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.

Another Disclaimer: The reader needs to be aware that some of the content of this newsletter may be difficult to read, due to the nature of the life stories that are told here. Be sure to be in a safe place in body and spirit when you approach this material. Some of it can trigger your own memories and feelings.

Editor's Note: Each month there is a topic that is sent out to the Member's of Lightcircle. The members have done an OUTSTANDING job this month n contributing to our Newsletter. Thanks to everyone who contributed!

This Month's Question:

Is the future brighter than the past?

This Month's Answers:

I would answer with a qualified "Yes"...somedays the future seems as bleak as the past for me. Other days I think, "it can only get better...when you are rock bottom you can only go up"

Does that help?

Yes, the future is brighter than the past, much brighter. As I learn to take back my life and set boundaries and speak up for myself, the opening to that light gets bigger and bigger.

The trick for healing is, I think, nurturing that light to the point that it is able to dispel the darkness from the past. Hope to be there some day, but not there yet.

Bearylean

ABSOLUTELY!!!!

The past is over, it cannot be changed. We can let go of what has happened, learn from it, grow from it, and no longer be victimized from it. The future is a story waiting to happen, an empty canvas waiting to be painted. We are the story tellers, we hold the paint brush. And we decide what will happen, how the picture will look.

We can choose to make it dark and negative, or we can choose to make it positive! We can make our lives better. One day at a time, one little baby step at a time, we can let go of the past and live a better life...as long as we exercise our choice to MAKE the future brighter.

Thanks.

Karen

The future for me is brighter. But I also believe its because I so much want it to be. I think I try so hard to make sure that I give my children a better life, and I work so hard at making my kids feel loved and protected. I will not let my past control me because its just another way to abuse me. Its hard, that is a fact but it is so worth the effort to win, I mean actually truly finally win. I love you all. God bless you and keep you always.

Melany Martin

Is the future brighter than the past?

The past holds a lot of fears and doubts, loss of trust, betrayals, sexual and physical abuse, but it is always there. The future lays ahead filled with who knows what, good or evil or just unfulfilled dreams.

For me the future shines much brighter, hope springs ahead of me, in daydreams or plans made. The sense of expecting unhappiness has dimmed in the healing process, but never totally leaves. Will this always stay or will the future healing make it easier to have faith in the future.

Either way let the future lead, as it reaches out in front good or bad and with a tiny ray of hope that never dies the healing will continue and with that maybejust maybe optimism can take over.

Stay Safe

Kitty

Yes, although things are still really hard. I know that I have made progress in therapy and in life. That I am happier today than I was in the past. I still struggle with depression, but life is not always black as it once was. If I didn't think the future was brighter than the past, I would give up and kill myself!

I believe

Oh my yes... My future is much brighter than my past...I lived with sexual abuse from the age of 8 till around 18... I lived with beatings from my mother... I was forced to give up my baby at the age of 15, told I had no choices and no rights...

Now I am a born again Christian, happily married for 17 1/2 years, we have a beautiful 12 year old son, developing a relationship with the child I was forced to give up.. My husband is very supportive and tries his best to help me through the bad days... Yes... My future is very bright... thanks.. Melanie

My automatic answer is yes. That of course is the answer that all of us want to hear, but aren't sure if it is really true. We know that there are bound to be ups and downs in the future, as there are always ups and downs in life. But how we deal with these, and how we enable ourselves to deal with them determines whether the future will be brighter than the past.

I feel as if I have already been through the worst. The abuse that I suffered as a small child, though having just recently come out in memories and flashbacks happened over 30 years ago, and will never happen again. This abuse set me up for a string of abusive situations and relationships, and leaving me unprepared to deal with people, or life in general.

If the story ended there, it would be pretty grim, but since beginning to deal with the abuse and the results of the abuse, I have discovered that this kind of situation can be overcome, and the cycle can be broken.

