When you saw the title of this blog post, or the picture associated, what did you think?  What did you feel?  Did you want to open it up or did you want to go by the blog and move on?

​I have been working on a memoir.  As I hung up from finalizing the cover to my upcoming memoir, my son asked a question, that caught me off guard.  He reviewed the cover and then he asked, "Are you writing this book to sell or are you writing this book to help people?" I thought about his question for several moments before answering.

I said, I am hoping to help people, but if I could sell a few books along the way, that would be great too.  He said, "Well you might help some people, but no one will buy it with that word on the cover." I couldn't imagine what he meant.  That I asked what word he meant, he quickly replied, "Incest."  He spoke the word with caution, with almost a whisper.  It was just the two of us in the entire house.  I wasn't sure why he was so cautious and quiet.  

Then he explained that people do not like the word "Incest."  He informed me that the word is taboo and that it makes people uncomfortable.  He felt that I needed to change the word so that I could sell books.  I thought a few moments before responding. I realized in that moment, that my 18 year old, who doesn't watch the news much, was sharing with me what I am bothered most by our society...and he is right.  

We don't talk about incest.  My son thought most people thinks it means sex between cousins.  The official definition is the crime of having sexual intercourse with a parent, child, sibling or grandchild. (dictionary.com).  This is what my childhood was "INCEST"- yes all capital letters.  Its real, it happens and he is right, we do not discuss in our society.  

That is one of the greatest taboos, we don't talk about child sexual abuse (CSA), we don't deal with it and we don't hear from it.  Or in other words that are many that don't and can't.  The more voices we hear, the braver we become.

One of the reasons that the #MeToo movement frustrated me.  We tried to partner with #MeToo, but the reality is that people who are coming forward with me too, aren't necessarily survivors of child sexual abuse (CSA).  We are in the dark, we are in the shadows, we aren't seen and we are barely heard...solely because the topic is hard and the conversations are harder.  I ask people all the time, when they want to talk about my abuse, are they sure that they want to hear all the details.  One reporter asked why I ask that question.  

It's simple, the details are unfathomable by the human mind.  No one can understand why and how and who would do such things and its harder to believe if the perpetrator is someone they know, a person in the military, someone of authority, family and so forth.  

"Do you know how lucky you are?"  This is actually what a police officer said to me, when they arrived at my mother's home, the day that my mother called them to say that we had been sexually abused by our biological father.  I remember saying to him, "You call this lucky?"  He went on to explain that most mothers DO NOT stand by their chidlren.  They don't believe their children or they don't want to go against the man (father, step, boyfriend so forth).  Most would rather keep the man/woman rather than turn them in.  He also said, that most human beings won't believe our story of abuse or that our US Army Officer father could have done any of this to us. That incest isn't talked about and people would much rather turn a blind eye.

My son brought that all home for me that night.  The reality is that I may not sell many books with INCEST on the cover. I told my son that night, that I haven't really ever cared what people thin and I am not going to start now.  The time has come to start talking about it.  The time has come that children are heard and believed.  The time has come for my mother's reaction and proactivity to be the norm and not the exception.  The time has come that incest isn't taboo, but that it is something that we hear and discuss and listen and believe.  

As we start out April 2018, Child Abuse Prevention month - the time has come to hear the voices, help those that haven't found their voice - to find their voice and the time has come to be different and start changing by starting to talk, hear and listen.  The time has come that we survivors of child sexual abuse don't feel tarnished and shuned, but that we are tall and heard.  Its time for our voices to ring loud!

Please - hear, see and listen - victims and survivors need us to change the world. #BeLoudCSA
xoxo 

"Being quiet and hidden is no longer an option." - pennie saum

My grandmother says all the time "we are blessed."  There are many times I agree with her and some that I don't.  Four years ago, today, was one of the times, I just couldn't completely agree.  My mom was at the end of her 9 month battle with lung cancer.  After months of chemo and radiation, infections, multiple pic lines, hospital stays and transfusions...she finally crossed the finish line.  It wasn't a win that I wanted to celebrate, but it was a win nonetheless.  My mom had everything to live for and fought hard and received treatment clear till we brought her home on hospice.  

