and I was shaking and sweating! I ran to my room and the only thing I knew happened was that God was there and I felt him!! Even to this day I know it was Him! I remember then after that, that I looked up into the sky and said. "God if you are real, then prove to me you are. Because if you dont I am going to kill myself because I cant live this way anymore. Then when I would go to my gigs to see my bands, all the street evangelist would come up to me. I didn't want to hear what they said because I believed they were hypocrits. But then one day I was invited to a church and I said I will check it out. I will go with my crazy mohawk hair and see what they really think of me. When I went in I was ready to shock them, but they shocked me! They began to hug me and welcome me and it was so real! So genuine! I wanted that but I couldn't except that and I couldn't handle that! I ran from them toward the back of the building and saw an exit sign. I ran to the door and it was locked. I was fighting to open the door but it wouldn't open. I did not want to go through those people again. A women came out of the ladies room and said "are you alright?" I said no and that I wanted this door to open. She asked me to sit down and she began to tell me about Jesus. She first asked me why I was crying. I then saw this calender of Jesus carrying a lamb and said something very stupid. I said that the picture on that calender was making me cry. I dont know why I said that but I did. She then proceded to tell me about the shepards in Israel. How when a baby lamb is born, the shepards break it's legs. They do this and then they carry that lamb everywhere they go. They feed it and water it and sleep with it. And when their legs heal, that lamb NEVER wants to leave the shepard. She then told me "you are that little lamb and God has broken your hard heart. Now he is going to heal all your pain and when you are better you will never leave Him. You know I haven't yet. I havent wanted to leave Him at all! That night he took all my guilt and shame and washed me clean. He gave me a new mind and I do not think that way any more. I embrace my womaness now and I dont feel dirty! Now I help others of abuse and with suicide prevention. I was broken only to be made whole! Now I am happy and I have a great out look on life. Mind you life is still hard but I can make it and come through it too! Thank you Jesus! Thank you for letting me share my story. ~Yudi~
Izzy- Age 50
When in July 2001 Izzy Hammond was violently assaulted by her elder daughter, she could not have foreseen that she would have cause to be grateful for this brutal attack by her own flesh and blood. The incident proved to be the most unlikely catalyst in freeing Izzy from a secret shame, which had silently governed her life for over forty years. In Someone to Watch Over Me, Izzy is now able to reveal with admirable candor how, before she was finally able to break the cycle, the horrific childhood abuse she suffered at the hands of her birthfather cast a shadow over three generations of her family. Yet Izzy’s story is anything but one of bitter self-pity; it is one of the indomitability of the human spirit in the face of an evil, which affects all strata of society.
Abandoned at birth by her profoundly deaf parents Ronald and Emily, Izzy enjoyed an idyllic early childhood in the charge of her Aunt Alice and Uncle Jack, whom she has since regarded as her ‘Mum’ and ‘Dad’. But shortly after her seventh birthday Ronald made good his repeated threats that she be returned, snatching her from her mum’s house while her dad was at work, so that she could now work for her birthfather selling his home-made wicker baskets door-to-door. Her mum’s attempts to have her returned were met by insurmountable opposition from all in authority, from the local vicar to the headmaster and the social services.
The physical abuse of Izzy in the form of savage beatings began almost immediately, as Ronald switched his all-consuming desire for control from his wife to his daughter. Alice was also encouraged to punish Izzy, who could then expect to be punched by Ronald if her birthmother had not punished her sufficiently. By the following year the cycle of sexual abuse had begun, after Izzy was forced to perform acts on her birthfather whilst Alice was out one evening. The descendant of a long line of vicars, Ronald drummed into Izzy that her actions were those of an evil child. It was a type of verbal bullying Ronald would use time and again, such as after the first of what became nightly visits to Izzy’s bed to rape her, starting when she was just eight years old.
After three years of such abuse Izzy began self-harming, and she made her first suicide attempt at the age of eleven, by trying to slash her wrists with her father’s razor. She was made a ward of court and placed in a children’s home before being fostered by decent but distant careers. However, we are all subject to the eternal quest for love and affection, and for Izzy these emotional responses had already become tainted and confused by her experiences. When a local lorry driver began to show his affection she responded willingly to his sexual advances, simply because she did not know she was allowed to refuse and he was the only person in her life at that point to show her any semblance of kindness. These incidents soon came to light, but still the social services never questioned why a girl of eleven was sexually active. Instead, they returned her to Ronald and Alice, where the abuse at the hands of her birthfather resumed until she was placed once more in the children’s home.
Convicted of petty theft, Izzy was sent for three years to an approved school, where the threat of bullying loomed large on a daily basis. On one occasion she could only stand and watch helplessly as she witnessed a young girl raped by the head girl using a hairbrush, whilst the housemother looked on impassively from the doorway. Izzy feared she would be the next victim and escaped with her friend Mel, only to be picked up by a seemingly friendly old man who lured them to his home before raping both girls as ‘payment’ for not informing the police of their whereabouts.
Izzy and Mel escaped to London, where they stayed with Mel’s friend Brian. So deeply ingrained in Izzy had it become that her body was merely currency that she didn’t object to keeping Brain or his visiting friends’ beds warm as payment for their board and lodging. However, one night while Brian was away three strangers arrived at the house, and Izzy and Mel were subsequently drugged, abducted, beaten and gang-raped during a five-day ordeal from which they narrowly escaped with their young lives. The incident became yet another horror Izzy would try to suppress mentally for many years to come – a secret shame from which she ultimately could not hide.
