This post is from a speech by foster parent, Bylle McCulley
I would like to share with you my personal experiences while receiving the services of the Children’s Advocacy Center.
10 years ago, my husband and I became foster parents here in Jackson County and we received children on an emergency placement.
Usually, our first stop was the CAC.
I was awe struck at how kind, gentle, and supportive the staff was, not only to the child, but also to me as the foster parent.
When I held a little girl’s hand while she was being examined, it required all the strength I could possible muster to say, “You can trust me. I’m not going to leave you.” Those reassurances had an impact, not only on the child, but also on me as a person.
I know from experience that putting kids back together again starts at the CAC.
We were able to adopt a special needs child from the foster care system. He came to us when he was 17 months-old and he’s now 12. During our 6-year journey, we received help first from the Children’s Advocacy Center, then Family Nurturing Center, Community Family Court, Jackson County Mental Health, and the Deaf and Hard of Hearing Program. I will always be grateful for the guidance and direction they provided to my family during this stressful time.
The most effective response to abuse and neglect requires a collaborative approach, which includes: teachers, first responders, law enforcement, medical, Community Family Court, attorneys, judges, CASA, elected officials, foster parents, the faith community and all the community partners who so generously come along beside us.
The process starts with the CAC to identify, investigate and provide treatment.
Please donate to the Children’s Advocacy Center now and don’t put it off. We either pay now or we pay more later. It will cost more later in mental health issues, chronic diseases and possible even the involvement of the criminal justice system. Join us. We we are always looking for community partners to plant a seed of healing for the abused children and teens of our community.
By Tammi Pitzen, Executive Director of The Children’s Advocacy Center of Jackson County
Last month Taylor Swift was awarded one dollar in a law suit against D.J. David Mueller.
If you do not know the story, here is the short version. A few years ago, Taylor Swift was in Denver at a Meet ‘N Greet and David Mueller grabbed her bare butt under her skirt. Her mother later reported it to his employers and they fired him. He then sued for defamation and lost. Taylor Swift counter sued him for sexual assault for 1 dollar and won.
I will be honest that I was never a big fan of Taylor Swift. I liked “Shake It Off” as much as the next guy I guess. It was a catchy tune. If you would have asked me a month ago if I thought she was a good role model for our daughters, I probably would have said, “no”. You can google her and a long string of articles involving boyfriend drama come up.
On August 15, 2017 that changed. I would tell you now that I am thankful for her courage. I am thankful she made a statement when she could have made it about money.
I would even go so far as to say that parents should use this “incident” as a teaching moment for our sons as well as our daughters.
She went to trial when she could have remained silent. This young lady did not back down when the defense attorney tried to place blame on her. She stood proudly and stood firm. She CALLED the OFFENDER out! She clearly and firmly stated, “I’m not going to allow you or your client to say I am to blame.” In my head, this statement is followed by the court room spectators doing the wave!
She received a dollar as her judgement. This move has silenced the would-be naysayers who would claim this was about money. It was about more than money. It was about sending a message.
I think Taylor Swift has changed the conversation and here are the reasons why I think so…
1) By stepping out of the shadows, she has literally just shown the world that you can be a victim of sexual assault, tell your story and be believed. This move will send a message to young teenage girls struggling…to full grown adult women…to the famous and the never known…that there is hope and safety available out there. Heck! Let’s hope the message crosses the gender line and brings hope to all people who have suffered abuse.
2) I do not know at what point it became accepted that men had the right to grope a woman. Somehow the message has been sent that if you are a pretty young girl with a great body, you are asking for someone to touch you and that if they do, it is okay. You should not be so fit or so pretty. Taylor Swift has shown that you can be pretty. You can be successful. AND has boldly reminded the world that it is not okay to grab someone who does not want to be grabbed. Anywhere. Much less on their bare bottom. Boys will be boys is no longer tolerated.
3) You can be 27 and change the world. Your voice matters. You can change the conversation.
4) No matter how much she was pressured, led, or blamed…she held firm and redirected the responsibility back on the offender.
