Mothers Day

Anyone else feel a little sad on Mothers Day?  Anyone feeling little left out, a little conflicted? I agonize over a card as soon as they hit the stores.  I want to buy one.  I  want to participate in that ritual where everyone sends flowery loving cards with poem that declare that this is the best mother and how she is so loved.

I won’t buy that card.  Every year it is the same.  Look for a card that doesn’t compromise MY integrity.

Some years I just send flowers and call it a day.  Sometimes it’s just a card.  It is always more than she deserves.  Mothers Day is Sunday!  I haven’t gotten a card for her yet.  I have framed a photo to send and I am not sure that it will be a wanted gift in its glossy black frame.  I had my photo taken for my book cover and since its the first professional picture I’ve had taken in a while I am sending her one.

Just want to share that you are not alone out there with this.  Many of us doing the same thing… We are still more concerned about their feelings than our own.  Survivors and very good people.   XOXO  Annie


Spring Cleaning….

Ah spring… cleaning out my closets.  Getting rid of old things I don’t need any more and packing other things away in case I need them later.  Smiling at things I forgot and am glad to find again.  Sweeping winter cobwebs out of the corners of the ceiling in the spare room I moan that they are hard to see until the light comes in this time of year.  I hate spiders and seem to have a lot of them every spring!

Sounds  a little like the therapy of my past.  I was musing today that therapy, counseling, life teaching, whatever you call it, is a little like spring cleaning.

Take out a memory I don’t need anymore.  Shake it out in the daylight, blow the dust off of it and decide to keep it, throw it out, maybe examine it, put it away and decide what to do with it tomorrow.  It might have to be taken out again later, when it feels safer, when there is help to examine it.  Just like some boxes are too heavy to carry alone, so are some memories. Until then, leave it in the box.  Back in the dark closet.

Cobwebs?  Those would be the memories that elude some survivors.  The ones we dream about and can’t recall, the ones that cause us to wake in a cold sweat… Almost a memory…  they come and go until we have enough light to sweep them away.

It’s a chore.  You may find that the old box comes out more than once before you are really done with it….   That’s OK…  One day it will just be some old box full of stuff that used to matter.  You will have new boxes, full of good things.  Keep those.



I have never gone after a movie before.  Today, it all changed.  I acutally wondered what i would write about today and struggled.  then out of the blue…  there it was… Entertainment.

There is a new movie out.  A Comedy.  No surprise there.  I find the subject matter shocking!  Normally, my simple way to object is to simply not watch, read or listen to it if I find it offensive. I don’t spend my money there.

“That’s My Boy”   A comedy about a thirteen year old who is seduced by his teacher who becomes pregnant.  High fives all around…..

This is not comedy.  This is a slap in the face to all survivors, male and female, of sexual abuse as children.  I try to be open-minded about life and the crass, mindless media that we are bombarded with.  I try to ignore the absurdities.  This goes to far.  Why is this tragedy that is afflicted on children funny?

Check it out….  I hope this gets talked about A LOT!  It’s about MONEY!  Do we really want to spend money promoting something that ruins lives?  Every ticket that is purchased to see this movie is a proclamation that sexual abuse of a child is a joke to laugh about.

“When survivors are bombarded with memories and painful feelings, and are engaged in a struggle to heal, they often lose the capacity (temporarily) to respond to situations appropriately.  Their emotional reactions are often overblown because the line between present hurts and old injuries disappears. They lose their sense of perspective and patience.  It’s like an old Plymouth with worn-out shocks; every minor bump in the road sends everyone in the car bouncing up and down.”  Allies in Healing by Laura Davis

This was posted on my Facebook page today.  It’s so very true.  I wanted to share it here.  I hope you feel the same.

Who is it really???

The media promotes the thought that if children are taught “stranger” safety and keep away from those they do not know, they are less likely to be sexually abused. However, national statistics show that in over 90% of Child sexual abuse cases the offender is known to the victim. An offender is most often a family member or a relative, a friend of the family, a babysitter or an older child known to the victim.  Why don’t we admit the truth???   Why does the media continue to promote a myth?  They are powerful and could make a real difference yet they do not.

Becoming a dysfunctional adult…

I have been thinking the last couple of days of someting my daughter said to me last week.  My book was out and she had excitedly and proudly purchased a copy online.  She had been reading it and we talked about some things.  I found myself thunderstruck at one of her comments.  She said that she had been attached and cared about my ex’s.  An she wondered why we never talked about it at the time.  They just disappeared and no one ever talked about it.

I had no good answer.  But this is the sad truth.  I didn’t know any better.  I was vigilant as a mother could be looking for any infractions on the part of my husbands.  More than a couple.  My kids would begin to whine how they hated him.  They would outright tell me they wanted him gone.  This would go on for a while and I would begin to beleive that they were right.

What I was hearing was my past.  I hated my father.  I wanted my father gone.  No One ever got rid of him!  When they would start to complain about a step father….  I would hear it loud and clear.  I would feel guilty for not getting it right.  AND…  I never talked to them (my children) about it.  Why???  Because it had not occurred to me that there was any other way to handle it.  I thought I was making them happy….  How naive eh?

Now they are grown with their own children…. and this is the first time it has come up.  I am saddend to know how wrong I was, but glad she finally  asked so that she could be assured even after all the years, that I loved them and was trying to do the best for them that I could.

Abuse does indeed cast a shadow that stretches across a life time….. and not just your own.