On Children in Counseling and Abuse

(Author's note: I somehow got myself out of order. This post should be transposed with my last post. Sorry.)

In Chapter Seven, I get to know one of the founders of Trojan Ranch, the summer camp that I attended for 8 summers. I describe some of the games and activities that were played there on a regular basis. I also relate some of the pranks that were executed between rival cabins.

I work in the kitchen and get to know two male staff members. One grooms and then molests me. The other is a mutual participant in our puppy love.

When I return home, I get some scary news about my mother.

My male cousin and I experiment while on a week-long visit to his home.

Back in our home in La Jolla, my parents host a large party for my mom’s work. My parents really know how to throw a party.

The new school year begins with a new teacher. He is incredibly dynamic. I describe several of the goings on in his classroom. Our class is bussed to Southeast San Diego to another school, where I run into some trouble. I run into a little more trouble when I try out for, and make, the boys flag football team run by the local recreation department.

My mother starts to take long walks through the neighborhood to help combat a health issue she has, and I accompany her. We talk as we walk.

One day California is predicted to fall into the ocean. I don’t want to spoil the ending, so you will just have to read it in my book.

I relate how my parents argue for hours in the evenings until one day, finally, they announce to me that they are getting a divorce. I am upset, relieved, and even a little hopeful.

My hope is dashed as my father’s molestation of me intensifies, at first. Then I stumble on a way that he will leave me alone. I spend most of my free time avoiding him.

I partake in my first job, then more follow. I open my first bank account.

I gradate from Brownies to Girl Scouts. I have more luck with the uniforms this year.

I accompany my mother as she hunts for her new house. I help her pack. I discover a very disturbing letter as I pack up her books.

I go with my mother and her friend sailing for the first time. I hope when it is over that it’s the last time I ever go sailing again.

My father has a new house, too. I am sent there to him on weekends. In fear, I attempt to tell my mother about the molestation. The response from my father is brutal.

I am sent to live with my father for middle school. I ask my mother for counseling.

This chapter is longer and far reaching. A lot happened during my eleventh year. I am unsure how to proceed for this blog post. The subject of counseling for children comes to mind.

I implore parents to really listen to their children when trying to do what’s best for them. I doubly implore them to respond as quickly as possible if their child asks for counseling. It is my firm belief that if a child goes so far to ask for counseling, then he or she really needs it. It takes courage to ask for what you need. I think children should be rewarded for that. I would go so far as to say that maybe anyone should be rewarded for asking for what they need, as long as you can meet that need. If you think you don’t have the resources to provide counseling for your child, then find out through your local agencies what help may be available. You can start with a local mental health clinic. Give them a call and find out if there are resources available in your area to which you can avail yourself.

If a child goes so far as to request counseling, he or she really has some stuff to work through. Parents and caregivers should be prepared for what follows. You may find out what your child’s issues really are, and I think you should be ready for what comes of it. Maybe meet with a counselor yourself to prepare yourself for this eventuality.

I have to say one thing about abuse, in any form, that is the main message I hope to convey through my writing, and that is this:

It takes one minute, perhaps even one second, to

abuse a person. One slap, one word, one grope, one

second. That is all. It is my belief that this abuse

can happen anywhere, in any setting.

Maybe I should have said this in my first blog post, but I didn’t. I’m not sure why. But here it is, finally.

I was hospitalized for mental health reasons many times in my life, starting when I was thirteen. One of those hospital stays was for several months in the appropriate county mental health facility in San Diego County. I was abused there, verbally, emotionally, and sexually. That is where I learned that abuse takes one second, and can happen anywhere. The male staff member that sexually abused me managed to get me grope him in front of another staff member. He had me reach his crotch with my hand while shielded by a picnic table where we were seated. That is one example of how it can take one second to facilitate abuse with another person. Further, it is my assertion that this is proof that abuse can happen anywhere.

This is not the only instance in my book that illustrates my point, either. All told, I was sexually abused by more than a dozen men or older males by the time I was 15. In relating these events to you in my book, there are further instances where it takes very little time and not even a private space to succeed with abuse.

I’m not writing this to scare you. I write it here because I consider it to be a fact. I’m sure I’m not the only one that believes this, based on personal past experience. Maybe such a person has wanted to say this, but didn’t know how to go about it. Here it is for all of us.

My goal in all my writing is to tell the truth, in all its glory and darkness, alike. I hope that comes through to you here.