April is Child Abuse Prevention Awareness Month! Get involved and help save children's lives! Be a VOICE! All our voices count and I encourage everyone to get involved in your local area as well as on a National level to make a difference to help stop and prevent child abuse.
This video is part of the video series Born in Hell. This video contains graphic and explicit material. Please listen at your own discretion. If the topics of abuse of any kind, domestic violence, child sexual abuse, or violence bother you, please do not watch this video. The years rolled on and Cecil and I were enjoying our lives together. I left the pub after I began to burn out in the kitchen and began to work at a bank, and was enjoying my new job. Michelle and I were still really good friends and spent a lot of time together running around downtown Calgary together. She was really my best friend and was always doing so many nice things for me and Cecil. Cecil was still working up north in the bush. He was lead cook at the camps up north in the Northwest Territories and the Yukon. He would be gone all winter long, and home during the summer. When he was gone, working up north, I would miss him terribly and was thankful to have Michelle in my life. By the time I hit 35 years old in December 2000, my sister decided that she wanted to move up to Canada in order to get away from our abusive dad. She had let him live with her and her daughter Kimberly after our mom passed away and he was driving her absolutely crazy. I told her to think about the move carefully and to make sure that Kim's best interests were involved. She said she would think about it. January 2001 rolled around and Cecil had to go back up north for another contract position, and before he left he noticed that his legs were swelling up, basically double the normal size that they were. He began to get sick but he decided to go up north anyway. Just a few weeks after he went north, I received a phone call that Cecil had become ill at work and they had him airlifted by air ambulance to the hospital in Peace River. They kept him there until he was stable and then flew him to an Edmonton hospital and then brought him home to Calgary by ambulance. He was in the hospital for a week before being released to come home. They had run tests and could not find the problem that caused him to become so sick. Cecil had many more tests done by specialists and he was told he had to go for the test results on Valentines day, February 14, 2001. By this time I had a car and I drove him to the hospital. It was the special services building where they diagnose and treat cancer and other deadly diseases. I waited in the car for Cecil while he went to see the specialist. Cecil and I did not go with each other to doctor visits and so I sat in the car, freezing my behind off, snow covered, icy winter chill landscape was everywhere my eyes would set. It was full blown winter and it was a really cold one in Alberta. The heater in the car could not keep up with the -30 Celsius winter winds that whipped ice crystals around like clouds in the air. I was starting to shake and hoped Cecil would be out soon. He wasn't feeling well and I knew that this visit would just make him feel worse. Cecil came out and walked toward the car. He opened the door on the passenger side, and slid into the seat, closing the door. He had a definite worried look on his face and I could tell he was upset. He spoke softly, and told me, "honey, I'm dying". I froze. I could not believe my ears. I said, "what?" and he said, "I'm dying". I said, "No! That's just a great Valentines day gift isn't it?" because that was all I could think of to say. I could not believe it! The love of my life had just told me he was dying. Tears began to flow from my eyes, and he was crying. We just sat there, both of us freezing our butts off, mid winter madness hit us as we realised the reality that we now had to face. I asked him what it was, and he told me he had end stage liver disease. He explained that he had to go for more testing and that they did not know how much time he had left, but it was terminal and it was end stage. I pulled myself together after becoming completely unglued for about 10 minutes. My head was spinning, I couldn't breath, tears were streaming down my face and I couldn't see, and I thought I would vomit. I pulled it together and thought about the man sitting next to me, and how hard this must be for him, having to tell the love of his life sitting next to him that he was dying. I held his hand, and we calmed down, and I drove us home. Our lives would become very hectic for a while after Cecil's diagnosis. We had to make a trip to Edmonton for a three day seminar with the liver specialists and Cecil had many more tests to do. My work was very gracious to me and allowed me the time I needed to make sure we had everything done that needed to be done for Cecil. About a month after the diagnosis, my sister Kathi and her daughter Kim moved up to Calgary. I helped her as much as I could and told her about Cecil at this time. I did not have much time to spend with them between working and making sure Cecil's needs were being met. It was a busy time and Cecil and I just focused on doing what the doctors told us in order to help Cecil live as long as possible. Cecil was diagnosed at that time with 2 to 5 years to live, but they said they did not know how long he had, it could be 6 months or 10 years and there was no way to tell. These years were very busy and rolled by fast. Cecil and I decided that we would not let this disease beat us, and we stayed positive and decided that we were going to live our lives as normally as possible and not let this destroy us. We continued to enjoy our time together even though Cecil did become sicker and sicker as each year rolled by. My friend Michelle was working as Executive Chef at another pub and when I was 39 years old, she asked me to join her at the pub as her Sous Chef. She encouraged me to work with her and I had dreamed of the opportunity to be a Sous Chef so I jumped at the opportunity and left the bank. It was a great challenge