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PLEASE WATCH THIS VIDEO CLIP BEFORE YOU JUDGE OTHERS...WE ALL ARE JUST A MINUTE AWAY...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tWKici6hOhw
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Saturday, October 17, 2009
THERE IS A BLESSING IN THIS; I JUST NEED TO FIND IT!
(This is a portion of a speech I gave as the guest speaker at an Awareness Event held in New York, NY on October 8, 2009.)
I want to thank you for giving me the honor to stand here before you representing the millions of men, women and children, throughout the world who have survived, been murdered, are in psychiatric hospitals, or have committed suicide due to the devastating, shattering pain and agonizing suffering caused by rape and domestic violence.
As you are probably aware at the present moment there is a tremendous amount of media coverage about survivors of sexual abuse.
Equally disturbing is the ever, increasing number of sex offenders. At the present moment, there is nearly one convicted sex offender for every police officer within the United States. Undoubtedly, these glaring, undeniable statistics have brought Megan’s Law to the forefront of how agencies are to monitor offenders and classifying the 3 levels of sex offences; such as simple molestation and violent sexual assault.
The truth of the matter; there is no such thing as a simple molestation because the affects of sexual abuse in any type or form upon a human psyche is anything but simple. Just as every individual is uniquely made, so will the shattering and devastating effect will be upon each individual soul.
There is one universal statement that all survivors use to describe themselves; who they were before the assault and who they are after the assault. So it is with me, for I am a survivor of kidnap and rape.
I lived a religious life and served in a multitude of roles. I parented 7 disabled adopted children. I was a director, teacher, and care provider of several non-profit facilities that I founded. I provided spiritual direction, in-service training, advocacy, activism, and took an active role in changing laws that affected disabled children, and their rights. I held media conferences; including television and radio talk shows.
I had many, many friends and family members that I would celebrate life with. I used to experience profound joy in merely looking at a leaf that had just fallen from a tree. This is whom I used to be and this defines who I once was.
Then, one fate filled day, everything changed. From January thru April 2001, I was kidnapped; held hostage, raped, and tortured, for nearly a week on three separate occasions.
For nearly 3 ½ years I was stalked, harassed, threatened, as were my children by a parolee who just happened to be a federal informant working for our government on drug trafficking that was occurring out of the bay. He gave me several STD’s and I became pregnant. During one of the assaults, I lost the child. I had numerous injuries.
For 31/2 years, I had a bodyguard 24 hours a day in an attempt to keep my children safe, the family together, and myself from being kidnapped and killed.
One summer morning, a government official notified me that the informant had made actual dated plans for me to be killed. He recommended I leave the state immediately. So, I moved my children; put them in hiding; safe from being found. I changed my name, walked away from who I once was; and said good-bye to no one. My entire family and all my friends still have no idea where I am. To me, it feels as if everybody has died.
I do not remember packing the little bit of clothes that I found in my car; nor do I remember driving across the United States until I saw a sign that read Paterson, New Jersey which brought me back to some kind of awareness of life.
I was so engulfed with terror and grief for what I had lived and endured for so long; and even though I was far away; for me, the informant was still directly behind me; catching up with me; ready to destroy me.
Throughout my journey back to me; I constantly wondered if I wasn’t dead and in hell and just didn’t know it. It was so extremely exhausting to struggle so hard; and yet not see any end in sight of being released from such a hellish trap.
I lived in my car for a time, but I cannot remember for how long, or of being in it very often. I have little memory of how I found my job. I have no recall how I found out about it, getting there, or any of what was discussed during the job interview; other than the end part of being hired.
By appearances I looked successful and was doing great; but I was far from it. I worked open to close, seven days a week, in order to be able to complete my work to the high standards in which I had performed during my previous life.
My memory was so badly affected that even to simply make a phone call, I found profoundly difficult. Constantly, I would forget the first number I was going to dial just by looking at the phone to see where the button was to push. It was an agonizing existence. Constantly starting over.
All the numerous skills, life experiences, and what I once knew seemed to be scrambled, slowed, and dulled; hidden somewhere in complete disarray; within my memory. My fluency of speech was gone. Parts of words seemed somehow, to have gotten stuck to each other, as were their definitions. I was very aware; that I was shattered because I painfully remembered how I used to be. To me, I sounded like a complete idiot.
During the first hour of being assaulted; I remember seeing my soul being taken out of my body and put through an invisible shredder; where my shredded self came out from below; destroyed, in small pieces.
