Awake and Wondering…

I was reading about the 3 women rescued in Ohio.  They had a hero. My writing of Kit and what she went through for 3 years is nothing comparable to what these young women suffered. It is my hope that one day the past 10 years, as awful as they were, will become a picture to keep tucked away for them and that they will one day find happiness as well as peace.

I cannot even begin to imagine what is going through their heads right now, but if it is anything like the emotions Kit endured after Karen’s death, I am sure there is somewhat of a mix between grief and relief.

Live Chat with Billie Dunn Cancelled @ Last Minute *UPDATE @ BOTTOM*…

If you are interested in participating in a live chat with the mother of missing Colorado City teenager Hailey Dunn, there will be a live chat with her mother Billie Dunn at 5 p.m. CST today.  Just go to this link and follow the directions.  Questions and comments will be monitored for content.   There is an update on the latest as well, including Clint Dunn’s efforts to get information out about the case and in the search of his daughter on the website.

Here is the link:  http://bigcountryhomepage.com/fulltext/?nxd_id=345916

Well, I just got home a few minutes ago and saw that she cancelled the web chat at the last minute to go out of town with relatives…I will stay nice for now.  I hate last minute stuff as it is.

A Glimpse Into A Pre-Awakened Life…

The leaves were turning various colors as Kit began her daily walk to school.  She recounted the events of the evening prior as the dark circles under her tired eyes didn’t reveal the more traumatic events of that point in time.  She had just walked in from school and went into the kitchen.  She was about to get a glass of water when a torrent of shit came out of what seemed to be nowhere to hit the fan.  This was one episode of rage from step-bitch #3 that Kit was not prepared to deal with.

“You little bitch! Why were you late?!,” her stepmother Karen screamed as she picked her up and threw her against the cabinet,”I told you to be here by 3:30!”

“We don’t get out of school until 3:30 and you know how long it takes to walk home!” Kit, for whatever reason snapped as she rose to her feet.  It was different this time.  She was becoming defiant in the face of the witch that constantly bullied her.  She had enough of it all.

“Don’t you threaten me!” Karen snapped as she pulled her by her hair and threw her into a wall across the room this time.

Kit stood back up and ran for the back door but Karen caught her…With that she dragged 13-year-old Kit back toward the counter and pulled a large wooden spoon out of the drawer.  She tried to hit Kit but missed and it broke on the counter so she slapped her hard across the back of her shoulders and knocked her to the floor.  Then she grabbed her and threw her again.  She didn’t know her own strength, but Kit was small for her age and she landed against the wall again.  She then picked Kit up by the front of her shirt and got into her face and yelled, “You will never talk back to me again!”  Then she slapped her but Kit refused to cry.  She slapped her again.  Same response.

“Get in your room and stay there you little–”

Before she could finish the phone rang.  It was the school.  They needed Kit to come back up there because she left her change purse with her money in it in the gym and it got turned in.

“Oh she’ll get it as soon as she comes back. I’ll be sure to tell her.” Karen told them in a sweeter tone of voice than she would ever use in a normal setting.

Karen didn’t tell her but the principal called her into the office and gave it to her.  He then saw a mark on her face at her jaw line.

“What happened Kit?” he asked.

“Dodgeball at P.E.” she lied.

“You sure about that?  Kit nobody has the right to–”

“That’s what happens when you have all grades in a P.E. class together.  It’s one of those things.” she shrugged.

She then went on to class, but the principal knew she was lying.  However  back in the 1970’s, unless it was talked about, nothing could be done.  Kit went inside the house quietly and slipped into her room.  She hated everything about that room.  The dark green window shades were like bars to her.  If Karen ever caught her with any of those shades up, there was hell to pay.  The walls were white and the carpet tan–but it was the shades that made it seem more like a prison for Kit.  Until Karen and the onset of puberty, Kit could look out her window at the birds and flowers just outside her window.  Then Karen put the shades up while she was at school one day and told her, “If you open these shades, your ass will get beat!”   It had been like this since she was 12.  The first year wasn’t as bad, but this particular year, Karen always went off of the deep end over anything and took it out on Kit. 

Kit was sore from bruises Karen left on her this particular day.  She stayed in the room and pretended to be asleep when Karen looked in to see if she was indeed there.  Kit was so sore that she could barely move, but her father had to work late that day.  Karen then went into the kitchen and drank her usual–sloe gin mixed with 7-up.  She then took a handful of various pain killers and such.  Kit saw this happen daily and it would always be the day after that all hell broke loose. 

Kit stayed perfectly still and waited for quite some time.  She then crept quietly out of her room and across the hall into Karen’s room.  She had reached her breaking point. Although every movement was painful, she was very stealth in her movement.  She opened the top left hand dresser drawer in that room.  All the windows were open and the curtains as well.  This did NOT make a good impression on Kit either. 

She reached into the drawer and pulled out a silver .22 caliber pistol.  She knew it was loaded because Karen made sure it was every time she threatened Kit with it.  One time she hit her with the handle of it because she was reaching for anything she could grab in her maniacal rage. 

Kit was shaking now.  She had tears forming in her eyes, but it wasn’t because of the beatings as much as it was the rape earlier in the year–when Karen wouldn’t hear any negative talk of her cousin Michael.  In fact, Karen believed anything a boy told her as gospel.  It was always girls that bore the brunt of the bullshit. Karen said they were going back to visit that aunt the next week and that is when Kit snapped.  “I will never go back there.” she thought as she took the safety off of the pistol, while remembering every detail of the two times Michael had forced himself on her and raped her. It happened once when she was 10 and once again just the past summer when she was 12.  NOW Karen wanted to visit Aunt Tess again–and in Kit’s mind, she was filled with dread while experiencing flashbacks to the memories of both incidents–not wanting to get out of the shower after either time.