and the money was really good. My skills were good, and the kitchen staff respected my work and knowledge and Michelle continue to train me to run the kitchen. That summer, she was injured at home and had to take the summer off, and I was able to run the kitchen at that awesome pub for the entire summer. It was a great challenge, and I was really grateful for the opportunity to prove to myself that I could do it. This year, Cecil's youngest son in England wanted to come and see him and spend some time with him, knowing that Cecil was terminally ill. He came and stayed with us for about 6 months and after he arrived it became clear that he had so many unresolved issues because Cecil was not in his life and did not help raise him. He felt abandoned and wanted to tell Cecil to his face how this affected him. I understood completely, and tried to be a voice of reason for them both and keep the peace in our home. Cecil began to get sicker by the day and decided that he needed to move out of our home into a senior care facility that had a nurse onsite. I was upset, but knew that Cecil needed to make the best decisions he needed to for his health, and for his life. I was not happy about it, but I wanted to support Cecil with whatever decisions he needed to make in his condition. I moved him into his new senior care apartment and Cecil told me that I needed to move on with my life. He felt that he was a burden to me, and holding me back and I told him that I did not want to move on and find another husband. I wanted to be with him to the end, and he knew that. We were a team, and he was breaking the team up!
This video is part of the video series Born in Hell. This video contains graphic and explicit material. Please listen at your own discretion. If the topics of abuse of any kind, domestic violence, child sexual abuse, or violence bother you, please do not watch this video. After realising that I truly loved Cecil and cared about him, I decided to take a chance and call him to see if he was still living at our old apartment in Edmonton, and if he was single or if he was in a relationship. I was so nervous as I picked up the phone to call him, thinking to myself that he might reject me, or have a girlfriend, or just not want to have anything to do with me after I broke up with him. To my surprise he answered the phone. We spoke about my mom's death and he told me that he did not have anyone else in his life except one person, me. He waited for me to call him and had saved all of the things I had left behind when I left him. I told him that I was still grieving my mom's death, but otherwise I had been working in Calgary and things were going okay. I told him about the fact that I could not stop thinking about him since I left him, and that I truly loved him and cared about him. We had a great time talking on the phone and Cecil asked me if he could come and visit with me for a day or a couple of days and we would talk and see if we could start our relationship over. I told him yes, and was so excited about him coming to see me. He arrived and we had a great time together. I told him I loved him, and was sure of my feelings about him. He told me that he loved me from the beginning and realised that I was the one for him shortly after we began to see each other. At this point, Cecil asked me if I thought it would be a good idea, he would go back to Edmonton for a few weeks, and give me time to think about our relationship and that if it was what I wanted, that we should try again, because he loved me. He wanted to give me lots of space and not scare me because I had just left him for a year. running from the relationship. I continued to work at the pub and think about getting back together with him, and decided that we should try again. Cecil began to make preparations in Edmonton to move in with me in Calgary. A few days before he arrived I began to panic and become anxious. I was afraid that I wasn't making the right decisions, and began to worry that at some point he might hurt me, or I might run again. I knew that when he arrived, we needed to sit down and have a serious heart to heart talk. He arrived and after I made him something to eat and he had time to relax, I told him we needed to talk. I explained why I had left him, and that I was sorry for hurting him and blaming him for not being there for me when I lost our baby. I told him everything about my past, the child abuse I suffered at the hands of both of my parents, the child sexual abuse I suffered at the hands of my brother, the dysfunction, the domestic violence between my parents, my own destructive behaviours and drug abuse as a teen, and the fact that I don't know how to receive love or care, and that I do not know how to trust anyone, including myself. I told him everything and explained just how wounded I was, and that I needed someone in my life who could deal with my own dysfunction and who won't abuse me and hurt me further because I could take no more abuse from anyone. I explained that if we were going to be together, then it had to be through the good times and the bad, that we would need to make each other's lives better, and to be there to help each other with everything. I told him that if we were just going to hurt each other, then we needed to call it quits right now. He agreed, and then he had his opportunity to tell me what he felt was important for me to know. He said that I had hurt him by leaving him, because he loved me and that he would never hit me, or abuse me. He was sad because I did not trust him, because he is a trustworthy person. He explained his past and agreed with me that we needed to be there for each other to help each other to the end. He said that he would definitely watch his words around me now that he knew just how wounded I was and how horribly abused I had been growing up. We started our relationship again, and I was so extremely happy to have him back in my life, but now with my own boundaries set, and it was so amazing to be with him again. I never become pregnant again, but for the first time, in my entire lifetime, I got to experience real love.