Each discovery I make, and each revelation I have about a situation or a behavior bring me closer to healing, and closer to truly learning who I am, what I am capable of, and closer to putting behind me the events of the past and breaking the chains of abuse and despair. The more I discover, the more I learn how to deal with day to day life, the more I learn to understand and deal with the people around me.

Not everything is roses and sunshine, I know that. Some days are going to be better than others, some things are going to be easier than others. But all in all, life and living are worth the effort. My journey forward is into the light; the darkest part of my life is over and done with. The future is certainly brighter than the past.

Karon

There are several things that I experienced yesterday that I would love to share that show us a brighter future. Though having another child after raising one family has been a financial hardship, I was wonderfully reminded why, when I remarried, that after much prayer we decided to let Baha'u'llah give us another child. Both my husband and I were sexually and emotionally abused as children. We are a part of so much of the world who are striving to heal. Yesterday, I took my son to a near by park and mini zoo for a weekly gathering of homeschoolers. It was so wonderful to see these children play so peacefully without stick guns and aggression. I suddenly realized that the schools have had to become almost like military training to have one person be responsible for so many children. The homeschooled children seem to learn about reading, math and science as they go through their daily lives helping mom or dad cook, clean, wash laundry, read together and write. Then in the afternoons they go and mix with all the other children for play in the park or nearby gym, take art , music and creative movement classes. I will be teaching a Family Yoga class, Beginning Spanish, Beginning Music, and Beginning Choreography. When you look into these children's eyes I see so much wonderment. They have not been turned off yet, or many times they were and then have recovered the wonderment by doing homeschooling. I am not advocating homeschooling because I have seen situations where it hasn't worked. It was just a lightfilled day. It was great for me to be with so many other mothers after being isolated at home so much.

After going home to nap, shower and refuel, little Dario and I then went to my monthly La Leche League meeting, that I have been a leader of for 19 years now. I have never wanted to stop going to these meetings and helping with this organization, because it is one of the few organizations that put children's needs first. Anyway, we had 4 new mothers and we all shared are early moments of bonding and nursing our babies. Mothers shared how their intuitions had been the key to happy parenting. It was an awesome evening. Then after most everyone left, old timers of the group started sharing all our favorite children's story books. We were all holding back the tears of endearment these books bring to our lives. I thought back to when my first children were young and how few books were available. There are so many wonderful books with the most beautiful illustrations. If anyone ever looses hope for the future, let yourself take those "hurt child" feelings to the library and read the most beautiful stories that can heal this ragged civilization. These writers and illustrators are aware of our bright future. Jesus said we must become like children to enter the kingdom of heaven. Baha'u'llah tells us that the kingdom is happening now, on earth as it is in heaven. I am so excited I have a two year old to explore all these wonderful books with. There are plenty of families out there that would love to have help reading stories to their children. Seek an opportunity to enter this lightfilled part of our world. That of our pure hearted children. We can recapture those feelings within ourselves. Abdu'l-Baha said that after the storm comes the sunshine. Sometimes when I read these beautiful stories, I find myself crying out of relief, because I don't have to be afraid and keep my hard shell up. They give me the hope and the courage to continue to heal and see the light.

There is one more story, I want to share, before my little one wakes up to his new day. We live near the Mother Temple, and we were on our way home after NawRuz or another Holy Day celebration their in Wilmette. As we are leaving this beautifully glowing edifice my 14 year old was trying to teach, one year old Dario, how to say "Baha'i" and he said it for his first time. As we are about to turn the corner out of view of this beauty, I say, "Yes, Dario, Baha'i means follower of the light." And then what was so precious was how he comprehended this truth. Every street light and stop light and store light and house light he saw on our ten minute ride home, he pointed to it with excitement and jubilantly exclaimed, "Baha'i", "Baha'i". This one year old little soul helped me see the light in everything that night. And when I am capable of being spiritually in tune this little gift from Baha'u'llah, he lights up my life and helps me see the world bathed in light. There are many times he will point to something and say, "Baha'i". It can be a person, place or thing, but I know he is feeling something special at that moment that reminds him of the night when he first exclaimed, "Baha'i".

