My Brother Witnessed The Child Abuse Of Sister * Everybody Hurts*

April 29, 2024April 29, 2024 Looking for the Light15 Comments

Original post 3/2014

Everyone suffers in an abusive environment. Our house was always in chaos. An alcoholic stepfather who abused my mother and a mother who abused her daughter. There were three other children in the house who saw the abuse and heard the screams and threats. I used to think the victim was the only person with scars. At 9 years old I survived almost daily beatings by taking drugs, plenty of alcohol, and trying to kill myself. It never occurred to me my brother suffered from witnessing the abuse. My brother’s scars are from seeing our stepfather beat our mother. Dragging her down the hall beating her head from side to side. Putting a knife to her throat saying he would kill her. Most of their fights ended in front of our bedrooms. We had front-row seats to hell. My mother abused me, and the methods escalated as I aged. I heard stories of abuse as early as six months old. I don’t think my mother was trying to kill me. She’s like the women on the news who allow their kids to die. She didn’t push my head under the water but would have crocodile tears if I drowned accidentally.

One weekend driving back from Houston we passed the exit to my mother’s house. I had strong emotions about my brother, not me. I didn’t understand the emotions. It hit me like a train, my brother was not physically abused yet was still a victim of abuse. He heard his sister scream and cry while his mother threw me to the floor, and hit my head on the countertop or down the hallway walls. He saw my stepfather hit me in the mouth with his fist. He saw my stepfather threaten to kill my mother while holding a knife to her throat. The realization was an eye-opener, I had overwhelming guilt. My brother and I never talked about it. The pain was swept under the rug. I didn’t know how he felt about the violence he saw. Neither of us knew how the violence would manifest itself in our souls. We had no idea how it would affect the decisions we made as adults.

My brother holds almost all emotions inside, it doesn’t even show on his face. I don’t think he realizes how the violence shaped him as a man. He has a good relationship with my mother yet he lives with the knowledge of what his mother did and allowed. I went to live with my father at 12 years old which meant I only saw my brother a couple of times of year. On my father’s designated holidays we went to my grandparents. We drifted apart from only seeing each other a couple of times a year. After college he moved to Arlington we were both alcoholics by then. Our meetings were at drunken parties at his apartment. We quit calling each other. It took the death of my father to bring us back together. It is the only positive from my father’s death.

I developed a strong relationship with his fiancé. We talked like old girlfriends. She was at my house one-night enjoying wine and chatting. I had no control over my mouth, it spilled out. I asked her if he acknowledged my abuse. She shared how much it affected him, the guilt he carries. A missing piece of the puzzle filled my heart. I thought I was invisible. We are very close, talk or e-mail very often. We live only 30 minutes apart but his travel schedule doesn’t allow much time together. A perfect example, is their Christmas presents are still in the closet. The difference is when we are together it’s like no time has passed.

It has been very touching to get e-mails from him as I deal with my health issues. His tone is of true concern. There was a time when I didn’t think this day would come. I’m so happy. I love my brother. I love him enough to attend his wedding even though I would have to see my mother. I did not want to look back knowing I missed his wedding. I realized another level of love and what you will do for love.

XO Warrior

Abuse · Bipolar Disorder · Child Abuse · Children · Domestic Violence · Suicide

Reposted *D I V O R C E

February 15, 2024February 15, 2024 Looking for the Light20 Comments

Original post 5/2014

It was a normal Sunday like any other. I was 6 and my brother was 3 1/2 years old, my mother was taking us to the lake. We never went to the lake, and I began to get excited about playing in the water. I also grew concerned, about what did she have on her mind. Even at 6 years old I knew she always had an agenda. We pulled up to the picnic tables on the far side of the lake, nowhere near the water. She tells my brother and me that our parents are getting a divorce. Not understanding what it meant I asked her to spell it for me. I kept repeating the spelling in my head so I could ask my friend. I would find out sooner than later. Gramp’s truck was overflowing with my father’s belongings. They were driving off as we rounded the corner.

Their relationship went from bad to hell on earth. My mother took every chance to tell us how much she hated him. She married within six months his name was R known as (Nazi & Lucifer). He was her supervisor at work and could get her the white picket fence. We moved into a new house with a big backyard, things looked so normal on the outside. If people only knew the carnage on the inside.

Custody was a nightmare, Daddy would bring us home and she would throw things at him. One time she hit him in the head with the Sunday paper. This was the beginning of a twice-a-month cycle of harassment.

After a couple of years, we moved to a country with, a population of 137. It was almost a two-hour trip. One Thanksgiving my dad arrived 15 minutes early and she called the sheriff. My dad didn’t get out of the car, he knew he was early and she was crazy.

It’s sad parents separated or divorced talk bad about the other. It was not just my mother, her mother and grandmother, they hated my dad. He forced her to get pregnant and I’m the devil’s child. They would call our house ranting about how I was a mistake, ruined my mother’s future, and how much they hated my father. We lived in a toxic environment because my mother was toxic.

The scars my brother and I had from their behavior were nothing compared to the abuse inside the house. It reached a point where I had to go pick my brother up to avoid her shit. My father was no angel but he never talked bad about my mother. My mother told me that daddy raped her and I was a mistake. Her common saying, like several times a day, I hate your father, and you are just like him. At 9-10 years old it doesn’t take long to figure out your mother hates you because you’re just like your father.

I don’t know why, I wondered if could be true, I held it in for years. I don’t know how we got to the topic. I was angry at my father and spit out what she had told me. The look in his eyes said everything. My father was so hurt and said I loved your mother.

When my father killed himself he had a lock box on the coffee table and papers spread everywhere. Their divorce papers were on the table, his Bible open to Job and a notepad with written words scattered on the page. No sentences, I did see the number for the suicide hotline and one of his oldest friends. Written in one corner was 11:00 and he died between 7-8 pm. I wondered if it took him that long to pull the trigger or if was he trying to fight his demons. There are tear stains in the Book of Job.