5) The conversation changed when it was not about money. I guess I don’t have a problem if it had been about money. If you are abused, no amount of money is going to change that it happened, but it can give you the resources to recover. But by taking money out of the equation, those who always go there…have no reason to. When I say “go there”…you know what I am talking about…she is only trying to make a buck. She is only trying to ruin his life, his career. She is only trying to bankrupt the poor guy.
He ruined his life and career by making poor choices. She did not bankrupt him. She did not profit in any way from this except to gain an almost 50-year-old woman living in Medford Oregon as a fan.
By Tammi Pitzen, Executive Director of The Children’s Advocacy Center of Jackson County
I am definitely my father’s daughter.
I can remember when I was 4 or so, following him around just like his shadow, no matter what he was doing. When he was mowing the lawn, I was right there in his footsteps making every turn, row by row. When he was building stuff out in the carport…you bet I was there with my fingers in my ears. I also remember my Dad making just about everything a game or a story. He used to hide Lifesavers around the house for me and my sister to find. He and I had this running story about Tippy our dog…which as I grew up sounded very much like stories of Snoopy’s adventures.
In my pre-adolescent years, we had a standing date every Saturday night from April to June or so. We would go downtown and watch Little League Baseball games. It didn’t matter really who was playing, but being a small town, we were pretty sure we would know the players. I love baseball to this day; not because of the game but because of those warm humid nights under the lights sitting in an uncomfortable lawn chair with my Dad next me. I don’t care about watching it on T.V. It isn’t about the game.
In high school I can remember more than once my dad wiping my tears after a broken heart—sometimes broken by a “dumb” boy, sometimes broken by my own actions and sometimes broken because life is unfair.
One of my very favorite “Dad” memories was my junior year in high school. My mom must have had something going on…I don’t remember how this fell to him, but he took me to the mall—an hour one way from our town—to shop for a prom dress. I remember that prom being a disaster for me, but I always smile when I think of it because I had the trendiest, prettiest dress featured in Seventeen magazine.
He has been such an important part of guiding me into the person that I am today. I sleep, to this day, with his dog tags lying on my nightstand from his Vietnam days. A symbol for me of determination, courage and survival—reminding me that obstacles are made to be overcome.
I see the importance of a father’s love in my son’s life. I see it in the way he mimics his father’s mannerisms. I hear it when he asks his dad “Did I do good?” after a baseball game or after casting his fishing line. I hear it in his laughter when he and his Dad are playing one of those annoying “boy” games that I don’t understand. I see it in his eyes when they light up when Dad tells him he’s done a good job. I see it when he deflates because Dad reprimanded him for something that he did. I know that he feels protected when his Dad is around because on the, now, rare occasions that his Dad travels without us; he somehow always ends up sleeping with me. No matter what…from leaf blowers (no joke) to sandals, “I want, fill in the blank, just like Dad’s!”
Sigmund Freud stated the strongest need in childhood is a father’s protection. There is research out there that says that children with involved fathers have a social and academic advantage over their counterparts whose dads are absent.
There is some evidence that a child’s primary relationship with his/her father can affect all of their future relationships from cradle to death. The early patterns of interaction with their father are the very patterns that will be replayed in future relationships. These patterns impact not only a child’s idea of who they are and how they relate to others, but also defines what is considered acceptable and loving when it comes to relationships for the child, throughout life.
Don’t believe it? Well there is a ton of research out there these days that back up these ideas—google it.
It makes sense to me. As a mom I don’t feel like believing this diminishes my role in my child’s life.
In a world that has historically always made an emphasis on how important our relationship with our mom is, this does shine some light on the role Dad’s play in the life of their children. Also, let’s be real, it takes some pressure off us moms! Not everything is our fault!
On this Father’s Day, I wish my Dad a very happy Father’s Day. Thank you for always being there to wipe my tears, to buy me dinner on my birthday, and to teach me about integrity, courage, perseverance, and to teach me about love. I wish my husband and my son’s father, a spectacular day! Thanks for helping to create and mold the most amazing little boy I have ever met.
