A Letter to Abusers

A Letter to Abusers

When you abuse, you scar. While you are yelling, screaming, belittling, slapping, kicking, punching or giving the silent treatment, you are scarring. Abuse stays. Apologies disappear the next time you hurt us.

In your mind, your apologies clear you of any responsibility. In our minds we carry the memories and the pain. It does not go away. The physical wounds may seem to heal with our continued forgiveness but the pain remains. The memories remain.

You fail to understand that the stress and pain stays with us. PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) takes its place and while you are dishing out more pain it is like a brick wall. The bricks pile up and never fall down. Some days it comes crashing down and we stay silent. Or we hide in bathrooms to cry. Careful not to let the children see us

. I can remember hiding under beds or in closets. Waiting for the shouting to end. When you scream it triggers the memories. When you hit, we are children again. Reminded of the bullying. A time when someone punched us in the face causing a black eye. Or the feeling of fear and love combined. We loved our parents and we feared them. And now you as husbands put us down and we are reminded of times we were in school when no one protected us. Some even have the nerve to say bullying is a rite of passage. That “kids will be kids”. Or “I was bullied when I was a child and I am ok”. When you tell us to “get over it” or just “forget about it” The worst is “That happened a long time ago” All of these statements are so disrespectful.

So you move on past what you did but we are stuck. Stuck with memories and scars. LIke scabs that are picked at and never quite heal. We must deal with the present and the past at the same time. This nags at us leaving us feeling guilty because we are told to “forgive and forget”. But do we really have to accept this? How many times can you say sorry and really mean it. Your words are hollow but we pretend to accept them. This stops the abuse temporarily.

In these times I try to focus and think about a good memory . Easter time was always a wonderful time for us kids. All of us kids would get an Easter Basket filled with jelly beans and chocolates. The few good memories of waking up and searching the house for the bright baskets. I can see baby brother with my mouth full of chocolate eggs, too young to peel the foil off he smiled with tin foil teeth.

But even Easter was once a day of pain. One Easter when I could not find my basket. They always had name tags. My siblings had all found theirs. I searched everywhere. Was I forgotten? Was I bad? Did the Easter Bunny forget me?

The memory of waking up my mother and father who were still asleep at 8 am. I was crying. I shook my mom and she rolled over and told me “Ask your father” . I was fearful of him.

My dad who was still drunk from the night before, whiskey on his breath and hair askew, looked up at me with irritation and told me “Look under the kitchen sink! Get out, I am trying to sleep here!” It was supposed to be a joyful day. But it ended with sadness and irritation. Abuse does not have to be physical. After that I learned to never bother him when I needed something.

We must also deal with the broken promises . “I promise to never do that again. Please forgive me” and we KNOW it will happen again. So, we stop believing. And you expect us to forgive this as well.

Do we choose to forgive? Do we choose to forget? We say we do because if we do not then then you will become more angry.

At times after you hurt us you shower us with love and we accept it because it happens so rarely. So do we choose affection or do we stand our ground? Of course we choose to try to forget

Whatever we choose we will have even more pain. Do not make us choose. Let us decide what we want to do. Too many of us are made to feel the abuse is our fault and that we somehow brought it upon ourselves. Somehow we must have deserved it? Sometimes we are brainwashed into believing the abuse was not as bad as it seemed or sometimes that it never even happened at all. We are told our memories are false. It did not happen that way. You imagined it, they say.

Sometimes they say. “I was spanked as a child and I am ok”, or “That’s in the past. Forgive and forget”

But how do you forgive someone who has not apologized or shown remorse. Sure, sure, sure some say forgiveness is for yourself not the person who harmed us. Whatever that means. How in the hell does that help?

The abused have a right to be angry. WE have a right to our feelings. However, we are not allowed to remain angry. The world expects us to move on and get back to work or school or whatever we are doing.

Of course resentment is not healthy. But we deserve our feelings. Negative or not. To not feel means giving in. It feels like acceptance of the behavior and we should not accept it.

So I chose to start honoring my feelings. By keeping my anger about what happened keeps me on my toes. It keeps me from accepting anymore abuse. I married you in sickness and in health. For better or worse, forsaking all others. But one day you crossed the line and the children saw what you did. So, I left. I planned an escape and I was freed.

I got up the courage to leave you. So now it stops. I vowed to not treat my children this way. I will not allow you to treat our children this way so I took them from you. You do not deserve us. It ENDS HERE.

My hope is that we can all find a way to come to terms with what happened to us.

Use your memories as a reminder to be gentle and always compassionate. To help others who have been hurt the worst are the ones who are most generous.

I am a survivor. Not a victim anymore. I use my past to help the future. As a teacher I chose to work with the neglected, the abused and the children who have not been loved correctly.. I am talking about the children who were beaten, molested, raped, neglected and even sold to support their parents habits. Yes, that Is the reality of this world. I read the files. Heartbroken by the stories of what happened to them. The school was specialized to help them. I had the experience to help them.

These are children who know pain and know hunger. The ones who know isolation and loneliness and the feeling of being ignored, unwanted and unloved.

The kids who are bullied at school as well because they are a target. They stand out in their worn out and ragged clothes. Not being able to bathe. No shampoo or clean towels. Having head lice and no one to help you clean it out. Being different and being noticed for the wrong reasons. No one helps them. But now I do.

As a child, I was poor. Yes, we were poor. My mother worked. My father drank.

Other kids had birthday parties with hats and presents. We only dreamed of that. Not only did we not have a birthday celebration, we were not invited to other parties.

