No One Heard Me (Poetry)
As a child no one heard me
As a teen no one heard me
As an adult no one heard me
I was loud with my voice
And no one heard me
I had wounds and scars
And no one heard me
I felt the heat of a bullet
And no one heard me
Their big hands hurt me
And no one heard me
My silent screams
And no one heard me
Holes in the doors and walls
And no one heard me
Who will cry for the little girl?
And no one heard me
#thispuzzledlife
The Code of Silence
“The predator wants your silence. It feeds their power,
entitlement, and they want it to feed your shame.”
—Viola Davis
When I first begin getting to know someone, the very first thing I look for is their level of snitch. What do I mean by this? Snitching is when you tell on someone to get yourself out of trouble. Another word for a snitch is a tattletale. To be labeled as a snitch socially is to be ostracized. In other circles being labeled as a snitch can get you killed. And snitching is a predator’s greatest enemy because that exposes secrets.
As a small child the term snitching wasn’t used yet. I did know what the term tattletale meant. And what hurting my friend’s feelings and damaging a relationship because of telling secrets meant. It meant people would be mad at me and I would have no friends. Even teachers at daycares can get tired of all the tattling. Step inside any daycare and you’re liable to hear, “The next child that tattles doesn’t go outside and play.” These are two dichotomous examples of telling information. My question to think about is are we teaching our kids the best and safest message? There are always exceptions to the rule. By the time these children are teens there’s an unwritten “code of conduct” around telling information whether it be relevant or not that might save lives. This will also get someone labeled as a snitch.
I can expand more about teens later, however, for the sake of this blog post I’m going to refer to myself as a young child. My first lesson in keeping secrets that should’ve been told was around 5 years-old. I was molested many times by my neighbor’s youngest and middle sons. These boys were around 13-15 years old and old enough to know better. The way I was held emotionally hostage was through threats like “the police would come and I would have my parents taken away.” I was also told, “that I would make people mad and no one would want to be my friend. And it would be all my fault.”
This little girl named Dana would do everything possible to make sure both she and her family was safe. From a child’s point of view, I hung on to every scary word spoken. And afterwards they would tell me how beautiful I was. The searing pain that would burn my body would leave an imprint on my psyche even today. The pain and fear would start and I would leave somewhere in my mind where pain was not felt. Still to this day, I’m very confused in just about every way in regards to having been molested.
People that seek power over other people instill in their victims that telling about abuse is a sign of weakness. As a teenager, anytime I told or tried to tell about the abuse to the school administration this information would get back to the teacher making the abuse worse. The message I got from doing that was to “forget asking for help and save yourself.” After the abuse of my 8th grade year, I vowed that as long as I was around to witness someone needing defending or help I would step in and protect in whatever way that I could. This has bought me unnecessary trouble with coaches and friends but to me it was worth it. I could then lay my head on my pillow at night and sleep.
One night after Mel and I had been speaking to a class at the college, A mother from that class asked me where I went to middle school. I told her Petal Middle School and she asked about the teacher that was so abusive. Because her 8th grade son would come home from school every afternoon with tears in his eyes due to being called names in front of his classmates by a teacher. She told me the teacher she was speaking about and after my heart dropped into my stomach I said, “Unfortunately, ma’am that is who I was speaking about.” She asked, “What should I do?” I told her, “Tell someone and get your child in counseling like yesterday.” I don’t know whatever happened to that mother and her child’s situation. The information I shared with her helped she and her son? However, a big load of shame and guilt was dumped on me as penance for that child and any other children after me that I kept the secret about the abuse ,consequently, leaving the predator unscathed and in the driver’s seat to handpick her next teen victim with ease.
The small little southern city with air tight politics and a nose for people’s business other than their own was to my detriment that year. I was told many years later by one of the administrators that worked there my middle school years information that still burns my ears. I was told, “You were a child at that time and I couldn’t say anything especially due to the politics. But I can tell you now that she should’ve never been around children.” The disappointment must’ve been written all over my face when she saw how perplexed I was. She said, “Is there something I can try to clear up for you?” I stood there for a moment not knowing what to say but burning with questions. “Yes ma’am. I do have a question…..So you all knew she was abusive and shouldn’t have been around children and you let her teach anyway?!” “I was her verbal punching bag and her abuse has affected my education, my career, my relationship with my wife and children, my relationships with others and above all the relationship and image of how I view myself as a human being!” I was mad but I couldn’t stop then tears. She hugged me as we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.
