LIGHTCIRCLE: A group dedicated to bringing child abuse ( physical, sexual, psychological, emotional and spiritual) out into the light where the myths can be exploded and the stories can be heard. Bringing the tragedy of child abuse into the light (public and private), so that it touches the lives of everyone within the world to the extent that child abuse becomes something unknown and obsolete.

MY STORY- a Lightcircle member's story of their journey through pain of abuse.

My name is Bethe, and yes, that is significant. My birth name was Beth, but I have added an e to my name since I was a teenager. It is my tribute to and respect for the little girl called Bethey, who survived.

When I was 4 years old, I lived in an apartment building in Phoenix, Arizona. I had an older sister by 3 years, and a younger brother by 2 years. My days were spent with a babysitter and my brother, while my parents worked and my sister went to school. For a while, I was babysat by a woman named Laurel. She had a son, about 15-16 at the time. We moved out of our house, and into the apartments. Laurel's son, whom I will call Ron, joined the Navy, got married, and somehow ended up living in the same complex. His presence would change my life forever.

Ron was married to a skinny, naggy women, whom I will call Paula. I'm not sure what the original reason I ended up in their apartment was, but my guess would be that I knew them, considered them friends from the past, and trusted them. I can remember so clearly the uniform he wore. It was the white with blue scarf, like is worn on the Cracker Jack box. Ron liked to play games, and his favorite was pillow fighting. It always started out innocent enough. He was considerate enough to get down on his knees, so I could have a fair shot at him. Paula never played. She mostly just watched, and cooked. Ron and I would hit each other with the pillows, and he would often even fake a major pain when hit. However, it never ended like it started. After a short time of playing, Ron would start to hit a little too hard with the pillow. Then he would hit me hard. Hard enough to knock me off my feet, but not hurt me. At that point, all I knew was that I had to play dead, and lay perfectly still. The pillow would land over my face, and he would leave it laying there. As long as I layed perfectly still, and played dead, he wouldn't pick it up.

I usually wore dresses as a small child. My mother, grandmother and aunt were wonderful seamstresses, and sewed dresses for me all the time. I loved those dresses. Except for when he would touch them. He liked to stroke me, and tell me that I was beautiful. He told me that all the boys loved me, and that I was going to be very good at pleasing them. He would talk, while the pillow was over my head, and while his hands were pushing up my dress. He would pull my panties completely off of me, and spread my legs far apart. Then he would proceed to please himself against me. For the most part, he would not penetrate me to the point of causing pain. He didn't like to physically hurt me. He would only push as far as the head of his penis into me, and would continue until he would climax. As long as I layed very still, that would be all.

That is when Paula would get angry. She always allowed Ron to reach this point, but when he was done, she would get so angry. She would start chastising him, not yelling, just incessant nagging chattering. She would take me into the bathroom, strip me and put me in the tub. She would proceed to scrub me, and pinch me repeatedly, the whole time nagging at her husband for being so irresponsible. She would scrub and pinch, and I would sit there, very still. Then Ron would take hold of her and try to console her, and they would start kissing, and pretty soon he would end up behind her, with her bent over the sink, and they would have sex while I sat in the bathtub.

Other times, Ron and I would play in the bedroom. There were 2 bedrooms, and I never went into one of them. The other consisted of a nightstand and a bed. The bed never had sheets, blankets or pillows. It was just 2 old mattresses on a steel frame. The nightstand was small and brown, with 2 drawers. The top drawer was always full of lollipops. I liked the red ones. Ron always let me open the drawer and get one out.

There were two things we did in the bedroom. One was a hide and seek kind of game. Ron would hide under the bed, and when I went to get a lollipop, he would grab my legs and yank me off my feet from under the bed. I came to believe there were alligators under that and every other bed on the face of the earth, and became terrified for life of alligators. All evil became directly connected to alligators, and I have spent my life fighting nightmares about them.

