Posted in WTB

Sneak Peek–My story of abuse..

Wild Thoughts Burning

The Life That Started Broken Childhood

    I’m at school its an ordinary day until I get called to the office. I received a call from our local hospital, the news is bad. The worse kind of news, that my parents have been killed in a car accident. I hit the floor crying like no one was watching but there were little people with the biggest eyes. I’m in 3rd grade so 5 year old look so small to me. I can’t handle what is my life right now. The pain radiating through my body makes me feel like I’m gulfed in flames. I can’t breathe…When suddenly my radio alarm is playing some random channel I have it on. I can get the right station each time, its one from the 70’s. But I’m in my bed being excited about waking up first. The first to wake up in this house means I avoided the hands of my step-father. He’d invade my body every morning, weekends mostly. But I’m only in 3rd grade which means I’m nine, it has been happening for four years now.

    I put my feet on the carpet, the trailer kind that is all over the place, dark red. It’s worn it a track through the “house”. I think about the dream I just woke up from, I wish my step-dad was really dead. Mom and I would be able to make it without him. I hear footsteps.

(By the time I turn 11 I would’ve thought about dying and killing myself a million times….)

I think about dying myself to escape this world. I think about it as I swing as high as I can. It’s a wooden base and a store bought swing and bar. I think about flying out of that swing and my neck breaking. I wish I had cancer, so I’d keep the news from everyone and just die. Or I could run away to the mountains and die in the snow. I also think of murder. I’d kill him while he was on top of me rubbing himself on me, through his blue jeans. I’d buy a recorder and just record him talking dirty in my ear, I hated to feel his hot breathe and hearing his deep voice whisper.

I have to keep this secret from everyone, I trust no one–not even myself. He has manipulated me over and over again. I trust the pain and the cold wind on my face. I trust the hot water I used to “boil off his hand prints and semen”. My hands ache and my lips are chapped. My pelvic bone feels bruised. My knees feel like someone took a hammer to them.  I hate how he treats me. He laughs at me for not being more experienced and then he’d tell me he was made for me. And I for him.

I felt invisible. I felt worthless and hopeless. I was a prisoner and he controlled me like a god. I believed that he knew everything. He recorded phone conversations for years before I knew. He once gave me a tape of his music and it had some conversations on it also. He would go through my room when I was gone. I had flags on my ceiling, I used to hide notes and journal pages up there. I left my room messy so I’d know, I memorized where everything was. I would check hiding places daily. I hid stuff under my clothes in my dresser. Taped notes under my bed. I thought this would be for the rest of my life, I never seen the tunnel or a light…..

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“Poem-Journal”

“The Last Parade”
The hologram of neatly put together humans. 
They pick the forever bed with sleeping beauty in mind.  
Butterflies that watch over us. And flowers that keep them comfortable. 
Strangers that all feel. All with their own stories to share. 
Water that will cleanse faces but never quench our thirst. 
A mother never lost in our memories. A soul that still lives here on earth. 

Posted in CSA, Healing 101, Mental Health, Uncategorized, WTB

If only I had more suicide thoughts, I would’ve been freed.

I know they[classmates] didn’t know about my story. It’s been over a decade. I’m not angry. But I understand how it feels to be invisible. No one could’ve known, I hid my pain so well.

I wrote my pain, I didn’t speak about it. I couldn’t bring myself to utter the words. I spent so many times in the guidance counselor’s office. I could’ve just said I don’t want to go home. I thought it some ways I deserved it. I thought no one would care or believe me. I did tell a few people. But  I had to lie and say it never happened. If only I had got evidence. If only I had killed him… then they would’ve known.

I couldn’t talk about my sexuality as a teen. How do you explain without telling a secret that I was threatened to keep? I didn’t understand it and I hated myself for being pretty or sexy… but i was once a child. As a teen tried to self-abuse, if only I could’ve got him to leave me alone. If only I was brave enough to tell and stick to the truth. I feared him and his devil eyes. He pierced through my body with those eyes. Sometimes I even felt like my soul was on fire.

Like burning wood or paper, my thoughts… this life was hard, I feel like I missed out on a lot. I was held back because of my abuse. I didn’t learn how to be emotionally healthy. I don’t know all that could’ve been different if it hadn’t happened; I wouldn’t be me. I don’t really know myself sometimes. I’m negative sometimes and I get upset at things that don’t bother others. I’ve had my own way of coping and now I’m learning new ways. That’s not easy either. I am on my healing journey.

