Spirit Unbroken: My Journey of Hope, Survival, and Beating the Odds of Child Abuse

By Sue Brown

My own (his)story, as "Patricia," is candidly told to both enlighten and alert. Although graphic, it does not sensationalize on purpose; that is not the intent of this book. Childhood Abuse is a disease that our society can cure and prevent. It is the World's dark secret. It knows no boundaries within individual countries, Racial, Economic, or Social groups.

There are no clear- cut definitions as to what is and isn’t abuse. If the action is harmful to the child, it is unhealthy and therefore abusive.

This is a disease that does not call for extensive scientific research looking for a cure, such as Cancer, Diabetes etc. Rather, it is a disease that elicits recognition and commitment on the part of all responsible adolescents and adults. Early recognition, acknowledgement, and subsequent intervention are necessary.

However, the abused, as well as the abuser, need rehabilitation after that point or the cycle perpetuates itself and the statistics remain a constant. Once the abuse stops...it is far from over, as the startling statistics indicate.

The consequences of Childhood Abuse affect the quality of life for everyone in their country, not just its survivors. Its effects are far-reaching and negative.

My spirit and attitude are the exception for those that are abuse survivors. The overwhelming majority of its victims are not nearly so fortunate as myself. Amazingly, I have beaten all the odds and it is hoped that others will benefit from my methods and journey as well. Let the healing begin.

Sue Brown

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sue Brown
• Release date: Aug 13, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466082908

Sue Brown

Sue Brown is a Londoner with a dream to live on a small island. Coffee fuels her addiction to writing romance with hot guys loving each other, and her Adorkadog snores in harmony as she creates.Join her newsletter to follow Sue's news, plans, and stories.Newsletter - http://bit.ly/SueBrownNews

Book preview

Spirit Unbroken

A Journey of

Hope, Survival, and Beating the Odds

Sue Brown

Forward

Although SRIRIT UNBROKEN appears to be a novel, the story is true. It is a work of non-fiction, a history that needed to be told. In Patricia’s sharing it is hoped that others might gain even the smallest amount of comfort and possibly guidance from her journey and experiences. There is the chance that you might recognize similarities to your own youth. Most assuredly, you know someone with a similar background. Patricia is anyone; unfortunately, she is everywhere. She shares her story for everyone that cannot tell his or hers.

This writing is an open acknowledgement to a childhood existence that was far from normal and healthy. There are times that are still beyond any understanding and explanation… and are left unspoken, even now. However, the message within these pages is positive and hopefully healing for those who need to close the open wounds forever. This is a journey of human spirit and hope. Identifying can be on many levels.

The numbers of people in America who have not been able to acknowledge their own difficult or abusive childhoods are far greater than the published statistics. So many generations were silent then and remain so, today. Our Society as a whole, only recently increased both its effort and awareness to help protect its children. It’s been years in coming. We are finally becoming aware of its epidemic proportions.

The published statistics of children that have grown up in families where Child

Abuse of some kind: physical, emotional, or sexual exists, as well as children raised in homes which are dysfunctional, is staggering. Today, in one year alone, child protective agencies investigate almost three million reports alleging maltreatment. The prevalence of Child Abuse statistically is far greater than most would believe.

In just one area alone, Sexual Abuse, one in four girls or twenty-five percent are abused… by the age of fourteen! One in six boys, or roughly seventeen percent are abused… by the age of sixteen! Americans, for the most part, are unaware of these facts.

There are approximately 60 million survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse in the United States, today.

Mathematically, that represents almost one fifth of the total population of the United States Census. The median age for reported abuse is 9.9 years for boys and 9.6 years for females. Sadly, only one child in ten ever tells of the sexual abuse. Fabrication of abuse amazingly occurs in only one to four percent of all reported cases.

Consequences of a negative and abusive childhood affect our society. Excessive drug and alcohol abuse is reported by seventy to eighty percent of survivors. Young girls who have been abused are more likely to develop eating and psychiatric disorders. Among male survivors, more than three- quarters have a history of substance abuse, more than one-half had suicidal thoughts, one quarter attempted suicide and more that two thirds received psychological treatment. And if all this weren’t enough, thirty one percent of males victimized… go on to victimize others!