The other wasn't a game. Ron would have me sit on the bed and suck on my lollipop. The whole time he would watch me, and tell me how to suck on it, and touch me, and talk to me, and tell me how beautiful I was, and how much boys would like me when I grew up. Then, when I was done with the lollipop, he would unzip his pants, and teach me how to suck on his penis. He would start out gentle, and talking, but as he got more excited, he would grab my hair and shove himself harder and harder into my mouth until he climaxed. I can remember the searing pain in my throat, and the intense feeling of choking deep in my throat. I can remember the lack of air, and the tears, and the blood in my mouth, and the sick queasiness in my stomach. He would talk to me and tell me how good I was, and how boys would love me for this. Then came Paula to clean up. Bitchy Paula. Always cleaning, never stopping the pain.

The sexual abuse went on for about a year, to the best of my knowledge. Not being old enough to have a good concept of time, I can only judge by tracking the place we lived with life events. I know that it started at the end of summer, continued through the school year, and into the next school year, which is when I actually started school. By that time, I was having physical difficulty controlling my bladder, and had several accidents at school.

During that same period, I also learned what it is to fear. Ron was always for the most part kind while sexually molesting me. He taught me that is what girls do for boys, and that it would always be a part of my life. He taught me that the better I was at it, the better I would be treated in life. But he also taught me to fear. I do not remember all of the circumstances, but there was another girl involved with Ron, and it is my perception that she was slightly younger than me, but not by much. I can remember her at his house, several times. Ron often had children at his house. He never molested me when they were around, nor do I remember him molesting them when I was around. It was always a private, alone thing.

However, something happened to the girl that changed what was left of my life for good. There is a black part of my memory that I don't know what happened. The point that my memory begins is in the early dawn. The apartment complex had a large pool, surrounded by a chain link fence that was over my mother's head. I would guess it to be a 6foot fence. I can remember standing outside the fence, watching as Ron climbed over the fence with her, cradled by one arm as he used the other to climb. She was very still. She was dead. Once over the fence, he walked to the edge of the pool, and very gently, placed her face down in the water. He then gently pushed her out towards the middle. From there, there is once again a memory lapse, and my next memory is standing outside the fence, at my mother's side, watching the firemen retrieve her body. There were people everywhere. My mother was talking to a woman, and they were discussing the question of how and why she was in the pool. My mother made the comment that she knew her "Bethey" could not climb that fence. I remember thinking that she didn't climb that fence. My mother and sister remember that day also.

My life since then has been one of constant pain, total confusion, and a search for answers. I went on the assumption that sex was not only a good thing, but necessary to survive. I learned later that it was not ok with a family member (much to my embarrassment), and that it was not to be talked about openly. 3 divorces and 30+ years later, I decided to find answers, and face what was wrong. I looked at the world around me, and realized what they did to me was wrong. I looked in the mirror and realized that I am not normal. I seek help in every alley that I think there may be help. I want to heal, and feel good. I want to take back what he took away from me. I want the alligators to stop invading my sleep. I want to walk beside a bed, and not flinch at what might be under it. I want to love and feel loved, without sexual strings attached. I want to protect other children from being harmed. I owe it to the girl that he killed, and I owe it to the girl he raped, and I owe it to Bethey.

How do you deal with your children and the subject of your abuse?

This Month's Answers:

In dealing with my children:

My 2 oldest children, I sat them down with my wife. First thing I did was, ask them what they knew about child abuse? What have they learned about child abuse in school? Can they give an example of what child abuse might be? After learning exactly how much they knew I then told them what happened to me. I did not go into details, but I did explain to them that I was abused. I told them how old I was, the time frame when the abuse took place etc. My children took it very well. I was so proud of them for caring and being understanding. Sometimes children can really surprise you. I hope this will be helpful anyone out there with a similar issue.