When I went to my own vehicle and unlocked the doors, I sat down and shook my head and said, “They knew the whole time and didn’t try to stop her. Didn’t they know how badly it all hurt? Did they even care? Yes, I fought every way possible to make it through that year in school that still shows its ugly scarring. No matter what adult I tried to tell that year I got no help from the abuse. And “snitching” never did me any favors. Had someone look past the labels and protected me from the backlash of telling the truth about the abuse my life could and maybe even would be much different now. That one year of school affected a few other teenagers in ways that are still damaging to them. The most visible are the scars that line the forearms of those teens with 30 years of thick scarring from the one thing that would listen to us all then…..razors. I also had the experience of eating disorders (anorexia, bulimia), alcoholism, drug addiction that were all there with their arms wide open to help shield me from the unwanted torture of abuse.
The “Code of Silence” protected by perpetrators in a way that I had no defense. And as a very young bride, I would face abuse again for the next 14 years. That “Code of Silence” that was used as an intimidation factor all those years worked. It kept me silent and the perpetrators innocent. I go to bed scared every night and the first emotion I have in the morning is fear. This shame based silence that seen as normal or acceptable is very hurtful. Maybe protecting offenders because of “snitching” isn’t the problem. And maybe listening and helping to protect children and teens when they tell should be handled first instead of politics and reputations.
“We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim.
Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.
–Elie Wiesel
#thispuzzledlife
Locked and Loaded
“I finally understood what could drive kids to show up with guns and shoot up their schools.”
― Nenia Campbell, Freaky Freshman
If you want to look at all sides of the historical and current school shootings then don’t forget this side. Put yourself in the driver’s seat as a teenager who feels that there is no way out. There are no easy answers. Don’t think as an adult about how you would respond? You have to imagine the world through the eyes of a desperate teenager who feels helpless just like those who killed. I’m not condoning anything. Just don’t eliminate one of the sides of the problem or you’ll never achieve an accurate answer.
Imagine for a minute this scenario…..
Life as a 13 year-old rebellious but funny teen seemed to be pretty benign on the surface. Teenagers because of the developmental stage tend to be difficult stressors for kids and their parents. She had this incredible gift to make people laugh no matter the situation. Depression crept in and slowly started transforming her. Her vitality for life was very slowly disappearing and it never seemed to matter or to care to those she tried to reach out to. She had no animosity towards anyone. She hated that she had been unwanted. But everyone loved her because she was everyone’s favorite clown and friend.
What no one seemed to take notice of was that this clown was put into a closet behind the teacher’s desk and locked. The teacher always had hurtful things to say. She poked at this child like a pit bull chained to a tree and being taunted and whipped with sticks. Anytime that child spoke up she was hit again. Anytime she cried she was ridiculed and humiliated. When she talked about food she was glared at and venomous derogatory body image comments were slung at her. Every time she tried to fight back she got in even deeper trouble with the administration. No one ever listened because of a label. She wasn’t a bad kid. But now she didn’t know.
All she wanted was for someone to leave her alone and apologize for what had just happened over several months. Relief was nowhere in sight. She began thinking that if she (the teacher) wasn’t alive to torment her that she could hang with her friends and continue playing ball. But if she committed suicide she wouldn’t have to ever face another minute of this daily torture. She can’t speak of it all as the embarrassment of what she thinks she has allowed. And then her friend commits suicide and the seriousness and pain of what had just happened was brushed over like his life didn’t matter. She is rocked to her foundation.
I have lost my emotions
— Dylan Klebold
I hope death is like a dream state, I want to spend all my time there.
— Eric Harris
These two thunderclouds collide along with a mixture of other storms in her life. This marriage, of sorts, bred the perfect storm. Her inadequacies were put before her peers. She was taunted daily about how no one wanted her. Everything that she would never become. Statements about being a baby for crying when the words stung like bullets. She tried to tell and no one would listen. Or it was the southern way to handle this parenting situation..”She is the adult and you are the child. Tell her you’re sorry and give her respect!” She was literally and figuratively trapped and no one could hear her silent screams.
How could you not notice the fact that she cried blood tears from her forearms? How could you not notice the holes in the hallway and rooms? How could you not notice that she had deadly eating disorders that would almost take her life? How could you not notice the pain meds and all the sleeping and headaches that became part of daily life?
Now imagine for a minute that you were that child trapped with no help. You just wanted it to stop in whatever way possible. Leaving school wasn’t an option. How do you as a child attempt to rationalize a very impulsive yet very thought out plan to make it end? How do school shooters develop? There’s a very condensed scenario. Often times parents do not know what to look for. Wearing a mask is too easy to hide behind because no one really wants to know how we’re doing. “Fine.” seems to be the best generic answer that is acceptable on a daily basis.