Everything was so terrifying that I would often wonder if I was losing my mind. I didn’t trust my own judgment. I kept blaming myself for the assault. I thought that perhaps I had missed some cue that could have kept the kidnapping from occurring in the first place. Although I wanted desperately to be back to being my old self; I was extremely anxious and worried that I’d be blind sighted again; because I had not yet figured out what I did wrong or what cues I had missed.
Everything reminded me; every place, smell, colors, objects, and people. Even trash, would remind me of what I had endured and what I had lost.
During the first 3 years, I moved 16 times, terrified that the informant would some how find and kill me. My startle reflex was turned on so high that at the slightest sound, I shook and jerked uncontrollably. I never slept.
The worst suffering was that my faith in God was shaken to its core. I was so grief stricken and upset with Jesus that He didn’t step in, stop any of it from happening, and save me. And, I complained bitterly and berated Him constantly for His betrayal and failure in not allowing me to stay dead.
During one of these moments, I heard Him say in my interior that He couldn’t step in because of the profound Gift of Free Will that God had given to all of humanity. He had me recall that His own Father didn’t step in when He was hanging from the cross and although, He couldn’t interfere with Free Will; He was there through it all, never left me, and He experienced everything that I endured, continued to suffer, and understood what I was going through.
He allowed me to understand more deeply what such a profound gift Free Will is. For, those who choose to use it will reap a blessing or a curse. He warned that grave consequences came to all who misuse it. Additionally, He had me understand that out of love and mercy; He performed a miracle in not allowing the offender to take my life.
He told me to treat myself the same way I had treated others and not to judge myself. He said my only job was to stay alive and breath in and out with Him. I was profoundly grateful for my minimal spiritual job description, as it was profoundly difficult to keep faithful to just that. There was one moment when I actually, stepped out in front of a speeding bus and waited to be killed, begging God to allow me to die. Instead, the bus stopped.
Recalling my belief, that suffering is a profound gift given by God. I had one thought that continuously echoed in my mind: There is a blessing in this; I just need to find it.
Over the last year and a half, God directed me to found Madonna Of The Streets, a not-for-profit one-stop-center that will provide life skills and opportunities for healing to victims and families that have survived or been murdered by rape and domestic violence. At that very moment, in an instant, my profound suffering stopped.
I am happy and honored to say that we have just filed for Madonna Of The Streets non-profit status to get the one-stop-center formally started and help all in need.
Without a doubt, it was for this very purpose, that I was given this gift of suffering. For, unless you’ve walked a mile in this type of moccasin, no one could ever wrap their head around the destruction sex abuse does to a person psyche and soul or what services are needed to facilitate healing. Now I will be helping others through Madonna Of The Streets Organization.
What is profound; I am nearly back to being me. The only way that I am changed; is that I am a bit more aware of my surroundings and I strategize ways to keep myself safe. At times, I still get a little afraid of being alone in public; but now, I am able to step out over my fears and not allow it to stop me from enjoying life.
Without a doubt, God put my shattered psyche and ripped soul back together again. I also know, that it is a miracle that I am here standing before you.
Madonna of the Streets exists to not only serve those who suffer; but as well, to warn us. Without change, the truth of the matter, it could happen to you or to someone you love. To create change it first, begins with each one of you.
You will be hearing more about Madonna Of The Streets in upcoming months and I am actively seeking leadership volunteers for our Board of Directors and people with skill sets to serve as a one stop center for the needs of victims and families. We are united, to empower people to take back their lives and turn their pain and sorrow into hope and joy.
We must begin at the root of our problem. Those that offend are scared and broken, too; usually by multiple atrocities that have shattered their psyche and souls as children. We can no longer avoid getting involved in our neighbor’s life who is having difficulty. All of us are guilty of observing an unjust act or abusive word done in public and we don’t say a word; and just walk on by.
It begins with empowering ourselves and others to courageously speak up and no longer tolerate the many inappropriate ways that boys and men speak and sexually harass girls and women on the subways, and out in our communities. The boys will be boys; mentality, needs to stop. Because now; in all its glory; we are having women become just like their male counterparts; making excuses for their own sexual offences.
Since, it began with Men; Men must be the Leaders to effect this change. Men must stand up to other men when they hear such sexual, demeaning things said to or about girls and women.
The two things God has always requested from each one of us is to trust Him and to step out over our fear. To become this needed change; we must be the voice in THIS wilderness. For to effect change or acquire anything; all of us must first use our own voice and together we create a powerful union that can truly make a difference.