On this Father’s Day I wish all the Dad’s or Dad substitutes out there, a very happy Father’s Day filled with all things spectacular! Your presence in the lives of our children is life changing! Your love, your participation, your guidance in the lives of our children is what is going to make a difference in the world we live in.
By Tammi Pitzen, Executive Director of the Children’s Advocacy Center of Jackson County
I worry that children who face trauma inflicted on them by their parent or trusted adult might never become inspired, but stay defeated.
When I was a case worker, I would often wonder why some children who suffer enormous abuse go on and accomplish great things and others spiral into self-destruction or destruction of others. If you lined up two case records next to each other…they may read the same, but have very different outcomes for the children.
I once asked one of the young people I worked with, who not only survived in the aftermath of his abuse — but thrived, why was it that he did so well when others in similar circumstances did not.
I really didn’t expect an answer. It was a deep discussion we were having over pizza after his 8th grade graduation. He looked at me shrugged and didn’t answer at first. I had attended the ceremony and we were out celebrating his accomplishment. They had sung a song at their graduation. Maybe some of you remember this song, “I Believe I Can Fly”. It was corny. It was expected. It was what you did at eighth grade graduation ceremonies.
He fidgeted a bit. He dropped his eyes. I smiled at him in the awkwardness. I went on to tell him I knew he was going to do great things. I didn’t mean to put him on the spot. I let him know I just wanted to know what could be different for those kids who aren’t doing okay, who are in similar situations. I apologized for making him feel uncomfortable.
He slowly began to talk and I got very quiet and listened intently. He told me that he didn’t feel like he was doing okay. He was surviving. He was focused on getting through. He told me he felt like a fake because, when he sang with his classmates, he didn’t believe he could fly.
I actually fought back my tears in order to keep this conversation with this young man going without distracting him with my own feelings…in my head questioning why I ever started this conversation. We sat in silence a little longer eating pizza. He looked at me and he said he thought the difference…the thing that made him different was that someone thought he was worth it. I smiled. I actually for a moment thought he was talking about me. I thought he was talking about that I thought he was worth it. I was young and still full of ego.
He went on to explain that whoever called in his abuse saved his life.
If they didn’t save him from being beaten to death, they surely saved him from ending his life prematurely. He told me he had no idea who it was. He talked about how if someone took the time to save him, then he felt like there must have been something worth saving. The only way he knew to repay that debt was to move on and do something with his life. He said he only had two choices: to begin to believe in himself or to totally come undone.
We left that pizza parlor with the radio blasting, singing “I Believe I Can Fly” at the top of our lungs. I am sure that was a sight to see and probably worse to hear.
I took him back to his foster home. Not long after that, I think he went to live with a relative. I moved on to another case and another child, but not before reading through his file to see who had made the report.
It was a teacher.
It was a teacher that I had met that day at the graduation. According to the report, the teacher had actually made two other reports that didn’t get assigned, before the final concern that led to this child being removed.
I reached out to that teacher to thank her for making the report. I wanted her to know that her phone call saved a life. While talking to her on the phone, she burst into tears. She asked me which child I was talking about. She had made a dozen calls dealing with dozens of children during the school year.
I told her I had made a mistake. She had saved a dozen lives.
I could hear her releasing her breath very slow and could hear a small sob on the other end of the line. She quietly said thank you and then went on to relate a story of how a colleague always tried to talk her out of making those calls. The argument was always that kids want to stay with their parents, kids won’t talk anyway, you don’t want to ruin a life by making a mistake…all the familiar reasons.
I encouraged her to always make that calls. To make it because her students mattered. To make the call because abuse victims suffer in silence and need someone to stand up on their behalf. To make that call because they need to know they are worth the ten minutes it might take to make a report.
What is the take away?
As April’s Child Abuse Awareness/Prevention month draws near — remember that every child counts.
Remember that your call may save a life. If you suspect abuse report it.
