Two Years

Today marks two years since I held my Gran and watched as she passed from my arms into the arms of her King.  In some ways it feels like it was yesterday.  In most ways it feels so much longer than that.  I miss her every single day.  I am confident that I will be with her again.  I would like to post the tribute I wrote last year on this day.  A year has passed, but the feelings are exactly the same.  I am sure they will remain the same until I once again look into her beautiful blue eyes...

"Did You Ever Know You Were My Hero?" 

A tribute to Mary Louise Eye

 

On 12/2/10 at 3:45am I looked into your beautiful blue eyes for the last time and held you as you took your last breath.  You lived a life dedicated to your family, friends, and your God.  You were the single greatest example to me of unconditional love and you were more my mother and best friend than my Grandmother.  Oh yes, you scolded me and were stern at times, and you were never shy about giving me a piece of your mind, but it was always because you loved me so deeply and wanted the best for me...a better life than what you had.  Your father was killed while you were in your mother's womb.  You were a hard worker from the time you were a small child to help your mom make ends meet and to just scrape by, and you were a dedicated and wonderful student.  You didn't go to college, but your wisdom knew no end, and you continued to read and learn well into your 80's.  You loved your Lord with all your heart and soul and you served Him all your life.  You suffered much.  You watched your mother, husband, son in law, and all your 10 brothers and sisters as well as many dear friends pass away before you, yet you did so with dignity and grace.  You loved your family beyond measure, and you were the glue that held us all together.  You encouraged me, you were proud of me, you even listened to me on the radio! ;)  And you taught me about Jesus from the time I was a little girl which is the greatest gift anyone could give to another.  You didn't just teach me about being a Christian, you showed me and many others what that really means.  You were the most loving great grandmother to my children and you helped me raise them.  They are wonderful people because of you.  You and I argued, cried together, debated, learned, reminisced, and laughed together, I worried you, you worried me, but there was nothing we wouldn't do for each other.  You even made your one and only airplane trip to help me when I was ill.  My most precious memories are when we would make popcorn and I would lean up against you on the couch and we would would watch "The Love Boat" and "Fantasy Island" on Saturday nights and you would sleep upstairs with me because I was too scared too sleep up there alone.  You're love was sacrificial.  You thought of others before yourself -always.  You were my rock and this year without you has been devastating, yet I know that you are exactly where you belong-in Heaven walking with Jesus and your loved ones, and wearing a beautiful crown of glory.  I can't think of anyone who deserves it more.  As the apostle Paul said, you ran the race and you fought the good fight, This is your reward.  Yes, I miss you every single day.  Yes I still cry because I feel totally lost without you.  And yes, I know the first thing you're going to say to me when I get to Heaven is "Liska, why did you waste time crying over me?" (AND you're going to scold me BIG TIME for getting a tattoo of a cross for you ;)  But Grandma, when I felt your soul leave your body, a part of me left with you.  As I said at your funeral, 'You were my defender and I was your black sheep".  No one understood me or ever loved me like you, but I am so happy that you, the person who made me who I am today...my Queen... is with her King.  I live for the day I get to see you and hold you again Grandma and never, ever, ever have to say goodbye.

As you know, this is the song I had played at your funeral Wind Beneath My Wings  You will always be my hero.

Loud Voices: Breaking the Silence of Domestic Violence

I recently had the honor of speaking at this year's Loud Voices event sponsored by RDVIC and held at Terra Cafe in Morgantown, WV.  This is my second year in a row at this event and even though Hurricane Sandy made it a very windy and rainy night, I was so happy to be there to share and hear the work of other survivors.  Below is video of two of the four pieces I shared as well as some of the backstory for each piece.  My love to you all.  Be blessed.

Watch "Forever And Half A Day" here

Watch "Hair" here

The Pixel Project's Paint It Purple 2012: "People and Pets Say NO!" Photo Initiative

Family pets are frequently also victims of domestic violence and sometimes, they are one of the prime reasons why a woman and her kids can’t leave the abusive home behind because they are unable to take the pet with them.


On the flip side, pets and animals such as trained dogs and horses also help with the healing process for women and girls recovering from rape, assault and abuse.


This Domestic Violence Awareness Month, The Pixel Project invites anyone and everyone who has family pets or work with animals (be it dogs, cats, birds, fish, horses, tortoises etc) to take a picture of yourself and your pet while holding up white paper or board as a sign that says: “We say NO!”


Taking part is super simple – here’s what you do:


Step 1: Get your sign done!



Here’s what your sign should say

Your name & your pet’s name

your city, your country:



We say NO!


Step 2: Get everyone organised! You can have just a simple picture of you and your pet, or a group picture of your family/community and their pets. In solidarity with Domestic Violence Awareness Month, we ask that you wear something purple!


