Bullied

There has been  lot of press of late regarding bullying.  This is especially the case where some thought to have been bullied have taken their own life.  Bullying doesn’t just happen on the playground.  As we have seen it happens in high schools, on college campuses, in the workplace, in homes and with governments.

It is seen all too well the bullying in schools.  When it happens in homes it is labeled abuse and the law will step in IF the victims dare to speak up.  In the work place it bears a more subtle hand.  Then you have governments who go into other countries and strong arm the opposing government and bully them into submission.  Governments also bully their citizens with brash laws meant to fortify the leaders and leave the general population in ruin.

In January, I wrote a poem called Bullied.  I took from my own life as well as things I see around me and on the news to write this piece.  I must say it was a difficult piece to write and felt a great relief when it was finished.  

This type of behavior in any form and at any level is appalling and immoral.  But, there is something that is just as bad, if not worse.  Even though it is so prominent, and known, bullying remains a boil festering within the world.  Not just because there are those who will always think they deserve to do harm in some form to other people.  It is also allowed to continue because the cowards looking on do nothing.

As a child I would wear bruises and whelps from beatings and others would see these, but remain silent.  In school, when kids would bully me, there would be those who would just stand there and watch, doing nothing.  Years ago a man I knew in junior high and high school crossed my path at a baseball game.  We sat and chatted for a bit while watching the field.  He looked at me and with sadness in his eyes he said he remembered how some of the other boys would say and do mean things to me.  I remembered he was one of them standing there.  He continued to aver that it always bothered him how they did that.  He said good-bye and returned to his seat.  If it bothered him so much, why didn’t he say anything to anyone who could have helped me?

Perhaps this person didn’t or felt he couldn’t do anything due to his age at the time of the incidents.  However, there are those in workplaces who will stand around the water-cooler listening to co-workers as they say ugly and hateful things about another co-worker.  At the most they may go to a quiet place and secretly phone that person and warn them someone is saying things about them.  You call that person a friend and yet you stand there and allow other people to defame the same one you call friend.  This is not what I call a friend.

Passing cutesy things on Facebook and Twitter may be fun, but what are you really doing to put an end to the bullying in the world?  What are you doing to put an end to the bullying in your own town or neighborhood?

The next time you are in a group where someone you know and perhaps call friend is being besmirched and you are tempted to do nothing, imagine you are watching a small child being brutally beaten.  What would you do?  Would you just go over and tell that child they are being abused?  IF you are a friend, then speak up and say you will NOT stand around and allow small-minded people to speak that way about someone that you endear.   Be a human being and display that you are indeed a friend in the truest sense of the word.

It is the people who stand by that allow bullying and abuse to continue to rule the world.

Why I No Longer Believe

Many years ago when just a lass, people would tell me they loved me.  Then the strap would come out, or the bat, or the hand would be raised.  With the same breath proclaiming love, degradation and ridicule would flow.  My first nine years of life, the word love meant pain was coming or had just been delivered.  The only time I saw something different was when I was with my maternal grandparents.  At the tender age of nine, my grandparents took me to vacation bible school at the baptist church they attended.  There I heard people speak of someone who loved everyone.  The love that was described was totally opposite from what I knew love to be.  So when they told us to close our eyes and raise our hands if we wanted this, my hand went up fast.

From then on I was mostly with my grandparents.  They nurtured me and plied me with this love that seemed so foreign.  I grew and kept the faith.  I shared this love with all, even those who taught me that love had to hurt.  Yes, there were times when I doubted, when the old definition seemed more plausible.  Still, I kept on, even when my mother disowned me, looked me in the face and told me I was “a damned Jew”, just like my father.  That was the first time I ever heard this.  I felt relief and understanding.  It was as if every question I ever had was answered.  I embraced this and went on.