Jim Sacco

My children are 17, 16 and 15 (boy, girl, boy). For many years I never spoke of my abuse around them, nor did I ever allow them the knowledge that I had been abused. However, as the "worldly" knowledge increased in their lives, so came the recognition that there was something different about me. This was especially true in that I have always had nightmares about alligators, that related directly to the abuse. There came a time when my children became sexually aware enough, and emotionally mature enough to start to understand, so I told them about the abuse. I have never given them graphic details, except to explain how young I was, and the basic story. I have been genuinely surprised and amazed at not only how well they handled it, but how much they work to protect me when they know I am going through the rough times. My daughter in particular is very sensitive to the issue, and even makes a point to be sure a teddy bear is near if she sees any hint of fear or tears from me. As they mature and have begun dating, I see a sensitivity and awareness of potential dangerous situations, and an open communication about their concerns, as well as mine. I’m sure that not all children would handle it as well as mine, and I think that a lot of soul searching and prayer are necessary in deciding whether or not to openly discuss the abuse with children. Of course, age plays a significant factor also. But I also believe that, like adults, that which we do not understand is what we fear most. When we give children a chance to understand, it often has better results than just expecting our children to understand and deal with our bizarre behavior when something is triggering us.

Bethe
(Bethe’s story is in this issue)

Hi, my name is Chrissie Nixon. My children and I were victims of abuse. In July of 1994, I was brutally stabbed by my ex-husband. At the time my kids were 9,12 & 13. My oldest son, Brandon witnessed the stabbing. Although I am re-married to a wonderful man, the memories of that day still haunt us. The way that we handled the abuse was to talk about it. We have open communication with each other. The stabbing happened in the home that we are living in now. I knew it was best to face our fears head on. Our strength came from God. We didn’t do this on our own. My friends are amazed that we didn’t have to have counseling. I told them that my Bible and God was my therapy. If you would like to talk to me, please don’t hesitate to e-mail me at LUXR48B@prodigy.com.

Chrissie

Although I don’t have children I can tell you how my sister has dealt with some of it and my brother as well. My sister told the older kids (ages 11, 9, and 7 at the time) about theabuse by my dad so that they could be aware of what had happened in the past and be on guard so that it doesn’t happen again. I know that mysister is having major trouble right now and has had to farm out the children. Some of them are simply too young to understand right now.

With my brother, well it is a different story. When his daughter was abused, initially he didn’t believe her (by a landlord). The following year when the sherriffs dept was investigating the abuse of several others as well, she ended up having to testify in court. So my brother tends to not want to hear it at all.My ex-sister-in-law was so worried that the kids would find out that SHE had been abused that she wouldn’t let her daughter be involved in a girls group or even consider the fact that she had been abused by one of her "live-ins". So it caused a lot of turmoil.

Cherilyn

"How my Abuse is handle with my children".

I haven’t told my children what happened to me. They just know that my father and my mother are bad people and I don’t want them around. Of course my father is dead now, thank God.

It’s hard for me to be a parent-because I’m not real sure if I know how to do a good job since I didn’t have good parenting roles. Always feel like maybe I don’t love them enough or am doing things right. I am very protective of them and I feel that because of the abuse I have endured that I am more in touch or in depth with their feelings and emotions. I feel bad if I hurt their feelings or if I don’t maybe say what they need or expect me to say. They are good children and I am blessed with them.

Sometimes I fear I act like my parents---when I am sure I don’t. Just a guilt trip I would guess. I am very open and honest with them and when I feel they are able to hear and maybe handle emotionally the abuse I went through, I will tell them. Not for sympathy I think more for pride of knowing what their mother overcame and for them to be proud of me. I believe that I have strong minded and willed children.

I believe they know they can trust me with anything they say, and that together we will always stand as a supportive family.

Thank you for listening:
Melany Martin AngelD9455

I am a survivor of 12 years of sexual, mental, emotional and psychological abuse.. I am truthful and totally honest with my daughter who is now going to be 12 in October. My major sanity keeper is "no secrets", so I am honest and truthful about the abuse. I am blessed however in that my abusers are dead, and so do not cause any problems personally in present time. I told her the truth when she was around 4 or 5, when I was teaching her the safety items about sexual abuse. She knows what happened as in full awareness of the damage it has done. Counselors who have worked with her are amazed about her awareness of safety without any paranoia.