Thank you for this opportunity to share these experiences. Sincerely, Anna

Nightmares 9/12/97

Intensity....I don't usually realize it's a dream until I suddenly find myself awake...and the images fade. Now I blink at the soft shadows in the room. Light filtering in from the hall light...the one I still can't get myself to turn off, just in case.

I look around, orienting myself, the pictures, the hard outlines of chest of drawers, closets, chairs. I'm in my own house now. I remind myself. I feel almost amazed, as I look around this room, that it's not then. I hear the soft breathing of my husband, on his side, looking away. I'm relieved....need quiet right now. The trembling has started (maybe woke up shaking...I'm not sure). I'm not ready to be with him yet. I know he understands, but I don't like to have to push him away, when what I really want to do is rush into his arms....but right now I'd ~need~ to push....~no~ arms are safe.

I wrap my own arms around my chest.....hugging me. It's the only thing that feels safe....feels protected. I see what a big body I have now. But I feel so very small....so fragile...so weak. Fear is subsiding some, and my pulse comes down, but I still feel the echoes in my head....the visions that just left are so fresh......... it seems the atrocities are so close.

I curl into a tight ball, like I did then. My feet under me, protecting my bottom....but I must face out...so I can see there's no one coming. I pull up the covers.....sometimes for warmth, but mostly as a shield. My pulse is slower, and the beads of sweat I'd awakened with are gone, but somehow, I still feel the terror... Now I can see that I'm safe, but the unsafe seems just beyond the boundary of my sight. I pull the covers tighter around me.

I look at the clock, it's red dial illuminating a halo of light around my night stand....5:20. I've got two hours to pull it together enough to work today...to be okay today. I wonder if I'll have the strength, the courage to step out of bed, face what's beyond that door to the hall....what if it transports me back....what if they're waiting for me. I know it's silly, childish thinking....but I feel my trembling increases, and feel a twinge at the bottom of my stomach. I move my feet across each other..nervous energy.

I lay there, looking around the room, reassuring myself I'm okay, and listening to Brian's breathing....tight in my ball....with emotions flooding over me....trying to remember to breath. I feel so full of shame and fear. Tears begin to come into my eyes as I let the visions that woke me come back into my mind.....if I don't, I'll awaken like this again.....tonight. They're images of pain and humiliations and fear....yes, fear is the strongest. Sometimes it's my father's face, but sometimes it's others -- it's one of the many other faces from long ago. I can still feel his touch on me....and somehow his smell lingers in the room.

I lay there thinking how sad it is that 20 years later I'm still curled up in a ball, frightened to make noise, afraid he'll be there. And....I wonder how a grown woman can feel like such a small vulnerable child....shouldn't that have gone away with the dreams....memories. That's when the tears start.

It's not a whole body whaling, it's just silent screams...rolling quietly down my cheeks. I feel the pressure in my head increasing. I'd love to escape back into sleep....but dare not go...not with those monsters waiting. The silence still feels safe. I can be alone for a while...maybe I can get back some of the shield...some of the emptiness I use to block it out. I take a deep breath and try to blink away some of the images dancing in my minds eye.

I swing my feet over the side of the bed. It's time to go write....try to vent it. Brian stirs. "It's okay, Honey. Go back to sleep." He manages to mumble out, "Are you okay.....?" I smile, at least my lips do. "I'll be fine....it's okay. Go back to sleep." He settles back down. He won't remember talking when he wakes up....I'm glad. This isn't a time I can be with him. This is time I spend with the ghosts....trying to get them back out of me and out of my life.

