The Piano

There are many good memories from my childhood. Among them is the memory of my grandmother. Here is a piece about her...

Running my fingers across the keys of the old upright in our entry way, I produced an out of tune rendition of "Bells Are Ringing"; the only Beethoven in my paled repertoire. It is the only song I know besides a two handed Chopsticks. I stare at the chipped and yellowed ivories, longing for my fingers to produce a flowing sonata. If only I had inherited her talent. I would be able to bring her piano back to life the way it used to fill the room with a beautiful mixture of single notes and chords.

My grandmother was a large boned and buxom woman of German descent, one of a pair of twins raised on an Iowa farm with a strict and conservative Methodist upbringing. She came out to California on a train, met a man, married at a late age, and bore my mother who was to be her only child...read more

Healing Through Therapy

My nightmares as a child were nothing compared to my reality. Every day of my life I walked through the landscape of a dark and dreadful dream. But the monster that lurked behind my doors and around corners was made of flesh and blood and not merely temporary and dissipating works of my imagination. When the dawn would come and I opened my eyes to greet the light, those monsters did not disappear. They took up residence in the shadows of my home. They took on the form of a man, my own father, who was supposed to snatch those same terrifying dreams away and replace them with love and reassurance.

Reality became my worst nightmare, stuck in the middle of it, unable to run. My heart would pound, my veins surged with adrenaline urging me to flee the terror, but my body would remain frozen in time. I could not move, I could not speak, I could not scream. I was physically chained to his unrelenting brutality...read more

Lifting the Veil: Speaking Out About Childhood Sexual Abuse

I am an actress on the stage. The strong one who never bleeds, never breaks, who never crumbles from the pressure. It doesn't matter what life dishes out, I exude confidence through every pore. Yet often, on the inside I shatter, and begin to doubt my strength.

But God forbid that I appear "weak"; what would they say? So I continue on with this noble façade. On the inside I am reaching out in need of reassurance, yet the outside portrait leaves little room for fear to be expressed. It is truly an Oscar deserving performance on the stage of life. When all around me crumbles, I pretend the pieces still remain intact. When loneliness embraces the depth of my existence, I act as if my life's full to the brim. But it's not...read more

Hell

I'm not concerned about going to Hell. I've already been there. When I was held captive within its gates, it was an empty, desolate, desperate state of being. It was the dark side of life; hidden in the shadows, completely unexposed to light. To live it, one wishes death.

Within its depths some smother, some flee some fight. I fought. I do not know the source of the deep internal strength that pulled me through, but if there is a God, then I suppose I owe him credit. But I think he also has a debt to pay to me. Just an answer would suffice...Why did he leave me kneeling cold and scared, an innocent child, to face the monster of the night? Why didn't he answer my pleas from the bottom of my soul to save me from the horror? Did he not realize that my prayers left unanswered, left me with the message that I deserved to experience such atrocity?...read more

Forgiveness: Breaking the Chains of Childhood Sexual Abuse

I am no longer controlled and limited by fear. Fear was for too long my daily and dreadful illusion. An illusion of the present created from the reality of my past. Constant, looming fear of shadows that lingered over my shoulder, left me drained and on the defensive through every minute of my life. Scars that screamed with pain from the past, kept me chained there. I was still a victim, playing weak and powerless in the face of memory's intrusion. Like a sinking boat weighted down with the anchor of my past, my soul flailed in desperation, searching for sight of the shore.

Learning that I possessed within me, the power to create my own present reality, saved me from sinking. I found the power within my mind to release those memories that chained me, and moved on into a more peaceful present. I realized that I have a choice, during every moment of my life, to choose the way I feel. I do not have to "react". No one has the power to make me feel. I now own my own feelings. I am not a puppet with strings attached, but a free agent who controls my own movement or lack thereof; positive thoughts and action or negative thoughts and inaction...read more

Peace From Pain

More than half of my lifetime has been spent dealing with the painful realities of my childhood. At the age of 18, I had my ugly secret reality defined while listening to a radio talk show. I sat alone and mesmerized in the driveway of a good friend, while tears streamed down my cheeks and my "unique" situation was provided with a label: I was a victim of "incest". And I was not alone. The nauseous feeling I carried deep inside had always been right...what my father had done to me was wrong. The sad part was, it took 18 years for someone to define it for me, and it's taken another 30 years to reverse the damage that the act inflicted upon my soul.

