Myths About Child Abuse & Neglect

Myth or Fact

For a better understanding of child abuse and neglect, you will need to know the ones that are purely mythical.

MYTH: Parents who abuse their children are bad and unloving people.
FACT: Parents who are abusive are not in control. Being violent with a child will not make the child behave better; learn how to make good decisions in life, nor learn how to control their behavior. Continue reading “Myths About Child Abuse & Neglect”

Child Neglect and Its Impact

When speaking of child abuse—neglect often gets swept under the rug. Some believe neglect isn’t a real type of abuse. However, not meeting a child’s physical, emotional, health care, supervision, educational needs and not providing safe housing is neglect. Neglect is definitely a form of child abuse that can have long-lasting negative effects on a child’s life.

I was neglected as a child and I still have vivid memories of going without food, clothing, emotional neglect and verbal assaults on a regular basis. I am now 60 years-old, and I still am fighting some of the long-term effects of neglect. I did not live in a safe environment living with an alcoholic, abusive father and mother. Countless nights, my sister would crouch down with me in a hiding place to keep our drunken Dad from taking us in the car. He would come home drunk and start screaming and fighting with our mother. I still to this day can hear them screaming at each other. One night, my Dad was actually going to shoot our mother! Continue reading “Child Neglect and Its Impact”

Give It Up and Move On

Editor’s Note: The following article is an excerpt from my manuscript detailing my own abuse. Please see “My Story of Abuse” under the category link.

Sad Girl

Easier said than done for many cases of abuse. Abuse can affect a person for their entire lifetime. Faulkner wrote, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” How true it is for so many cases of abuse. Continue reading “Give It Up and Move On”

In Darcie’s Own Words

Editor’s Note: The following article is an excerpt from my manuscript detailing my own abuse. Please see “My Story of Abuse” under the category link. I really wanted my readers to hear for themselves from Crystal and Darcie. Crystal is 65 and still living. Darcie however, passed at 58 years old from congestive heart failure. I very fortunately just found a letter she has written to her Heavenly Father about our childhood. I’d like to share that letter with my readers.

woman in black

Fearful, hate, disgust, needing his approval, wanting his love, but never getting it—scary at times. The times he did spend with us sober were fun, but mostly I remember him drinking and fighting and me being afraid of him, wanting to get away from him. Him hurting my dogs, always threatening to get rid of them or shoot them. I loved and protected my dogs with my life. They loved me because I took care of them. Continue reading “In Darcie’s Own Words”

Crystal’s Memories of Dad

Editor’s Note: The following article is an excerpt from my manuscript detailing my own abuse. Please see “My Story of Abuse” under the category link.

Boat at River

Our Dad was a mean drunk. He would leave us in the car outside a bar for hours on end. I was thirteen at the time, and Dottie was 7 and traumatized on a regular basis. Dottie was always afraid he’d wreck the car on the way home and we’d all end up dead, or in the creek. Like I said, “I was thirteen years old when Dad decided to give me a crash course on driving and have me to drive home because he was too stinkin’ drunk to drive. I was never so afraid in all my life. He sat up front with me and Darcie and Dottie was in the back seat. Continue reading “Crystal’s Memories of Dad”

The Pharmacist

Editor’s Note: The following article is an excerpt from my manuscript detailing my own abuse. Please see “My Story of Abuse” under the category link.

Pharmacist

The sun had gone down and Ben and I were still wading in the creek lookin’ for crawdads so we could go fishin’ tomorrow morning. We had a big coffee can about one-third of the way filled with all different sizes of crawdads. I lifted a rock, and this really big, bluish-looking crawdad went swimming backward as fast as he could to get away, but Ben was faster and grabbed him up. Neither of us had ever seen a crawdad like him. Ben figured he was probably really, really old and said when they get this old they turn to blue and boy, can they pinch a lot harder than the other ones. We were closely inspecting him when I heard Mom yelling for me. I answered her but she didn’t hear me. I said, “come on Ben I gotta get home.” Continue reading “The Pharmacist”

The Banty Rooster

Editor’s Note: The following article is an excerpt from my manuscript detailing my own abuse. Please see “My Story of Abuse” under the category link.

Banty Rooster

Dottie had awoken early one morning with her stomach growling, but she ignored it as she hopped into her blue jeans, western-style shirt and cowboy boots. She was only 7 years-old and was fond of looking like Annie Oakley. She hurried to get ready so she could get out of the house before anything started. Continue reading “The Banty Rooster”

Darcie and the Hogs

Editor’s Note: The following article is an excerpt from my manuscript detailing my own abuse. Please see “My Story of Abuse” under the category link.

Hog

The next day was even cooler than the day before, and the leaves were all reds and gold’s; the old weeping willow at Mrs. Sprout’s house was still green. Dottie could see her Dad and Uncle John walking toward the old garage and off she went to see what was going on. Uncle John was a big man, with a scarred up complexion. He probably had a hard time finding someone to marry him. His hair was dark and he wore black-rimmed glasses that were always greasy lookin’. The pig pen was right next to the driveway, but the girls stayed away from the pigs because Uncle John said, “if you get in there—they’ll eat ya’!” Continue reading “Darcie and the Hogs”

Peso Club

Editor’s Note: The following article is an excerpt from my manuscript detailing my own abuse. Please see “My Story of Abuse” under the category link.

Mom yelled up the steps to the top of her lungs, “he’s pullin’ in the driveway—be quiet, get in bed and pretend you’re asleep.” The lights that were on in our rooms immediately went out and we were in the pitch black. We were finishing up our homework and getting ready to go to bed. I don’t know where Darcie was, but Crystal and I were together and she grabbed for my hand in the darkness. She bent over me and whispered, “don’t make a sound; come with me.” I was so afraid to go, but much more afraid to stay in the dark by myself. She led me out into the hallway that was dimly lit from the light downstairs. I could just barely make out the stairway railing and she gently pulled me with her as we crouched down to the floor against the spirals of the staircase. Continue reading “Peso Club”

Swimming with Darcie

Editor’s Note: The following article is an excerpt from my manuscript detailing my own abuse. Please see “My Story of Abuse” under the category link.

Swimming

It was one of those really hot, humid, hazy days where even the animals were trying to find a cool place to lay and escape the heat. There was no breeze at all and it didn’t feel like you could take in enough air to breathe. Prince was standing under a shade tree with his head hanging down, swatting flies with his tail, and all the dogs had found a dirt-hole to lay down in. Darcie had been invited to go swimming with her best friend, Carol and some other girls. Carol was tall, with dark hair and sort of a funny shaped. Her older sister, Margaret was a good friend of Crystal’s—she had really bright red hair and was a real klutz. They lived a couple of miles up the road from us. I think Mom made Darcie take me with her, but I was grateful because I wanted to do something. Swimming sounded like a great idea to me! Continue reading “Swimming with Darcie”