Thank you for visiting this blog and for allowing me to share some of my life journey and thoughts with you! I hope you will seek me out and hope to meet some of you personally who have an interest in helping Madonna Of The Streets become the voice and support for survivors and families affected by rape and domestic violence.
Thank you again.
I want to thank you for giving me the honor to stand here before you representing the millions of men, women and children, throughout the world who have survived, been murdered, are in psychiatric hospitals, or have committed suicide due to the devastating, shattering pain and agonizing suffering caused by rape and domestic violence.
As you are probably aware at the present moment there is a tremendous amount of media coverage about survivors of sexual abuse.
Equally disturbing is the ever, increasing number of sex offenders. At the present moment, there is nearly one convicted sex offender for every police officer within the United States. Undoubtedly, these glaring, undeniable statistics have brought Megan’s Law to the forefront of how agencies are to monitor offenders and classifying the 3 levels of sex offences; such as simple molestation and violent sexual assault.
The truth of the matter; there is no such thing as a simple molestation because the affects of sexual abuse in any type or form upon a human psyche is anything but simple. Just as every individual is uniquely made, so will the shattering and devastating effect will be upon each individual soul.
There is one universal statement that all survivors use to describe themselves; who they were before the assault and who they are after the assault. So it is with me, for I am a survivor of kidnap and rape.
I lived a religious life and served in a multitude of roles. I parented 7 disabled adopted children. I was a director, teacher, and care provider of several non-profit facilities that I founded. I provided spiritual direction, in-service training, advocacy, activism, and took an active role in changing laws that affected disabled children, and their rights. I held media conferences; including television and radio talk shows.
I had many, many friends and family members that I would celebrate life with. I used to experience profound joy in merely looking at a leaf that had just fallen from a tree. This is whom I used to be and this defines who I once was.
Then, one fate filled day, everything changed. From January thru April 2001, I was kidnapped; held hostage, raped, and tortured, for nearly a week on three separate occasions.
For nearly 3 ½ years I was stalked, harassed, threatened, as were my children by a parolee who just happened to be a federal informant working for our government on drug trafficking that was occurring out of the bay. He gave me several STD’s and I became pregnant. During one of the assaults, I lost the child. I had numerous injuries.
For 31/2 years, I had a bodyguard 24 hours a day in an attempt to keep my children safe, the family together, and myself from being kidnapped and killed.
One summer morning, a government official notified me that the informant had made actual dated plans for me to be killed. He recommended I leave the state immediately. So, I moved my children; put them in hiding; safe from being found. I changed my name, walked away from who I once was; and said good-bye to no one. My entire family and all my friends still have no idea where I am. To me, it feels as if everybody has died.
I do not remember packing the little bit of clothes that I found in my car; nor do I remember driving across the United States until I saw a sign that read Paterson, New Jersey which brought me back to some kind of awareness of life.
I was so engulfed with terror and grief for what I had lived and endured for so long; and even though I was far away; for me, the informant was still directly behind me; catching up with me; ready to destroy me.
Throughout my journey back to me; I constantly wondered if I wasn’t dead and in hell and just didn’t know it. It was so extremely exhausting to struggle so hard; and yet not see any end in sight of being released from such a hellish trap.
I lived in my car for a time, but I cannot remember for how long, or of being in it very often. I have little memory of how I found my job. I have no recall how I found out about it, getting there, or any of what was discussed during the job interview; other than the end part of being hired.
By appearances I looked successful and was doing great; but I was far from it. I worked open to close, seven days a week, in order to be able to complete my work to the high standards in which I had performed during my previous life.
My memory was so badly affected that even to simply make a phone call, I found profoundly difficult. Constantly, I would forget the first number I was going to dial just by looking at the phone to see where the button was to push. It was an agonizing existence. Constantly starting over.
All the numerous skills, life experiences, and what I once knew seemed to be scrambled, slowed, and dulled; hidden somewhere in complete disarray; within my memory. My fluency of speech was gone. Parts of words seemed somehow, to have gotten stuck to each other, as were their definitions. I was very aware; that I was shattered because I painfully remembered how I used to be. To me, I sounded like a complete idiot.
During the first hour of being assaulted; I remember seeing my soul being taken out of my body and put through an invisible shredder; where my shredded self came out from below; destroyed, in small pieces.
Everything was so terrifying that I would often wonder if I was losing my mind. I didn’t trust my own judgment. I kept blaming myself for the assault. I thought that perhaps I had missed some cue that could have kept the kidnapping from occurring in the first place. Although I wanted desperately to be back to being my old self; I was extremely anxious and worried that I’d be blind sighted again; because I had not yet figured out what I did wrong or what cues I had missed.