Twice I have gone to foreign lands to share my faith and this wonderful love.  When I wanted to do this full-time, I was told that I wasn’t good enough.  They cited the abuse I received as a child was something I could not overcome enough to be trusted in the field.  I still kept on.  Then on the day I wake up to find I have a disease that has no known cause, no known cure.  I kept going as best I could.  As time wore on, I could no longer do the things I used to do.  It seemed those I used to do things with no longer wanted me around if I could not fully participate.  The congregation I attended told me I could come to them and they would pray over me.  It’s funny, when I would minister to people, I would go to them.  I would see a need and I would fill it as best I could.  Now that I need it I am told to come and they will pray.  It has been since July 28, 2007 that I have been able to attend congregation.  the driving is difficult and I have made this known.  A few said they would call and then come fetch me for study.  I haven’t heard from them since.  The congregational leaders haven’t even cared enough to come and visit.  I seem to recall a passage in the scriptures where Messiah was averring “I was sick and in prison and you did not come to visit me”.

More than 30 years of faithfulness gives me the reward of a disease that devastates my life and no one around to help me through.  After all those years of faithfulness and when I need it returned, I am met with emptiness.

It must be so easy for some people to sit on the outside looking in with judging eyes as I cry out in pain and tell me to just get over it and move on.  No empathy.  No sympathy.  Perhaps they are letting me know in their own way that I am not worthy of anything more than ridicule after I have been there for them with understanding and kindness.  No need to walk a mile in my shoes as I have difficulty just getting from the apartment to the car.  However, I can no longer be faithful to the one who has deserted me after my lifetime of devotion.

To Trust And Trust Not

What is trust?  Why do people trust?  Is trust a commodity to be bought and sold?  Or, perhaps, trust is a liability.  Where do I begin to answer my questions and try to figure out why one five letter word stifles me faster than any other, save love alone.

Random House begins their definition as such; “Reliance on the integrity, ability, etc. of a person or thing.”  But, doesn’t reliance mean trust?  OY!  The English language is confusing.  Maybe the part I have trouble with in this definition is “of a person…”  Roget didn’t even attempt to tackle the word trust.  They went from ‘truss’ straight to ‘trustee’.  Smart people they have working for them.

Trust is so overrated.  People use the word without really understanding it, like ‘love’.  They say “just trust me” or “you have to trust me”.  Why?  Every time I have put blind trust into another person, I alone have been hurt.  One should be able to trust the folks who gave them life.  Mine abused me physically and emotionally; and they allowed another parental figure to physically, emotionally and sexually abuse me.  Why trust?

I trusted my grandparents who had me most of my childhood.  They protected me until they wanted to make it permanent.  When they were denied this by my mother, they too gave me away.  They gave me back to the very person who wanted nothing more than to hurt me.  Why trust?

I trusted a man.  I gave him my heart and two years.  However, after a year and a half engagement, he decided to marry someone he knew for only two weeks, pretty much leaving me at the alter by sending me a letter one week and three days prior to our wedding.  Why trust?

I have trusted doctors who wrongly diagnose me and put me on medication that I do not need and which causes other more severe problems.  Doctors think they have all the answers and look at me as a troublemaker of sorts because I know more about me than they do.  Just be cause you have a degree is not a reason for me to trust you.

I used to trust myself.  But now Meniere’s is in play.  I never know if I am going to have a bout of vertigo or perhaps a drop attack.  I stagger along my way running into walls and furniture.  I can’t trust me or my body to do what I want them to do.   How can I trust me when I am laying sprawled out on the floor in pain from an illness that I cannot control nor vanquish.

Long ago, I would trust those who were, or at least seemed, different from my parents.  Until they proved I couldn’t trust them.  Now I trust no one.  I try to, but it just never comes.  I am finding more and more that there is a lot to be said for cynicism.  Maybe there is a future in it.  Or perhaps just a nice side venture till I can at least trust me once again.

So, why trust?  I still have not found any truly viable reason to trust flesh and bones.  When I have to rely on others, I suffer and always feel that it is not from goodness that they help me, it is for good old fashioned currency or some other form of repayment.

WHY TRUST?