Warrior

Bipolar Disorder · Child Abuse · Family · Men & Womens Health · Mental Illness · Parental Abuse · Rape · Suicide · Survivor

Repost From 2015-Guilt is the Shadow in the Mirror

November 5, 2023November 5, 2023 Looking for the Light22 Comments

All Gramps said is your daddy has done away with himself. I screamed then said I’m on the way. Calling right back to ask were they sure he’s dead? Yes. I think years of abuse left a permanent hole in my heart. I go there to do actions requiring no emotions. It’s like autopilot, it has served me well. I started to think about work, and who I needed to call. I’m driving with emergency lights on going at 100 mph calling my work team. I stayed on autopilot until I pulled up to my grandparents.

Estranged since I was a teen, I thought it odd when he started calling. He sounded delusional and extremely paranoid. Nothing made sense, he was not talking in sentences. I pieced together he didn’t have any money and couldn’t work. Why he could not work must have come from the madness.

I would do anything to avoid my granny being hurt. I paid his bills. Over the next several months the phone calls were my hell on earth. He would threaten to kill himself then go off on what didn’t sound like words. I couldn’t make out anything he was saying as he yelled on the phone. I would keep trying to redirect him back to our conversation. I did not tell anyone what Daddy said. He was mentally ill. It had been years since we talked, maybe this was his norm. I didn’t know.

Everyone was sitting on the floor when I entered the door. The first words out of my mouth were “he told me”. I felt overwhelming guilt, I let my family down. I knew it wasn’t logical but emotions rarely are. My mind scrambled, my father sexually abused me and I’m feeling guilty. I forgave my father, cut him out of my life, paid bills, and felt guilty.

My grandparents and I went to Daddy’s the next morning. The disarray would alert anyone that something was wrong. On his coffee table, his lockbox was open with every card I had given him, every school photo. The divorce paperwork to my mother laid on the table, his Bible open to Job. You could see tear stains on the pages. The house had papers scattered everywhere, dishes piled up, and everything thrown around. My father had reached the bottom long ago and no one knew.

I found a shoebox full of cassette tapes from recorded phone conversations. It took seven months to listen to every tape. I would have a couple of drinks, listen and cry. Like a tornado in my head, being in the house my sexual abuse took place, Daddy putting 357 mags to my head, being a drug addict, and my boyfriend and I planning how to kill my father. These are the times the hole in my heart is useful. Granny didn’t know about the abuse and went to her grave not knowing. To help my granny cope, I would not cry or show emotion around her. I wanted to piece her heart back together. Holding emotions inside extended my grieving process a long seven years.

A couple of weeks later the morgue called asking me to pick up the gun. I rang the side doorbell, and someone brought the original suicide note, autopsy report, and gun with dried blood. My mind could not prepare for reading the autopsy report. Every detail of how he shot himself. The trajectory of the bullet, lobes damaged, bones crushed, and exit wounds.

I believe my father died so I could live. Learning about his mental illness pointed me to my own. Through Ancestry, I connected with Daddy’s half-brother and several family members. There were over ten suicides in only three generations and many now with severe mental illness.

Daddy

1940-1992

Melinda

Celebrate Life · Health and Wellbeing · Healthy Living · Men & Womens Health · Mental Health · Moving Forward · Music · Self-Care · Survivor

From Me To You, Don’t Give Up You Are Loved

October 6, 2022 Looking for the Light1 Comment

Reposts from 2014.

I woke up weeping this morning, the reasons are never known. I sit down to write and start to cry. Unsure of what I need emotionally, my focus turns to the computer. Today I needed to hear I was loved.

Josh Groban fills my soul, maybe he can fill you with love today.

Melinda

Bipolar Disorder · Family · Health and Wellbeing · Men & Womens Health · Mental Health · Mental Illness · Suicide · Survivor

Guilt is the Shadow in the Mirror

May 25, 2022 Looking for the Light3 Comments

May is Mental Health Awareness month and I wanted to share a post written in 2015. Suicide is one of the reasons we need awareness, it can happen to anyone, with or without notice.

All he said is your daddy has done away with himself. I screamed then said I’m on the way. Calling right back to ask were they sure he was dead? Yes. I think years of abuse left a permanent hole in my heart. I go there to do actions requiring no emotions. It’s like autopilot, it has served me well. I started to think about work, and who I needed to call. I’m driving with emergency lights on going 100 mph calling my work team. I stayed on autopilot until I pulled up to my grandparents.

Estranged since a teen, I thought it odd when he started calling. He sounded delusional and extremely paranoid. Nothing made sense, he was not talking in sentences. I pieced together he didn’t have any money and couldn’t work. Why he could not work must have come from the madness.

I would do anything to avoid my granny being hurt. I paid his bills. Over the next several months the phone calls were my hell on earth. He would threaten to kill himself and then go off on what didn’t sound like words. I couldn’t make out anything he was saying as he yelled on the phone. I would keep trying to redirect him back to our conversation. I did not tell anyone what daddy said. He was mentally ill. It had been years since we talked, maybe this was his norm. I didn’t know.

Everyone sitting on the floor when I entered the door. The first words out of my mouth were what he told me. I felt overwhelming guilt, I let my family down. I knew it wasn’t logical but emotions rarely are. My mind scrambled, my father sexually abused me and I’m feeling guilty. I forgave my father, cut him out of my life, paid bills, and feel guilty.

My grandparents and I went to daddy’s the next morning. The disarray would alert anyone that something was wrong. On his coffee table, his lockbox opened with every card I had ever given him, every school photo. The divorce paperwork to my mother laid on the table, his bible open to Job. You could see tear stains on the pages. The house had papers scattered everywhere, dishes piled up, and everything was thrown around. My father had reached the bottom long ago and no one knew.