By Tammi Pitzen, Executive Director of the Children’s Advocacy Center of Jackson County
Last week I had the opportunity to participate in Legislative Days for the Oregon Network of Child Abuse Intervention Centers (The State Network for agencies like the Children Advocacy Center of Jackson County). Last week was one of those weeks that took me to Portland and to Salem for meetings.
The meetings are always important and always focused on serving abused children, in the best way possible, and on the needs of the multi-disciplinary teams across the state of Oregon.
I have a love-hate relationship with these meetings. I love the people at these meetings. They are “Hidden Heroes”. They work behind the scenes in many cases to make sure that abused children get the very best services in the most trauma informed way possible. I am so incredibly lucky to hear the innovative ideas, to be part of the decision making process for the Network and really just to “know” these people. I hate the drive and the time out of our center.
Last week was special. Last week we were meeting with our Representatives and Senators to talk about what we do for abuse victims and how crucial those services are for healing and recovery. In fact in many cases we are saving the lives of our most vulnerable citizens. We presented a bill that is focused on sustaining the service across the state and to really make sure that evidence based services are available for every abused child in the state of Oregon, regardless of your zip code.
But that wasn’t what made the week special.
While waiting for our hearing, I sat alongside my fellow Executive Directors and heard testimony by two young people who represented a group that is made up of young people currently or previously placed in foster care in Oregon. Their group was presenting their fourth bill. The other three were passed and I suspect this one will as well.
The Oregon Foster Youth Connection is the name of the group and their bill is the Sibling Bill of Rights. For those of you interested, the bill is HB2216.
As I sat and listened to these young people talking about how siblings are their lifeline and how easily that life line is broken, I remember my own days of breaking these lines.
They talked about not being accepted by their foster family because of being transgender. They talked about how they were unable to stay in contact with their siblings. They testified about being in the care-taking role of their siblings…teaching them to do their hair and paint their nails, and then being cut out of their life and the struggle of trying to reconnect.
I have to be honest that I missed some of the testimony. I was propelled back to a different time and a different set of siblings.
I remembered a summer day when I sat on the dirty floor at the Children’s Home in New Orleans, Louisiana in my dry clean only dress, holding a small eight year old girl, a ten year old girl and 12 year old girl in a bear hug as the staff watched. The floor was not my choice but was where we landed as the girls collapsed. I had just told the eight year old, who was in the residential treatment center, what her sisters already knew. Her parents were no longer her parents. The courts had terminated their rights for failure to do anything to better their situation. They did not even show up on this day for their “goodbye” visit.
I can hear the primal wail of her mourning.
Mourning the loss of her parents. Mourning the loss of her siblings as she kept saying over and over again, “It will never be the same”. And she was right. I did my best to do what I could for those girls but without the support of the system it certainly was never good enough. Their case was transferred on to a different foster care worker who I also know did her best. I don’t think the girls were ever adopted. They certainly were never placed together in a home again as each required more care than they could receive from a single set of parents. I remember their visitation as being every other month because of the long distance…a five hour drive one way…between their placements.
If I am still enough and quiet enough I can hear that cry. It is what keeps me grounded in the reality of what this work I choose is all about. If I am still enough, I can feel those little fingers clinging to my dress as it was time to leave that day. Those little fingers remind me there are people behind those case numbers and case decisions.
And if I am still enough and honest enough, I remember that event helped me to decide that I had spent enough time as a foster care worker in rural Louisiana where there were not enough resources, not enough foster homes and where the children could not articulate the damage I felt I was complicit in doing to their childhood. It was time to be transferred back to investigations.
In that committee hearing, I was almost overwhelmed with the pride for these two young people who I did not know.
I felt hopeful for the future of the foster children who will be placed long after these two young people become adults and move on in their life. I know that the solutions lay in their hands and in their hearts. They will change the landscape of the system. They already are. I left that hearing with a smile as I recognized that they are powerful. Their situations had not left them paralyzed.
They will use that passion and do great things on behalf of children everywhere. They already are.