Cynicism And Pain

Losing a loved one.  Losing your life as you know it.  Pain enters when there is loss.  To truly grieve means you allow yourself to feel exuberant amounts of pain.  In essence, you swing open the flood gates and pain, hurt and anguish spew in.

I don’t remember the last time I fully grieved.  Maybe it was in 1981 when Grandmaw died.  I remember the pain when I went through it and how stifling it was.  Now I remember Grandmaw and I am sad because I still miss her, however, the memories are sweet.

There are so many that I have lost since Grandmaw, but I don’t remember fully grieving.  I remember the pain at the loss, but when I try to go further in my memories there is anger – so I stop.  I stop and bury the feelings.  Yes, I know everyone has a right to their feelings and they should be expressed, but not me.

To be the good one, I always desired, but never was.  I have, through the years, learned to repress my feelings.  When I was angry, I was punished.  When I would cry because I was unhappy, I was punished.  When I would be happy, I was turned away.  When I would show love or affection, I would be hurt.  So the easy thing to do was to repress.  The English have it right – don’t display what you feel.  This I can do.

I am neither a masochist nor a sadist.  I have virtually no tolerance for pain, nor do I enjoy inflicting pain, especially on myself.  This is reason enough for me not to grieve.  If I start, I may not stop at this point.  And then again, there is no one there to catch me as I fall.  So I repress.

Recently I have discovered a new tool to add to my repertoire –cynicism.  Although I am new to this concept I am finding it to be just another useful mechanism to keep from dealing with the hurt, pain and anger that keeps coming my way.  When posed with the age old question “is the cup half full or half empty?” I would always respond half full!  Now I retorted, “It’s not my cup.  I don’t care.”

I can cry. I do cry — when I am alone. I scream -– when I am alone.  I yell and fuss — when I am alone.  To bring my anger against me means much frustration. To bring my anger against others could mean they retaliate and well… So I remain angry and frustrated while displaying to the world that all is well. It has to be.  Debbie is always fine.  Debbie needs no one.  Debbie will always be fine. At least that is what the world will always see.

Pain, I am resolved, will always be part of my life.  My deductions for now are that I am only meant for pain; be it physical or emotional.  So, for now at least, cynicism is a means to escape the pain, anger and drudge of life.

Will this to become my sole way of dealing with things?  Probably not. Will cynicism always be in my life?  Probably not.  However, for now it is useful.  Maybe someday someone will enter my life and I will be able to trust them enough to let them be there as I open the floodgates and feel the pain. For now, the cup it isn’t mine, find the owner yourself.

The Human Touch

Today, for the first time in more than a month I felt the human touch.  I actually initiated the first touch by extending my hand to bid farewell to a nice lady I was chatting with about my passions of history and writing.  we were both at the senior center waiting to speak with the tax people to have our taxes prepared.  My name was called and I prepared to stand and meet the preparer.  I found myself extending my hand to thank the lady for chatting with me.  It was kind of slow motion.  I remember pausing and wondering why I was doing this.  What would it be like to feel another human’s touch after all this time.  I know I have gone longer than a month.  I think the longest I have gone without feeling the touch of another human is close to three months.  As this lady’s hand slipped into mine, it felt odd and at the same time pleasant.

Growing up I dreaded the human touch.  The main touches I received were painful and wrong.  I guess when you get the wrong kind of touches and then the right kind and then have people not wanting to touch you at all, it can be quite confusing.  I withdrew my hand and as I was approaching my tax preparer Galar decided to growl a bit and the elderly gentleman grabbed my arm to steady me.  It felt odd again, but Galar’s growls were more intense than the gentleman’s hand holding my arm.  I got lost in the tax preparation process and didn’t give it much thought beyond until I left the center and slid into my car.  Most people don’t ponder the touch of others.  Being a writer is a solitary life.  Having a chronic illness brings about even more solitude.  Sometimes I  believe I should be used to this, but then I feel the pain of being so disconnected.