Step 3: Say “CHEESE!” for the camera! Pick somewhere with good lighting and background where both you and your pet can be seen clearly!


Note: Make sure that your picture is a JPG or PNG format file that is between 800kb – 1.2MB in size for maximum clarity.


Step 4: Get purple! If you do not have a purple outfit, you can use Photoshop to purple-ise your picture (or if you don’t have Photoshop, just send your picture in and we’ll purple-ise it for you!)


Step 5: Label and submit your picture! Label your picture file as Your Name – Your City – Your Country (e.g. Regina Yau – Kuala Lumpur – Malaysia). Then email your picture topixelprojectteam@gmail.com and we will add it to our online galleries.

Naked

I wasn't sure I would ever post this for public consumption.  I wrote it while dawn was breaking one morning last week and I sent it to the muse that inspired it.  I am sharing with you because it is me...at my most Naked...and it is the way I am feeling tonight.

Be blessed.

Naked

You never forget the exact moment you are aware you are naked.

Absence of the image, bare of the armor.

The moment when time stops.

The moment you hand over your heart.

Other people and sounds quickly disappear,

And you are blissfully transported to another reality...

Your face--your eyes especially--became the center of my awareness,

The center of my universe

It was in that moment I stopped fleeing...fearing... fighting

And for the first time in forever,

Indulged Hope.

Ah Love...

What a wretched, horrible thing it is.

Vulnerability, with its sickly, weak sensation

Gently caresses the base of my throat

And then begins to squeeze.

I feel my strength, and my resolve

Leave quickly and completely.

The moment I heard my first fairy tale as a child

I began looking for you.

It was a long and painful journey

The walls grew high

The heart grew cold from defeat

Instead of you

I found safety.

Being vulnerable is saying "I love you" first

And not hearing it echoed back.

Being naked is being aware that you stand alone
And exposed.

Realizing that the unknown is an ocean.

You're in the middle of it and suddenly remember  

You never really learned how to swim.

What I wouldn't give

To return to that first night.

A night sky filled with countless stars,

A future of endless possibilities.

The way you kept looking at me

As if you couldn't convince your eyes to look away.

You told me,

"The broken heart is the one that is still beating"

I would add,

"Real hearts break and bleed,

That's how you know they are real."

Blind Side

My most recent article (published 6/21-one day before the verdict) for The Well Written Woman (thewellwrittenwoman.com) about the Sandusky case.

In the moments immediately following my live broadcast late last November I made a silent promise to myself that I would not make any further public comment about that...that...mess (for lack of a better word that fully encompassed the news that was coming out of State College, PA the previous week).  No blogging, tweeting, Facebooking, and certainly no further radio broadcasts. Not because I didn’t have very strong opinions.  Quite the contrary. However, I knew from years of personal experience and years of education in psychology and counseling, that my “strong opinions” forged out of my own childhood sexual abuse were the very thing that caused all hopes of any objectivity toward the Sandusky situation to go flying out the closest window. I don’t live far from Pittsburgh, PA and the local news as well as the national news was thick with the daily developments. I actually did an admirable job at keeping my promise to myself, only slipping up once last week when, in my frustration over the judge allowing the defense to introduce testimony that Sandusky has the psychological disorder Histrionic Personality Disorder, I posted this on Facebook:

“What Bugs Bunny would look like if he were human....and a pedophile.”

The overwhelming response was from friends who were ticked that I had insulted Bugs Bunny. My point being was that, in my opinion, this man indeed has a psychological disorder. It’s called Pedophilia.

After my Facebook outburst I once again recommitted to sit and watch the proceedings in silence. That lasted about a day when I came to the realization that it is people who sat in silence-people who saw but turned a blind eye-that allowed this alleged abuse to continue for years and claim undoubtedly more victims than the “Sandusky 8” who are putting themselves and those who love them through a living Hell by reliving a pain so deep and multifaceted. A pain that has shaped and will continue to shape every one of their days for the rest of their lives.