By Tammi Pitzen, Executive Director of the Children’s Advocacy Center of Jackson County
In 1989, I started this quest into the field of child abuse as an intern on the Ouachita Parish Sheriff’s Office child abuse team. It was made up of two women detectives. I graduated in 1990 from Northeast Louisiana University. (They changed their name sometime in the later 90’s, but I refuse to play along. My degree says NLU, and so that is who they will always be to me!).
On December 26, 1990, I began working for the Office of Community Services in Vernon Parish and briefly closed my eyes. When I opened them again, it was 26 later and here I am in Oregon.
This work was meant to be a temporary passage — not a lifetime passion. December 26th I will embark on my 27th year of working on my behalf of abused children.
As I sit down to write this, and reflect on the last 26 years, I recognize that many things have changed for me. I started out making less than $12.50 an hour. I just did the math and that is shocking to me. If I am honest, I can’t remember how much I made, but at the end of ten years, I was making less than $12.50 an hour.
I started out in this field at the age of 21, single, childless, and ready to take on the world. I had no responsibilities to anyone else and so I worked. A lot. I worked weekends. I worked late. I took work home with me. I will say, that part does not seem to have changed that much.
26 years ago, there were no cell phones. I would go out for the day to locate families, signing out on a white board, and just assumed that if I didn’t come back, someone would eventually come to look for me. Not that they would have found me as, most of the time, I just signed out “in the field”. Depending on the day, it could have literally been a field, but most of the time, it just meant “out of the office working”.
26 years ago, there was no GPS system, so I would navigate with the latest parish map. 26 years ago, I planned my life around a “pager” schedule. I would literally sit around and wait for the pager to go off on my “on-call” weeks.
26 years ago, most of the training was on the job training and the initial training I received, before going out and investigating life and death crimes, was on constructing genograms. (The social workers reading this will know what that is, and smile, and recognize that it would not help me in deciphering timelines or pattern bruising).
Within six months of this first job, everything about me changed. I was no longer who I thought I was. This work changes you.
No. Actually, the children do that to you.
To this day, there are eight children from two families that flash into my mind every night before I go to sleep. They made me into a better case worker. Their parents made me more compassionate and empathetic. Those kids never got to go home or at least, not until their 18th birthday.
In my first year, I worked near fatal child abuse cases and, within my first year and a half, I had worked fatal cases.
The smell of a hospital still evokes images and a panicked feeling surrounding my first fatal child abuse case. Surprisingly, I didn’t interact much with law enforcement while investigating that case. I do remember having to repeatedly call and basically camp out at the police station to get a report and to get a copy of the coroner’s findings.
I do remember my shaking hands as I tried to draw the injuries I could see on the child’s body. Another skill that none of my initial training taught me. And I remember crying myself to sleep as I imagined what had happened that caused her to take her last breath.
It was a pivotal moment. At this point, caseworkers either move on to some other work or decide what adjustments they will need to make in order to stay in.
Upon reflection, I have learned so much. Here are 26 things I have learned in 26 years:
1. At some point in life, you have to decide if making a lot of money is your driving force or if it is finding your purpose. Sometimes you are super lucky and your purpose will allow you to make a lot of money.
2. Sometimes your passion chooses you. And usually when you are not paying attention.
3. If you are going to make a difference, you have to take care of yourself. I always thought it was crazy that the stewardess on the plane tells you that, if you are sitting next to a child and the air masks drop, put yours on first. Now, I totally get it. You will do no one any good if you are sick and unable to function.
4. For the most part, people do the best they can with what they are given—this includes parents of abused children.
5. Sometimes milk and cookies is the answer — no matter what the question.
6. Spilled milk is not a crisis or the end of the world. Neither is spilled red Kool-Aid.
7. If we listen closely, children will tell us what they need. And part two of that is that sometimes they tell us through methods other than words.
8. Adults are always in control and in charge in any interaction with children. It does not matter if it is an abuse scenario or just regular life.
9. Very few mistakes made are mistakes that can’t be corrected.
10. Sometimes you get “do overs” in life. Always take them.
11. Wolves really do come in sheep’s clothing. Every single time I am surprised by it when it happens.
12. Life is good when you expect the best all the time, even when people disappoint you. Being surprised by the wolf in sheep’s clothing does not make you naïve or ignorant.
