Tag Archives: child abuse

Feeling Kind of Sad Today (PG)

Not sure why but I’m feeling kind of sad today. I couldn’t stay for all of the Red Ribbon Don’t Use Drugs Day assembly even though Small really wanted me to. I got to the psychiatrist’s late and she wouldn’t lower my Lamictal dose even though I believe it is directly responsible for my poor word recall. She asked if there was any real reason to be anxious and I couldn’t think of one aside from being late. She told me not to worry about her, the waiting room (they call it the salon) was bursting anyway. That didn’t help.

I like her scale because it says I weigh 150 lbs. I actually weigh 178. I trust Weight Watchers more than the shrink’s office. I know I’m still a big girl and I look it. From behind I am told I have a cute butt. That’s nice to hear – I never had much of a butt before. It’s the gut I want to go away now.

Might be sad from title=”Single Dad Laughing” target=”_blank”>http://www.danoah.com/2010/09/you-just-broke-your-child.html Read it, and get back to me. The things he observes remins me so much of Dobson when he instructs parents to break their children’s “will” not their “spirit”. The way to do this, of course, is to beat them. If they do not improve, spank harder and more often. Usually desperate parents read this stuff and do it. There seems to be little concern about the ramifications of violence in their child’s home. A child who cannot be trusted to learn logically from her own mistakes doesn’t need more spankings. She definitely needs consequences to her actions, of course she would. But what logical consequence is there for a three year old to spilling food off her plate on the table? Is a spank reasonable? No, but I’ve seen a man do it. Is telling her to clean it up reasonable? Yes. Is punishing her for not getting the table immaculate? Because of the child’s age, in my opinion, the consequence is reminding them next time to be neater. Then, if she doesn’t do it, consider a more age-appropriate consequence. If she doesn’t comply, perhaps your demands are unreasonable? Consider this: Does it make that big of a deal to wipe up a table?

Dobson is an enemy to children and families. I know some friends, even readers here like what he has to teach. I respect their rights to decide how to raise their children, but I respect my own right to comment about Dobson. It’s not you, dear reader, that I have the problem with, it’s just with some of your choices. Dobson pits parents against their children, calling the poor little ones manipulative. A counselor I once respected recommended the Strong Willed Child to parents with children that weren’t perfect. When I spoke to him about it, specifically about giving it to a family we had established is abusive, he nodded at me indulgently. It would have been easy to commit murder, but I had no means in which to do it.

There are a barage of “Christian” family books, videos and CD about raising children. I read a bunch of them before I was even married. Children interest me. Unfortunately the books made cry. There was one that advocated spanking every time you get a chance, even newborn babies, with PVC pipes because they don’t leave marks like some other things might. Another guru wanted newborn babies to cry for forty-five minutes so they could learn to sleep and said that if you don’t do things his way you were going to have an unhappy family. All this talk about being able to “love them too much” repelled me. Lastly, I read that a man who said that he had never met a child under twelve who was happy who wasn’t spanked.

I knew I couldn’t have children if I had to raise them so punitively. I knew I couldn’t do it the way I was raised as well. I cried. This was outside of my scope. I could never raise a hand or a PVC pipe to any child. There was some truth to what some of them said, but enough for my shoulders to seize up and my stomach to rumble.

Thank goodness I stumbled in a more natural, less punitive way of living. In the sixth grade we learned about babywearing. I thought it made so much sense, I knew I would do it. I wanted to breastfeed because it seemed to be convenient, not to mention best for the baby. I need a lot of sleep so I knew the baby would be in a side car in my bed as long as I needed the sleep and she wanted to be there. I stumbled upon an article about “Attachment Parenting” and recognized myself in it. I wasn’t the only one like this! There were even Christians who did it, although there were a number of anti-Christians that espoused that philosophy that did not like the Christians.

I can see why. If you read only the mainstream, Christian literature it would be easy to hate Christian parents. It’s a well earned aversion. I admit I get that feeling, too. I fight against it, confident in the millstone around the neck of the person who causes a little one to stumble. That sort of justice is somewhat soothing, but it doesn’t stop the child from being broken.

I have more to say about this, but I don’t have the time to write it. Maybe later, maybe not


I do not like you – R for language

I hate to admit it. I wish things were different. You, the one in the very back. I wish you didn’t regularly beat your child for small, age appropriate infractions. You’re a prick and I wish you weren’t. You listen to no one and have broken the spirit of your children. I do not like you.