You said that you didn’t see the “typical” warning signs. There is absolutely nothing “typical” about a teenager. They are independent and impulsive beings with their own fingerprints. It sounds more like you were blinded by your ignorance and politics to notice that this was happening right in front of you. You were the adults meant to protect these children and you turned the other way. Now you don’t like how they turned out. Five minutes of listening to a child full of tears that you never saw behind those screens of smiles and laughter could’ve saved lives…maybe your own.
“–What if the kids from Columbine were here today. What would you say to them?
–I wouldn’t say anything, I would listen to them, which nobody else did.”
Quote from Marilyn Manson in the documentary Bowling for Columbine.
#thispuzzledlife
The Silencing of the Lambs
3.16.15
“What makes psychopathy so different, so surreal…that it knocks her head off? The inability to wrap her head around the emotional-physical-spiritual-sexual gang bang that just happened when she thought she was the most wonderful person.”
—Sandra Brown, Women Who Love Psychopaths
I was trying to decide on a quote this morning for this particular blog post about trauma that would cover the spectrum of how trauma effects different developmental stages from a personal perspective. While quite blunt, this quote pretty much describes the ‘rape’ on so many levels of each of my personal traumas. When people ask, “If things were so bad, why didn’t you leave? Or, why didn’t you just tell someone what was happening?” Honestly, I just have to see and understand that I’m talking to someone at that moment who doesn’t and might not ever understand unless in that position themselves. Individuals who have never been abused or been so scared that the last thing they would or could ever do is tell the ‘little secret’ to expose their perpetrators, can’t comprehend that level of fear.
Keep in mind that the ‘little secret’ about my molestation by our preacher’s sons was mentioned in passing only a couple times until I told what happened, not even in detail, less than 10 years ago. That secret I had been holding since I was a 5.5 year old child. Why do kids do that if they know and are confident that their parents can help? The problem is not with the child or the parents. The problem lies with the perpetrators. If the perpetrators are the parents, then that’s a separate topic. Even when I got older and new no physical harm could come to me, the seed of fear was planted many years ago. All I knew was that the topic scared me. I knew what had happened through broken memories. But, I was completely detached emotionally except for the emotion of fear. My parents being the very loving and understanding couple that they are were revealed additional pieces of that time in my life last summer for the first time. Can you imagine how they felt knowing some additional information about things that transpired? Then how do you think, as a child, I felt with it being done to me? The fact that they were connected to religion has always had an influence on my view of religion and religious figures.
In my abusive previous relationship and consequently a marriage, I kept holding on to the false hope that one day I would again be in the relationship with the person that charmed me. I was so young and naive that I couldn’t see what was happening to me every single day. His grip just became more and more tighter emotionally until I had been convinced that I was too stupid, dumb, uneducated, ugly, retarded, unwanted by anyone else and whatever else he could come up with in the moment to call me that I felt too weak to be able to stand on my own two feet. My view of survival was…..well….him. I was also extremely scared, at that time, of the repercussions of his or his family’s anger. But, he had his own techniques about how he would ‘raise’ me as his wife. He just didn’t know that there was a term called gas lighting that would describe parts of his abuse.
A very common form of brainwashing in which an abuser tries to falsely convince the victim that the victim is defective, for any purpose, such as making the victim more pliable and easily controlled, or making the victim more emotional and therefore more needy and dependent. {You’re reading “Definition of Gas lighting” by J. E. Brown.}
Often done by friends and family members, who claim (and may even believe) that they are trying to be helpful. The gas lighting abuser sees himself or herself as a nurturing parental figure in relation to the victim, and uses gas lighting as a means for keeping the victim in that relationship, perhaps as punishment for the victim’s attempt to break out of the dependent role.
Here’s an example…If an abusive person says hurtful things and makes you cry, and instead of apologizing and taking responsibility, starts recommending treatments for what he or she calls “your depression” or “your mood swings,” you are in the presence of a gas lighter.
So, next time, when someone says, “If it’s true, why didn’t they tell?” or “Don’t feel sorry for someone who just stays in a situation like that!” Understand, that there is so much more going on psychologically that you nor anyone else who’s never experienced brainwashing can comprehend. True the victim does protect the abuser most of the time. Trust me…..”IT’S OUT OF FEAR.” This is how perpetrators ‘silence the lambs.”
Mentally and physically, the effects of 14 years of ‘gas lighting’ took a big toll on me. My ‘alters’ protected me from feeling much more of the abuse than was felt. Did I develop maladaptive coping skills from a very young age? Yes, of course. They worked well at the time to help me survive some of the horrific traumas of my life. Now, they just interfere with daily life. PTSD, social phobias, OCD, rages, flashbacks, body memories, etc. are what my days and nights consist of these days. Life is better on some days rather than on others. This, however, are the effects of a lifetime of abuse perpetrated on who ‘had it all’ and became a ‘head case’ over time. Look at the events of many forms of abuse in my life and tell me who were and still are the ‘head cases?’