I found a shoebox full of cassette tapes from recorded phone conversations. It took seven months to listen to every tape. I would have a couple of drinks, listen and cry. Like a tornado in my head, being in the house my sexual abuse took place, daddy putting 357 mag to my head, being a drug addict, and my boyfriend and I planning how to kill my father. These are the times the hole in my heart is useful. Granny didn’t know about the abuse and went to her grave not knowing. To help my granny cope, I would not cry or show emotion around her. I wanted to piece her heart back together. Holding emotions inside extended my grieving process for a long seven years.

A couple of weeks later the morgue called asking me to pick up the gun. Ring the side doorbell, someone brought the original suicide note, autopsy report, and gun with dried blood. My mind could not prepare for reading the autopsy report. Every detail of how he shot himself. The trajectory of bullets, lobes damaged, bones crushed, and exit wounds.

I believe my father died so I could live. Learning about his mental illness pointed me to my own. Thru ancestry, I connected with daddy’s half-brother and several family members. There were over ten suicides in only three generations and many are now with severe mental illness.

Daddy

1940-1992

Melinda

Anxiety · Bipolar Disorder · Depression · Health and Wellbeing · Men & Womens Health · Mental Health · Mental Illness · Therapy

How Keeping a Mood Chart Changed My Life

May 24, 2022 Looking for the Light10 Comments

May is Mental Health Awareness Month and I wanted to share a tool that helped me better communicate with my doctor about my mood swings and how I was doing in between appointments.

Cleaned up repost from 2014

When I started seeing my Psychopharmacologist almost 16 years ago he intimidated me. He’s not a chipper guy and it took years to see through his shell. I was in a very dark place and spiraling down. I didn’t think he understood how depressed I was.

Psychiatrists are different from therapists in that, they only provide medication management, and appointments are 20 minutes at most. So we had a couple of frustrating meetings. I didn’t know how to reach him, I didn’t know doctor talk. He is one of the best in Texas and finding a Psychopharmacologist is difficult, I wasn’t walking away.

During another frustrating meeting, he left the room to talk to a therapist he worked with. He did me the biggest favor and no doubt saved my life. He suggested I sit down with a therapist to see if she could help me better communicate what was going on. They had worked together for 13 years, and she provided some insight into his personality and how best to communicate with him.

She drew a chart and we talked about how depressed I was. She repeated back to make sure she was on track and then gave me the chart. At that time I was rapid cycling, and adjusting to meds, and didn’t think I was improving. The Mood Chart brought our communication on the same page. I liked the log because it gave me an opportunity to show how I was cycling or any other significant change. I took out a journal and started keeping a daily log of the chart and any info about my state of mind. It gave me an opportunity to see exactly what was happening at any given time or day and look for trends, triggers, and side effect notes.

I want to share the chart for those struggling with their mental illness or who have trouble communicating with their doctor.

Once we were on the same page, he was able to give me the help I needed. I would suggest a larger sheet of paper to give room for notes.

My chart may look different than yours since I discovered my normal was actually below the normal line. You basically draw a line down the middle of a piece of paper. The line is normal mood. Then you track 1-10 above the line or below the line. Mine is not the best example but it’s the only one I kept.

I would track 1-10 below the line if I was depressed and 1-10 above the line if I was feeling good or high. I would also write some notes in there to help describe the mood or feelings at the time. There are some mood charts online that you can print off that might help.

Tracking my moods gave me a way to spell out exactly what I was going thru with documentation that helped me answer questions from the doctor that I may not have remembered otherwise.

Depression Mood Chart — I hope this helps you in some way.

Melinda

Child Abuse · Children · Family · Health and Wellbeing · Men & Womens Health · Mental Health · Parental Abuse · PTSD · Survivor

Repost from 2015 Mother’s Message To Her Child

May 10, 2022 Looking for the Light10 Comments

This is what child abuse looks like. Just like any other parent is what it looks like until you peel the layers back.

Melinda

Original post 1/2015

I found photos of myself starting at birth. As I looked at each photo my mind was asking who could hit this child. I began to sob, continuing to look at each as I grew older. The question of who could hit this child grew louder in my head. People who don’t know me are probably thinking I was crying for myself. The truth is I didn’t think about my circumstances once. I looked at each photo as any child being abused, not even seeing myself in the photo. I knew logically they were me but my mind turns off. I had a similar experience after seeing a news report of a 9-year-old girl abused, starved, and killed by her parents. She died chained to a post on the front porch. I was heartbroken and wished someone could have helped her. There were no tears at home. Several days later I started talking to my Therapist about the girl. I cried, expressing a range of emotions, and it took a few minutes to compose myself. I asked my Therapist if the emotions were suppressed, and I didn’t think so. After 16 years she knows me and explained I feel deep compassion for others.

I read my Baby Book, I wanted to show that abused children and abusers don’t look any different. The parents can say sweet things to cover the abuse at home.

My Mother’s Message To Her Child

To my beautiful young lady. I wish you all the happiness and grace to you. May God fill your life with all his richness and love. May your path be filled with roses and your heart be filled with the pureness of God.

New mothers often write their child’s milestones in a Baby Book. Here is my Mother’s observations and comments mine starting at birth.

Lock of hair from the first cut at 12 months old

The first baby ring at 18 months

Hand and footprints traced, right hand at 8 months and right foot at 3 months

My first toys were a baseball bat and glove from my gramps

I learned to ride a bike at 4 years old

Started walking at 8 months, potty trained at 19 months

Notes: Happy birthday my sweet little kitten, likes to blow bubbles with her food, first school play 5 years old, I was so proud I cried, she has a little temper, she has a big beautiful smile, at 16 months loves music and dancing

The entries stopped but the abuse didn’t.

Abuse · Child Abuse · Domestic Violence · Mental Health · Parental Abuse · Survivor

Thru The Eyes Of A Child

October 4, 2021 Looking for the Light1 Comment

Growing up in a household of Domestic Violence is traumatic, lonely, heartbreaking and forever changes the person you are and who you become.