For me, it was the summer of 1976. I was getting ready to turn 10 years old that September. My family and I lived in a townhouse/apartment complex in the small town in rural West Virginia where I was born. I was a tomboy-all pigtails and dirt-and loved spending dawn to dusk playing outside everyday and trying to master the skateboard I got the previous Christmas.There was a nice, friendly, elderly man who lived in one of the bottom apartments next to our town home who would always wave and say "Hello" as he carried his groceries in from his car. I can still see that car. It was a 4 door olive green sedan. One day after he had been to the grocery store he was sitting on his front porch and called me over and presented a big bag of Brachs Candy which was sold in bulk at our local grocery. He asked me if I would like some, and I of course eagerly said "Yes!"   As I was exploring all the goodies in the white bag with it's trademark pink and purple stripes around the center something so strange happened. This man reached down the front of my tank top and began rubbing my chest.  Now I was brought up to not question my elders and I just remember feeling afraid so I grabbed a few pieces of candy, and said "thank you" over my shoulder as I ran back toward my house. As time went by he became more and more insistent that I "come visit him" on his porch or as he sat in his car and he would always give me candy and rub my private parts and attempted to expose himself to me. At 9 1/2  I didn't know I was being molested.  I didn't even know what that meant, but even at that young age I instinctively knew that something was very, very wrong and found it upsetting on the deepest of levels. I can't remember if he told me not to tell anyone, but I was too ashamed to. I wish I could tell you why I went back each time he called me over, but I don't really know for sure. I think I was afraid not to go because he might tell my parents something bad about me and I would get into trouble. He began to pressure me and he was old enough to be my grandfather and I tried to respect his wishes for "a visit" and hope and pray the next time would be different and he wouldn't touch me. My prayers went unanswered.

Later that summer, he died. I remember seeing the ambulance in the parking lot and watching them wheel his body out covered with a white sheet. Everyone in the neighborhood was gathered around talking about what a tragedy it was that he died alone.  I had such mixed emotions. Part of me was thankful he was gone and I wouldn't have to endure the shame and anxiety of what I was feeling or any more "visits". I was happy, angry, confused, and relieved all at the same time. I thought you were supposed to just feel really sad when someone died, weren't you?

I told my mother what had happened.  She got very angry with me and told me I shouldn’t have gone over to visit him in the first place and it wasn’t spoken of again. This kind of reaction is, unfortunately, so common in abuse cases. I call it “the second assault”.  The victim suffers the initial physical/verbal/emotional/sexual assault and then (usually after much worry, sleepless nights, and paralyzing fear) finally reaches out for help only to be called a “liar”. I’ve found it is usually less a case of disbelief and more a case of not wanting, for whatever reason, to believe. I saw this very thing happen yesterday in the Sandusky case when Dottie Sandusky, wife of the Defendant, took the stand.  

Showing up looking her most matronly in a light green sweater set, bespeckled with a fluffy white do (a la Mrs. Clause), the 69 year old looked like she would be much better suited to baking homemade cookies for children than testifying in a court proceeding about the severe sexual abuse of children. However, she had a job to do. She was there to hopefully help her husband of 45 years not spend the rest of his life in prison.  Unfortunately, she went  on the attack when asked about the alleged victims. She described Victim 1 as ''clingy,'' Victim 9 as ''a charmer'' and Victim 4 as ''very conniving, and he wanted his way and he didn't listen a whole lot.'' Please keep in mind that these children, like all of the other children involved in Sandusky’s “Second Mile” program, were underprivileged and often fatherless. How can an 8 year old underprivileged boy be described as “clingy” or “conniving”? When 10 years later he is accusing your husband of unthinkable acts that took place in your own home...while you were there.

That knowledge would be a lot for anyone to process. If these allegations are true, then it basically means that the bulk of Dottie Sandusky’s life has been a lie. The man she thought she was married to for the last 45 years, their 6 children (all adopted), the “Second Mile” Foundation (based on the scripture Matthew 5:41: "And whosoever shall compel thee to go one mile, go with him two.") she started with her husband in 1977....it all would be forever tainted. Her reality would no longer be reality. Dottie Sandusky is not only fighting to save her husband’s future, but she is fighting to save her and her family’s entire past.

This is why people time and time again take victims, even children, of salacious crimes and put them on trial. This is why we ask the rape victim what she was wearing at the time of attack as we somehow try to formulate a reason for the attack.  After all, bad things only happen to bad people.  Right?  I mean, if it’s true that a man who was inducted into the Pennsylvania Sports Hall of Fame in 1999 and received the 1993 NAACP Human Rights Award, the 1995 YMCA Service-To-Youth Award and the 1996 SGMA Heroes Award is discovered to have used the very organization for wayward boys based on Christian principles he and his wife founded as a picking field for his victims for decades, then what does that say about us?  What does that say about the “safety” of our own children, or grandchildren?  

There are a couple important questions to ask of ourselves as we watch the Sandusky proceedings.  Was this just another person who was very skilled at staying in our collective blind side?  Or did we, and do we in many cases, choose to look away to somehow protect ourselves?

The (Eye) Candyman Can

My first article for The Well Written Woman (thewellwrittenwoman.com).  Enjoy!!