There are different kinds of touches.  Here I only look at the kinds appropriate for public viewing.  You have the intimate touch of a hug and kiss from a friend in greeting.  Then on the opposite end of the spectrum is the sterile touch as when my doctor examines my ears or someone reaches out to help steady me when I am off balance.  Then you have the middle ground, a handshake in greeting or farewell.  Usually I am only receiving the sterile touches and have gotten to where I don’t even feel it unless the doctor is performing a procedure.  Perhaps once a year I am lucky enough to receive the intimate touch as someone will feel the need to take pity and come visit me.  Those I have come to not expect at all in my life and when they do occur, I am usually so overwhelmed that I cry.  It is the touches in the middle that make me stop and wonder.  Enjoy those you care about and make sure they know how much by at the very least, embracing them when you see them.  Don’t let them form the idea that touching is wrong or has to hurt.

Peace

To start, let me specify that I am not using this post to bash religions nor religion in general.  Neither am I trying to sway anyone to believe a certain way, nor open up to a challenge/debate on religion.  However, of the five major world religions, Buddhism, Catholicism,  Christianity, Judaism; only two are not laden with controversy.  I have written blog posts, essays and poems regarding world peace and it never fails that I receive at least two comments telling me that “only G-d can bring peace” or “there will be no true peace till Jesus comes again”.  I sit and ponder which g-d they are speaking of and what religion has to do with what I have written about peace.

In the core of each of the aforementioned religions is the stress for peace.  But with all the controversy and turmoil surrounding three of the five, I find it difficult to see their message of peace.  I am not judging and I do not aver that the actions of some make it the way of the whole.  However, when those actions are so negative, they tent to put a cloud over any good that could be done.

In the United States, especially here in the ‘Bible Belt’, it is supposed to be a good thing to say you attend church or are a christian.  I wrote an essay a while back addressing two christian groups.  One in the US and the other in the UK.  These groups protest poets and writers just because they don’t like what is written, especially when the writer writes against war.  They also go to airports and protest soldiers coming home from the war as well as protesting the funerals of five young girls killed in a car accident on a rainy night driving home from a football game.

I have personally seen church people and Christians judgmentally taunt people for their beliefs and lifestyles because they differ from their own and what they teach.I have often heard the statement made in churches that they “love the sinner, hate the sin”.  Yet they treat those they call sinners in an ill manner when they don’t conform and give up said sins.

I am trying to see the peace through the cloud.

For decades, Catholicism has dealt with its own issues.  One of the biggest issues is the allegations of sexual abuse of children by the priests.  Most recently it is alleged that the pope has known about specific allegations and buried the information.  Priests take vows of celibacy and break those vows to have sex with boys and women.  I was always taught that when you make a promise, you keep it.  Especially if you make the promise to G-d.

If the leaders are discontent, how can I see the peace?

You don’t have to go far these days or do much research to find anything negative regarding Islam.  members of Islam are ever being suspected and blamed for terrorism around the world.  All a person has to do is look the part or be seen attending a mosque and they are suspect.  Not long ago a man in the United States Army went on a shooting spree at a military base.  As soon as it was said he is a practicing Muslim the media went wild that it was an act of terrorism.  I wrote about this and had stated it appeared to be PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).  As soon as the authorities came to the same conclusion I did, the media dropped it.

The other day I watched a piece on 60 Minutes.  They profiled a woman who had been a CIA agent.  The woman, originally from Lebanon, came to the United States as a teenager.  She made no secret of her past and had to undergo many stringent background checks to be employed by the FBI and the CIA.  After many years of service she was scrutinized for her place of birth and her (dis)connection to her sister’s husband.  It was later determined that she was NOT a terrorist.  She still lost her job and all she had worked for and was even dubbed in the media as “Jihad Jane”.  I foresee a return to the McCarthy Trials.

With suspicion and a select group terrorizing the world in the name of G-d, I can’t see the peace.

Thanks to the wonderful world of the internet, I have friends of different religious views including those who are Atheist.  Many years ago I was asking friends what they truly believe and why.  One person accused me of only asking like-minded people.  I had only begun seeking, but after this gentleman made his harsh comments, I quit asking.  I just wanted to know what other peoples views were.  I wish I had kept going.  I have one friend now who kind of jokes that he has taken parts of various religions to get to what he likes.  He does always seem to be at peace.  Well, except when his computer eats his music.