My step-father would regularly drag my mother down the hall, beating her head from one side to the other, calling her vial names. The hall ended at my bedroom door. I heard all saw the brunt of her pain.

One evening after he was drinking heavily again, he dragged her down the hall, only this time when they stopped at my bedroom door I heard her begging for her life. I peeked out the door carefully and found he had a knife to her throat. I knew he was going to kill her. Then what?

I ran away that night, I was nine years old. That’s more than a child can handle. I went to my boyfriend’s house across town and told his parents what happened. Of course, they had to call my mother after I calmed down. I received a beating for that before we even turned the corner.

I was also emotionally and physically abused by my mother and stepfather which added my train wreck of a life.

It took years of therapy and medication for me to clearly see I was not to blame and even longer to grieve for the little girl whose childhood was ripped away piece by piece.

It was almost 20 years later before my brother had to pull a gun on my step-father to make him leave while beating my mother.

Here are a few organizations that can help:

Joyful Heart Foundation joyfulheartfoundation.org

RAINN.org has provided support to the National Assault Hotline for since 1994 Many other services are provided and available in English & Spanish

National Domestic Hotline Resources/Support 24/7 1-800-799-7233 Live Chat Daily from 7am-2am Central Standard Time 1-800-787-3224

No More NoMore.org

If you’re in a Domestic relationship that is violent, have a plan for the day you need to leave and only tell the most trusted person where you are. Get a new cell phone and don’t use joint credit cards. Get as far away as you can and take your children.

Keep your eyes and ears open, most importantly look at the children, their actions and remember the eyes can tell you everything.

Melinda

Bipolar Disorder · Depression · Mental Health · Mental Illness · Suicide

Daddy was 52 on 2/22/1992

May 29, 2021 Looking for the Light6 Comments

I’m reposting this because May is Mental health Awareness Month and I think it’s very important to acknowledge those who have committed suicide or try to understand those who might. As I’ve said many times, you will not change a person’s mind if they are determined to kill themselves but you can hopefully interview early enough to get them the help they need. I was not able to that with my father.

Don’t ever give up, no matter how hard you have been pushed away, don’t push back. try another route. Just keep trying.

Melinda 5/29/21

This post was written in 2014

My father suffered from Mental Illness his entire life. When he was a teen, Doctor’s told my grandmother he was hyperactive and gave her tranquilizers. I doubt he took one pill. Estranged since I was thirteen years old, I could not look my abuser in the eye. Daddy started calling when I was 28 years old. He was delusional, talking in sentences that made no sense. I picked up he needed money, I started paying his bills. He said he was going to kill himself and kept rambling. I could not get through to him. I did not tell anyone in my family either. He was so far gone, he could not process what I was saying.

On February 22, 1992, my father took his life. I felt overwhelming guilt. Unsure how my grandmother would react to me not telling her. It’s a guilt I’ll carry to my grave. At 28 years old it was hard to feel pain and remember the past. In the note, he asked me to handle arrangements. I did what I’d done for years, stuff my emotions down, act strong and get it done. There are many who inherit Mental Illness, have a relative who suffers or experienced suicide in the family who suffer in silence. Healing from child abuse is difficult, it can feel impossible when the abuser is a parent. I never told my grandparents about my father sexually abusing me.

Every day is one step in forwarding motion. I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder at 19 years old. I’ve mostly healed since my father’s death. I forgave him long ago. I hope you can take the first step and reach for support. There is light at the end of the tunnel.

Melinda

Abuse · Bipolar Disorder · Child Abuse · Depression · Mental Health · Mental Illness · Parental Abuse · PTSD

Running to Stand Still

May 29, 2021 Looking for the Light1 Comment

May is Mental Health Awareness Month and I wanted to shine a light on my own mental health struggles. I believe trauma in our early years greatly impacts our mental health. I got the short in the the stick as they say and I’m so glad to have had the right people in my life and the will to fight to get where I am today.

I have Bipolar Disorder on top of trauma related PTSD but today I’m stable. take my meds 99% of the time, keep a schedule, work hard to reduce stress in my life since that is one of the big triggers with my Bipolar Disorder.

I want to say to anyone out there who is struggling, do something. Anything, a step forward is a step forward. If you are at the bottom barely hanging on, check yourself in to a Psychiatric Hospital and ge the help you need. There is no shame, NO SHAME! I’ve been hospitalized several times and I’m alive today.

If you want to live and don’t know who, reach out to someone. Call 911 if you have to, go to the hospital, do something. Your life is important!

Original post from 3/2014

The song “Running to Stand Still” by U2 pierced my soul. I can’t explain the feeling. It describes my life in four simple words. I have fought most of my life to stay alive, many of my own bad choices. In the early sixties, my parents met at a party. I don’t know if they dated or a one-night stand. At 17 years old she was pregnant and engaged to another man. Women didn’t have the voice we do today so it was a shot-gun wedding. I don’t know what baggage she brought to the relationship. I know both of her parents were alcoholics. I believe one issue was the two kids with picket fence fantasy and displaced anger. I was physically and mentally abused by my mother from birth. We lived in a two-story duplex. One afternoon my grandparents came over. My grandmother learned my mother had left me upstairs in the bathtub at six months old. On another visit in the middle of winter, they found me in a diaper, my high chair pushed up to an open window. I was running a fever and was crying. She opened the window because I was hot. I was not physically able to run but believe my mind started running early. Running from the pain, feeling unloved, lack of trust, and believed the terrible things said to me were true. It’s been a long journey to learn who I am. Most days I think positive, keep the pain locked away and maneuver my Bipolar Disorder. I buried the past for survival and to move forward. I’ve learned from years of therapy, pain finds you or affects your health. Both have found me, we work on my inner child each session.