I creep into my office down the hall. I hear the computer whirl to life...chunking hard drive...static sparkling on the monitor....and then just the clicking of the keys....and the sound of tears dripping...my office chair creaking as I shift position...and all those voices inside....lining up to tell what happened to them. More tears slide down my face...but silence still. It seems somehow to protect us from the world of noise and motion that we'll be facing soon....a world where this small frightened little girl in a grown up body doesn't fit....at least not quite.

Finally when the voices are done....and those images...those truths are recorded...we begin to feel a bit more free. The sun is up and the world seems safer for the added light. The birds are singing, and I hear my husband turning over in bed....getting ready to get up.

I sit back...for the first time today I can relax a little. The shadows are still close, but not all around me anymore....7:14. I'll be late again.....but at least I can go. I guess it's a small victory. Sometimes I wish they understood just how hard it was to even be there at all....be an adult with such a wounded child inside...such a wounded adult trying to take care of her. But I couldn't tell them.....couldn't face their shocked looks....their pity-filled glances.

My husband comes in and gives me a hug. He knows what it means when he wakes up to the clicking of keys. He sees my tear streaked face. "You okay?" in a soft tentative voice. "I will be....." and I cry. I reach out for him. He hugs me as I wrap my arms around his chest. Emotions jumble up....pouring out. He strokes my hair. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?" I feel his strength and warmth. His bigness is reassuring....protective.

"It's not you.....not you. It was a long time ago.....and no. It just is.... It'll get better." I struggle out a smile....and I see the pain on his face. It's hard to watch someone you love be in pain, but he knows there's nothing to do but hold us until we're ready to let go.

And now...time to turn off the computer and put on my armor. Time to dry the tears and do my best at maintaining the life I've built. I still feel the fear inside....still feel so very young and vulnerable....but time to put my grownup uniform on...and face the day. The images still burn strong in my mind, but they're caged again, safely put away....at little. This can wait. It will wait...until the sleepy early morning hours, tomorrow.

- Terri

I've struggled with this answer, but the answer for me is yes. Healing is real. I've felt it some already....some of it I just trust will come. It may not sound it, but I struggle less now. Over time I feel less that my history defines who I am and defines my life. -- Terri N.

Journey 8/9/97

Mother's face floats before me.
Hand on my chin,
"Terri, you must.....you will." [Mother knew about and supported
what my father did.]
This is how it is to be.

Twenty years later I sit in a conference.
Her face floats before me,
Her voice echoes in my mind.

This is how it is to be.

My body now grown. I'm an adult,
But my mind still hears her words.
I shiver inside, feeling small and weak.

This is how it is to be.

I rebel, refuse to believe her.

I push her words away.
It isn't true -- I'm bound no more!

This is how it is to be.

I'm strong inside now.
I'm free and grown.
I now have the choice for me.

This is how it is to be.

One day I'm sure the visions will cease,
And her words will no longer burn.
I will know I am the one I choose.

This is how it is to be.

longer afraid, no longer used,
I have the ~me~ I lost.
No longer captive to long gone ghosts.

This is how it is to be.

I claim my victory now. This is how it is to be.

Terri N.

Writer's Note:
This is a small section of a large piece...called "The Talk We'll Never Have"

I am now grown
Confident, competent, and assured.
The Child you knew is gone.

But at home, in my private moments,
I still hear your words. I still see your fists.
I still see you at night in my terrors.

I put on my armor each day.
I live as if it doesn't matter -- those ghosts...
Except for the darkness I carry inside me.

I'm told few would know or ever guess
The legacy you gave me, but I live with it still
In my mind and my trembling hands....my aching heart.

Lately you've invaded me again,
But this time it's not in person.
You just live in my startled and anguished moments and my uncried tears.

It seems I could convince the rest that the lie was true,
But I don't' believe it.
What you did to me does matter....it had an effect.

I wake up shaking, feeling small and fragile,
and I smell you and feel you on me,
and I realize it's not now, but the fear stays.

