"Just like the butterfly, I too will awaken in my own time." - Deborah Chaskin
My name is Lisa.  I have had a dream for many years to be able to use the adversity that I struggled through as a child and as an adult to help others.  There is nothing terribly special about me.  I am no different than any of you that may have also suffered through some very painful things in your life.  I'm even more certain that, as heartbreaking as it is, many of you may have suffered things that were more painful and terrible than even I could imagine.  But, I am here as an individual that is still standing after many people have tried to steal my right to happiness, my right to love and be loved, and my right to have the serenity of inner peace.  I'm happy to say, after much healing, they did not succeed.  And not only did they not succeed, but they actually gave me the burning desire to reach out and help others cope with their pain and begin, and/or continue their healing.  I don't have a degree.  I have no formal training in how to counsel people, other than a crisis intervention course I have taken.  Nevertheless, I still know in the deepest part of my heart, that sharing my story with other survivors is going to help someone to heal.  It helps to know that there is someone who really knows what you have been through and probably even experiences a lot of the same obstacles in life that you do, as a result.  So, this is why I share my story.  This is why I formed this group. And, this is why I feel so strongly about not trying to make sense out of these unspeakable things that have happened to us, but maybe bring some good out of them, instead.
When people hear the term "child abuse" they may think it only happens in poor families that are uneducated. But, it occurs in all types of families. It can include physical abuse, emotional abuse, sexual abuse and sheer neglect. But, one fact remains, it is painful…very painful…so painful that survivors of this crime don’t even like to admit to themselves that it even happened to them or, even worse, is still happening to them. That being the case, it is certainly understandable why they don’t want to tell anyone about it. Rarely is an abuser someone that no one likes or trusts. It is nearly always someone that is very much loved, trusted, respected and even admired by many. Survivors know this. That is why most of them choose to remain silent. They are afraid no one will believe them.
I hope in speaking out against this tragedy that goes on more than people care to admit, that I can give a very real and personal voice to survivors. By doing so, I hope to help them find a way out of their emotional prison and realize that they were not to blame for what happened to them. I also hope to educate non-victims and indirect victims. I think there has been so much focus on people trying to prevent this abuse by telling potential victims to just scream, run away and tell, that we have missed a very important piece of the puzzle…educating the people they may actually tell. Most people are just not prepared to hear something like this. But, I hope to be able to at least make these people stop and think about what they would do and how they would react if someone they loved confided this painful ordeal to them.
I am a survivor of child abuse. Like most child abuse survivors, I suffered every form of abuse that I mentioned earlier. I was molested by 3 separate members of my family, none of them knowing about the others. I will not pretend that my faith in God has not been the one thing that has held me together, even as a child. But, I also don’t want to force those of you that don’t share that kind of faith to hear about that part of my healing, for the moment. Just know it was crucial for my own journey of healing.
I was born in Chicago 44 years ago.  My father had a history of beating his wives. I’m not certain of the events that led up to it, but I am told that my mother took her own life when I was 18 months old.  My father hitchhiked with me from Chicago to Mexico City. It wasn’t long after we arrived in Mexico that the Mexican authorities arrested my father for stealing cars and they also found counterfeit money in his possession. He was put in prison and I was orphaned in Mexico City. I’m not sure what happened to me immediately following that. And, I am not certain how, but my father managed to get a message to my grandmother that lived here in Oklahoma. He pleaded with her to get me out of there.
My grandparents sent my aunt to fly to Mexico and get me, as she was the only one in our family other than my father that spoke any Spanish. So, my aunt flew down to Mexico City at the age of 17 to save the day and bring me back to what would be my new home.  I heard the story of my aunt’s heroism told time and time again.  On the plane ride home, she told me of all of the wonderful people that I would meet and how excited they all were to see me. She also began to tell me all of the fun things we were going to do and how everything was going to be like a fairy tale with a happy ending. That is how it seemed hearing it anyway. I remember that feeling. I was so excited.