In the beginning stages of my gruesome reality, I was stuck in an angry game of handball with the memories. Slamming the visions fiercely away, only to have them rebound off the wall and return to hit me in the face once my hands were down. It was an exhausting game with few points won...read more

The Healing Process

Healing from childhood sexual abuse takes time. As much as we would like for the pain and its effects on our life to be wiped away overnight, reality has proven that there is no magic pill. It is a process that requires an enormous amount of courage and perseverance. It is hard work and is at times very uncomfortable and exhausting. But the rewards of moving through it are incomparable. Every step forward brings with it a new sense of peace. Those peaceful minutes turn to hours, then to days and eventually that peaceful feeling can be summoned at any time you choose, in the midst of any outward circumstance. It becomes a reality of choice instead of an elusive goal; moving beyond the role of "victim" and into the realm of empowerment and choice. We each have the power to move past that pain and create our own internal peace...read more

Home

The house on Adenmoor Avenue still sits boarded shut. The home of my childhood, just one of many dwellings vacated due to plans for freeway expansion. Tied up for years in an endless battle of bureaucracy, the house appears defiant, indestructible, a haunting monument for the terror that existed within its walls.

When the house falls prey to its eventual doom, it will not die. A vivid picture of its structure, contents and history are etched deep within my mind. I will carry that house with me for the remainder of my life. Time has not proven to be the inevitable remedy so highly acclaimed by all. It still haunts me...read more

Gene Pool

My family's gene pool contains the chromosomal structure of eccentric genius. If one were to argue Nature over Nurture, it also contains the genes of sociopath, rapist, alcoholic and homosexual. My aunt Jean was the lucky recipient of all nuclei that delivered intelligence. She was the only member of my family to go to college and receive a degree. My goal as a teenage girl was to avoid the failings of the weaker links in my family, and to follow the path of my aunt and receive my degree.

Aunt Jean obtained her Ph.D. in Biological Sciences and went on to perform cancer research at UCLA Medical Center. Then the unexpected happened. This brilliant, highly esteemed research scientist carried a secret deep within her cells. In addition to her intelligent DNA, she also carried the gene for Paranoid Schizophrenia...read more

Reflection

You were a handsome man with coarse brown hair and the physique of one who has labored. Your eyes are my eyes; hazel, with craters of brown, not unlike a cat's. The length of our legs and shortness of torso are shared.

It's the smile that I remember the most. When it stretched across your face it had a way of canceling your physical prowess. A charming smile, enhanced by shining eyes, could capture the attention of a crowded room. The depth of your laughter and eloquence of speech could easily convince the most critical. You had the gift of "people winning"; you would go out of your way to help those in need, in an unobtrusive and extremely sincere way. You had a heart that bled for those less fortunate than your own state of misfortune. You would find a way to give, even if it meant a great loss for you...read more

Within Silence: The Hidden Realities of Childhood Sexual Abuse

We live in a myopic world. Our eyes are focused so intently upon ourselves, that we often overlook that which exists merely inches beyond our contracting pupils. It's not a condition of blindness, but more likely an illness of perception. We so often choose to see that which our minds can handle as reality, and intentionally blur anything that does not fit into our realm of normalcy. We perceive what we see according to a complex set of rules that have been handed down to us through society and our individual life experiences.

We often walk through life with our blinders pulled down in order to block what we see moving in the field of our peripheral vision. The image is usually a flash at the side, accompanied with the gut feeling that "something just isn't right with this picture". Not sure how to perceive these vague flashes, we focus straight ahead and study the picture before us. We choose to believe what we are focused on as being the truth, and ignore the shadows at the edges that present something vague and unfamiliar. Often the images we choose to see are nothing more than the opposite image of reality. Reality can be ugly. So we hang the clean images in our focus onto the walls of our minds, because they are aesthetically pleasing to the eye, and do not disturb the soul...read more