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I’m working on the house. Trying to fit in a social life. I’m watching the movie Get Out. I might have a blog idea from this. 
What if there were no boxes to check your race?

Why should it even matter?

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Call me the poet…

I’ve been brain storming more topics. 
If you are healing the broken child within, I hope this blog is reaching you. 

If you are a mother reading this, I’m proud of you- yes you and all you do. 
If you are supporting me, thank you. 

Email me some ideas, please. 
Brokenchildhood582@gmail.com

Posted in CSA, Healing 101, WTB

“How does painting help in the healing process”? by: Childhood Fractured

When I was in college and going through therapy, art is what kept me sane. It was a way for me to get out of my head. Art was an alternative way for me to communicate. It was safer than words. And I was able express things I couldn’t any other way. Especially when you have been conditioned to not talk about something. My abusers threatened to kill my family and that I would go to hell and that god commanded me not to talk about the things that they did to me. I saw them punished their children tortured them, beat them, and killed animals in front of us. Art was a way for me to break the silence. 




When I was a child I didn’t even know the words of what was being done to me. I had no way of communicating. Art gives you a way to express yourself when you don’t have the words to tell the story. Painting could connect me with my 6 year old self.



Creating art stimulates communication between various parts of the brain helping with repressed memories. Art allowed me to piece my repressed memories back together. Art was a safe way to think about what happened to me reuniting and recording fragments of thought, feeling, and memory that I had kept hidden. The art I created was a way to separate the memories from me and be able to sit back and reflect.



Making art is like meditating. It brings you to place were your thoughts are clear things. Where things just seem to just flow from you.



A large part of the reason I am an artist is because of what happened to me. It is hard to function in a normal work environment. There are still days where I have a hard time functioning. I will think of something that happened to me and it will take the next few hours to get peace of mind back. I was also diagnosed with trauma induced dyslexia which still today affects my spelling and speed of reading.



Artist builds bridges between themselves and the rest of humanity with their art. I am using Childhood fractured as a way of doing just that. For too long we have been silent about childhood sexual abuse. We need to all speak out so we can stop childhood sexual abuse.



Activities like painting, sculpting, drawing, and photography are relaxing and rewarding that can lower your stress levels and leave you feeling mentally clear and calm. When you get totally immersed in a creative endeavor, you may find yourself in a meditative-like state. This state focuses your mind and temporarily pushes aside all your worries. Creating art provides a distraction, giving your brain a break from your usual thoughts. Creating art increases the “feel good” neurotransmitter dopamine. Dopamine stimulates the creation of new neurons and prepares your brain for learning. Brain scans revealed that looking at works of art trigger a surge of dopamine into the same area of the brain that registers romantic love.


I make art for a few reasons. In life, we experience so much fragmentation of thought and feeling. For me, creating art brings everything back together. It allows me to open up. Art allows me to explore the most ugly places of human existence.

Childhood Fractured

A Childhood Fractured

Allen Vandever Artist Chicago team art

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Theoretical approach

Theoretical approach
Cognitivism has two major components, one methodological, the other theoretical. Methodologically, cognitivism adopts a positivist approach and the belief that psychology can be (in principle) fully explained by the use of experiment, measurement and the scientific method. This is also largely a reductionist goal, with the belief that individual components of mental function (the ‘cognitive architecture’) can be identified and meaningfully understood. The second is the belief that cognition consists of discrete, internal mental states (representations or symbols) whose manipulation can be described in terms of rules or algorithms.

Cognitivism became the dominant force in psychology in the late-20th century, replacing behaviorism as the most popular paradigm for understanding mental function. Cognitive psychology is not a wholesale refutation of behaviorism, but rather an expansion that accepts that mental states exist. This was due to the increasing criticism towards the end of the 1950s of simplistic learning models. One of the most notable criticisms was Chomsky’s argument that language could not be acquired purely through conditioning, and must be at least partly explained by the existence of internal mental states.