Only included when a parent would tell their child “Invite the whole class”

But I could not show up without a gift.

I But I do remember people whispering when I got a card and the birthday girl saying “My mom is making me invite her”

. I remember one friend who invited me to play. Her home was beautiful. Her bedroom was all pink and frills. A large canopy bed covered with stuffed animals. A desk with nail polish and lip gloss and a silver hair brush. A bookshelf with books all lined up in ABC order. I had no idea some kids had rooms like this.

I wanted to sleep over but her mother never allowed it. Something about “catching lice if she sleeps next to you”

In my family there were five of us kids and I remember the hunger.

. My three sisters and I shared a room and a bed. All three of us huddled together on one mattress on the floor. No sheet. One blanket to share. Piles of laundry on the floor and the closet. No canopy, no desk, no bookshelf, no toys.

Christmas was hard. January was worse because we returned to school wearing bright new shoes and clothes. Everyone but me. Talking about what “Santa” brought them. It was torture. I pretended I did not hear and that I did not care. The Christmas song “are you naughty or nice?” You better watch out, Santa Clause is coming to town. If you are good you will get what is on your wish list. We never did. I grew up believing I was bad.

One year there were no gifts at all. My father sold them to teach us a lesson about peeking and being nosy. We saw the gifts hidden way back in the closet. Grandma always sent us something. We shook boxers and made guesses. My father caught us in the act. “I will teach them a lesson” he told my mom, "They will never snoop again..

So I learned how to lie. In January I made up stories about my “gifts” .I did this to save face.

I grew up feeling unworthy, unloved and ugly. My classmates called me ugly. So I felt ugly. I played alone. I sat alone. I ate alone. I remember hiding from bullies in the bathroom.. No one cared enough to stop them. It happened every year and at every school until I was in 9th grade. I learned how to fight. When I was 14 I stood up for myself. But it was more than that.

I became the angry, defiant and violent child that no one would mess with. I found my kindred folds and we stuck together. Finally I was not alone. There were other “troubled kids”

The teachers overlooked us. Skipping class went unpunished. So why go to class?

So now I say shame on those teachers, the counselors, the administrators who never asked us “Are you ok? Can I help you? Do you need anything?” Not a single adult ever cared to know.

So now I am the teacher I wished I had back then. I am the advocate, the protector, the bully crusher for my students. I have taught them to stand up to the one who hurt them. I have shown them they are valued and valuable. That they matter. My classroom is the “land of the misfit toys”

My pain is still there. However, it is not who I am. I am so much more. I do not let this define me. But I use it to help make a change. Bullies beware because if you come for them you come for me. I will put you in your place. And I have done this many times. I have notes and letters in a box from many telling me I am the first one to help them. High school is hard enough without the pain so I give them the courage.

I stand up for them until they can stand up for themselves.

So to you abusers who downplay their behaviors , :go to hell” Because you have put them in hell. I dare you to come for me. I am a survivor and a teacher. I tell them “break the cycle” . They understand and they promise to. So I am defeating you abusers one student at a time. Your children will leave you behind and you will be alone. With no one to blame but yourselves.

Pay attention now. Abuse is never anything to joke about. Never. Because you might be in the company of someone who was punched in the face, beaten with a belt or wet rags, locked in closets, touched inappropriately by a family member or stranger.

This is to the people to stop with the BS cliches. “Forgive and forget” “Bullying is not a big deal” or “He/She is your dad/mom and you owe it to them to forgive” “You cannot cut them out of your life” I am here to say YES, YES YOU CAN. If you want to be free, then set yourself free.

You don't owe them a damn thing. So fly away and do not look back. Start your own life. Find your people. And do not be trapped by an abusive spouse. Choose wisely. If you end up with an abusive partner then run. And don’t look back. Find a safe place to land. .

The abuser may claim to have moved on and you say and so should we. I believe we all should try to move on. Move on to not being abused, to being myself, to being alone, to being strong, to being independent, to being aware and to being loved by myself.

I moved on to my life and my children being healthy, loved and cherished. I never put my needs before theirs. I never drank or gambled the money away. I never hit them or humiliated them. I never put them down or embarrassed them. I broke the cycle. It only seemed to make sense to me. Why do something to your child that happened to you to destroy a tiny soul.

Be wary of what you say and who you say it around. You need to understand that not everyone had the same experience you did.. Maybe a child was spanked a few times or even with a belt. It is no comparison to living in a house that is cold, dirty and unsafe.

There are countless memes on the internet about parents who “spare the rod, spoil the child”. I never used a rod and my children are not spoiled. I took the time to parent them and teach them about appropriate behaviors and I MODELED them. If you are kind and patient then your children will most likely fall into your example.

I am of the mindset. “No matter what happened to you as a child is not an excuse to hurt other children '' I am a living example of this. You can BREAK THE CYCLE. I promised myself that my children would have a safe and loving home. . We would never be poor. They would be cared for and cleaned and fed and loved. I knew that without a doubt I sacrificed so much to be the best parent. Going to college to make sure I had a career and could take care of myself if I needed to. I promised myself that I would never be trapped in a marriage or relationship because I was stuck.

It is time for us to rise again from the dust and reclaim our minds and hearts and to never accept the excuses and the false promises. I know I have created a beautiful version of myself where I love and am loved by myself and only love when I am ready. I will not rely on another for my joy and happiness. I will not buy into the false fairy tale endings. I will not accept any type of abuse again. It is a part of my history (albeit a sad part) and it is a part of my story. It will not be a part of my LEGACY.

I BROKE THE CYCLE. YOU CAN TOO.