I once heard (or read) where someone said, “Prayer is you talking to G-d.  Meditation is G-d talking to you”.  Most religions are about praying.  To me that translates to us making petitions and doing the talking.  When do we listen?  Before I got sick, I loved hiking and spending time in nature.  I felt closer to my creator at these times and did some good writing during and after these hikes (sometimes during long drives in the mountains, too, just listening and feeling).  These days I feel most at peace during meditation.

The veil of controversy is thick with regard to many religions and therefore I find difficulty finding the peace they claim to have and disperse.  For me, I seek and research to draw my own conclusions.  I don’t debate them, but will answer any legitimate questions asked of me.  As for world peace, I still believe it will only come by  understanding and accepting each person without bias or prejudice.

You Think It’s Funny?

I did not plan on this post today.  I have another put together that I was going to post, then something happened.  I didn’t get much sleep last night as my heart was broken.  I woke up this morning the way I went to sleep last night, my heart aching and tears in my eyes.  I went to Writer’s Circle last night and the theme was April Fools Day.  I don’t do April Fools Day and therefore I didn’t write anything for it.  I read a few of my old standards as a friend had come to hear me read (he wanted to see if I sound like Dolly Parton).  Then another writer who had to pop out early asked me to read her April Fools piece simply called Fool.  I read it through and found we both share a similar view of things and I happily read the poem.  Most of the “antics” at Muse Harbor were in the form of puns (mostly from the comical host) and fitting limericks.

Later last night I was taken back in my feelings to when I was a kid.  My pulse was racing and I was quite flustered.  I made it through the event and then somehow, I made it through the night.  When I finally got out of bed and turned on the news I heard another disturbing story.  It was reported, for the second time in a week, that a teen had committed suicide due to teasing and bullying.  Everything from the night before and from my youth came flooding back to me.  It seems we don’t usually hear about it in the news that a child has been tormented and teased unless they deal with it outwardly by taking a gun and shooting those who have terrorized them.  We tend to ignore or sweep under the rug those who can take no more of the teasing (even if it is said to be done in fun) and they take their own life.

Jokes and pranks should not hurt or harm.  Comedy is the same.  But it seems more and more (especially in the United States) that the only way to have a laugh is to cause pain to someone else.  I try to just roll with it when others find they need to disrespect me or do things they know I do not like.  I do this because all my life those who cause me pain follow my complaints with “you need to lighten up” or “we are just having fun and joking”.  In other words, the person being tormented is accused of causing the pain because the terrorists mean it as a joke only.  Double whammy.  How is it funny when you cause another human being to cry themselves to sleep?  How is it funny if the one you torment has finally had enough and returns with a gun to make the pain (you) go away?  How is it funny when the one being tormented has finally stepped over the edge and they take away your source of entertainment by eliminating themselves?

Jokes and having fun should not be at the expense of someone else and their feelings.  Let me repeat that.  Jokes and having fun should NEVER be at the expense of someone else and their feelings.  If you see what you presume to be a weakness in another person, it is your duty as a human being to help that person to strengthen it and build them up.  But instead, you find it funny to use that weakness against them.  Just because they don’t like your abuse and terrorizing ways does not make them less a person then you.  Try complimenting and treating others with respect, the same respect you demand for yourself.  No, I do not like April 1st.  Too many fools think they have free license to torment and terrorize other human beings and those human beings are supposed to accept it and like it because it is in the name of fun and April Fools Day.

It’s Criminal

Lately my mind has been twisting and turning (the tornadoes that control my writing) with regards to criminal activity especially in regards to being presumed innocent in this country.  This morning I logged into Facebook to check status updates of those on my contact list.  Usually I go to the page and slowly scroll down skimming what others have said.  If something slaps me in the face, I read it in depth and then leave a comment or click that I like it or something.  This morning I hit two identical updates and not only had to leave comments, but had to make it my update as well.