Join me and my very special guest, Barbara Ochoa as we discuss the crucial issue of Male Abuse for Male Abuse Awareness Week. Musician Barbara Ochoa aka Petra Luna was an abuse victim her whole young life; sexually, emotionally, physically and by school bullying. Later, she like many others took the normal course of ending up in abusive relationships with her male partners. Fortunately, through extensive therapy, artistic expression and advocacy she overcame the crippling effects of her past and began her journey to help others who had been abused. After a few years of working with other nonprofits, Barbara founded her own organization in 2008 she named the P. Luna Foundation. She has gained over 100,000 followers worldwide through social networking and her music and charity web sites receive over one million hits per year. With time, and after witnessing the effects of abuse on her brothers, cousins and male friends, the Male Abuse cause started to make sense. Today the main focus of the organization is to help the plight of abused boys and men through the Male Abuse Awareness Program.” In 2012 Barbara retired from the music recording business and in 2015 she and the Board of Directors renamed the organization Help4Guys.org in order to redirect the public’s image of the Nonprofit’s main purpose. This is such an important and much needed cause. Please visit her website for more information regarding Male Abuse Awareness and resources.
This video is part of the video series Born in Hell. This video contains graphic and explicit material. Please listen at your own discretion. If the topics of abuse of any kind, domestic violence, child sexual abuse, or violence bother you, please do not watch this video. The first few months in Calgary were all about getting as many hours at work I possibly could in order to make my rent payments and bill payments. I enjoyed the job at the pub and was getting some great experience there. After work I would go home late at night, and sit on my sleeping bag on the floor that was on top of my clothes for extra padding. I had nothing in the apartment except what I brought in which was my duffel bag with my clothing, my alarm clock, my cassette player and music. It was an unfurnished apartment but I didn't care. I was happy to have a roof over my head that I could call my own. I began to grieve my mom's death at this time. Calgary is the city that both of my brothers committed suicide in. I walked by the place where my brother Rob hung himself in his apartment. I looked up at the building and all the windows, but I don't know which apartment he was in. I walked by the shelter where my brother Howard died of a drug overdose. This brings back some sad feeling I had for my brothers, but I just deal with it. I made a new friend working at the pub. She was a few years older than me and basically took me under her wing at work because she knew I was on my own in Calgary and did not know anyone. We hit it off and were beginning to enjoy our new friendship. But all the while, after work I would go home, plunk down on my sleeping bag on the floor, and grieve the loss of my mom. At this time, I had no idea the amount of emotional, psychological scarring my parents and brother had caused me. I realised that because my mom was gone, my inner child was screaming out in agony and grief because she knew that she was never going to get what she needed from her mother. She would never be held by her mother, she would never be loved by her mother. She would never hear the things she needed to hear from her mother. I realised that this small person was me from childhood, and I was grieving the loss of what I would never receive from my mother and there wasn't any other mother who could do this for me. I began to have flashbacks and nightmares about the abuse. I had very few nightmares about the abuse before my mom died. This was all a new nightmare. The abuse that I had tucked away neatly in the drawers was starting to boil, and an inner rage began to well up within me, and I knew that abuse would explode out of those drawers at some point. I just worked and continued to grieve and try to keep the abuse from spilling over the drawers during this year, and at the same time I began to realise that I truly loved Cecil and I thought about him the whole first year in Calgary.