I remember that first night that it happened, the abuse that is. It was horrible. The images, the sounds, the fear, the sick feeling inside and the dialogue will be burned in my memory for the remainder of my life. Something very valuable was taken from me that night…my right to innocence, my right to say, “I don’t want to do that.”  “I don’t like that.”  “I want to get out of here.”  “I want you to stop.” I was completely silenced, not by threats or violence, but by innocent child-like love.  An innocent child’s strong need to be loved by someone she trusted. People always wonder how these abusers get away with their crimes. Well, that’s how they do it. They make us feel that they will love us if we do whatever they say and make them happy.  It’s hard to explain if you haven’t been a victim in this way. But, you are so confused and overwhelmed by the circumstance, that you just withdraw inside yourself and obey.  Afterwards, my aunt told me it was “our secret” and my grandma would be very mad at me if I told her what I did. That’s right. She said “what I did”. That is another was they silence us. Shame. We love them so much and don’t want them to get in trouble. And, then we feel shame because we didn’t say no. Never does a victim of child abuse “allow” it to happen, much less “want” it to happen because they didn’t say, “No.” This is the very reason that survivors suffer in silence. They are so deathly afraid that people will think they wanted it to happen because they assume they went along with it. That could not be further from the truth. If this wasn’t such a text book response from survivors of child abuse, it wouldn’t be so rampant. If it was so easy for children of any age to just stand up to someone they love and trust and say, “Don’t do that, or I will tell.” It wouldn’t be an epidemic. Children would be telling on their abusers all of the time. But, they don’t, because it is simply not that easy. The abusers take their victim’s voice, their heart, their mind and even their spirit. It is so scary how easy it is for them to do it, too. This is the hardest issue for survivors of this crime to overcome. It was a tough one for me, too. But, I can’t stress to you enough that silence and submission is in no way a sign that a child participated. It is simply the most common response nearly every child that has suffered this trauma has.
When my father was released from prison, he remarried. I transferred to Houston when I was still in the first grade to live with him, my step mother and my step brother. Once again, I was told what a fairy tale this was going to be. My step mother always wanted a little girl and was excited to do all of the mother/daughter things with me. I was pretty excited, too. My father continued his pattern of drinking and wife beating…oh, and Lisa beating. But, that was just for discipline, he said. I was there for only 2 years. But, unfortunately, it was long enough for my step brother, who was 16, to add his name to what I thought was going to be a one person list of people that molested me. I was numb. How could this happen again with someone else? Once again, I found myself keeping my silence. During the day you live side by side with your abuser and act as if nothing has ever happened. You act as if you don’t even remember the night before. It is very odd and very lonely. Silence. To the victim, it just seems to be the easiest, yet toughest solution. Easiest because you don’t run the risk of someone blaming you and/or not believing you, and toughest because you have to suffer alone and withstand the same abuse over and over, night after night, with the fear that it will never end.
I was back in Oklahoma by the middle of the third grade after their marriage split up for good. My grandparents now lived in Noble. My aunt had since gotten married and was pregnant. The abuse started back up, however. It finally stopped when I was in the 4th grade a little after my cousin was born.
I was a good girl with a little bit of a wild streak in school. I made good grades, I was a dancer, a singer, I started in basketball, ran the hurdles, played short stop on our softball team, I was homecoming candidate. There is not one person in my life that would have ever dreamed that I was hiding all of the things I was hiding. I was a golden girl…funny, popular, smart, pretty, talented. Everyone thought that I pretty much had the world by the tale, even at a very young age. Again, it is a very common mistake that survivors always act like helpless victims.  Most of us are very good at hiding it. We have to be. If we weren’t, people would find out our secrets before we were ready to tell. And, that is the one thing that we will protect at all cost.
