Isolation

Children who are witnesses of domestic abuse often feel isolated. They can't just go to people and tell whats going on at home. You can't go to your friends and say my mother is getting her ass kicked on a daily basis. If you could say that what could your friends do about it. They can't comfort you. They don't have that shit going on in their home, and if they do have it going on they sure as hell are not going to share that shame with you.
Because of my moms drug use one of my neighbors would not let her kids play with me. All the other little girls on the block would get invited to Tea Party's and Birthday party's etc. Can you imagine the self doubt that came from being so tainted that this woman's children couldn't even speak to me. I spent a lot of years not letting anyone know who I really was because I felt like I wasn't good enough.

This is funny in light of the fact that my family was very well off at one time. My mother was a debutante featured several times in the local African American newspaper The Michigan Chronicle. My grandfather was a Deacon in the church, and also a Mason. He and my grandmother were regularly featured in the Chronicle with their society friends. My great grandfather was Pastor in his own church. My family was well known especially in our neighborhood where my mother was a local beauty. I still have old guys approach me saying "your Margaret's daughter. Your mother was one of the finest women on 8 mile".

It is ironic that one of that woman's children ended up addicted to crack cocaine even though she was protected being contaminated by me.

Lets get down to business

My mothers path to being abused was preceded by several years of drug abuse. There were several times by the age of 11 that I'd had to call for an ambulance because my mom overdosed on heroin. The adults in my life used to party a lot. I don't know why, but it seemed that my mom was always the one to go over the edge. After the first time they yelled to me to call 911 I started sleeping with the telephone to be ready if it happened again. I think I was 9.
The effects on children of abuse victims are devastating. Low self esteem, and self worth. The inability to trust.  I still have severe anxiety attacks. When I was growing up I was too embarrassed to bring friends home, and to this day have panic attacks when people come to visit.
It wasn't all bad for me and by brother. Momma told us everyday that she loved us. I think she knew she wouldn't always be there for us.
Children internalize what they witness while the abuse is going on. Sometimes they blame themselves. They learn to take on the role of being caregivers to younger siblings, and taking care of mom when she's been hurt.
I want to make sure that these children are not forgotten. We blend into society and try to forget. We hope that nobody sees the cracks in the veneer. I just want to acknowledge their pain, because it doesn't just go away.

I'd also like to note that women are not the only victims of domestic violence.

Getting what I asked for.

It's sunday and my daughter left to go back to school about 1:00. I pulled out my new camera and started playing around with it. Testing its features. I put the timer on and started snapping shots of myself hoping to get one good one of me for my blog site looking 20 lbs lighter. However, as I reviewed the approx. 10 shots I noticed that about 8 of them had an arch of light stretching across the left side of the photo. I'd shot pics from every direction in the room. North, south, east, and west. There was no light in the room, and there was very little sunlight coming in the windows. But wherever I was, that arch of light was right there on my left side not in the exact same position, but on my left side never the less.

I needed someone to see this so called my babydaddy, who lives just a few blocks away. I took my camera over for him to view the pics. He saw the same thing I was seeing and asked if I'd felt any fear when I was taking the pictures. I didn't but he seemed a slight bit concerned. I came back home to download the pics to my computer to email to a friend. The pics downloaded but when I went to open the files there were no images. I put the card back into my camera to view the pics and they were gone.

I live in the house I grew up in, and most of my family has passed on to the other side. My friend Sunday said say hello to uncle Michael for me. I was in the room that used to be his. But, I remembered that about a week ago at the request of a friend I had prayed for my mother to come to me. I needed her because things were getting pretty overwhelming for me. I think the image in the photos was my mommy standing by my left side because that is my weakest. I love you mommy. 827!

My Journey Begins.

I decided to write a book about domestic violence as a result of the following incident: A couple began renting the house next door. They seemed to be a nice couple pretty quiet, didn't have a lot of people hanging out at their house. Much better that the previous tenants. After a couple of months I started noticing that they argued. A lot! I'd hear them yelling at each other on a regular basis. One particular time I was in one of my rooms on that side of the house and heard him yelling/her screaming stop and what sounded like someone being slammed against the walls. I asked a couple of my other neighbors if they'd noticed anything,and they told me she had tried to run away from him several times while I was at work. He caught her on the lawn in front of the house and dragged her back kicking and screaming.  They said he'd even hit her knowing they were standing there watching.

Now anyone who knows  me well knows that my mother was a victim of domestic violence. She was killed by a boyfriend who liked to smack her around.  My neighbors both watched me digesting what they'd told me and made me promise I would not do anything crazy  like call the police or something.  I promised.

I have a teenage daughter and both of us were witnesses to what we'd been hearing on a regular basis. We'd discussed what should people do in situations like this. Everyone knows you don't get involved in domestic violence situations. We both agreed, but I said if it ever got really bad somebody would have to intervene. What if someone had stepped in to help my mom? Would she be here with us today? What if (God forbid) some guy abuses my daughter? Would some kind stranger try to help her?

On our way home at the end of the day a few weeks later we heard really loud music as we drove up the street. The music was coming from next door. When we got out of the car we realized the music was turned up so loud because he was at it again. I could hear him yelling and her screaming stop under the volume of the music. It went on for a while, and we were frightened for her.  I don't know who but "someone" called the police. Once the police left the guy called over a bunch of hood rats over to hang out in front of their house and intimidate the neighbors until all hours of the night. The woman left him a couple of weeks later and a few months after that the guy moved out.

My plan is to start a scholarship for orphans of domestic violence. To create resources to help children and adults who have lost their parents to abuse. I know that I have suffered from severe anxiety attacks, low self esteem, and a whole host of psychological issues from my mothers abuse. When you hear people talk about it you don't really hear about what happened to the children. Well quite frankly many of them are lost and need help. Its time for me to do something to help.