I was a child, I spilled my cereal, you beat me, I cried
now that you are old and feeble, spilling your cereal
on the breakfast table, I will not treat you like that...
I was a child, put my feet over the arms of the chair,
you hit me, called me names, screaming in my face,
causing me fear and shame....
now that you are old and feeble, with your feet upon
the coffee table, I will not treat you like that.....
I was a child, who mommy and daddy could not love,
you hurt me, you beat me, threw me to the ground,
I cried out in pain, but you did not care, you left me
in a pile on the floor....gasping for air....
now that you are old and feeble, needing love and
support, I will not grab you and choke you by the
throat...I will not treat you like that.....
I was a child, you caused me to fear, for my own
life and for my brothers and sister so dear...
the nightmares you caused me were my day to day
reality, no where to turn, no hope in sight...day after
day subjected to your might, abused and confused..
now that you are old and feeble, your own fears
and doubts, afraid of the dark and the strange sounds
needing someone to rescue you from the reality of
growing old and confused....
I will not treat you like that......
Your seven children who you tortured and beat,
shoved into walls, fists to our bodies, your words hit
even harder then that, as they disfigured our hearts
and minds, and your disdain and hatred caused us all to
consider ending our lives...
and now that you are old and feeble, needing our help
to survive....we know what you did, although you don't
remember the pain that you caused or even consider..
as you complain that your children are not treating you
right...did you ever consider what we went through all
of our lives...the hell we endured at your hands
and now you cry out...and do not understand...
but we will not treat you like that......
Copyright Laurie Ann Smith June 2010
Please see the original link of the video below that was graciously read by John Harrison who I am forever thankful for!
This video is part of the video series Born in Hell. This video contains graphic and explicit material. Please listen at your own discretion. If the topics of abuse of any kind, domestic violence, child sexual abuse, or violence bother you, please do not watch this video. My mom had passed away, and I stayed for the funeral. My dad's behaviour was extremely bizarre at this time. He was acting like he had just lost the most precious thing in his life. He was running around, falling on the floor and acting like he just loved her so much, and that he had just lost his best friend. My sister Kathi and myself noticed this, but decided that he must be dealing with his wife's death the best he could. My dad took Kathi and me with him to the funeral home to pick out a casket and get things set up for her burial. I told him that our mother wanted to be cremated, and she had asked me to make sure that he did not change it to a burial because of his own beliefs. My dad became upset when I mentioned that to him, raised his voice and began to yell at me, becoming very upset. I told him not to be upset, that I was just telling him what she told me, and my dad began to shout at me and to become very upset. I began yelling back at him and cursing at him. He was too old to hit me now, and I was no longer that small girl who he could abuse. I was too old and too big. I decided to tell him exactly what I thought. My sister was telling us to calm down and relax and the funeral director came in and heard our family argument going on, and left the room embarrassed. I decided to calm down. I told my dad that he could try fooling people by putting on a $20,000 funeral for my mom, but that there were too many of us that knew the real reality of the way he had treated her. My dad finished preparing the funeral arrangements and we went to her funeral. There were so many people there, they were all so sad and crying for the loss of my mom. They would approach me and tell me how sorry they were that she passed away, and I would think to myself, "I'm sorry too, but at least the abuse is over now", but I would not tell them that. This funeral was hard for me because my mom was my abuser and I had a hard time trying to look sad about her death. I was actually relieved, she was at peace, which brought me some relief, and the fact that she would never be able to hurt me ever again brought me even more peace. After the funeral I visited with some friends and then went back to Canada. I did not go back to Tofino, and instead went to Calgary. I stayed with a friend of my brother's for 3 weeks, got a job right away at a busy pub, and saved my money to get an apartment. It was the first week of May, and for the last 5 months I had been under a lot of stress, I lost my baby in January, I left Cecil and ended our relationship, was working in Tofino, Vancouver Island, in British Columbia and then in April my mom died, and during this time had no real place to live. It had been a difficult period of time for me, but I was determined to make it. I got an apartment in Calgary, and as I got my keys and went inside and closed the door, I finally felt like I could relax and breath a bit, but at the same time, it was actually just the beginning of a new nightmare.