13. Everyone has something to give and no matter what it is they are giving, it has value. It is important to let them give.
14. Children who are abused did not ask for that abuse nor did they do anything to cause the abuse to happen. The brokenness that is left after a child is abused can be repaired.
15. Sometimes everything IS awesome. Enjoy those times!
16. Sex offenders look like everyone else.
17. An abused child deserves the same things that any other child has.
18. The world-wide web is not the enemy. The key is supervising our children and monitoring their actions on the internet.
19. Kids will teach you what you need to know to love them.
20. Judgements get in the way of doing our best work with families.
21. Don’t get caught up in leaving a legacy or a mark on the world. Focus on doing what is “right” and “kind” in the moment and your mark will be left.
22. Providing structure provides safety.
23. Abuse in your childhood does not define who you are. It usually has nothing to do with who you are and more to do with who the abuser is.
24. Listen to everything your child tells you, as if it is the most important thing in the world, so they will tell you the important things when they come up. Otherwise they may get filtered out.
25. Never underestimate the impact of being kind to someone.
26. Terrible awful things happen to the best people. It really isn’t about what is fair or what is right. It is about what you do next. Do you choose to stay exactly where the terrible awful thing left you. Choose to rise above and beyond.
And I want to add one more that has saved me many times: Never, ever take yourself too seriously. When you can recognize your weaknesses and your mistakes and forgive yourself those missteps, it allows others to do the same for themselves
While many things have changed in the last 26 years, the one thing that remains constant is this: Abused children need each of us.
We — as in all of us — are the ones that can change the trajectory of the life of an abused child. Don’t let anyone tell you it is not your business. It is your business.
It has been a long rewarding 26 years. I am hoping I have more years to give. As I enter in my 27th year, I am humbled and thankful for the opportunity to do this work in this community.
I am extremely proud of the staff, Board, Advisory Council, volunteers, donors and Multi-disciplinary team at the Children’s Advocacy Center.
Together we can make our world a better, safer place for children in Jackson County. We depend on each of you to be able to provide abused children with interviews, therapy, medical care and support services.
Tammi Pitzen and her co-workers at the beginning of her career
This is the inspiring speech presented by Kira Zavala at last year’s 2015 CAC Cherish a Child luncheon. Kira shares her experience as a survivor of child abuse and as a child receiving services from the CAC.
My name is Kira Zavala. I am a mother, wife, community volunteer, business woman and a survivor of child abuse.
In 1990 as an 8 year old little girl, I walked through the doors of the Children’s Advocacy Center. I was so scared. I didn’t know what to expect, I didn’t know if people would believe what had happened to me, I didn’t know if I was safe and I didn’t know where my abuser was.
I had so many questions and I couldn’t find the right words to verbalize my questions. I was living in fear.
I remember walking into the building of the CAC for the first time and there were so many bright colors and it smelled so fresh and clean. I was seated in a waiting room with my mom and there were all of these really cool toys that I had never had the opportunity to play with before. They helped me to step outside of why I was there for a brief moment and gave me comfort.
Shortly after a lady greeted me, I said good bye to my mom and the lady walked me into a room that had a big two way mirror. I sat at a table with a piece of paper and coloring crayons. I knew it was time to start talking about what happened. My body got really hot and I began to get restless and scared.
I started coloring in order to not have to make eye contact with the lady. I remember being so ashamed and embarrassed to have to say it out loud. I felt that if I said it, it would be real and I didn’t want to remember it. But I knew I had to, in order to be safe and in order to not let it happen again to me, my siblings or anyone in my family.
After a few questions, I began to feel more and more comfortable talking to the interviewer. Once the interview was over, I had a sense of relief. But I didn’t know what was going to happen. The lady assured me that I was going to be safe. I rejoined my mother and we talked about the terrifying possibility of me having to testify in court.
I was afraid to have to make eye contact with my abuser. I was worried that he might try to hurt me again and in front of everyone. And I questioned, “What if he followed me home?”
