Posts Tagged ‘ control ’

Getting Real: Can Our Survival Roles Help Us Find Our True Selves?

Jul 29th, 2010 | By | Category: All Posts, Diablog--Multi-Person Blog

By Christina Enevoldsen, Penny Smith & Bethany I live close to Beverly Hills, the plastic surgery Mecca, where the question is, “Are they real?” I’m also a few blocks from where the Academy Awards and many film premieres are held, where celebrities smile for the cameras and wave confidently to the fans, yet we know […]



Power Trip: How to Journey From Overpowered to Empowered

Jul 27th, 2010 | By | Category: All Posts, Christina's Blog

by Christina Enevoldsen When I was a kid, The Wizard of OZ aired on television once a year. I didn’t know any families who didn’t anticipate this event. My family never missed it. We’d eat dinner early, make popcorn and enthusiastically settle in. The Wizard of Oz is an enchanting story of a twelve-year-old Kansas […]



The Wolf in Shepherd’s Clothing: The “Benevolent” Abuser

Jul 26th, 2010 | By | Category: All Posts, Christina's Blog

by Christina Enevoldsen In the dark children’s tale “Hansel and Gretal”, a young brother and sister are abandoned in the woods by their father at the insistence of their step-mother. She convinces her husband that the whole family will perish unless they reduce the number of bellies to feed. Lost and starving, the children find […]



Power Play: How To Recognize An Abuser

Jul 25th, 2010 | By | Category: All Posts, Christina's Blog

by Christina Enevoldsen It was the first time in weeks since my husband and I had been on a date. Don held my hand and I rested my head on his chest while we waited in line for the planetarium show at Griffith Observatory. The young couple a few feet in front of us caught […]



My Story by Bethany

Oct 22nd, 2009 | By | Category: All Posts, Our Stories

My brother’s first memory was the adventure of crawling underneath the fence in our backyard to play with the neighbor’s dogs. I envy him. My first memory was of getting raped. I remember laying on the kitchen table with my open diaper covered in blood — an image that constantly repeats itself in my head. […]