Her final weeks she rode in an ambulance every day, in excruciating pain, 2 blocks from the hospital for radiation.  Her one last hope, that she may fight the disease that taking over her body.  Her perseverance showed time and time again, how much she truly felt she had to live for, her children and her grandchildren.  The same motivation that enabled her to endure so many horrific things through her lifetime.

I get asked time and time again, "how did your mother not know?' So to that I share with you one of my posts from a while ago.  "Ode to My Mother."

I will never forget when the officer showed up at the house to take our first statements regarding our abuser (biological father) and the abuse we had survived, "Do you have any idea how lucky you are?"  I remember thinking that if this is called lucky I would surely hate to see what bad luck looked like. But what he meant that day was that - our mother called the police, she confronted the abuser as soon as she found out and she was standing by our sides holding us up.  This wasn't the norm, it was often that the mother would turn a blind eye and side with the abuser, father, boyfriend or whomever that may be.  A mother standing beside her children was unusual.  This officer made sure that we were very aware of how unusual this was.

And so I present to you my post "Ode to My Mother," Mother's Day 2011.  Thank you. Thank you for your support, your love and your continued awakening. The time is now.

Ode To My Mother....5/11/2011
The topic on my heart tonight is my MOTHER.  Yep....what an amazing woman.  She has been through hell and back.  To live in the house with my abusive biological father, to do everything that she could to protect her children, to be the best Mother in the world, to be there no matter what, even to this day.  To be the best Grandmother on the planet.  She is so full of love.

OK WAIT, your saying...go ahead...what are you thinking....how could 2 children be abused in a home and the Mother not know it's simple SHE WAS ABUSED TOO!!  If you have been reading my blog you know that I didn't know my brother was being abused or that my Mother was being abused.  My brother didn't know I was being abused or that my Mother was abused and my Mother had no idea that he was abusing the 2 of us.  The one common theme for the 3 of us, is that we thought by taking the abuse ourselves no-one and I mean no-one would suffer.  BOY WERE WE WRONG.

I will never forget that fateful night when my mother called me home from work, telling me that my brother had been abused by my biological father was abusing my brother.  My brother had taken the car (no license) and gotten home too late, by the time he got home, my mother was already home from work.  There she wait for him.  She made a comment that if my brother didn't shape up he would have to go live with my father, and all hell broke loose.  They were seperated at the time and the threat of the possiblity that my brother would have to go live with this monster sent my brother over the edge.

He began to talk to tell my mother all the terrible things that had been done to him and he continued to fill her on all the things that this terrible man had done to him.  She was in complete shock.  She called me I came straight home and my brother began to fill me in as well.  I was fuming mad.  I always thought if I had a sister that this would be the case, but not a brother.  Then I couldn't bring myself to tell her he had similar to me for all these years.  She was devasted.  Like someone had tore her heart out of her chest and put it back. He was so manipulative, calculated,etc.....he had us all convinced that we couldn't talk about it or we wouldn't see eachother again, let's just say he was good at what he did.

SO needless to say over the next 3 days everything came out, the police came for interviews etc.  The only thing to this day she always said she was trying to protect us from everything....but couldn't protect her children from the inside.  She was remarkable.  Unlike a lot of mother's that go through this, my mother stood by our side.  Even the lawyers, judges, counselors, etc said that we were very luck that most mother's stand by the man, father, etc...never ever do they stand by the side of the kids.  Can you imagine a mother not supporting their children??  I was in such shock.  My mother has always been so devoted to us, can't imagine a parent not standing by their kids.

Happens more time than not I have learned.