You, front row center. I don’t like you either. I don’t think someone should write a post on a message board and decide my post, a carefully constructed post, was not valid because in one line I suggested a new doc and ask for more information, without acknowledging me. I could have let it go, but instead I did not want to harbor resentful so I wrote pmed you. Of course you didn’t write back, and I consider this to be a long, heartfelt response. What is the deal with that? Now I have to not like you.

You, left with the cranberry shirt on. What’s the deal with you not calling me back? Or emailing or pm or im or anything back! I had some serious things I wanted to talk to you about and you haven’t returned my call in two+ weeks. I even asked your cherished wife to tell you to call me. Nothing. So for now, I do not like you.

Reading and writing this is giving me the chance to forgive what are forgivable things. I’m pro-forgiveness, but I’m anti-being a rude jerk. If the scenarios sound like you, maybe you should give me a call. If not, have a great week.

The theme park – and arch enemies

I searched for bipolar jokes today. I needed them. As you know, I started ADHD meds yesterday. I felt high, in a good way, yesterday. Today I feel a little tore up. My thighs are sore and i feel all tore up, like I cried for an hour. I don’t really have anything to do today so I’m writing some and cleaning a lot. And hopefully getting (earning?) a sense of humor about bipolar.

Marc Maron – Bipolar Coaster
Jokes Joke of the Day Funny Jokes

(Want to say I disagree with him about the whole depression is the wisest state to be in, but he’s still funny.)

I haven’t called anyone very first thing in the morning for a long time now. I never planned an amusement park, although it seems like a good idea. It’s hard to remember my old plans. Although I spend very little time in full blown mania, hypo-mania has drawn me to believe I am the most attractive of all women, can hear air vibrate and to drink. Let’s not even get in to the stupid sexual escapades. It’s just not worth it.

* * * *
I think too much of my arch enemy. Well, he’s never specifically done anything to me, but he does things to his children. He announces proudly he will spank his newborn if he disobeys (how the hell is a newborn going to disobey?) and started beating his oldest child as a pre-schooler. He has a middle one who receives the same sort of treatments. I have written him a letter, sat down with him and his wife, and called Child Protective Services (twice.) I spoke to the church, which told me they would meet with him and an elder. I don’t think that ever happened. He was allowed to continue to lead a Bible study. I have also called the police, who came to the house, but I do not know what happened of that.

I think too much about my enemy. I fantasize about getting in his face, knocking him down and kicking his head until it bleeds. I fantasize about getting in his face and shouting and screaming. I fantasize about telling him exactly what I think of him in the least Gentle Way possible.

I think too much about my enemy. What’s worse, is I’m sure he doesn’t care and I’m sure he’s not thinking about me. All this writing reminds me that, although he is aggressively and gleefully destroying the life of his wife and three children, I am letting him destroy mine. His memory gives me stress headaches and makes my shoulders tense and my spine hurt. He is in my thought life and siphons creativity and love away.

I strive to be a gentle mama and a gentle wife and woman. My memories of this man steal that from me. There is no one else I know that has ever brought out that aggression in me. I ardently hate him, and wish I would (could) pour it out on something good. I am not prepared to have my health and happiness destroyed. Yes, what he does is wrong. I am justified in my anger, but not the perseveration. Yes, I have drawn attention to him in every way I can and put more than enough negative energy in to it.

I think to much about my enemy. As of today, I’m done with it. No more entertaining violent fantasies, no more dreaming of the letter I want to write his son when he turns eighteen. No more thinking of him at all. It will be like alcohol; I’m done with it. If I think about it, and I must enjoy my fantasies, even if they only come to further harm, I will kick those thoughts out. No more grief, no more suffering. He doesn’t care anyway.

Out of touch

I have been MIA.  A rookie mistake and for that I am sorry.  I’ve been a tad obsessed with Grace Based Discipline and more so with Punitive Discipline like Ezzo and Pearl.  Mostly Pearl, it’s like picking off a scab.  I keep reading articles about Sean Pollack and Lydia Shatz, two children that died as a result of Michael and Debi Pearl’s teaching.  It disgusts and terrifies me.