M/Warrior

Abuse · Child Abuse · Domestic Violence · Mental Health · Parental Abuse · Survivor

Domestic Violence Thru The Eyes Of A Child

April 14, 2021October 24, 2022 Looking for the Light5 Comments

Growing up in a household of Domestic Violence is traumatic, lonely, and heartbreaking and forever changes the person you are and who you become. I was also emotionally and physically abused by my mother and stepfather which added to my train wreck of a life.

It took years of Therapy and medications to clearly see I was not to blame and even longer to grieve for the little girl whose childhood was ripped away.

Watch the video, and look for the nuances of violence or controlling behavior. At the end of the video, the physical abuse becomes crystal clear. Thank God someone was there to help her getaway.

If you’re in a Domestic relationship that is violent, have a plan for when the day comes when you need to leave.

Tears started my day, who knows what triggered the thought of this post and song.

Original post 4/26/2015

young sick looking me — I feel the pain but know I have to smile.

I witnessed my mother beat emotionally and physically every day, it created chaos in my young mind. A tornado burned a hole in my heart. I couldn’t understand the feelings of pain when abused and watching abuse. Child abuse leaves a deep scar in my heart. During a conversation, a friend expressed fear over how the high-conflict divorce was impacting the kids. A volcano erupted in me, I survived Domestic Violence and had no idea. I thank the Army of Angels for being a friend. My eyes were opened during our conversation. The video is heartbreaking, beautiful, and hopeful.

XO Warrior

Health and Wellbeing · Men & Womens Health · Mental Health

Sunday Thoughts

December 13, 2020December 13, 2020 Looking for the Light13 Comments

This year…..

I’ve driven myself four times.

Had 15 doctor’s appointments, only three of which were Telehealth.

One CT Scan.

One Bone Scan.

Two Mammograms.

Seven X-rays.

Nine Lab appointments.

Six referrals to specialists.

Four steroid shots, one shoulder, three in the knee.

One round Botox for TMJ.

Rescheduled Colonsocpy twice due to pandemic, on indefinite hold now.

Haven’t slept a solid night since July due to pain, wake up between 1:30-3:30 a.m. after pain medication wears off.

Six new prescriptions.

Diagnosed with new immune disorder, Hypogammaglobulinemia.

TB Test, two Pneumonia shots, two Shingles shots, and one flu shot.

I’m one of the lucky chronically ill patients, I feel relatively good.

In health,

Melinda

Health and Wellbeing · Men & Womens Health · Mental Health

Sunday Thoughts

December 6, 2020December 6, 2020 Looking for the Light7 Comments

We all have the ability to chart our own course. Some will have a harder time than others but we can all take the wheel and carve out a life we want to live.

We achieve this by making small decisions every day that make a big impact on the whole. It’s not always the big steps we take, but it’s the small steps that will steer our path in the long haul.

One of the biggest steps I’ve taken to find happiness is to avoid negativity, which includes limiting the amount of news I watch daily, severe negative relationships, and limit social media interaction.

Another big step this year has been to make my mental health a priority. This includes self-care, tackling new challenges, and above all seeing about my physical health daily. That means taking my medication, keeping my critical doctor’s appointments, moving more often than sitting, eating a little better, and setting realistic expectations.

I work hard to give myself credit for what I accomplish each day, no matter how small it may seem. I work within my limits and don’t beat myself up if I can’t go the extra mile.

Last but not LEAST, I’m grateful. I try to look at the smallest things like I dropped a pill on the floor and I found it before my dog’s grateful.

The key is I’m driving the car, I’m behind the wheel.

What steps do you take each day to change your destiny?

In health,

Melinda

Abuse · Child Abuse · Domestic Violence · Health and Wellbeing

Domestic Violence Thru The Eyes Of A Child

October 13, 2020 Looking for the Light5 Comments

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month and I wanted to share some thoughts. This isn’t much of a post but some thoughts I had in 2015 when triggered after seeing Sam Hunt’s video, I just want to take your time. You have to pay close attention to the subtext in the video if you’re not familiar with Domestic Violence. The video starts with a fight and ends in one, a very important life-changing one.

Original post 4/26/2015

I witnessed my mother get beaten emotionally and physically every day, it created chaos in my young mind. A tornado burned a hole in my heart. I couldn’t understand the feelings of pain when being abused and watching abuse. Child abuse leaves a deep scar in my heart, so does seeing abuse.

A volcano erupted in me, I survived Domestic Violence and had no idea.

The video is heartbreaking, beautiful, and hopeful.

https://youtu.be/iXi6IHFHeIA

In Health,

Melinda

Abuse · Child Abuse · Domestic Violence · Family · Health and Wellbeing · Men & Womens Health · Mental Health · Parental Abuse · Survivor

Sunday Thoughts, I Was A Child

October 4, 2020 Looking for the Light32 Comments

I was a child, six months old. You left me in the bathtub while you answered the door. Did you want me to drown?

I was a child, a baby, running a high fever in the middle of winter. You pushed my highchair in front of an open window to cool me down. Did your mother teach you that?

I was a child, a toddler, You dug your nails into my underarms so none would see the bruises. Granny didn’t understand why I cried so hard when you grabbed me by the arm.

I was a child, a teenager. You slapped me for the last time, I fought back. One swing and your husband punches me in the mouth with his fist. Were you glad he came to your rescue?

I was a child, a teenager. You told Child Protective Services I was mentally ill and you were trying to get me admitted to the state hospital. Crazy, who me?

I became an adult, no longer a child, and realized the manipulation and pain you caused and severed all ties. Why do you still send my Birthday and Christmas cards?

I was a child…..