Well, it’s official. All of my future Halloweens have been forever tainted...ruined really. This morning I was passing by the television just as Matt Lauer was discussing the new print ad for Snickers. If you haven’t had the pleasure, here it is:




This ad is so disturbing on so many levels I scarcely know where to begin...oh wait...yes I do.  Let’s begin with the woman pictured in only her underwear with someone wearing boxing gloves approaching her from behind. I don’t know about you, but that image causes every stranger-danger-domestic-violence-abuse alert nerve in my body fire simultaneously and every hair on the back of my neck stand at attention. Then there is the fact that an image of a nearly naked woman is the focal point in a print ad for a candy bar. Ew. I mean...seriously??  Who was the marketing genius who said “Hey, I’ve got an idea!  Let’s use sex to sell the candy!! It seems to work well for the beer and liquor people.”  

Just when you think the Snickers marketing department has lost its collective mind and this ad could not possibly be more uncomfortable to look at, you then have to ponder the tag line: “You’re not you when you’re hungry”. Just let that sink in for a moment. It obviously infers that since you have not consumed a Snickers prior to having a sexual encounter that your sure fire one handed bra removal technique that you have been perfecting since your sophomore year in high school will suddenly be rendered ineffective. I mean is Snickers now branching into Viagra’s territory?  “Take Viagra with Snickers 30 minutes to 1 hour before sexual activity.  Contact your doctor or seek emergency medical attention if your erection is painful or lasts longer than 4 hours...or if your blood sugar spikes”  

How am I ever going to be able to give Snicker to kids after all of this? I normally treat with “Fun Size” Snickers for Halloween, but now that has a whole new...downright “icky” connotation. Damn you Snickers. Why couldn’t  you just stay on the really clever path you were on with the “You’re not you when you’re hungry” campaign.  Stars like Betty White, Abe Vigoda portrayed football players who hadn’t had there Snickers fix and were subsequently, not themselves. Joan Collins and Stephanie Beacham played these roles in the in the UK version and both versions were very witty, humorous, and had people talking. Other stars such as Richard Lewis and Roseanne Barr, Liza Minnelli and Aretha Franklin, as well as Joe Pesci and Don Rickles did the “You’re not you when you’re hungry” commercials and they were very humorous and attention grabbing. You actually got the clear point across that if you didn’t eat a Snickers you wouldn’t be yourself. Ok, I’m willing to overlook the glaring false advertising and the truth that had been stretched so far it was on the verge of snapping back and hitting you upside your creepy “do you want some candy little girl” bean, but somehow, you made it work and it was fun and it turned into a successful, award winning advertising campaign for you.  My question is, why, why, WHY did you have to bring sex into it? After all guys, we ARE talking about candy...candy!  Kids are still considered to be the largest consumers of candy. Kids and candy go together like...well...kids and candy!! If you are trying to target the dads of the kids with the flash of flesh and sexual innuendo, here’s a word of advice from the modern day prophet Ice Cube:: “Check yo’ self before yo’ wreck yo’ self”.  American adults are overweight and are riddled with diabetes and other disease related to obesity. Don’t add to the problem by using the fear of sub par sexual performance if your candy bar isn’t at the ready. Geeze Snickers...you use to be my favorite.  Now when I look at you I just feel dirty and objectified. You don’t understand me anymore Snickers. Snickers...I never thought I would say this but, it’s over. Tap dance your tacky nutty goodness elsewhere and don’t let the door hit you in your chocolatey shell on the way out.  I will remember the good times but I don’t know you anymore. Goodbye Snick...we will always have those afternoon rendezvous at  the vending machine in the break room where you indeed lived up to your promise, “satisfies”.

A Song for Mama

I had a wonderful opportunity this Mother's Day to be part of a amazing project by my friends AHMIR as they covered "A Song for Mama" originally recorded by Boyz II Men in 1997.  This version's YouTube video is filled with pictures and dedications from the band, as well as AHMIR's friends and fans from all over the world to the "moms" in their lives.  I am happy and honored that my own mother and grandmother are pictured at the 4:40 mark in the video.

In our current society being a "mom" isn't considered to be much of a career choice.  If young girls are asked what they want to be when they grow up and they say "I want to be a mom" the question, "Yeah, but what kind of work do you want to do?" almost always follows.  I had many jobs in the last 33 years since I began delivering newspapers in the pre-dawn hours at the ripe old age of 12 back in Preston County, WV.  Some of my jobs were very glamorous and some were not.  Some paid very well, and some -not so much.  What I have realized is my work as a mother was and is the most important, rewarding, frustrating, challenging, fulfilling, admirable way I could ever have spent my heartbeats....because we all only get just so many heartbeats.

Take pride in being a mother.  You truly have the most important job in the history of humanity. If you aren't a mother, then take a moment to realize the lifelong sacrifices yours made, or is making, for you.

Enjoy the video tribute here:  A Song for Mama-AHMIR