“IMPORTANT !!!!!!!!!! DO NOT join the group that runs currently on Facebook with the title “becoming a father or mother was the greatest gift of my life” This is a group created by pedophiles whose aim is to access your photos!!!!!!! Please copy & paste this to your status and pass it round…… before someones photo are used inappropriately”

Reading this coupled with the ideas that have been flowing through my mind sent me reeling.  Many television programs run episodes regarding pedophiles, child abusers and child pornographers.  Think mainly about Law & Order: Special Victims Unit.  Having been abused as a child and then going on to work with kids who had been abused, these issues strike at my core.  I still cannot wrap my head around what would make someone feel the need or find pleasure in doing harm to those who cannot defend themselves.

This takes me to the whole “presumed innocent” idea in this country.  This makes me so ill.  How can someone be caught in the act and still be presumed innocent?  A person can be in a room with 20 other people and cameras recording all angles, take out a gun and murder one of those people.  Then according to the law, they allegedly murdered that person.  Presumed innocent?  Hogwash!!  In my series of novels I am writing about the heroine Samantha Neilson, the laws in the country are quite different.  The only time a person on trial is presumed innocent is when there is no evidence or circumstantial evidence against them.  Here, you can be caught in the act and have a mountain of evidence against you and you are still presumed innocent.

What about the innocence of the children who have been abused?  The laws in this area have been getting stricter, however, they are still not tough enough.  Those who steal the innocence from children should be treated at the same level as murderers.  They are, after all, murdering the innocence of the children.  And furthermore, the  non-physical scars left after the abuse is over will last the lifetime of that child.    Perhaps if the consequences are not only tougher, but actually carried out, then we would have fewer people committing the crimes.

I do not have the mind of a criminal.  I once went into a music store and they had such a large stock of sheet music, I felt like a kid in a toy store.  I inadvertently bought pieces I had not intended to buy and didn’t realize it till I was home and going through my cache.  I tried to return them to the store for a refund.  I was advised that there is a federal law which prohibits this.  Even after working years in Juvenile Justice, I received an education regarding the criminal element.  Apparently people buy music, take it and photocopy it and then return it for their money back.  In essence, they steal it.  It is always the innocent ones who have to pay for the crimes of the guilty.

This reminded me of my studies while in Juvenile Justice.  I remember reading about other countries and how they handled various criminal acts.  China got rid of their drug problems virtually over night by executing the drug dealers and rehabbing the known users.  Some countries cut off the hands of thieves.  One country would take a drunk driver and their family way outside their town (in the desert) drop them off and make them walk back home after posting their info in the town center.  These may seem harsh and some would say communistic, but the severity of the consequences detract people from committing the crimes.

One of the commenters to the aforementioned status update alluded to owning a very sharp knife to use in taking care of pedophiles.  Perhaps if pedophiles, child abusers, child molesters and child pornographers all received the death sentence there would be fewer to commit these heinous crimes.  I am also in favor of complete castration and permanent chastity belts.  This problem is ours and until we all work together to stop these, for lack of better wording, dirt-bags, pigs, scum of the earth the problem will only get worse.

There Is NO Excuse for Abuse

There are so many things that the mass majority of people in my life do not know about me.  There are many people who think they know me, really know me.  I am not, nor have I ever been one to wear my heart on my sleeve.  A lot of those I have allowed to get close to me know this.  Very few of those in that group know the why behind it.  Yes, there is a very thick wall around my heart.  There has to be.  It has been the only way I have been able to survive the past 44 years.  There is one thing that those closest to  me, be they my inner-most circle or even a level or two outward, know and that is the one issue that I am the most vocal about, my main soapbox, if you will ~ ABUSE!!!  Abuse of any kind is down right intolerable in any society.  Child abuse, spousal abuse, animal abuse, sexual abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, elder abuse, and the list goes on.  there are so many names these days given to abuse, but in the end it is all the same.