Melinda

Abuse · Child Abuse · Family · Parental Abuse · Sexual Abuse · Suicide

My Brother Witnessed Domestic Violence And Child Abuse * Everybody Hurts*

October 15, 2019February 18, 2024 Looking for the Light2 Comments

Original post 3/2014

Everyone suffers in an abusive environment. Our house was always in chaos. An alcoholic stepfather who abused my mother and a mother who abused her daughter. There were three other children in the house who saw the abuse, heard the screams and threats. I used to think the victim was the only person with scars. At 9 years old I survived almost daily beatings by taking drugs, plenty of alcohol and trying to kill myself. It never occurred to me my brother suffered from witnessing the abuse. My brother’s scars are from seeing our stepfather beat our mother. Dragging her down the hall beating her head from side to side. Putting a knife to her throat saying he would kill her. Most of their fights ending in front of our bedrooms. We had front row seats to hell. My mother abused me, the methods escalated as I aged. I heard stories of abuse as early as six months old. I don’t think my mother was trying to kill me. She’s like the women on the news who allow their kids to die. She didn’t push my head under the water but would have crocodile tears if I drowned accidentally.

One weekend driving back from Houston we passed the exit to my mother’s house. I had strong emotions about my brother not me. I didn’t understand the emotions. It hit me like a train, my brother was not physically abused yet was still a victim of abuse. He heard his sister scream and cry while his mother threw me to the floor, hit my head on the countertop or down the hallway walls. He saw my stepfather hit me in mouth with his fist. He saw my stepfather threaten to kill my mother while holding a knife to her throat. The realization was an eye opener, I had overwhelming guilt. My brother and I never talked about it. The pain was swept under the rug. I didn’t know how he felt about the violence he saw. Neither of us knew how the violence would manifest itself in our souls. We had no idea how it would affect decisions we made as adults.

My brother holds almost all emotions inside, it doesn’t even show on his face. I don’t think he realizes how the violence shaped him as a man. He has a good relationship with my mother yet he lives with the knowledge of what his mother did and allowed. I went to live with my father at 12 years old which meant I only saw my brother a couple of times of year. On my fathers designated holidays we went to my grandparents. We drifted apart from only seeing each other a couple of times a year. After college he moved to Arlington we were both alcoholics by then. Our meetings were at drunken parties at his apartment. We quit calling each other. It took the death of my father to bring us back together. It is the only positive from my father’s death.

I developed a strong relationship with his fiancé. We talked like old girlfriends. She was at my house one night enjoying wine and chatting. I had no control over my mouth, it spilled out. I asked her if he acknowledged my abuse. She shared how much it effected him, the guilt he carries. A missing piece of the puzzle filled my heart. I thought I was invisible. We are very close, talk or e-mail very often. We live only 30 minutes apart but his travel schedule doesn’t allow much time together. A perfect example, their Christmas present are still in the closet. The difference is when we are together it’s like no time has passed. It has been very touching to get e-mails from him as I deal with my health issues. His tone is of true concern. There was a time when I didn’t think this day would come. I’m so happy. I love my brother. I love him enough to attend his wedding even though I would have to see my mother. I did not want to look back knowing I missed his wedding. I realized another level of love and what you will do for love.

XO Warrior

Survivor

Domestic Violence thru the eyes of a Child

October 14, 2019 Looking for the Light7 Comments

Tears started my day, who knows what triggered the thought of this post and song. M

Original post 4/26/2015

I witnessed my mother beat emotionally and physically everyday, it created chaos in my young mind. A tornado burned a hole in my heart. I couldn’t understand the feelings of pain when abused and watching abuse. Child abuse leaves a deep scar in my heart. During a conversation, a friend expressed fear over how the high conflict divorce was impacting the kids. A volcano erupted in me, I survived Domestic Violence and had no idea. I thank Army of Angels for being a friend. My eyes were opened during our conversation. The video is heartbreaking, beautiful and hopeful.

XO Warrior

Bipolar Disorder · Mental Illness

Learning Doctor Talk

June 23, 2019 Looking for the Light1 Comment

Repost from 2014

I started seeing my Psychopharmacologist in 1992 and he intimidated me. He’s not a chipper guy and it took years to see through his shell. I was in a very dark place and spiraling down. I didn’t think he understood how depressed I was.

He only provides medication management, 15-minute appointments at most. We had a couple of frustrating meetings. I didn’t know how to reach him, I didn’t know doctor talk. He is one of the best in Texas and finding a Psychopharmacologist is difficult. I wasn’t walking away. During another frustrating meeting, he left the room to talk to a therapist he worked with. He did me the biggest favor and no doubt saved my life by asking me to talk with the therapist.

I sat down with her and expressed my frustration in getting thru to him. They had worked together for 13 years, she could provide insight into his personality and how best to communicate with him. Once we were on the same page, he was able to give me the help I needed.

Psychopharmacology: is the scientific study of the effects drugs have on mood, sensation, thinking, and behavior.The field of psychopharmacology studies a wide range of substances with various types of psychoactive properties, focusing primarily on the chemical interactions with the brain.Psychoactive drugs interact with particular target sites or receptors found in the nervous system to induce widespread changes in physiological or psychological functions. The specific interaction between drugs and their receptors is referred to as “drug action”, and the widespread changes in physiological or psychological function is referred to as “drug effect”. These drugs may originate from natural sources such as plants and animals, or from artificial sources such as chemical synthesis in the laboratory.

Survivor

Domestic Violence thru the eyes of a Child

September 4, 2018September 4, 2018 Looking for the Light32 Comments

Tears started my day, who knows what triggered the thought of this post and song. M

Original post 4/26/2015

I witnessed my mother beat emotionally and physically everyday, it created chaos in my young mind. A tornado burned a hole in my heart. I couldn’t understand the feelings of pain when abused and watching abuse. Child abuse leaves a deep scar in my heart. During a conversation, a friend expressed fear over how the high conflict divorce was impacting the kids. A volcano erupted in me, I survived Domestic Violence and had no idea. I thank Army of Angels for being a friend. My eyes were opened during our conversation. The video is heartbreaking, beautiful and hopeful.