All those lessons learned,
About how to survive in your world,
I live them now but try to pretend they never existed.

You wonder if it really mattered,
All the things you did to me, and I know the answer.
Now I feel the walls crashing in.

I'm your daughter, standing before you,
Tortured soul still searching for a childhood,
Still wondering if it was me who made you this way.

Tomorrow, I face the world again.
Is it victory or simply continuing the struggle.
Surviving is the one thing I know how to do.

Is it over, is it better....that, I'm not sure I have the answer to.

Terri N.

The children within us all
For so long have tried to stand tall
Reach for the stars is what some say
If only we could find the way
Hold onto something to make it through another day

The children inside us all
Reached the top of a brick wall
Only to find another long haul

The children inside us all
Reached above the brick wall
And found not only a long haul
but found a friend to help us through it all

The friends inside us all
Help each other to stand tall
Together no-one will make us fall!!!!

LOVE to all who have the courage to continue healing and those who need more courage -- look to the stars and you will see that we are really meant to be -- Happy and Strong, Courageous and Fearless... we are meant to safe and loved....

Written by DSARNIE 9/6/97 Dedicated to all my friends in healing!!!!!

Battlefield

by K. Soto

Men had fought here long ago
In a war that everyone remembers.
Fallen comrades, now ghosts that wander,
Searching for peace at the place they died.
It was in this historic place

I asked that it not be remembered,
Banished it behind a door
The door labeled hellfire.
Never to be opened again.

I felt strange feelings whenever
I rode over the area
on a bike or in a car.
I would run from the place
As if demons were chasing me.
I think they were.
The demons of remembrance
would dog my steps as I walked by.
I hated going on tours of the historic site.
I learned to stay away from there.

It was on a tour of the battlefield
it happened one day.
It should have been no shock to me
Because this had been done before.
This time I thought I was safe.
These friends knew nothing of what went on
Behind closed doors out of sight.
Was I ever wrong.
They knew and were eager participants
In the rape and pillaging of the bodies
Put before them that day.
We toured all of the battlefield.
Saw the tower that stands as a tribute,
looked into the log cabins
behind the crooked fences.
Saw the places where brave men fought
With eager hearts and died for a cause.
Came to an area known as
Snodgrass Hill.

This is where it happened.
This place is haunted by many spirits
of soldiers and families dead and gone.
Now my memory haunts this place, too.
Seeking to be let out, to be free.
We walked around the hilly area,
looking into the woods.
It felt spooky being there,
But the terror was just beginning.
I turned to go back to the car,
Thinking: Well this tour is done.
I am safe. It is over. Breathe.
The adults walked over a hilly rise,
looked at each other, nodded and grinned.
Turned and came back to the car.
Told us to get the picnic basket and things
Out of the back of the car.
"This is the place." They said.

My heart sank as I opened the trunk of the car.
For inside the trunk was everything
I remember from other experiences.
Things that would hurt me.
Things that had hurt me.
I grabbed the picnic basket and blanket
And started to close the trunk of the car.
"Bring all of it." Was shouted upward in the wind.
I turned, reopened the car trunk,
And began to fill my arms with stuff.
Tears filled my eyes,
But I mustn't cry, Must be strong.
I wipe my eyes with my sleeve
And hurry, hurry, if I keep them waiting

I walked over the hill, into the wooded area
My arms full, wishing I could run away.
Not wanting to be here. Needing to be gone.
The adults took the blankets
And the other paraphernalia
And laid everything out on the ground.
Making a blanket bedded area.
Trying everything out at least once in the open air
In front of us.
I sat over in a corner huddled, holding my knees.
Scared and worn out already, tired.
Knowing I had to carry onward.
Watching with open eyes as required
Everything they talked about echoed in my ears.

