I am not seeking anywhere to cast blame for my past. The span of my childhood from age seven to fourteen can not be labeled as normal, or can it? One in every 100 children are abused, 75% of them are victims of neglect. Meaning under the care of a parent or guardian they are not provided the basic means of life. Their parent or guardian fails to provide them with medical care, educational care, emotional support or the opportunity to be physical outside their home. The other 25% are victims of physical, mental, and sexual abuse, as is my background.
It would be easy to blame my birth dad for throwing me into the statistic of child abuse victim. I can think of a million different statistic's and study's I'd rather be a part of then the 25% I am in. I can hate him all I want, I can blame him all I want, I can forget it all I want but that doesn't change any of the things that happened to me during those seven years. I still get angry, I still get sad, I still have nightmares. The difference between myself now and me fourteen years ago is that while time never healed those old wounds, time has taught me I was not alone in a world where child abuse gets swept under a rug behind closed doors.
I was never angry with my mom for not removing me from that house, from not getting me away from my abuser dad. I survived with her by my side. She was just trying to survive herself. I realize my life for those seven years could have been much worse. I could not only be in the 25% of the abuse statistic I could very easily have been in the other 75% where the neglect took growth opportunities away from those in that category. My mom at least home schooled me and held me accountable to do the best I could, learn to read well, speak clearly. During the days when my birth dad was at work I was allowed to play outside, in fact it was encouraged and some of my fondest memories about Sioux City IA was walking the avenue in Morningside daily, weather permitting. My mom showered me with love and taught me how to love. I was at least mentally and emotionally and physically strong even though I could not reveal that to my abuser who saw me as weak.
I had my brothers to look up to and Joey looked after me best he could before he got sick. And he kept his word to me even while he was dying. He would make sure my life got better and I had opportunities in my life he never did. He died leaving me in the hands of his two very best friends who have helped me get to this point in my life today. I am free of the childhood abuse I endured but the pain of the past is something I may never be free of in my journey on earth. The one thing that remains in my mind is the statement "It could have been worse."
I can shoot childhood abuse and neglect statistic's to you all day long but the only number you need to remember when it comes to children is the number one. One child abused is one child to many. One child neglected is one child to many. One child's death due to neglect and/or abuse is one child too many. We may never be able to end child abuse but we can certainly open our eyes to our surroundings. We can offer help, or we can contact people who can help. We can make a difference in the statistics, improve them.
My family kept the abuse in our home a secret. We silenced ourselves, out of fear, maybe embarrassment, perhaps we had no idea where to turn, where to run, where to hide. So we hid in the house that we were abused in. We sheltered ourselves from the world. Someone knew, someone expected, someone wondered, but no one cared. It was "none of my business" or 'I had no proof". When it comes to the welfare of children it is ALL of OUR business. In todays world we have access to so much social media, so much information via the internet. In life, when something does not feel right, it is often wrong. Our instincts tell us something does not seem right, our hearts hurt at the thought of wrong doing, but we let our minds convince us to stay out of it. Challenge yourself to open your eyes, your ears, your heart to a child you feel needs someone to stand up for them, then open your mouth and find a way to set them free.
An average of five children die each day from abuse and/or neglect. FIVE to many.