XO Warrior

Child Abuse · Family · Moving Forward · Parental Abuse · Survivor

Unconditional Love-The Sacrifices Never End

July 7, 2017July 7, 2017 Looking for the Light3 Comments

My grandparents loved me unconditionally with words, most importantly their actions. They saw the effects of abuse and neglect from a distance, I never said anything or make accusations. Granny spent extra time with me, giving me a long bath, washing my hair, scrubbing dirty feet, knees and elbows. She pampered me with few words spoken. She had the ritual, after drying off and hair not dripping she would wrap me in the towel, carry me to the bed, put baby powder on me then tell what a cute and funny/beautiful/any compliment I could comprehend at the age.

Granny knew I was dead inside from years of abuse, she never spoke bad of my mother even though tormented by my pain My grandparents made sacrifices until God deemed the time was right. My music teacher called me into the hall and would not accept my explanation for the bruises all over the my face. She asked me go to the Counselors office, I begged you don’t understand saying anything only makes it worse for me. I arrive in Counselor’s office, asking to call my Granny. I told her everything, she had seen the bruises, my underarms bruised and bleeding from my mothers stabbed finger nails.

Some of the most traumatic years followed. God knew when the time was right, at 12 yrs old my grandparents received full custody. It came with one condition, giving the Sate of Texas custody for one year for punishment by placing me in a reform school.

At 12 yrs old I was probation for carrying a gun, skipping 45 days of school, underage drinking, disturbing the police, resisting arrest and distribution of marijuana. I meet with the probation officer monthly, never saying a word until the seven month. The State of Texas wanted me committed to a reform boot camp style facility. My thug behavior had to change before I could function in a positive environment. I had visions of my behavior getting violent, kill before being killed, I had no fear of dying.

My grandparents knew I would not reform or make it out alive with other violent girls. Granny worked with the probation officer to come up with another solution. She remembered a girl when she was younger who went to a Convent School for bad girls. As it happened, the Convent had converted to a school again for girls with severe behavioral problems. At first glance it was the perfect solution until expenses were laid out. This was the mid 1970’s and cost $2000 per month, a strict lengthy list of uniforms, every detail down to how many towels and the money in an account to buy a soda and candy bar.

Unconditional love, my future and not having the money clashed. The probation officer called back with an option. Give custody to the State of Texas for a year and the state would cover the $2000 a month.

My grandparents put their faith in my probation officer, they wanted me to turn the right direction. I needed discipline in a strict structured environment. The Convent boarding school taught me about positive affirmations, I wanted so much more, it was missing in my bones. Responsibility, leadership and controlling my mouth. A year later, without a single disciplinary action, I left a better person. The lessons learned have served me well in life.

Children are precious, require proper discipline, parents must make decisions out of love not revenge. Most important is a child’s mental health, safety and happiness.

Bipolar Disorder · Child Abuse · Domestic Violence · Mental Illness · Moving Forward · Parental Abuse · Sexual Abuse · Survivor

I keep Moving Forward: Not allowing My past to Chart the Future

May 31, 2017June 2, 2017 Looking for the Light3 Comments

“If you are always trying to be normal, you will never know how amazing you can be.” Maya Angelo

I am a Survivor

My grandparents unconditional love pulled me from the abyss. After years of Therapy, I have a clear heart, no anger or self loathing. Not forgiving….forgetting, to allow myself to move forward. Over the years, people brought sunshine into my life. You were like Angels dropping in when I needed a push or pat on back.

My mother and stepfather physically and emotionally abused me until 12 years old. My stepfather beat my mother almost daily starting with hitting her head side to side down the hallway, the hallway ended at my room. Everyone in the house lived in hell, I got an extra dose.

As a small girl, I dreamed my father would save me from the traumatic abuse. The dream was over, he started sexually abusing me as a child. It was innocent at first or so it seemed. At 12 years old I moved to my father’s. It’s impossible to wrap your head around sexual abuse at any age.

In 1992 my father committed suicide. Estranged since my teens, we talked several times before his death. He called delusional and paranoid. Saying someone was tapping his phone. He told me about committing suicide, I told no one. The news devastated Granny her only child was dead. With a closed casket service it’s hard to reconcile death when you can’t see inside.

I battle with Treatment Resistant Bipolar Disorder. Diagnosed at 19 years old, I struggled for years without medication or over medicated. Thru the years I ‘ve taken over 40 prescriptions or drugs cocktails. A medication or medications worked for a while, then I had to try another mix.

Bipolar Disorder is a Mental Illness without a cure. I manage my illness everyday and each is different. Through advances in medicine and treatments, future generations may not struggle with Mental Illness. We can pay it forward by participating in questionnaires, clinical trials and talking about our illness. Educating others is the road to Breaking The Stigma.

I am alive with the help of God, Husband, Grandparents, Therapist and Psychiatrist. I’m blessed with a husband who won’t give up no matter how hard it gets.I get mean & nasty when going thru withdraw, Psychotic or Suicidal.

My background and Mental Illness is NOT a complete picture of who I am. Photography, Art and Music are my passions. I love vintage cars, riding motorcycles and the great outdoors. As a teenager I set a goal to see the world, the Bucket List is growing.

Student of Ancient History, Roman Architecture, World Religion and Art. I’m an animal lover. I’m sickened by animals being abused and killed testing dog food or facial cream. I’m concerned about extinction, global poverty and the planet. Above all Education, children are our future.

This is a snapshot of my past, I believe with the right team of doctors, treatments, extreme patience, Survivor attitude, most with Mental Illness can reach a level of control. If it just came with a guarantee to not get out of balance. The only failure is not getting up again.

A hurdle in my twenties was telling my doctor I wouldn’t take a medication. I was vain, gaining twenty pounds wouldn’t work for me. I received many attitude adjustments, whats my reality? How did I expect to get less Depressed. My doctor is hard on me 20+ years later. He is a blessing, the commitment to me is the reason I’m alive today.