They came to me and told me
"Take off all of your clothes.'
I stood up and stripped
Knowing if I did not I would be forced stripped
And left naked in that park
To find my way home again alone.
I was instructed to come to the blanket and lie down.
They stood over me and discussed me
Like a slab of beef. Good points, bad points.
My shortcomings.
Called me a "good little whore", a slut,
a goddam bitch, as they looked at me.
My skin crawled, knowing what was coming next.
They began.

Sex toy was what I was that afternoon.
A 13 year old sex toy.
Treated as an object
Not as a human being.
Left to cope in my misery all alone.
Hurt me, tore at me, wounded me
Did not make me cry.
Made them mad that I would not cry.
So they slapped me around
And got a little rougher sexually.
Still no tears.
They hurt me more and more,
Finally giving up trying to make me cry.

They left us there naked while they got cleaned up
And while they ate lunch.
I lie there unmoving, staring up at the blue sky.
I pushed this day, this memory downward
Into the subconscious.
Told it to lock it away.
My father came over and looked at us and said
"Forget. Forget it ever happened. Get dressed."
I got up and got dressed.
Walked back to the car.
Got into the car.

We went to McDonalds to celebrate.

Darkened Destiny

Upon my casket fall such sour tears
While those alive pretend to bear death's pain.
Yet, they have no conception of what fears
Or haunted memories my mind sustains.

For when I'm cast into the leaden ground
And soil is sprinkled 'til I can't perceive,
My soul begins to wander aimlessly around
In search for one to share eternity.

Time heals all wounds as life's routine maintains
While I, in voidness and in chaos, scream.
At night I reach to them and call their names;
Alas, dismissed it simply as a dream.

Aimee-Lynn

They Come At Night

Shadows and ghosts fill the room....
fill my mind.
The light can't chase them away tonight....
I feel them touch me.

Shadows and ghosts fill the room....
fill my heart.
The rage can't chase them away tonight....
I hear them laugh at me.

Shadows and ghosts fill the room....
fill my eyes.
The years can't chase them away tonight....
I see them hurt me.

Shadows and ghosts, my guides tonight...
of what was....
And what will never be again.

Terri

Closet door shut tight
Night light burning bright
No monsters under the bed
The only sounds are in my head
My back against the wall
The fear scale is ten feet tall
Hearing every creak in the floor
Eyes staring blankly at the door

Covers protect from head to toe
All of this sounds silly I know
Waiting for it all to begin
More important waiting for the end

There is no end in sight
I do this routine every night

Pieces

(c) 1997 Wendy Apgar

I'm broken into pieces,
Shards are scattered all around;
So many missing pieces
That are nowhere to be found.

Yet I still find I'm looking
For those pieces everywhere,
Looking deep inside myself
But I'm finding nothing there.

I see the empty places
That abound inside my heart;
The places scarred and broken
That are tearing me apart.

I feel so tired & lonely,
I'm starting to feel the rage.
Add the broken promises
To another empty page.

The unspoken promises
Granted every child at birth,
Of being loved and cherished,
That promise was broken first.

There may have been true caring
Before the abuse began,
But how can there be real love
When sex was my dad's demand?

Pound by pound weight was added
Food being comforting then;
Ridding my mouth of the taste
Of his ejaculation.

Keeping the family secret
So well that I lost my way,
My heart broken in pieces
Still in pieces now today.

All the anger towards myself
Is not where anger should be.
I didn't have sex with dad,
It's he that had sex with me!

And as I grasp the memories
Pieces begin to be found
Reasons behind my actions
Are no longer without sound.

For as I see the reasons
I know I'll begin to heal;
Surrounding myself with love
I hope I can some day feel.

Battle Scars

(c) 1992 Wendy Apgar

Through the flames I'm moving now,
The heat is all around;
When I've journeyed through the flames
I'll stand on solid ground.

Some day these wounds of mine will heal,
The anger will be gone;
But the scars I'll carry still
When the healing's done.

But thought the battle scars remain
I'll stand strong and whole;
Knowing you remained with me
To help me reach my goal.

* 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.

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