How could someone read these books and think of them as good ideas?  Wrapping a child in a blanket so tight that he can’t breathe?  Fair enough, that was an interpretation of his punishment, but when the child died Pearls choice was not to step forward with remorse for the child that died.  He could have done that without an admission of guilt.  Instead he replied that his books “speak for themselves”.  Cruel.

I know a woman that loves the Pearls and all they teach.  Her husband is a child abuser and I’ve called CPS on them before.  The sad thing is that Pearl is less punitive than he is.  He doesn’t wait to first time obedience, he expects his (three) children to read his mind and beats them if they don’t.   It is difficult to pray for them, even for the children enduring his rein.  I know it is a source of pride that causes me to elevate myself above them;  I’m the mom who wanted to kill her baby.  I forget that and lose compassion for parents who are lost like I was.

I need to stop reading “Christian” parenting boards, too.  I read something awful about a babysitter that gave the toddler a spanking every time she had an accident.  The little girl was terrorized.  The mom wasn’t even sure this was a bad idea.

<a href=”http://musemama.blogspot.com/2010/02/bring-back-boycott.html&#8221; target=”_blank”><img src=”http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y163/AnneBasso/Blog%20Tools/ttuac7.jpg&#8221; border=”0″ alt=”Muse Mama” /></a><br />

I have a good friend here who has expressed concern that I don’t handle others problems very well.  She thinks, for this reason, I could not be a good MFT.  I don’t know if this is true.  I try to accept such comments with humility and kindness (towards myself).  Maybe I can’t.  I feel like I can connect with other mentally interesting people in a way most people, even other mentally ill people, can’t.  I feel like I’ve run the gamut, what with my early onset bipolar, OCD and ADD.  I’ve been close to killing my daughter, come to work drunk out of my skull, and gone through terrible mental health pros.

Still, things that hurt little babies or small children get to me.  I don’t know if I can handle that.  It’s just too horrible.

It has nothing to do with you

Mr. Malakoa thinks it funny to snap for me to come over to him.  My mother does not.  Mr. Malakoa and I have been married more than six years, not a great amount of time, but long enough for her to say something about this.

She never has.  Until today.  Mr. Malakoa wanted to show me something on the computer so he called out, “Serving Wench” and snapped.  I’m not crazy about the snapping but don’t mind the Serving Wench.  It’s clearly a joke, albeit one that is not funny.

Today, my mother was in the kitchen and she told me, “Does he know how utterly objectionable that is?  It’s sexist and…”  She went on quite a while.

I said to her, “Why don’t you go tell him?”

At that point I broke and went in to talk to him about it.  My mother followed.  She told him what she told me, and said, “Maybe someday I can find it is funny, but having lived through the times when people  did that seriously, I’m not at the point that I can.”

What did I do right?  I told her to do it herself.

What did I do wrong?  I went and talked to him anyways.

I came close to drawing a line but didn’t do it.  It’s not a big deal, but was better than what I would do before.  In the past I would have fallen all over myself to get him to stop and please my parents.  Mr. Malakoa has reached the point he knows he can’t please them so he doesn’t try, but I’m not there so much.  It seems like more good than bad comes from them, but according to him it’s impossible to be the right thing to them.  So he’s not doing it.  I’ll be he’ll stop with the whole “wench” thing when they are around, though.

Mr. Malakoa is the ultimate boundary setter, and some times it pisses me off.  Instead of doing something for me, like helping me make the baby’s bed, he makes me do it myself or wants to teach me how to do it.  I didn’t say I wanted to learn how to do something, I wanted him to do it with me.  He’s not for it.  And I’m stuck with this new task I don’t want to do.  (I’m half kidding.)

But let’s move on.

There is a very good chance your parents are sinners.  So are all of the people that are going to be at your Thanksgiving dinner.  I don’t have to tell you that this sort of thing brings up difficult memories – depression might come on stronger, regrets, resentments might rule the day.  If there is hard liquor there is the chance you’ll be on pins and needles waiting for the scene.   They’re all a part of the celebration.