Patricia’s story is candidly told to both enlighten and alert. Childhood Abuse is a disease that our society can cure and prevent. It knows no boundaries within Racial, Economic, and Social groups. There are no clear- cut definitions as to what is and isn’t abuse. If the action is harmful to the child, it is unhealthy and therefore abusive.

This is a disease that does not call for extensive scientific research looking for a cure. Rather, it is a disease that elicits recognition and commitment on the part of all responsible adolescents and adults. Early recognition, acknowledgement, and subsequent intervention are necessary. However, the abused, as well as the abuser, need rehabilitation after that point or the cycle perpetuates itself and the statistics remain a constant. Once the abuse stops…it is far from over, as the startling figures above indicate.

The consequences of Childhood Abuse affect the quality of life for everyone in our country, not just its survivors. Its effects are far-reaching and negative. Statistics strongly support that fact. Patricia’s spirit and attitude are the exception for those that are abuse survivors…the overwhelming majority of its victims are not nearly so fortunate. Amazingly, she has beaten all the odds.

-Sue Brown

Chapter 1

GETTING THERE

Damn, she hated getting older. At this moment, every muscle in her body ached. Yet, there was an inner peace and sense of purpose to her life that overshadowed any temporary physical discomfort. It had been six months since her last run and even though her energies were now concentrated on walks and hard workouts at the gym …there was that undeniable release whenever she pushed herself in running. For her, no other form of physical exertion would ever measure up to a good run.

Last summer, when she had complained of knee and joint pains, her doctor had actually laughed out loud. He had asked if it could possibly be because she had been running for twenty-five years and most of that time on hard surfaced roads and sidewalks! If you plan to get out of bed when you’re sixty, you had better alter your exercise plan, immediately! he had warned. Reluctantly, she had heeded his pot-bellied advice and had gone cold turkey. It was the only way she knew how to do things…take a deep breath and just do it!

Today, she had run…just to see if she could still do it. Yes… but she would pay the price tomorrow. Running had been a regular part of her life, for such a long time. She still missed it so much and probably always would. At first, it was just to get rid of the extra weight after the birth of her son. Then, she came to rely on the hard, physical exertion as a release from the memories. It was the one block of time during her day, when the memories of her abusive childhood never crept into her thoughts. Her body was usually in too much agony for that to happen. She had run for ten years before she realized that she really enjoyed the sport…just for itself.

Looking out at the Atlantic, she felt the familiar swelling in her throat and not two seconds passed before a wet tear slipped down her cheek. Her emotions were so near the surface, that she wondered if everyone could sense what she was thinking, and therefore feeling, even before she did so herself. The beauty of Nature always moved her…especially the ocean. But then again, so many things touched her soul.

For years now, her only family continued to be her two children. Remarkably, they were always supportive of her decisions. Once again, they took her move south in their stride. You’re not moving, they told her. We’re moving.

"Where ever you live Mom… will always be home." Her children…her only family! Both of them in their early adult years, ready to embark on their own journeys. One was male; one was female, one was dark; one was fair…each of them so very different from the other. However, both of them were an undeniable a piece of her.

In her relationships with men, she found that she gave so much of herself, that when it wasn’t returned in the same intensity…she became hurt and disillusioned. Relationships for her were a difficult balancing act. It was now more than ten years since her divorce and although there had been one or two possibilities of something more serious than a temporary union…it had never gotten to that point. Perhaps, unwittingly she had walked away…preferring instead the predictability of living life on her own terms.

There were periods during this last decade, where she wondered if she would be a solo act…for the rest of her life. It wouldn’t be that bad, but the uncertainty of not knowing…drove her nuts upon occasion. She joked that if the answer to her future was written down somewhere…and she could just take a peek…then whatever it was, would be o.k. by her! Over the years of dating, the men had come and gone. With the exception of Tony, none of them had been too serious. In fact, in her ten years of dating, her children had met only two or three of the men whom she dated.

It was almost as if she had willed them to be temporary…from the very first date. Tony, however, had been a real relationship or so she believed at the time. Her children had never liked him, but she figured they were just being over protective. To this day, her daughter has yet to think anyone was good enough for her. Mom, you’re the best…you deserve the best. The child was acting the part of the parent; the irony did not escape her. Now, more than ten years later, it seemed more like a sentence than a compliment.