So -- tonight's blog is dedicated to a mother that loves and cherishes her children, that is totally dedicated to them and feels so terribly guilty all of these and still about what happened.  But you know what KUDOS to my mom for taking action and making a different in tow kids's lives....THANK YOU MOTHER FOR STEPPING UP AND SAVING US.  We love you.

Love to all, praying for lives to be changed.
​

I have always been fascinated by religions. I love talking to people about their beliefs, their whys and am passionate about learning how others tick.  

I grew up in a family that had a lot going on behind the door, but the outward version of my family was pretty normal. I played sports, went to slumber parties, was in Girl Scouts, went to youth group and Sunday school. It was always required to go to Sunday school, and honestly there was a lot of fun to be had. 

I played in the church bell choir, I was an acolyte (lighting candles and other pre-service duties), went on a "choir tour" with my youth group and would attend Sunday services with my family. At a young age into my teens I went to church to be with my friends.  Social time was important.  I could hang out with my friends at all the different church things I did each week.  As the years went on I was learning about the bible, what was expected of me and believing all that was put in front of me. I felt very torn, as my brain tormented over the outward version of myself and the hidden person I had to be. I wondered if God saw what was going on, I wondered if my prayers were being heard. 

As the years went on my family went to several churches.  The abuse came out in 1993 and my abuser was sentenced in 1994. I struggled with the idea of him being forgiven and given the same opportunities as me.  I heard of his thinking he had done nothing wrong and being kicked out of treatment and labeled as the pedophile that wasn't amenable to treatment.  

I was married, had kids and put them in a private christian school. I was plugged into a church, volunteered for both the church body and for the children's ministry.  But the mental anguish over my "Christianity" and my past continued to eat away at me.  How could an all-knowing good God allow for a child to be raped, molested, sodomized, emotionally and physically abused over and over and over again.  How is that possible? I grappled with this idea for many many years.

Then came time for his prison release.  I filed for a lifetime restraining order and the reality set in that he would be out in society, doing as he pleases.  At the hearing, for the protection order, he had two "pastors" write letters on his behalf from the prison.  They stated how my abuser had made amends for his choices, how God had forgave him, and that there shouldn't be a restraining order upon him. That he wasn't a violent man and that he deserves to live his life.

The commissioner read my abusers statement.  He said how happy he was to be a grandfather and how he wanted nothing more than the family to come back together.  He hadn't done anything wrong and that he wasn't violent. That God had forgiven him and that he was walking in path of the Lord.

Again I cringed.  I was glad the Commissioner saw through the statements and granted the lifetime restraining order for myself and my children. But what resonated with me was the statements of forgiveness and how he should be able to go on about his life and have his family back.  

He made a choice.  His choices of abuse, made him lose his family forever. There was no question.  There is nothing that he can do or say to take back what he did.  I have heard it all, "Of course he's forgiven in the eyes of God." "God only gives you what you can handle." The list goes on.  

All of this writing to say, faith, I have it.  What is my faith in? Good question.  I believe that there is something bigger, I believe that I am who I am today, because of what I have been through in my 45 years on this planet. I believe and have faith in LOVE, for all people.  I have faith in strength and community.  I have faith in people.  I believe that we can come together and do things that no other species can do.  I believe in the wonder of life. 

I don't know where all of my faith comes from.  I have gone away from the church and back again and away again. I have been with God to go away from God and around and around.  Although I can't put a name on my faith or tie my faith to anyone thing - I will say that I believe we belong to each other and there there is no such thing as other people's children.  

So as I hear of people being treated unfairly, people being shunned by beliefs, people being judged because of who they love, people battling hate and discrimination - I hope and dream and wish and pray for LOVE and acceptance. For those that love and accept unconditionally, those people, impact their families, their communities, their cities, states, nations - those people become the people everyone wants to be with and around.  Those are the people impacting the world - being the change - movers and shakers.

I challenge us all to open our eyes and our hearts - and truly feel love. Teach love.  Be love.