On the day of court I remember being terrified. I again felt that I had done something wrong.
We first went to the Children’s Advocacy Center before going to the court house. We met in a room and everyone said wonderful things to me. I remember there being a social worker, a lawyer, a sheriff and a member of the CAC. After our meeting one of the ladies came into the room and gave me a light blue box. Inside was a crystal heart. I had never seen one close up. It was beautiful. While inspecting it she told me that I was strong, I was special and that I will grow up to be beautiful. It’s a moment in my life that I will never forget.
I held the crystal heart in my hand and walked to the court house. I held it as I took my oath and I held it even tighter during my testimony.
The lady was right! I am strong, I am special and I did grow up to be a beautiful.
Today, on behalf of 8 year old little Kira, the CAC, their community partners and most importantly the children who have and will walk through the doors of the CAC, WE would like to give you your very own Heart, please take one from the center of your table. As you hold this in your hand, know, as I did, that everyone in this room is STRONG, SPECIAL AND BEAUTIFUL.
All of the children who come to the Children’s Advocacy Center are STRONG, SPECIAL & BEAUTIFUL.
Thank you for your support for these children.
(This year’s Cherish a Child Luncheon is Oct. 20th 2016, 12 noon – 1 pm at Inn at the Commons in Medford, Oregon. For more information, to attend or to be a sponsor, contact Julia at: 541-282-5474 X111)
By Helen Sutthill, a veterinarian, mother, gardener, and reader — who says she is lucky enough to have wonderful friends and an amazing adoptive family
For a long time, I didn’t talk about my childhood – the hunger, the lack of clothing, the sexual abuse, the beatings, the constant battering of words meant to tear me down. Part of this stemmed from the way teachers and the parents of my friends responded to my answers when they asked if I’d eaten or where the bruise or cut came from.
My parents didn’t have to hide it; we were a middle class, educated family. Abuse and neglect simply didn’t happen in good homes.
The world changed when I was 15, in 1981, when my best friend told our school counselor, who was a mandatory reporter. Two social workers, a man and a woman, came and removed me from school, and from my home. It was awful.
At that point, I wasn’t speaking because what I needed to say had been denied so long, that I didn’t see the point. I couldn’t share the back seat with the male social worker because I’d been raped and molested by my father. Because one of my friend’s father’s had attempted to molest me. Because my experience of men was that they groped at me.
Better to avoid.
So this poor man opened the door to the back seat for me, and I got in. He walked around the other side of the car, opened the door to the back seat, and I got out. Repeat this three times with a mute 15-year-old, and even I thought it was funny.
But I wasn’t getting in that backseat with that man. He ended up driving, while the woman sat in the back with me.
That man was a hero. The woman with him was a hero. The lawyer that advocated for me was a hero. The counselor they took me to was a hero.
When people ask me about my childhood, I’m aware that I have memories that shock and hurt people. Every counselor wants to explore it. Being abused means that a lot of people see me as broken.
I’ve never been broken. I’ve always been a whole and complete human who has had to live with horrible people, and have experienced some things that no one should have to experience.
I consider myself incredibly lucky. Throughout my life, there have been people who saw what was happening, and worked to make sure that I was okay. A restaurant owner made sure I was safe, fed and clothed when I was a young child. A teacher who bought me some clothes, and made sure I was fed in elementary school. My friend got help for me. Another friend’s parents took me in for the last two years of high school.
When I go to the grocery store, when I buy clothes for myself, I am aware of how lucky I am to be able to do so. I can sleep in my bed, and control what happens to my body. I am safe.
By Tammi Pitzen, Executive Director of The Children’s Advocacy Center of Jackson County
Yesterday morning, as I dropped my seven year old son off at school, I had a “moment”. It probably was not unlike a million other moments, had by a million other moms.
I was watching my son bound off across the playground; he turned around and waved good bye with a big smile on his face. And in an instant, I had this feeling of total and unconditional love and a second of panic as he turned and ran off. I watched my son almost in slow motion — his hair in the wind, his little feet and legs moving and then, in a fast sweeping moment, I lost sight of his face as he turned away from me to join his friends.
