by Christina Enevoldsen After I watched the movie, “The Joy Luck Club”, I felt hollow and sad. The feelings haunted me for days. In the story, four daughters struggle against their emotionally abusive mothers until they discover their mothers’ difficult
by Christina Enevoldsen In the first few years of healing from childhood sexual abuse and separating from my abusive parents, I approached each holiday feeling a little anxious. Holidays used to be times for gathering with family but they became
by Christina Enevoldsen “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to fulfill it.” George Santayana Recently, I warned a close family friend that his children weren’t safe around my dad, who molested me for most of my childhood. The
by Christina Enevoldsen Blame has a bad reputation. People say it’s useless and unproductive. It’s been accused of preventing people from moving forward. It’s been blamed for keeping people in victim mentality. I was one of those people who blamed
by Christina Enevoldsen I come from a long line of parents who didn’t protect their children from sexual abuse. My maternal and paternal grandparents failed to guard my parents; my parents didn’t protect me (my father was my primary sexual
by Patty Hite Sometimes I feel like I am an advocate for anger. I don’t want others to think that I am an angry old woman, full of bitterness and mad at the world. That is not who I am.
by Christina Enevoldsen I wrote a fictional story about a little girl being sexually abused by her father. It was for a project I was working on and I didn’t intend for it to be autobiographical, but when I came
by Patty Hite Have you ever thought how ridiculous these three words are? “Forget About It!” I have been told to do this so many times over the years, especially about my abuse. I’ve spent so much time and energy
by Linda Pittman Throughout my healing journey from childhood sexual abuse, I have heard a lot about the need for “healthy boundaries”. How do I know if my boundaries are healthy? What are they and how do I measure mine?
by Bethany I was ten years old when I blurted out my dark secret to my mom: I fantasized about dying tragically. Before I could finish detailing exactly how I wanted my body to be found, she interrupted me with,