The summer before my freshman year I went to visit my dad in Houston. It started out as a pretty normal trip. We hung out for a few days in his filthy garage apartment with empty beer cans strung all over…very normal. And, then we went to the beach…again, normal. It was a good day because I absolutely loved going to the beach. But, after that evening, I was able to put yet a 3rd person’s name on my list of abusers, my own father. I think it may have been the most traumatic because of my age. I was 14. I suffered a great deal of shame and confusion. I thought that I was to blame in some way. How could it be that three separate people thought it was okay to do such things to me? It had to be me, I thought. When I arrived home after that trip, I ran to my room crying and stayed in there for two entire days. No one came in to check on me. No one asked what was wrong. Everyone just coexisted and pretended like everything was normal.
It wasn’t until my first daughter was 3 years old that I realized that I needed to get some help with all of this. I was 24. I had convinced myself that my aunt was better, now. But, gradually I saw her begin to create the same kind of relationship with my daughter as she did with me. It scared the daylights out of me. I went to counseling and ultimately confronted her. I had to. It wasn’t about me anymore. There was no way I was going to let this happen to my daughter who I loved more than anyone I have ever loved before. For the most part, my entire family turned their back on us. We were abandoned. This is yet another fear that survivors have which causes them to keep their silence. Because of their fear of loneliness, they would rather have any family, than no family at all. It was a painful time. They called me a liar and said I was crazy. They said life had given me too much to bear and that I finally snapped. If it weren’t for my faith in God and the fact that my counselor was a pastor, I very may well have snapped. But, God was my glue. And, I really don’t say that lightly. He was there in a very strong way. Once again, I was alone…kind of like in Mexico City. But, this time I had my daughter. And, she was safe. That made it all okay. I felt very much at peace knowing that I had made the right decision to protect her from the potential harm I was afraid was lurching around the corner. No matter what the price, I knew I did the right thing…the right thing by her, and the right thing by me.
After leaving her and my son’s father, who also turned out being a very dark and twisted man, I received a letter from my daughter…a letter that no mother ever wants to read. Despite my efforts to protect her from my aunt’s abuse, she still ended up being a victim at the hand of her own father. I can’t begin to tell you how devastating that was to hear. But, it couldn’t have even compared to what she went through. I felt like a complete failure and still struggle with that guilt to this day.  There was a trial and he went to prison, as every person that hurts a child in any way should. In a very painful way however, the chain of abuse in our family has finally been broken. A child stood up and had the courage to speak out, someone listened and someone was punished. I wish every day that this child didn’t have to be one of my own. I would go through my own abuse ten times over again to keep it from happening to her. But, it did.
She is doing very well. She is a beautiful, strong, talented, intelligent young woman with a lot of promise for her future. She is married to a very honorable young man that cherishes her. I tell you this part of my story so that you know that the cycle really can be broken. If survivors know that it was not their fault and also know that we won’t blame them, ridicule them, think differently of them and label them, they can gradually come forward and heal. They can live in peace and experience healthy love and trust.
The one thing that we need to remember, as survivors of any type of abuse and/or assault, whether it happened to us as a child, or an adult, is that we are not alone and it wasn’t and isn’t our fault. The shame is not for us to bear, but for our abusers to deal with. We aren’t damaged beyond repair, even though it may feel like it. The people that have healthy love for us will still love us no matter what. If they are not aware of the secrets we keep in an effort to hide our pain in silence, we need to truly know that they would just ache at the thought of our suffering through something like this, much less alone. One way or another, we need to muster up the courage, as hard as it is, to reach out and trust someone. Just tell someone. No one will blame you. And no one will think any less of you. I suffered the same fears. But, I am so very glad that I now have a network of very loving friends to give me strength. Of course, it is a relatively small circle, and most of them have no idea what living like something such as this is like, but they love me and support me, none the less. It is like coming out of your own emotional prison. And, it is very liberating.
By the way, my ex husband was not the only abuser that went to prison, my aunt did, too. It wasn’t for the type of crimes that she committed against me. But, she landed herself there, none the less.