Izzy was pregnant when she gave herself up to the authorities, but rather than send her back to the approved school they placed her in a mother and baby home, where she gave birth to her first child, Heidi. Despite being just 15 herself, she refused to give her daughter up for adoption. After a forced return to Ronald and Emily she realised both she and her baby were in danger, so she left after securing a position as a live-in housekeeper. A relationship with her older boss Steve ensued, and in such a seemingly secure environment Izzy envisioned a fairytale ending with their marriage, when she was seventeen. However, Steve was to become the first of successive partners who felt they could manipulate Izzy, their prey, much in the same way as her birthfather Ronald had done. After the marriage Steve’s sexual demands changed, with the threat that Izzy could always be sent home if she did not comply. These demands degenerated to the point where Izzy was once raped by one of her husband’s friends as he watched, and she was driven to her second suicide attempt. For in her mind she deserved her treatment, as she was still the ‘evil child’ Ronald had always told her she had been.
A Irish man by the name of Sean, who was a regular at the pub where Izzy now worked, seemed to be the answer to her prayers as she responded to his kind words. Following her divorce from Steve the pair was married, and Izzy soon gave birth to their son, Alex. But Sean’s true nature, that of an aggressive and possessive drunk, was rapidly being revealed as his heavy drinking spiraled out of control. As her marriage to Sean crumbled Izzy fell for the charms of Dave, a handsome older man who seemed to possess all the qualities Izzy was searching for. When she fell pregnant with Dave’s child after they had moved in together Izzy believed her chance of happiness had finally been presented to her, especially after their wedding. But in her quest for happiness Izzy had failed to spot why her elder child Heidi had become increasingly uncontrollable. Not only had Heidi become aggressive towards her mother, she was also violent towards her brother Alex and, later, her younger sister Megan. The increasing resentment Heidi felt for her mother meant the seeds for their confrontation in 2001 had already been sown, and the repercussions of the influence of Izzy’s birthfather Ronald spanned another generation.
Heidi was not the only benchmark by which the affects of Izzy’s childhood abuse could be judged. Having finally fallen in love with Douglas Hammond, the man who would ultimately prove to be her rock in this stormy sea, Izzy felt her past catching up with her as she became increasingly unable to express the love she felt for him, whilst the lives of Heidi, Alex and Megan seemed to serve only as proof that all of her children were following her own well-trodden path – one peppered by violence, drugs, alcohol and bad relationships. It was a situation Izzy had become acutely aware of and which further fuelled her sense of self-blame and shame as far as her own life and the lives of those closest to her were concerned.
Whilst Izzy accompanied Douglas on a posting to Cyprus, she was unexpectedly put in touch once more with her birthparents Ronald and Emily, now living in a home for the elderly. It was 14 years since their last meeting. And through correspondence she finally built up the relationship with her natural mother that had been denied her as a child – in no small part owing to the fact that Ronald’s health meant his psychological grip over his wife had finally weakened – only for Emily to pass away before the chance of a reunion. But fate decreed Izzy would still meet Ronald one more time, for, having returned to the UK and embarked on a sign language course, she was now armed with the necessary skills to confront her childhood tormentor. During this emotive meeting Izzy had the opportunity to express whatever feelings she felt towards this man. Instead she ended it by kissing his shrunken form goodbye, a show not only of her compassion towards someone who had never shown her any in the past, but also that, just perhaps, she was finally on the path to regaining control of her own life, a life free from the demons which for so long had haunted her.
But it was by no means a straightforward path. When Izzy was present at a row between her two daughters, Heidi suddenly and unexpectedly turned her invective towards her mother. A lifetime’s frustration on Heidi’s part manifested itself in a vicious attack during which Izzy was punched to the ground, and only Megan’s intervention prevented more serious injury. Was Izzy, after all, the truly evil person Ronald had always accused her of being, for her eldest daughter to attack her in such a way? Having discussed her injuries with her doctor, and following the subsequent panic attacks and mood swings the attack had brought on, Izzy was referred to the Priory Hospital. Here it became apparent that the vague suicidal thoughts, hatched in the breeding ground of her own private shame which had plagued her throughout her life, had started to formulate into a definite plan. Yet such a dramatic realization actually served to strengthen Izzy’s resolve: that she would defeat once and for all the spectra which hung over her life.
Izzy was diagnosed with depression and post-traumatic stress disorder, but with the staff’s careful guidance she gradually brought each painful memory to the fore, relearning with each incident that it had not been her fault after all, that she had indeed been the victim. And now it was time to put the past firmly where it belonged – in the past.
Her relationship with Hiedi, however, remained distant until a family get-together, where she spotted her daughter on the fringes. Izzy remembered how, in her rage, Hiedi had stated how she’d always felt left out and unloved, and in that moment she was to Izzy the embodiment of that statement. Without hesitation Izzy walked over, took her daughter’s hand and led her to the side of the room where her family congregated. Hiedi’s actions had opened the floodgates to Izzy’s lifetime of hurt and now Izzy was tending to the final wounds her birthfather had inflicted over the years.
As Izzy herself says, ‘Although we must be responsible for our actions in life we are not responsible for the hand we are dealt. All we can do is our best with it; we cannot carry the shame of other people on our shoulders.’