"Being silent and hidden is no longer an option." -pennie saum

Today is my little brother's birthday.  I remember when he was born, I was taken to North Carolina from Maryland for a bit, while my mom had him and came home to recover.  His birth was less than easy. The cord wrapped around his neck.  My mom was a petite woman. After a c-section and the challenges of his birth,  all seemed right with the world.  

I was brought back home, after some recovery time.  I was so excited to have a little brother I couldn't wait to be a big sister and help out in whatever I could.  I remember vaguely some of the fun times around 1977.  Mainly focused around the new baby.  But there was another side to those times.  There was touching and fondling, there was emotional abuse and there were games.  

As the years went on I truly believed that if I did what I was told, by my abuser, that my little brother would be safe.  I played along, did what I was told and asked of me.  I would remind myself constantly to keep things to myself, that this was one of those times that they meant by, "What happens in our house, stays in our house."  What a detrimental statement.  

The years went on the abuse continued, the occurrences of sexual acts increased, the comments and touching were always there.  In my young mind, I took on the role of protector.  He would remind me that I was keeping the family together, that my participation with him fulfilled what he was missing and that nothing would happen to our family, my mother or my brother.  I truly thought I was protecting them.  I bared it, I bared it all.

I would learn, on that fateful day in 1993, that my protecting did nothing. If anything it hurt those that I loved the most, my mother and brother.  My brother was brave that day.  He found his voice. He spoke of the abuse, of the holes in the bathroom door, the beatings, the porn and the list went on.

We both endured horrendous heinous acts, at the hand of our father, our abuser.  My mother also was emotionally abused.  My protection did nothing, but protect the abuser.  

Protecting has been a long practice that I have continued.  Only to learn the devastating effects that trying to protect those you love, can cause.  I am hear to tell you that authenticity and truth is the only true life practice.  Silence in honor of protecting those you love, silence in honor of protecting your image or your reputation, SILENCE does nothing.  

Of course as a child I only knew what I was hearing day in and day out.  I didn't know what the reality was, I was living in a different reality, a reality that existed within four walls and a door that would only open every now and then.  These were lessons I learned as a child.  Silence in the name of protection. 

Now also 45 years later - truth, voices and authenticity - the ONLY way to be.
"The time came where being silent and hidden was no longer an option." 

My hope for each of you is you will find your voice deep inside your strength.

xo - pennie

 #braveandunbroken
https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/30-photos-larry-nassar-survivors_us_5a68bd3ce4b0dc592a0eb5f3“Little girls don’t stay little forever. They turn into strong women that return to destroy your world.” - Kyle Stephens


This past couple of weeks over a 160 survivors of Nassar spoke out.  They found their voices, stood in front of their abuser and told the court the impacts of their abuse has had on their lives. Tears, shaking voices, glares - through it all these women were able to stand tall and say "You, Nassar, didn't break me."

Abusers often blame those that they abuse, especially children.  I have heard it all, you deserved it, you asked for it, you wanted it...victims hear these things.  Then when a child speaks out - you get the "no way, he was a great doctor", "are you sure you understand what you are implying?" And the list goes on.

These abused girls - now surviving women are part of a large group of adults who have survived child sexual abuse.  This isn't something you just get over. I have heard it time and time again - it was years ago, you need to be over it by now.  Move on.  I have moved on, I have stood tall and fought everything that battles in my head, body and soul every single day.  All the things that you learn as a child - a child who is a sex slave, children who get the blunt of every adult emotion you can imagine.  We become adults and we fight sometimes daily to do what we have to do to get to the next day.  

But like anything else...we choose how we react as much as we can, to the things that happen to us in our lives.  It takes years of therapy, of soul searching, of research, of diving into our individuality and figuring out what we are going to do to have the best normal that can possibly be.

Now these women - are here, they have found their voices and they are fighting evil... They did it and they made it through - and finally a judge stood tall used her power and voice and put this pedophile away for a very long time.