I have had her in counseling off and on all her life, because I am DID [ Disassociative Identity Disorder previously known as Multiple personality Disorder] and this is not easy for a child to live and deal with a mother who is not always the same personality.I find answering her questions truthfully and honestly make life best for all of us.

Alice
"legion Headquarters"
a DID Household at sirona@sl.net

How do I deal with my children and the subject of my abuse? Right now I don’t. My children are still very young. I know that they are aware that something has been wrong because I’ve been terribly depressed for almost two years now. My oldest daughter is getting as tired as I am about hearing how skinny I’ve gotten. I feel as though everything is just getting old and played out. I know that someday I’lll tell them, but right now it’s all that I can do to help myself. I also have the added burden of not having a very supportive husband, so when he’s calling me names or yelling at me, I know that that is what is upsetting the children most right now. One abuse at a time to try and deal with. This is not living..

Sign me - Discouraged Ann

All of my relationships with my family-of-origin have been changed by the abuse. The anger and rage I felt with knowledge of the abuse was freely distributed to my family-of-origin. "No more secrets!" I shouted. Like me, they all had an idealized image of The Family.

The cousin who opened my floodgates refuses to speak to me, and his father is "livid" about my accusations. An aunt I told said flatly, "I don’t believe you." My brothers have become distant. They don’t ask questions and we’ve never discussed it. The only member of The Family who will support me and talk about the abuse is my sister. In the beginning she was my sounding board.

She heard it all in the letters we exchanged. She still loves me and now, five years later, we can still revisit the horrors of those first few years and openly express our feelings. On the down side of such honest sharing with my sister, she now shows signs of secondary PTSD...but denies it.

By: Brenda

Although I’m not married I can tell you how it’s affected my "birth" family. We have major rules by my parents that we cannot talk about anything that happened in the past...that is taboo. So consequently there are three of us in therapy (my brother, sister, and I). It makes it really hard. I told my dad not too long ago that I won’t always be willing to have a relationship that leaves out a whole entire portion of my life. I’ve also had to limit contact with my brother and sister because, as the oldest, and getting all the tapes that say I’m responsible, I tend to take all their stuff on and blame myself for everything that happened, for their poor choices and for their poor parenting skills. I’d like to bemore involved, but I begin to loose who I am. Amy

Next Month's Question:

Poems

Tell Me God???

Open your eyes God, Do you see what I see?
Do you see this fear, Do you feel this pain?
Do you walk thru the blacken wall I walk thru?
I can’t understand this rage.
I can’t understand this fear.
I can’t understand this hell you portray as life.
You see God- I believed- did you hear my scream?
Did you hear my cry?
Did you hear me call your name when I felt so alone?
I ached to feel your love-
I ached to find out why?
Tell me God- Do you feel what I feel?
You batted with my soul
You let me stand alone
You took my life and sent me to hell.
your reason still unknown.
I never asked for much, you never cared enough.
Tell me God- Do you feel like I do?

BY K.B.W.

On-line in America On Line there are several chat areas for abuse survivors. One of the best and safest is called Healing Journey. This poem is about that room. All survivors are welcome.

This room is my safety net
We may hide behind the screens
Once acknowledged no name I forget
We are here to share our dreams

The dreams to rise and stand fast
To be able to speak about our pasts
To find comfort and strengths
To find a place to be ourselves

Here we come to be us
To share love and support
Not to fight nor fuss
To share what is important

Hj is a great place to be
A place to laugh and cry
To begin to understand the "whys"
Hj is a safe place for me

Our past we not only try for amends
We hear each others dreams coming true
Healing journey allows us to be friends
My friend.......I am here for you.
Free........

by Lisa

My inner child is crying again,
Wanting to know when the pain will end,
What do I tell her ....I have not a clue,
Just hang on another day...I’ll soon know what to do.
Another day has come, another day has gone,
One less tear was shed ...before the dawn,
I’m getting us there...I continuously cry,
Just a little while longer....We’ll be ready to fly.
Fly way over the pain...and through all the fear,
Soon we can trust again, and shed not a tear,
For I have worked hard....and fought from within,
I have to believe,...We are almost at the end.
The end of the sadness, fear and pain, and a choice we shall have,
To continue to fall.....or say goodbye to our past,
I believe I am strong now...and ready to see,
The little one within me.....Is Soon To Be Free.
Love you all