I’m not going to say that things don’t have to be that way.  This is a good time to be in your Bible and to sing hymns and spiritual songs, but that’s not going to cure all of the past years of hurt.  There is probably a time you will come and be ready to forgive them, but if this is not the time for that, it is a waste of your heart to feel guilty about your inability to do so now.  If you’re in therapy, now is a good time to meet more often that you do know.  If you have a spouse or best friend, go shopping, or bake with them and talk about how you feel about all this stuff that went right and went wrong at holidays in the past.  If you don’t have either one, why not shoot me an email?  I can’t fix things, but I can better know how to pray for you.

One last thing – if you have a relative that beats you down, especially a parent, I want you to realize right now that you did not have the parents you deserved.  They might have been the parents that you needed, and it might be a chance for you to comfort others, but you might now be at that point, yet.  Now that I have a child of my own I cannot perceive how terribly some moms and dads treat their children.  I’m not going to go into it here because I don’t want you to have flashbacks or bring more hurt upon you, but I really want to emphasize that the verbal and physical abuse was never acceptable.  You may have made mistakes or were flat-out naughty, but you didn’t bring it upon yourself.  Take a moment and believe me, no matter what anyone else says.

My dad used to tell me, when I was a middle schooler and high school student, that you don’t choose your parents.  I believe him: Your parents are given to you, and you are given to them like a treasure.  It doesn’t mean you are treated like one, but it doesn’t stop who you are.  The parents were not your idea and their behavior, again, has nothing to do with you and everything to do with yourself.  I believe you need to obey the commandment, “Honor your mother and father,” no matter what, however difficult it is.  It’s the first command with a promise – you do so, so “all will go well with you.”  What a surprise that honoring them brings you good things in your life.

And a very last thing:  Even terrible parents can’t stop you from being all you were meant to be.  You are a wonderful person; you do have talent and you can pursue the things you desire.  It may be harder for you because of your past, but it’s entirely possible.

I have met people at the “behavioral center” that went through horrible, brutal things.  One, who was 32, told me if that thing hadn’t happened to him, he would be somebody.  His current profession was drug dealing and he had spent time in prison for hitting a police office.  He truly believed his chances were gone and his life was over.  He had received over a million dollars and was in a position most of us were dying to to have.  He didn’t need to be there.  And it’s not too late for you, either.

I think I lost a friend.

I have a friend, well, had probably, that I was really close to. She was in my wedding. We lived together for a while. She was and is very special to me.

The problem is in her family dynamics. They are very punitive. For example they used a belt to punish their preschooler. I’ve seen them give their oldest a bloody nose. Thing at their house are violent. So violent that I called CPS once.

The mother, that said, is one of the sweetest, smartest person I know. The husband is extremely generous. Their oldest son and I are good friends and love each other a lot. I don’t know the rest of the children that well.

The other day was the oldest’s birthday. I’ll call him “Steve”. Steve and I talked on the phone for twenty minutes about what was going on with his life, school and church. He told me to check out his new friend’s website. I promised I would.

What I found was reprehensible. This guy spanked newborns because they cried when they had to go to bed. He’d smack kids and tell them not to cry because they weren’t spanked. Spanking was the answer to everything, including age appropriate behavior like crying for milk at night and squirming in the pew.

I prayed and called CPS. The CPS worker told me to call the Police. I did. Within a half an hour the police were at their house, terrifying the family. I never mean to include them as part of this debacle. I thought they’d track down the perpetrator and find out what was going on there. I had no idea they’d bother my friends.

Now, what I think happened is this. The boy was beaten for talking to me and telling me about this man – he wasn’t allowed to write me a thank you note, even (I received an email from the mom). The mother has been forbidden to call me or talk to me (She hasn’t returned my calls.) And it goes on and on.

I am sad that the boy has been treated so badly. I am also so sad to lose my friend. The Bible tells us that “A Friend Loves at All Times, and a Brother Is Born for Adversity”. This woman was my sister. There is no doubt in my mind about this one.
Ecclesiastes says:
“Two are better than one,
because they have a good return for their work:
If one falls down,
his friend can help him up.
But pity the man who falls
and has no one to help him up!”

Now, I have a husband and he is my number 1, but it was not always like that. During our courtship my friend kept me from breaking up with him over and over. I would find little things or even big things and she’d talk me through it. I know now that breaking up with my husband would have been a huge mistake. A mistake I did not make because of her.

Now, I have many friends. Good friends, close friends. But I haven’t been as close to anyone else since we “broke up” after my first call to CPS. This keeps making me sad.