Way to go WOMEN - you are brave and unbroken.

​Yes!!!! 
​https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/30-photos-larry-nassar-survivors_us_5a68bd3ce4b0dc592a0eb5f3

I was a good kid.  Most of the time I did exactly what was asked of me.  Every holiday, any celebration and every single night, I was asked to give hugs and possibly kisses to those in attendance - well family mainly, sometime family friends.  As I got older I would cringe.  I didn't want to give a hug and a kiss every night to my abuser, but that was my reality.  I knew that that activity was putting fuel on the fire.  In his mind, he was thinking that this evening routine of hugs and kisses is some how consent to the horrific things he was doing during other times of the day.

Coming into my room to fondle me, or hugging me too closely, or eventually raping me and the list goes on.  I would dread that evening routine.  I remember wanting a choice.  I remember trying to pretend that I forgot or was too tired.  But it didn't work.  It was required of me, spoken at times and unspoken at other times.  

Teaching our children about consent at an early age will protect them in ways that you may not realize.  Also teaching consent and assuring that aunt Thelma or Uncle Robert are trained up that not receiving hugs and kisses is alright and that doesn't mean that the kids don't like them or love them, just means that the child has been trained that they have the ability to choose.  They have the ability to consent to this behavior for themselves.  Gives them some control over their bodies and their being.  This process also 

Changing this expectation, teaching your children about consent from an early age, will help them know when lines are being crossed, identifying when they are uncomfortable and coming to a trusted adult for help.

If your child is comfortable and chooses to give those hugs and love on their own, that is fine, but if they reluctant, let them choose.  I do believe this doesn't give a child the right to be rude.  There are many ways to show thankfulness that don't require physical contact.  High fives, blowing kisses, fist bumps, head knod or an audible thank you - all will suffice.

Think it through help them understand and know consent.

"Being quite and hidden is no longer an option."
​-P

Spaghetti was one of my mom's favorite meals.  This was her go-to food of choice.  It was easy, pasta, Ragu and BAM! Dinner. As far back as I can remember, we had spaghetti once a week.  When the going got tough and she felt she had no control or she was trying to manage relationships between my biological father and her mother or she was trying to manage the relationship between my brother and my biological father, she would shut down and spend the next 5-7 days in bed.  She would get up long enough to make dinner and assure we were ready for the next day.  As hard as she tried, my mother couldn't manage the relationship between them.  It was so hard on her that she would shut down with worry and anxiety.

Managing relationships.  Have you ever tried it?  Have you tried to scan the horizon to anticipate what reactions people in your life will have between each-other, how they will react to each other, or how to majage what is said to who when? Well let me tell you first hand, it is exhausting.  It is a life lesson I learned from a very young age.  

It was my job to assure that my biological father was happy so that he didn't treat any of the rest of my family members badly.  To assure that if he started to say something to my grandmother that would set her off, that I jumped in and changed the subject, or if my grandmother started to push his buttons with her tone, that I distracted her and take her to some where else in the house.  

To this day I try and manage relationships.  This need and want to assure that everyone is happy and enjoying themselves, exhausting and I am truly unable to make this work, most of the time. I am acutely aware of this downfall, that I carry.  I can't manage everyone and how they are with each-other, I can only manage me. I have to remind myself of this almost daily.  I know what I learned growing up and I worked hard to assure that I was doing what I was suppose to and that everyone was happy.  

What I didn't know then was, it didn't work then either.  But I was too young to know the difference. I just knew that most of the time my biological father wouldn't get mad or angry and he would remind me what my responsibility was to assure that his needs were met.  

This is only one of the many things I learned during my childhood years.  There is so much baggage that comes with abuse, abuse of any kind.  But child abuse, leaves scars and baggage that can take years and sometime a lifetime to over come.  