This video is part of the video series Born in Hell. This video contains graphic and explicit material. Please listen at your own discretion. If the topics of abuse of any kind, domestic violence, child sexual abuse, or violence bother you, please do not watch this video. Living with Cecil in Edmonton was a new experience for me. I had only been away from my abuser parents for 6 months and here I was, living with a guy I had met at work, I still had a soft cast on my wrist, and things were going good in our relationship. Cecil was scheduled to have surgery within a couple of months and I began looking for an office job, something I could do with my injured wrist. At the age of 29, just a few months from my 30th birthday, I discovered that I was pregnant. This was a huge surprise for me, because I was told that I would probably never be able to become pregnant or even carry a child. I went to the doctor to find out and sure enough, I was pregnant. I was very happy about being pregnant and it had always been a dream of mine to have children. I was nervous though because it would be my first and with the scar tissue and damage to my uterus, the doctors had told me to be prepared, just in case I could not carry the baby. I was hopeful that it would all be okay and began to enjoy having Cecil's and my baby in my womb and the feeling of being a mother for the first time flooded me with immense joy and inner happiness. Cecil was not overly happy about the situation. He had already raised two sons with his ex wife in England, and even though his relationship was estranged with them, he loved his sons very much. He was not overly enthusiastic about having children at this stage in his life, but he could see how happy I was about the situation, and was happy to be the father of this baby in my womb. We decided that we could handle anything that would come our way, including raising a child together. I turned 30 in December and by the first week of January I began to spot and was feeling quite sick. I had a feeling something was wrong and at this point I was 4 1/2 months into the pregnancy, mid-term. I began to bleed more and more and at this time Cecil had recovered from his surgery and was offered a contract job up north in the Yukon. It would be his first opportunity to work since the summer before and he felt he needed to take the job. I did not want him to go, because I was bleeding and might possibly lose the baby, I wanted Cecil to be with me. We did not know anyone in Edmonton and there was no one I could rely on for support there. Cecil took the job and left me to deal with being sick and aborting the baby. I called my doctor and she advised that if the bleeding became more serious, to get to the hospital. I did not go to the hospital and over the weekend, 2 days after Cecil went to work, I went into full labour and aborted the baby. I was so sick and so emotionally ill and did not cope at all. I just dealt with it at the apartment by myself. A few days later I went to my doctor and they did not have to do a DNC, as the baby had gone down the toilet. My heart was broken, I was angry about Cecil not being there for me, I was so devastated about losing the baby, and I was very much alone. I began to question my decision making processes, and wondered how I had even let myself get into the situation I was in. I phoned Cecil at the oil drilling camp in the Yukon and told him that he had 4 hours to get home to me or I was leaving him. Cecil pleaded with me to give him time to get home, and not to leave him. I gave him no choice, knowing that there was no possible way for him to get home to me within 4 hours. After we hung up, I immediately shut everything down, packed my few belongings, called my brother to tell him I needed to stay with him until I could get myself situated and within 4 hours, I was gone. I went to Tofino, Vancouver Island, BC, and worked there for a few weeks. I needed to collect myself, to heal from losing our baby, and try to get stabilised. While I was in Tofino, I phoned Cecil to tell him that our relationship was over and he was free to move on and to have a good life. Cecil was so hurt that I left him, he agreed with me. Another couple of weeks passed by and my dad called to tell me that my mom was very sick, in the hospital and was dying. I went down to New Mexico, and saw her for a few hours before she went into a coma. She was happy to see me, held my hand in hers and told me that she was sorry I had lost the baby. It was hard to know that she was probably dying and this time she would not be coming home from the hospital, but would be moving on to her eternal home. She said very few words, but kept repeating over and over, "I was just a horrible mother" and looking so sad and downtrodden. Irene, Kathi and myself, her three daughters tried to comfort her as best we could. I told her that all of her children loved her very much and she just kept repeating that she was such a horrible mother. My sister Irene suggested that Kathi and myself go to get some supper and let our mother rest, and when we came back an hour later my mom had slipped into a coma. She passed away a few days later. My sisters, me and my dad all went to say our last words and goodbyes to our mother who had passed on. I went to sit outside in the sunshine, and as I sat there, a strange calm came over me. Never again would my mother be able to hurt me. She would never ever be able to hurt me in any way, shape or form, the abuse from her was over, it was over, I thought to myself. She would never be able to hurt me again.