I grew up with abuse.  I saw my father beat my mother when he was drunk.  My father nearly killed me three times, when he was drunk.  My aunt’s husband abused her till, finally she left him and they divorced (I had very eerie feelings whenever he was around).  I was also emotionally and physically abused by my mother and step-father (who also sexually abused me).  I have seen friends in relationships with people who had abusive and controlling tendencies.  I am not a violent person, however, there was one time in  my life that I looked in my friends eyes and said “If he ever lays another hand on you or one of those babies, I will kill him”.  This is someone I had known from childhood.  She knew I meant it.  She cut me out of her life instead of him.  The last I heard she followed suit and cut off everyone else.

Working in an emergency shelter for children, we once had a caseworker bring a toddler in after the child was released from the hospital where she was taken after being found severely beaten by her father.  She still had raccoon eyes.  The caseworker refused to give us even the father’s name as we (the director, two other workers at the shelter and I) were gathering bats and anything else we could find to go and beat the father.  The worker said he would have to have the first shot.  We cried knowing what the possibility was for this child to be returned to her father and just the sight of what he had already done sickened us.

Recently in the local news, a man was arrested and is going to stand charges after dragging a terrier-mix dog behind his truck.  The man says he didn’t know, however the witnesses that attempted to stop him say otherwise.  The dog is now doing fine but lost a lot of skin and fur on her paws and belly as well as had her nails worn all the way down.

Being graphic is not my intent here.  The human race is immune to the face of abuse.  We pay money to watch brutality.  Vulgar and abusive language is part of our every day lives to the point that most people don’t even realize they are saying it or hearing it.  So what do we do about it?

Laws have changed over the years to where the legal system now recognizes and brings charges against those who decades ago would have been lauded for their repulsive behavior.  There are still those who claim that an abused child is just receiving discipline from their parent(s); or a spouse who is abused, belittled and dominated has no right to file charges as it is within the sanctum of marriage and therefore no laws are broken.  To clarify at this point, I use the term spouse in a generic manner.  This is male and female and extends to significant others not just husband and wife.  Yes, men can also be abused by a spouse.  There are women who find satisfaction in being dominant and controlling in a relationship, but these cases are usually thrown out as no one wants to believe that a man can be abused.

My study in psychology is limited, but I chose that field to help others like me.  I was an adolescent counselor working mostly in juvenile justice for many years.  I was able to relate to a lot of the kids I worked with who were from abusive and neglected backgrounds.  I think they felt this and I believe I helped at least a few of them.  I don’t pretend to know what causes individuals to be abusive.  I have read case studies and seen movies made about real life cases.  Some believe it to be an imbalance of chemicals in the brain.  Others aver it to be victims of abuse becoming abusers themselves.  Watch any crime drama on television and see this depicted over and over again.    There are those who also give credence to the stress the abuser is going through at the time of the abuse.

It is so easy to use these excuses, but all that does is further allow the abuse to continue.  I can go out on a rampage and hurt, maim or kill a lot of people.  Then when I get to court, I plead innocent as I didn’t know what I was doing because I was abused as a child.  I don’t see the justification in this, but it is done every day.   Perhaps I do not know what was going through the mind of my abusers when they abused me.  I don’t know what goes through the mind of any abuser.  What I do know is that there is NO excuse for hurting another living soul, man or beast.   Saying things that are hurtful about a certain group, especially if there is someone within earshot that is in that particular group, is mean and abusive.  The words are said as a joke, but where is the funny side when someone gets hurt?

Before you raise your hand to hurt, raise your words to praise.  Before using hurtful words, think and say something good.  Hurting someone is not a sign that you love them, it is a sign that you need help.  If you know someone or suspect someone is being hurt, don’t tell that person they probably already know it.  Tell someone who can do something about it.  When my gym teacher saw bruises on me, a note was sent home.  I was beat even more.  Telling the abuser or the victim will not stop the pain.  My bruises have gone away and the physical scars have faded, but the emotional scars are still there buried with  my heart behind the fortress that was built up to protect it from those who said they loved me by hurting me.