I was caught off guard. I wanted to stop time. Stop all movement. He was growing up too fast. I was no longer with him 24/7. I suddenly needed him to know that my heart could explode with how much I loved him.
I had tears streaming down my face…along with my mascara as I reflected that sometimes “that” love was not going to be enough to keep him safe.
I reflected on how many of the moms that I have worked with over the years had that same love, but somehow found themselves in situations in which their child was hurt by someone trusted in their life. I sat there in my car for a full ten minutes watching my son play and thinking how lucky I was. I sat there in my car and vowed to always do what I could to keep my child not only safe, but keep him in the center of my world so I could see all around him to ward off any would-be unsafe people.
I really think what is key is “keeping him in the center of my world”; not to either side, not as an afterthought, not when I have time, not behind me, not too far in front of me, but in the center where I can be present with him, where I can have a 360 degree view of his world and where I can put on notice anyone who may be thinking of trying to make my child unsafe.
It really is the best tool in my tool box.
My child is growing up and will be visiting friends in their home where I may not be with him. I am equipping him with the language to be able to talk to me and let me know if things do not feel right. I want him to know I am interested in what he has to say. I want his friends, his friends’ parents and anyone else around to know that I am interested in what is going on.
I want your child to have the same thing.
I use to be amazed when I worked as a caseworker with DHS when I would talk with parents who did not know their babysitter’s name or address or phone number. Many times they did not know who else lived in the house.
I want you to feel empowered to ask the hard questions. I want to know I am not alone in asking the hard questions. If we all ask them, then they become a little less hard to ask.
You may be asking, what are the hard questions?
Here are a few to start with:
Do you have guns in the house? Where do you keep them?
Who will be in the house while my child is visiting?
Are there older kids there? Will they be left in charge of my child? Have they had any issues behaviorally or otherwise?
What are you going to do if my child wants to call me?
What kinds of programs will he be allowed to watch on TV?
What kind of access will he have to the internet? Who will be monitoring that?
What kind of video games if any will they be playing?
And then I think you let them know you have talked to your child about if anything feels uncomfortable or if anyone asks him to keep secrets or if anyone tries or succeeds in touching him in any place that is private or that he does not want, that he needs to tell you.
It does feel uncomfortable the first time you have this conversation. Your child will be mortified and embarrassed and that only gets worse the older they get.
It will not be easy.
But sometimes a mother’s love is not enough to keep a child safe.
We received a lot of responses to the sharing of the poem “I Just Wanted to Tell You” by one of our therapists, Catherine Zern, LCSW. Many people were touched by the story she shared in this piece of a child reaching for love and guidance.
The poem was a tribute to the hundreds of children and teens who come through our center each year and to all who are suffering from abuse, neglect, loneliness, and fear.
In this post I want to share another poem, one by Maya Angelou. It is one of my favorites of her work and it is a follow up to the story of the child in the poem by Catherine. It is a poem about love and, for me, it is about the kind of love that gives us courage and opens our hearts to those who need us to be brave.
It is a poem about how and why we continue to do what we do for children and those whose lives are shadowed by fear and suffering. It is about the reason and the pathway to helping children and teens, even when things feel hopeless.
April is Child Abuse Prevention Month, and as we prepare for that, I will hold this poem in my mind and heart. I share it as a reminder for us all of the reason and the pathway.
And I share it as a tribute to the “angels” who come to us at the center and to the angels within each one of us.
Touched By An Angel By Maya Angelou
We, unaccustomed to courage
Exiles from delight
Live coiled in shells of loneliness
Until love leaves its high holy temple
And comes into our sight
To liberate us into life.
Love arrives
And in its train come ecstasies
Old memories of pleasure
Ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
Love strikes away the chains of fear
From our souls.
We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love’s light
We dare to be brave
And suddenly we see
That love costs all we are
And will ever be.
Yet it is only love
Which sets us free.
