A Child should be seen, not heard.
Who truly believes that? I don't. Children have a voice, we should encourage them to use it. Not hide behind their silence.
Abuse comes in many forms. The most visible, physical. The next one we are familiar with is verbal but the one we cannot forget is emotional. I am very familiar with the last two. I spent many years hiding behind a mask, never feeling like I was worthy, then being reminded of all my faults, and why I would never go anywhere in life by someone who wore a bigger mask then I did.
We look at our society and wonder what happened. Why is little Mary always crying and why is little Johnny so angry all the time.
If you fill a child's life with anger and disappointment then that's all they will know. You can't raise a child on nothing but negativity. If you tell them everyday that they will never amount to anything, then they won't.
Now I'm not saying that being a parent today is easy. It's not. I was a foster parent for years, and have five of my own children. Each one had a different personality, and one loved to push every button, and bend every rule. But with what I had to live through I knew what was more important at the end of the day.
A little praise, and a lot of love. Even on the trying days when my son was determined to make me gray I always found something to compliment him on, even if it was just knowing when to say he was sorry.
My next book, If I Knew Then, is a story about Angel's journey from a life of pain and fear to one of hope and forgiveness.
Icy cold fingers tightened around Angel’s wrist, jerking her hand back towards her arm. She gasped, and her eyes widened, as her wrist cracked against the pressure. Her knees grew weak and she fell forward, grabbing the crush velvet theater seat in front of her. Her fingernail's bit into the fabric as her mother’s eyes blazed down at her. A high pitch screech filtered in from the hall, and Angel’s heart pounded in her chest.
“That would be your sister unlocking the back door.”
Her Mother’s voice was hard, but not an unfamiliar tone to Angel. Her fingers opened and Angel’s hand dropped like a rock, and she grabbed it, clutching it to her chest. Her wrist throbbed and her fingers were numb, but she knew it wouldn't last. It never did. Her mother always knew when to stop.
“I want everything brought in, and the boxes emptied on stage before everyone arrives. You only have an hour, now get moving.”
Her mother rolled her eyes as Angel dropped her arm, and shook her hand to relieve the pain. The tingling in her fingertips disappeared, and Angel opened her mouth but her mother waved her hand to dismiss her as she checked her watch.
“One hour, Angel. Not a minute more.”
Her mother turned on her heels, then rushed out the side door.
Angel’s fear subsided, but anger took over as she stomped up the aisle. Her footsteps echoed through the musty dark theater, blocking all other sounds around her. One more year, just one more year. She yanked open the as the pain shot across her ribs. Angel sucked in a breath, and the cold metal handle slipped from her fingers as she grabbed her side. They said time healed all wounds. Well, they really got that one wrong. The slamming door vibrated across the floor, and she cringed.
“How many times have I told you not to slam that door?”She stifled back a moan and gritted her teeth. She loved her sister, and the throbbing pain she tried to rub away, was a harsh reminder of how much. Her dad told her to take care of her sisters when his unit deployed last year. He just never knew who she needed to protect them from every time he left.
said, mocking their mother’s voice. Alice
No release date as of yet but this story will be released through, Black Opal Books, and I'm going to donate part of the proceeds to child abuse awareness.
Once a week I am going to write a post about abuse and how it effects our past, present and future lives so come back.
Thanks for stopping by and I hope to see you again very soon.