The main issues that interest cognitive psychologists are the inner mechanisms of human thought and the processes of knowing. Cognitive psychologists have attempted to shed some light on the alleged mental structures that stand in a causal relationship to our physical actions.
Psychology app: android

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“Heaven Doesn’t Want Me”

My Grandma was the woman of the house. She may have believed in God and done things for her husband but she was a role model for me.

If belief in a God for my comfort means I have to live a life without my wife, then nope. If I had to endure past abuse to be worthy enough to serve God, I don’t need him. If I have to thank him for things I accomplish then what’s the point?

I can finally speak freely about my life. Damn those who judge.

I had to defend myself about liking women, being depressed, not thinking an imaginary “deity” could be real, for my body hurting at a young age, for saying no to some people, even for quitting my job. A person will question you about any decision or choice you make, even things that make you, You.

Why are you eating again?

What is wrong with you stop crying?

How can you not believe in God?

There’s no way your back hurts, you’re only __ old.

Don’t say no this time. You know you want it.

Why are you dating that person?

Why don’t you speak to this person?

I kept a secret for so long and I refuse to hush about my life now. Even when it comes to my lack of faith/spirituality, my exaggerated reactions to what seems like simple things, and my mood swings.

My abuser, who both loved and used me, gave me gifts and called me names. I couldn’t trust what I was made to witness as a “good father-figure”. I thought he had my best interest in mind. He was older, lived a life that “taught” him a lot, he was in charge of me. He acted as though he sacrificed a lot for our family.

Why would I believe there is an invisible “father-figure” in the sky judging me and testing me? Why would I care about a book telling me that I have to live a certain way to please someone I can’t even see?

Frankly I would’ve much rather been beat, died on a cross and rose from the dead than been sexually abused for 14 years. I made the choice without believing in God to help others. I don’t need some promise of heaven to do good things. 

Posted in CSA, Healing 101, Uncategorized, WTB

“If Only It Was That Easy To Forget”.

During the abuse I felt alone. The only comfort I found was finding out Oprah and Maya Angelou were molested/raped. Last night, after chat I thought about how it made me feel knowing I wasn’t the only one. So I found a list of famous people who were abused. I picked out some who were sexually abused.

  1. Eve Ensler

  2. Queen Latifah

  3. Fiona Apple

  4. Henry Rollins

  5. Missy Eliot

  6. Paula White

  7. Axl Rose

  8. Rosie Perez

  9. Billie Holiday

  10. Antwone Fisher

  11. Robert Blake

  12. Jonathan Davis

  13. Mary J Blige

  14. Joyce Meyer

  15. Anne Sexton

  16. Chester Bennington

  17. Erin Gray

  18. Carlos Santana

    Maybe this list will bring comfort to other survivors. I hate using the word “comfort” but as a survivor myself, it can feel very lonely. Especially if you were silenced or unsupported at any time during your life. Other survivor’s stories help even when you’ve already shared your own story. I sometimes feel like everytime I share my story no one really cares. But even if I help one survivor it’s all worth it. I will not be silenced.

Posted in CSA, Healing 101, Uncategorized, WTB

“The Songs That Inspire Will Make You Go Farther”.

Song: Hall of Fame by The Script

The first time I heard this song, I cried. The parts that really stood out to me empowered me to continue helping others…

“You could beat the world, You could beat the war, You could talk to God, go banging on his door, You can throw your hands up, You can beat the clock, You can move a mountain, You can break rocks, You can be a master, Don’t wait for luck, Dedicate yourself and you goin’ find yourself, Standing in the hall of fame, And the world’s gonna know your name’…..

When I feel down or that I’m not good enough I listen to this song. In my past I wanted to die, I cried myself to sleep so many nights and sometimes I’ve wanted to give it all up. But I couldn’t live with myself if I gave up and stopped helping others and reaching out to those who are fighting with me. It’s less about my disappointment in myself and more about “giving up” on those survivors. These survivors had family members call them liars for telling about the abuse. They’ve had friends and partners who have left them because they couldn’t handle it. They’ve had others not even listen to them. I couldn’t face myself in the mirror if I gave up.

“You can go the distance, You can run the mile, You can walk straight through hell with a smile, You could be a hero, You could get the gold,  Breaking all the records they thought, never could be broke, Do it for the people, Do it for your pride, How you ever gonna know if you never even try”?

    This is my choice to share my story so others will be heard and believed and more importantly so they know they aren’t alone.