With Tony, the relationship had been so volatile, even from the first date…that despite the immense physical and emotional attraction…she knew it wasn’t meant to be. They argued often over insignificant issues. Nonetheless, they even spoke seriously of marriage on several occasions. In the end, he gave her an impossible ultimatum that she just couldn’t honor. When she declined, he got into his sports car and simply drove away. After a full year, he dismissed her without even looking back. They never spoke or saw each other, again. However, she had loved him, even if she had not been in love with him.

There was, in her mind, a great difference between just loving someone and being in love. The first was a temporary, almost willful condition of the human psyche and the latter, an all encompassing and overpowering mating of the minds and souls. In her marriage, she had purposely chosen David because he was a good man, but didn’t want to get too close! Whereas she had welcomed the distance between the two of them in the early years of their marriage, it was the very thing that ended up driving her away, some thirteen years later.

Thirteen, lucky number thirteen. She was by nature not at all superstitious. However, over the years, the number thirteen seemed to keep reappearing, as if it had a destiny all its own. It seemed to be a number of some significance in her life. By this time, she had lived at several addresses where the homes were either numbered thirteen or the number thirteen was part of a longer number in the apartment or street address. In addition, she had lost track of the number of phone numbers that had the number thirteen imbedded somewhere in the ten digits.

Since she had been a child she had thought of Friday the Thirteenth as a lucky day, not unlucky, as tradition would have it. It followed that it was not the least bit surprising to her when either of her children happened to be given that number on many of their sports teams…she almost expected it. So, when after thirteen years of marriage, she suddenly realized that she was unhappy…no one was more surprised than herself.

She was blessed with so many gifts. Everyone always said that she was bright, attractive, and had a heart of gold. Yet, from the time she had been a little girl she had longed to be the same as the other kids. At night she would pray that God would give her a family. Sometimes, she prayed out loud. Finally, when she was five, it happened…her mom got married to a man that she had never met. Now, she had a family, even if it was only her mom and her new husband. The marriage never produced any additional children. Perhaps, it was just as well.

While she was growing up she kept a secret. At the time, she was sure she was the only one…now, as an adult she knows there were others with the same or similar secrets. No one, absolutely no one, spoke about it. It was neither discussed privately, behind closed doors nor out in the open with relatives, friends, or counselors and other professionals. Child Abuse and Dysfunctional Families were kept secretive and hidden. Period!

All she had ever dreamed about was having a family. Her marriage, followed by children, had finally allowed her to do that. When she destroyed its very essence by becoming unhappy and wanting it to end, she came apart. For many months, she had trouble eating and sleeping. Finally, she realized the signs of depression and sought medical assistance. Long after she stopped seeing the doctor, she carried the heavy guilt of her actions. Now, admittedly, she often wonders if she had just been weak and selfish…wanting David out of her life. Could she blame this on her mother?

Her mother…to explain her would be to explain the unexplainable. As the years passed, little about her mother ever made sense to her. In fact, at times she had admitted to not even liking her very much. Her mother, her own mother! As a child and teen, she had hungered for her mother’s love and attention. She would have done almost anything for her approval, but sadly it was never given.

Her mother’s birth name is her middle name, but other then that similarity she was never able to see anything similar about them. Over the years, she worked diligently to see that this fact… remained a reality. She did not want to be anything like her, at all. Sometimes, it is difficult to remember redeeming qualities about her mother. Yet, intellectually she realizes that had she not been born to this very woman and had not been blood of her blood, she would not be who she was today.

It was a strange contradiction. She didn’t hate this woman, but rather there was no admiration and respect for her. How could there be? They were never close like a parent and child should be and she didn’t understand most of her mother’s actions and decisions. When someone would ask which parent she most resembled she would answer honestly that she was nothing like her mother and never knew her father.

Her mother had gotten pregnant at sixteen. She only knew bits and pieces of the story and tried to make some sense of it. On numerous occasions, her grandmother had told her that her mom had been stubborn as a young child and rebellious as a teen. Exactly why her mother was always so angry was difficult to figure out. Her childhood appeared to be normal, but then again who really knows? One thing was for sure, her mother was never a happy person.

It was not until Patricia was almost a teen, and had finally gotten up the courage to ask her mother about her real father, that she was told anything about her birth. At best, it was a minimal and shallow explanation. Her mother screamed at her to never ask again! It was