Your Surviving Sister
Melany/AngelD9455

Dear God, It’s Me:
The one with the broken down spirtit,
Guess what;.....The music yeah I hear it,
It used to be far away...and very, very faint,
I believe it’s getting closer, and I can hardly wait.
To join in together....with the others so free,
Gosh I can’t wait to enjoy just being me,
I can look at now....and almost appreciate the view,
It’s not so bad.......Now that I trust in you.
Thank you for carrying me...When I couldn’t walk,
Thank you for speaking for me...When I couldn’t talk,
I am sorry I left you....but I know you understand,
I needed to be alone...and be brave enough to stand.
I know now you love me....and you were always there,
You had to have been....for me to be here,
And for this I do thank you, with all of my heart,
Because of your love for me...I am now ready to start.
The start of new life,.....beginnings a new,
You beside me,....and I beside you.........
Dear God; It’s Me:
It feels so great.............To finally be free.

Love to all my surviving sisters:
Always and forever
Melany/AngelD9455

Hope

When it rains
it is tears for me
it is tears for you
Tiny drops of watery pain

After it is blue
did you feel the rain
as it washed your shame?
It never belonged to you.

Purposeless guilt
weighs you down
a smile upside down
turn it over; rebuild.

When it rains
it is tears for me
it is tears for you
Rejoice; We are clean again.

To my dear sisters of shared pain, memories and
countless tears, We are free.

Here Here to new beginnings. Let all our dreams
be made possible through

our love and commitment to healthier hearts and
souls.

To the ones I havent met, or known yet We Will
Survive, We Are.

Sincerly Melany Martin/AngelD

Me 6/19/97

Manifestations of emotional pain
Leak out through
The cracks of her broken soul.
Her pretty face
Indented with frown marks.
Her dissociation
Startled into reality.
Her faith
Riddled with fear.
It hurts to have been abused
And hurts ,even more ,to assess the damage.

The old Christian wants control.
The even older child-core,
Confusedly,
Cries out to understand.

But the child-heart can only
Comprehend
What a child can.

Beautiful colors,
Lovely fragrances,
Intense music
All pull on her
To be fully alive.

Sentenced to be a victim for life
She fights the indictment.
She wars against denial
She must be angry,
Over injustice.
Feel indignation
Feel grief over loss.
To love herself
To have compassion for herself.
To fight fear
To trust God
To rest.

Her marriage
Full of loneliness
Empty of love
"Want to be loved",
So desperately.
He cannot,
Is not able to,
Love her.
The man ,filled with
Apathy,
From day one.

To be a mother-
Clean
Protect
Praise
Encourage
Teach
Play
Love.

The spirit of this world says:
"What does she have left?
What can we take from her?
She’s still pretty.
Let’s be jealous and contemptuous,
treat her as if
Her soul isn’t real."
She recoils from the pain
They dole out.

Sometimes she thinks
She will die young
From cancer maybe
Because of the massive
Quantities of adrenaline
Which have poisoned her body.

Wants to speak well of herself
To edify the soul
Where it has been broken down
Which is in every area.

Someday, in Heaven,
She will be fully restored.
Until then -
Hope
Hurt
Heal
Fear
Love
Wait.

Cachinnusi is Latin for
Laughter!
Laughter is much like
A best friend.
Laugh at everything that is
Funny
Funny to God!
Must rest to laugh, though.

Learning to rest.........
by Cachinnusi

THE CALL OF THE DEMONS.

The man sits on his bed
Trying to ignore the
call of the demons
inside his head.

Demons whisper to him
"One more time
won’t hurt her.
Just one touch."

The man says "No.
"I won’t do it
Go away!
Leave me be."

The demons sulk
but he knows
the idea will grow.
The seed is planted.