Trembling, Kit took the safety off of the pistol.  Still wearing her Bay City Rollers T-shirt that her brother Jack purchased for her, she raised the pistol and pointed it right at Karen’s left temple and was about to pull the trigger.  She trembled with fear and then, suddenly, she stepped back and lowered the pistol.   It was as if she heard or felt a presence in the room telling her that she couldn’t do this.  She felt that presence also tell her that things would not be the way they were for very long.  She quietly crept back to the dresser and stuck the pistol into the drawer. 

She then crept back into her cell and cried herself to sleep.  Years later she would understand her thought train much better than the 13-year-old mind she possessed at the time ever could have:  “If I had shot her, then I would become her. I am not going to be like her.”  

She also was throwing up the night before and ended up staying with her grandmother.  She learned how to make herself very ill when it came to going to Tess’s house.  Sometimes she threw up at the mention of Michael’s name directed at her–like when Karen came back the first time after Kit faked being ill and said, “Tess misses you and Michael would love to see you again.”  As much as Kit hated Karen for not listening to her, she hated her more because the comments to her were like rubbing salt on an already wounded and slashed soul.  On some days, Kit would rather endure Karen’s physical abuse than hear the mere mention of Michael’s name.

Within less than a year, Karen would kill herself with the very gun she tortured Kit with again and again.  More beatings and such were endured, but Kit knew she would make it.  Ironically, Kit feared guns and had never handled one prior to that evening.  She was one of two in her entire family that didn’t have interest in firearms, until Karen came into their lives.

As a Parent Myself, This Piece of Info on the Hailey Dunn Case Made Me Ill…

In short, they found kiddie porn images and crap with S&M on a computer seized from the home and more from his grandmother’s house.  I will not express my thoughts here since (coupled with a migraine from Hell) would not serve much purpose.  Here is a link to the story.

http://bigcountryhomepage.com/fulltext/?nxd_id=346446&shr=addthis

Slowly, it Evolves…Victims Can No Longer Isolate Themselves.

Slowly, it Evolves…Victims Can No Longer Isolate Themselves..

Slowly, it Evolves…Victims Can No Longer Isolate Themselves.

I was very reclusive in my youth. I joked around about drinking and partying and such, in the fashion of Cheech and Chong.  I discovered after a while that I was merely trying to “fit in”.  I have since discovered that I don’t have to fit in to any particular niche.  I am who I am. People can accept me or not accept me, but there are two things about me that never change over time. I am honest.  I speak my mind.  Not many people can handle that trait.  It comes from having been through a lot of hell, much I do not really discuss, but when I hear people talk as if their pain is the only one that matters, I can come unglued. 

There are different types of suffering and abuse in this world.  I know it from a place no one should ever have had to experience it–at home.  I am currently writing a book on this, but for those of you who follow my bullying blogs, I don’t see how we can possibly stop bullying or get anything productive done in society by  isolating ourselves from one another.  The pain of the homosexual child being bullied is every bit as real and intense as the child who gets beaten, raped and abused at home–only to come to school to suffer the taunts of those bullies (and sometimes get assaulted even further). 

Here is the point of my post.  Anyone who has ever been bullied has experienced their own type of prison.  That prison was the closest thing to Hell on Earth for many people.  However, as intense as our pain is, we must unite with others who have been bullied and abused to make our voices heard as one voice.  If not, we are failing every generation that follows.   It does not matter if one is homosexual or not, or if one is from another country or not.  What matters is that a united front stands a better chance of accomplishing anything than a divided front.   We are failing our children if we do not address this as one voice, one people and one nation.

I am no activist and do not wish to be so now.  However there is/are voice(s) out there that people  will hear.  You voice might prevent the next Jonesboro.  Your voice might prevent the next Columbine.  Your voice might stop the next child from taking matters into his or her own hands to address his/her abusers and ruin the rest of his/her life.

Where are you?  This country needs you to get together and speak up.  The children are depending on you.  Forget the news networks.  None of them talk much about this until something major happens!  It is time to be proactive and not reactive.  You do not have to have a child in public school to ask a school board what is being done to stop school violence and make them answer.  People around the world must unite to stop bullying on a global scale as well.  

It is time to quit comparing battle scars with each other (and with other groups and unite).   My pain is no less or more intense than yours even if it is a different situation. Being separate does not solve anything.  You will get told what you “want to hear” and then nothing will come of it, but if people who have been severely abused and bullied were to rally together–someone would listen and take notice.

I am going through a healing process myself–even after all these years. I am starting to see some things differently, yet some things are unchanged.  I suppose we will all be evolving and changing throughout life.  Give me time. I am getting there and so will you.  We can work on this together,  can we not?  I do not feel that isolating ourselves as groups from one another is an option any longer.

Never Believe Anyone Who Says “IT TASTES LIKE CHICKEN!”

This is especially true if you are being served alligator.  I tried it recently.  All I can say is–NEVER AGAIN!  I will admit the cocktail sauce made it a little better…However, while I am NOT opposed to trying anything new at least once, I can now cross this off of my “bucket list” of things I have never done before, and shall NEVER do again! 

I am taking an online TESOL course.  My snack of choice tonight was good old-fashioned POPCORN!  I am now going to go to bed and put on my earphones. It is time for me to tune out the world, the rotten news going on in it and just chill out for the night! Tomorrow I will be back on my mountain and working out a double again!  Have a wonderful evening and PLEASE, alligator is good for handbags, but I do not recommend it for supper!

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