M

Abuse · Child Abuse · Domestic Violence · Mental Illness · Moving Forward · Parental Abuse · Rape · Sexual Abuse · Suicide

A Mother’s Guilt

July 16, 2016July 16, 2016 Looking for the Light1 Comment

eye Daughter

My Birthday wish for You

I hope that every candle brings a new wish.

I hope the Smile that lights your face stays there all year-long.

I hope everything you’ve dreamed it will come true.

I hope you know how much I love You

and how proud I am of you.

Happy Birthday With So Much Love.

Card from my Mother

You can’t give back what you took from my life.

Xx M

Abuse · Advocacy · Child Abuse · Parental Abuse

Her Dreams Give Her Wings, Concrete Angel

June 6, 2016 Looking for the Light1 Comment

Dose of Reality on Monday morning

These Eyes

Alcohol · Bullying · Child Abuse · Family · Parental Abuse

Faded Memories II From Melody to Mody

March 11, 2016 Looking for the Light45 Comments

I was born with healthy lungs and strong personality

me baby

My parents chose Melinda Melody 1963. Melody was my fathers idea. To this day, my mother calls me Melody. I thought it was emotional abuse. In truth, She hated my father and used the name he chose.

Emotionally broken down to unconditional love of my grandparents. God Blessed me with my grandparents, I can’t repay you with words. What I can do is support others. I became a Minister and started a charity. God give me the strength to mentor children.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Living in a household with child abuse and domestic violence, the days without violence can disappear. The memories, faded memories can trigger deep pain if the door is open. My trigger thru me in the abysses from listening to a song listened to hundreds of times.

I felt like a bomb landed in my lap, the arrival created complete chaos. The memories were part of the chaos in my life. Shortly after the divorce from my father, my mother married shortly and my father married later. My brother and I called him the Nazi. He was an alcoholic, possessive and we marched to his beat. The verbal abuse started and shortly escalated to domestic abuse. We walked on eggshells constantly.

A couple years into marriage my mother finds out he was married before with two children. We starting going to Houston regularly without knowing why. He was fighting the mother for custody of the kids. Sure! My brother and I were told our step brother’s were moving in. It was a shock trying to figure out what would change? Would we like them?

Mony Mony by Billy Idol brings back memories of my step-brother Paul. Paul and his brother came to live with us because of neglect. Their mother was a drug addict and would leave them at home for weeks at a time. Paul the youngest, regressed to a baby, learning to talk again was difficult. My mother has called me Melody, my middle name all my life. He called me Mody. Paul died in a tragic accident to young. His older brother Keith was abandoned at age 14 yrs old.

My step brothers lived in fear, years later we find out step father had several wife and more kids.

Xx M

Abuse · Advocacy · Child Abuse · Dating Violence · Domestic Violence · Rape

Joyful Heart’s Male Survivor PSA Series

March 5, 2016 Looking for the Light11 Comments

NO MORE Excuses: The Male Survivors Series

We recognize that male survivors are met with persistent and harmful responses: That sexual abuse can’t happen to guys. That they just need to get over it. That guys wouldn’t “let” that happen to them.

In 2016, Joyful Heart partnered with Viacom and 1in6, a leading organization that provides support and information to adult male survivors of childhood sexual abuse, released a new series of video and print ads—adding to a suite of print ads released in 2014—specifically addressing the myths and excuses that male survivors hear. They invite men who have experienced unwanted or abusive sexual abuse in childhood, and those who care for them, to visit 1in6.org for help.

In case you missed it, I wanted to share our new series in Joyful Heart’s groundbreaking, celebrity-driven NO MORE PSA campaign developed in partnership with 1in6, a leading organization providing support and information to male survivors of childhood sexual abuse, produced by Viacom and created by Rachel Howald and Young & Rubicam. The PSAs are already airing across Viacom’s networks, and tomorrow, you’ll be able to see them during the eighth #NOMOREexcuses marathon of Law & Order: SVU on USA Network, starting at 1pm/12c.

WATCH THE NEW VIDEO

http://www.joyfulheartfoundation.org/programs/education/no-more/psa-campaign/no-more-excuses-male-survivors-series#sthash.cIxU9PCn.dpuf

Today, I wrote on our blog about why we’ve been partnering with USA for these marathons since 2014. We already know that television and media have the power to shape and change attitudes. And SVU is one of the few far-reaching platforms that has, for so long, brought sexual assault, domestic violence and child abuse into the light. Recent studies have confirmed that watching it promotes healthy ideas around sexual assault: less victim-blaming, an increased understanding that anyone can be a survivor, that there is no “perfect victim.” And the show’s platform to reach survivors is something we have long known. It’s why Joyful Heart is here today—because when our Founder & President, Mariska Hargitay, first started playing Olivia Benson, she heard from thousands and thousands of survivors, sharing their stories, many for the first time.

Through this partnership with USA, we’ve leveraged SVU ‘s 17 seasons of episodes to drive a conversation forward online and on social media—reducing isolation and stigma and connecting individuals to support, information and community. The video messages that air throughout each marathon share information with viewers on topics like consent, expressing healthy masculinity, assault and abuse in the military, campus sexual assault—connecting them with organizations like Joyful Heart, that have deep and clinically-sound content, that are service providers or first responders.

We are very proud to host tomorrow’s marathon in honor of NO MORE Week, following on the heels of the release of our new Male Survivors PSA series. So please join us tomorrow. Watch out for the videos during the day. Join us on Twitter to follow the conversation at #NOMOREexcuses. Share the new series in the PSA campaign on social media to help deliver a message to the 21 million men who are survivors of childhood sexual abuse—to all survivors of violence and abuse—you are not alone.

With gratitude,

Maile Zambuto
Chief Executive Officer
Joyful Heart Foundation