The man walks down
the long row of doors
to the young girl’s room
She awaits inside.

As he touches her hand,
She leaves her body
leaving only a residue
for him to harm.

He touches her body
hearing only the tune
of the demons inside
while she cries aloud

When he is done
she returns to her body.
The memory of that time
is lost in the splice.

She does not remember
until the next time.
When the call of the demons
awakens her again.

Christy J. Keller
Reply at cjkeller@js-net.com

FADING MEMORIES

The residue of rain
splatters to the ground.
As the sun sulks
behind the clouds.
Mom calls from the door
"Time to come inside.
Come out of the rain
you crazy kids."

We splash through the
Row of puddles
Stepping in tune
to the song of spring.

As my childhood
splices into adulthood.
The memories of my
childhood fade away

Now I walk by the
puddles left by the rain.
Wanting to jump and
laugh as I once did.

I glance to see if
anyone is looking.
I splash in the puddles.
I laugh in the rain.

Christy J. Keller
Reply at cjkeller@js-net.com

Sadly, enough it is forever taken,
I wish it was a dream and I’d soon be waken.
But it’s not, it’s real,
Pain and betrayal are all I seem to feel.
If I could make it go away I would,
So many days I wish I could,

But, I can’t and it’s here to stay,
It’s something I must live with each and everyday.

By SPS94

What he took away from me,
I will never get back.

Something’s always been missing,
It is something I lack.

It’s not what you think,
But it’s something I needed.

It’s how I felt,
It’s how I was treated.

He made me lose my innocence way too soon,
Everything changed in one afternoon.
I know it was him, and I am not to blame,
But, after that day my world would never be the same.

By: ~Sps94

Emotions

Many emotions race through my heart
I feel like my world is falling apart
No matter how hard I fight and I try
My hopes and my dreams all seem to die

The pain and the suffering are always there
They I can count on, they seem to care
Happiness and Joy are all part of the past
The pain in my heart will always last
Sorrow and depression overcome my soul
My body becomes this emotionless black hole
Fighting an endless battle I could never win
My thoughts and my dreams are shattered again
I fight within myself each and every day
I try to get revenge someone must pay
My mission of pain always fail
The anger inside seems to always tell
My soul seems so distant, gray and bleak
Still I struggle along searching for something I seek
Searching for something, for my soul, that can mend
It feels I will be searching forever, until my end.

By: Sps94

Once again- these web sites are in no way connected to Lightcircle. The contents are left up to the reader to make choices about.

God Bless My Computer

Every night I lie in bed
This little prayer inside my head
God bless my mom and dad
and bless my children
and take care of my husband
he brings me so much joy...
and God there/s just one more thing
I wish that you would do
if you don’t mind my asking
to just bless my puter too??
Now i know that it’s not normal
to bless a small machine
but listen just a second
and i’ll try to explain...
you see, that little metal box
holds more than odds and ends.
inside those small components
rest a hundred loving friends.
Some its true I’ve never seen
and most i’ve never met
we’ve never shaken hands or
ever truly hugged, and yet..
I know for sure they love me
by the kindnesses they give
and this little scrap of metal
is how i get to where they live
by faith is how I know them
much the same as I know you.
i share in life it brings them
so if its ok with you..
just take an extra minute
from your duties up above..
to bless this little hunk of steel
that’s filled with so much love.

By Author Unknown

Please send in your birth date, so we can say Happy Birthday in the Newsletter.

Also send in any web site addresses you have developed or you enjoy going to look at, or have found to be helpful.

Please continue to send your book resource lists. I am compiling a list of healing books for us to share.

LIGHTCIRCLE is dedicated to all of my inner children, whose bravery in the face of dragons and adversity, has shone through.

LIGHTCIRCLE: A group dedicated to bringing child abuse ( physical, sexual, psychological, emotional and spiritual) out into the light where the myths can be exploded and the stories can be heard. Bringing the tragedy of child abuse into the light (public and private), so that it touches the lives of everyone within the world to the extent that child abuse becomes something unknown and obsolete.