Everything reminded me; every place, smell, colors, objects, and people. Even trash, would remind me of what I had endured and what I had lost.
During the first 3 years, I moved 16 times, terrified that the informant would some how find and kill me. My startle reflex was turned on so high that at the slightest sound, I shook and jerked uncontrollably. I never slept.
The worst suffering was that my faith in God was shaken to its core. I was so grief stricken and upset with Jesus that He didn’t step in, stop any of it from happening, and save me. And, I complained bitterly and berated Him constantly for His betrayal and failure in not allowing me to stay dead.
During one of these moments, I heard Him say in my interior that He couldn’t step in because of the profound Gift of Free Will that God had given to all of humanity. He had me recall that His own Father didn’t step in when He was hanging from the cross and although, He couldn’t interfere with Free Will; He was there through it all, never left me, and He experienced everything that I endured, continued to suffer, and understood what I was going through.
He allowed me to understand more deeply what such a profound gift Free Will is. For, those who choose to use it will reap a blessing or a curse. He warned that grave consequences came to all who misuse it. Additionally, He had me understand that out of love and mercy; He performed a miracle in not allowing the offender to take my life.
He told me to treat myself the same way I had treated others and not to judge myself. He said my only job was to stay alive and breath in and out with Him. I was profoundly grateful for my minimal spiritual job description, as it was profoundly difficult to keep faithful to just that. There was one moment when I actually, stepped out in front of a speeding bus and waited to be killed, begging God to allow me to die. Instead, the bus stopped.
Recalling my belief, that suffering is a profound gift given by God. I had one thought that continuously echoed in my mind: There is a blessing in this; I just need to find it.
Over the last year and a half, God directed me to found Madonna Of The Streets, a not-for-profit one-stop-center that will provide life skills and opportunities for healing to victims and families that have survived or been murdered by rape and domestic violence. At that very moment, in an instant, my profound suffering stopped.
I am happy and honored to say that we have just filed for Madonna Of The Streets non-profit status to get the one-stop-center formally started and help all in need.
Without a doubt, it was for this very purpose, that I was given this gift of suffering. For, unless you’ve walked a mile in this type of moccasin, no one could ever wrap their head around the destruction sex abuse does to a person psyche and soul or what services are needed to facilitate healing. Now I will be helping others through Madonna Of The Streets Organization.
What is profound; I am nearly back to being me. The only way that I am changed; is that I am a bit more aware of my surroundings and I strategize ways to keep myself safe. At times, I still get a little afraid of being alone in public; but now, I am able to step out over my fears and not allow it to stop me from enjoying life.
Without a doubt, God put my shattered psyche and ripped soul back together again. I also know, that it is a miracle that I am here standing before you.
Madonna of the Streets exists to not only serve those who suffer; but as well, to warn us. Without change, the truth of the matter, it could happen to you or to someone you love. To create change it first, begins with each one of you.
You will be hearing more about Madonna Of The Streets in upcoming months and I am actively seeking leadership volunteers for our Board of Directors and people with skill sets to serve as a one stop center for the needs of victims and families. We are united, to empower people to take back their lives and turn their pain and sorrow into hope and joy.
We must begin at the root of our problem. Those that offend are scared and broken, too; usually by multiple atrocities that have shattered their psyche and souls as children. We can no longer avoid getting involved in our neighbor’s life who is having difficulty. All of us are guilty of observing an unjust act or abusive word done in public and we don’t say a word; and just walk on by.
It begins with empowering ourselves and others to courageously speak up and no longer tolerate the many inappropriate ways that boys and men speak and sexually harass girls and women on the subways, and out in our communities. The boys will be boys; mentality, needs to stop. Because now; in all its glory; we are having women become just like their male counterparts; making excuses for their own sexual offences.
Since, it began with Men; Men must be the Leaders to effect this change. Men must stand up to other men when they hear such sexual, demeaning things said to or about girls and women.
The two things God has always requested from each one of us is to trust Him and to step out over our fear. To become this needed change; we must be the voice in THIS wilderness. For to effect change or acquire anything; all of us must first use our own voice and together we create a powerful union that can truly make a difference.
Thank you for visiting this blog and for allowing me to share some of my life journey and thoughts with you! I hope you will seek me out and hope to meet some of you personally who have an interest in helping Madonna Of The Streets become the voice and support for survivors and families affected by rape and domestic violence.
Thank you again.
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