Full Contact Life

I am sharing this because it needs to be shared for those who right now are struggling with feeling God's loves because of what has been inflicted on them by the hands of others .  It is a personal story. It is my healing. My miracle. I am proof today that God works miracles. I wrote this 14 years ago but the journey started 15 years ago because of talk given by Elder Richard G Scott of the Quorum  of the Twelve Apostles (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints). I don't remember the first portion of the talk but I do remember one line in particular - "Now to those of you who have been scarred by the ugly sin of abuse." He said that we did not have to carry that burden with us our entire lives. So I knelt down in my room that very moment and I told the Lord I was willing and ready to what it ever I needed to do to be healed. He not only took the ache, the nightmares, the fear and the anguish but over the years he has continued to heal me and to help me br...

I have been bothered my "Dear Society" post. Not that the post in general isn't exactly what I wanted to say, it is the examples I used that have bothered me. I used examples of physical abuse because those were the first that came to me as I was writing. Why don't women say anything when the abuse first happens? Because they can't even believe it happened. The depth of shock is not something that can not fully be put into words. When the abuse is happening the only thing going through a victim's mind is "this isn't happening - this isn't happening". You don't want to think about it. You don't want to talk about it. You don't want to remember it. And then it happens again. Not for everyone - but for those who are abused by family members or close friends - or even a spouse or a boyfriend, it will probably happen again and the victims are again working hard to forget it even happened or is happening. Yes, a spouse or a ...

When lived in northern Utah there was a park just around the corner from our home. As we were pulling up one evening, I could see that a girl was sitting on the picnic table with her pants unzipped and opened, and her shirt pulled up over her bra. No one else was at the park - it was windy and cold - we were the only crazy people willing to brave it I guess that day. Once she made eye contact with me she jumped off the table and was trying to dress herself quickly. I jumped out of the car and ran over to her before she could get on her bike and ride away. I introduced myself and tried to be casual in my approach. I asked if she lived near by and other easy 'casual' questions. I eventually asked her how old she was and what ward she was in (congregation of Mormon church). I asked her if she was meeting someone at the park - she quickly denied that and pretty much shut down. I knew enough to call the police so I told her to have a nice evening and we would see her later. We d...

Dear Society, You are a fickle bunch aren’t ya? You want these women to name names and give details because you think they are hiding behind their story. But when they do name names and give details you are ruthless in how you dismiss them and you are vicious in tearing down the very person who finally found the courage to say something. You complain because you say that this hashtag movement is doing nothing. Nothing for who? You? Why is this even about you? This never was about you. It’s about those who have been and are victims of sexual abuse, assault and harassment. The ones you keep trying to silence with the narcissistic hoops you want them to jump through. You don’t really want names. You just want something else to complain about. You don’t want details. You just want a story to tear apart. Society, you don’t want to know truth. You never have. And that is why Weinstein and every monster like him out there can exist. Victims do not come forward...

It was September 25 th 1991. I will never forget the day. It was that morning that I was fighting mad. I was done being sexually abused and I was going to do something about it or at least do everything I could do at the ripe at age of 14.  I tried to tell my mother but she refused to believe it. I have already shared her threats and comments about the whole matter in earlier posts. Needless to say she didn’t respond well. She wasn’t loving or compassionate. She was mean and hateful. (Which to be honest is really who is she was all the time unless someone was watching) She sent me to school with a warning that I wasn’t to tell anyone what happened. Being the incredibly stubborn and strong willed person that I am I disobeyed her with my first step into my high school that morning. I don’t remember whom I told first. I only remember feeling compelled to tell as many people as I could. I had to find safety and safety was finding someone who would listen and help me s...