Dissociative Identity Disorder is in no shape, form or fashion an easy thing to deal with on a daily basis. It’s scary as hell for me most of the time. I won’t nor can I even begin to imagine what it’s like for my wife. Our son, he’s learning on a different level all of Momma D’s parts. Every single day our family is in a battle with this disorder. On an individual level, we’re in a war to put the pieces of the memories back together and deal with them as they should’ve been dealt with many years ago.
Every morning, as long as I choose to put one foot in front of the other, they don’t win. The day I lay down directly or indirectly in a permanent manner is the day they win. I think you know enough about me to know that I come from a long line of coaches that demanded and would accept nothing less than winners. ‘Winners’ in their eyes were more than just numbers on a scoreboard. There’s only one way I know how to operate….”Get knocked down 1000 times. Get back up 1001 times.” This too is a gift.
This lamb is no longer going to be silent. Abuse is real.
#Thispuzzledlife
Out of the Darkness, Into the Light Part 2
1.29.15
“I want everyone that has been abused by someone in their childhood to know that you can get past it. Having DID is not the end of the world; it’s the beginning of your new life. DID allows the victim of exceptional abuse the ability to “forget” the abuse and continue living. Without it, I may have gone crazy as a teen and spent my life in a psychiatric hospital.”
― Dauna Cole, A Shattered Mind: One Woman’s Story of Survival and Healing
One of the major issues with this disorder are what most people refer to as ‘alters’ or other personalities. What I’m going to try to do is to paint the picture for you in a way that I’ve been learning how to understand this. So, imagine you have an apartment complex and each person has their own room. Except in these rooms, there are horrible memories that are behind doors and no one can get in without a key. The only people that have these keys are my therapists and my alters which help keep anything else from hurting me. This is what has protected me throughout the years. However, some of the coping strategies that worked then DO NOT work now.
Alters can also range in age depending on at what age the abuse occurred. As dysfunctional as things can get at times the alters as a whole are referred to as a ‘system.’ Until consciousness together can be shared, there might always be memory loss. The amnesic episodes are, at the very least, scary as hell. The memories that I often have include only flashes of pictures of the day or days. The information date, time and situation is usually not available.
Alters and systems are as individual as a finger print. There is no ‘cookie cutter’ way of treating DID. The most important thing to me hands down is the relationship with my therapists. Without that relationship, recovery is futile for any issue or disorder. I trust my therapists enough to take me into the depths of the most terrifying events that have ever happened to me. This relationship that has been allowed to happen, as close to trusting, as possible has taken 2 years now with one therapist. However, both the ups and downs of these relationships has lead to the progress now being made by leaps and bounds. Painful as this process is, I can only hope that things actually get better.
The tenets in these rooms represent parts of the person you know as Dana. I will not get into discussing how many or their names. I can tell you that while growing up with some of those reading this blog alters were already formed or forming. Not only do these alters hold memories, but they also function in different ways. However, sometimes the problem with the alters is that they function completely independent from the individual known as the ‘host.’ This is usually the mood swings that you might see. Alters develop out of traumatic events and sometimes more than one during a single traumatic event. Just to put to rest for those that don’t know my parents, no they were not any part of the abuse.
Alters actually develop when the brain compartmentalizes the traumatic event, memories, etc. The trauma is so overwhelming and the mind and body both have to survive, that the only way the individual knows instinctively to survive is by developing a new alter even though they may be unaware at the time. Often times, it is many years down the road that survivors even realize that they have alters. Therefore, many survivors are trapped in the cycle of the mental health system being misdiagnosed for years and much money spent on treatment for the wrong diagnoses.
Often times, many people say, “I’ve been through worse things and I don’t have alters.” The only answer I have found is that what’s traumatic for one person may not necessarily be traumatic for another person. There is also a genetic predisposition to being able to dissociate. And dissociation is key to the formation of alters. What is known is that trauma of any kind effects the brain permanently. Severity depends on how long and what type of trauma was occurred.
You can most definitely have PTSD without meeting criteria for DID. DID cannot exist without a diagnosis of PTSD since that is a large part of how the disorder forms. DID also usually always entails some form of early childhood sexual abuse although ‘splitting’ in adulthood is uncommon.
“Another of the difficulties of having DID is the denial. DID is a disorder of denial. It has to be because if the original person knew about the alters and felt their pain, they would either go crazy and be hospitalized permanently, or would die.”
― Eve N. Adams, A Shattered Soul
#Thispuzzledlife
thispuzzledlife 