Talk Me From The Ledge

Most of us have met a survivor of abuse at some point in our lives. Whether they were a stranger, neighbor, co-worker, or even someone we love, we are everywhere. We hide our fading bruises from the world, and often times even defend our attackers' actions. It's not that we are weak and the question "why don't they just leave" can only be answered by the individual victim. The answers are usually very complicated and personal. My secret world of abuse was harsh, lonely and humiliating. I was afraid of the ramifications connected to "telling all." Would I be believed? Will it even matter to anyone if they knew? I would have been severely punished by the abuser I exposed. That was my greatest fear. Six months after the sudden death of my mother I broke the silence of my past. In the late hours of another sleepless night the dynamics of abuse in the 1950's and 1960's is recalled and chronicled. With pen in hand, coffee cup at my side, memories and tears poured on to paper. By dawn the door was opened. Few were allowed to enter my childhood home. We wanted no witnesses. I was a good liar, and could hide the truth from everyone. Not anymore. I believe the courage to tell these stories came from a love that resonates even after death. With that love and a desire to offer a glimpse into the life of a survivor, I am opening the door to my childhood and inviting you to come into my secret world and be my witness.