There is a lot of hard work that has to happen, but in the end you will be thankful for putting in the time.  Really analyze yourself, get feedback from those that you trust and care about and make a plan with yourself, an accountability partner or a therapist.  

You too can move beyond the effects of the abuse, even if it feels far away, its worth the time!

Join me by staying in your own lane...continued growth to all!

​-P

Ever had one of those weeks? Beat down, questioning all that you are, all that you have done and all that is yet to be?

last week was one of those weeks for me. Just coming off my grandfathers death, the memories of my mother’s passing, working on an emotional project and bam, caught completely off guard by someone’s words.

Ever since my biological father was sentenced to 17.5 years - I have come to have very few expectations of people, this is my protection, no expectations, no hurt, right!? Wrong.

I was reminded that perception is 9/10ths the rule. It doesn’t matter what the reality is, whatever someone’s perception is, is what is believed. A story seen through many people’s lenses - give a case for many different perceptions.

This realization, a reminder to myself, reminded me to be gentle with myself. I lock my emotions deep inside, I rarely let them see the light of day. Yet, this week was a week of pure raw emotions. Unlike anything I have released in a long time. Could it have been a myriad of things? Sure. Never really cried over my mom’s passing, my grandfather had just been buried, my new job challenges, my children growing up and the list goes on.

Yes, maybe it was many things, but the words put the icing on the cake.

Even with the deep hurt I feel, I still believe we belong to each other, everyone is doing the best they know how and there is no such thing as other people’s children.

I will do as I always do, pull up my boot straps and power through...remembering that I know who I am. I am proud of myself, right here, right now.

“Being quiet and hidden, is no longer an option.” -pennie

Today I was asked a question that really stirred inside my soul, "Why do women keep their anger in?"

I started at a broad spectrum view, then drilled town to a personal level.  I despise using my abused background as the root of all that I explain, but as I have learned from years of therapy, is that even though I have come a long ways, there are some things that I have inherently learned, although some I have worked through and away from, others I have not.

This topic was a stinger, I know what I do, I know that I push the anger and emotions down, way down and access them rarely. I push it all down: anger, pain, being scared, hurt and I sometimes even the inability to feel happiness.  

I grew up having to be everything but me. I had to hide everything that I was feeling all the time.  I was the best, the best little actress you ever did meet.  I was able to be who everyone needed me to be. I had to keep the peace, I had to maintain my childhoodness with my friends - just to assure that no one would catch on.  I had to make sure that my mom was happy with him and that there was no riffs between them.  He made me promise, kept saying that their marriage depended on me and keeping him happy.  

I had to protect my little brother, well as much as I could, even though I really wasn't able to protect him much at all.  I had to make sure our extended family never caught on.  I had to assure that life proceeded as normal.  Whatever "normal" was.  

I would cry myself to sleep, I would be scared that something bad was going to happen to my mother or my brother.  I would be angry and mad that he was doing this to me and telling me what he was telling me.  I was furious - but there was nothing I could do.  If I wanted to have my mom and my brother in my life...everything had to continue as it always had.

I was good - I would keep it all hidden.  If things became too much I would go to my room, or soccer or girl scouts or school and I would be in another world for a little while. 

It was my duty to get distant and quiet - never angry.  To this day I struggle sharing my true feelings, afraid that I am going to rock the boat, anger someone or hurt someones feelings.  

I believe that this is the case for many - women and men alike.  We grow up in a society of being happy, making due and never sharing our emotions inside the walls of our spaces, let alone outside those walls - out in the world.

This is an ongoing fight - a struggle - the inability to choose me and feel the hard stuff, the feel all the feels, to truly give permission to myself to be me.  The fight continues - and a challenge to all - take the bottle top off and let it all go - fully and in the moment.  You are strong, you are beautiful and you are allowed to be exactly who you are.

 Find your voice....we all want to hear it.
#loveyoself  #neverthelessshepersisted #persisterhood
​"Being quiet and hidden, is no longer an option." - Pennie Saum