"I HATE YOU!!!" "I HATE YOU!!!" "YOU ROTTEN CUNT!!!", the words rolled around in my head, I winced as I remembered the reason why my face was stinging. I had nearly been knocked unconscious and opened my eyes to see my mom's feet walking across the kitchen. I could hear the sound of dishes being thrown into the sink, CRASH! BANG! My mother was opening the kitchen cabinet doors and slamming them with all her might. I winced, I was still lying on the kitchen floor on my side and did not want her to think about me, "maybe she will forget about me" my inner voice was crying in my head. "maybe she won't come over here and kick me or beat me some more" I was fighting back the tears because I knew if she saw me crying it would give her a really good reason to continue her rage and tyrannical abuse on me and my poor body. She continued her rant, screaming at the top of her lungs "I NEVER ASKED FOR THIS!! I NEVER WANTED THIS GOD DAMN LIFE!! YOU CAN ALL GO TO HELL AS FAR AS I'M CONCERNED, YOU STUPID ROTTEN NO GOOD PIECES OF SHIT!!!". She was in one of her bad moods again, violent, raging, screeching moods that could happen at any time, day or night. I was hoping I would not have to lay there much longer. I dared not move as I was afraid that she would see me down on the floor on the other side of the table and remind herself that she still had plenty to be mad at me for and decide that I had not had a good enough beating. My mother turned around to face me, looking at me with such hatred in her eyes, such absolute hatred and rage all mixed together with years of mental anguish and torment showing on her face and said to me harshly, "GET THAT LOOK OFF YOUR FACE RIGHT NOW!!" I knew what she was going to do to me, she had always done this to me, beat me, hurt me, practically kill me and then tell me to put a smile on my face. I found it hard to change the look of fear and complete confusion on my face. I was in pain, I was trembling and wincing and flinching with my back against the kitchen wall. I sat up and tried to put a smile on my face. My mind was racing, "mommy, why do you hurt me like this? I love you mommy" all rolling around in my brain. I used to tell her these things but the beatings and verbal assaults continued. I could not understand why she would treat me this way and hurt me so bad; so bad that it made me submissive to her power, her all mighty reign over me. Instead of becoming defiant, I knew I had to be submissive or she would kill me. "GOD DAMN YOU!! DO YOU WANT ME TO COME OVER THERE AND TAKE YOUR GOD DAMN HEAD OFF!! " "I WILL DO IT! BY GOD IT'S MY RIGHT!! I BORE YOU!! YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT RAPE CHILD!! THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE!! A RAPE CHILD!! I NEVER WANTED YOU ANY WAY YOU GOD DAMN INGRATE!!" I could see her feet starting to quickly move around the table and she towered over me. "No mommy!! Don't!! No" …I was as far back against the wall as I could get, my body conforming to it, I had my legs curled up to my body. She was going to kill me this time. She did exactly what I knew she would, grabbed a belt that was hanging on a nail with 3 other belts on the kitchen wall, pulled it up and around her wrist and hand and with her other hand grabbed my arm and yanked me forward onto my stomach. "Pleaaaaaaaaassseeee mommy!! Pleaaaaaaaaaaaassseeee!! Don't hit me..I'm sorry!!" I begged her, I pleaded with her, I had no idea what mercy was, but I was begging her for mercy. She was not listening, and was intent on hurting me that day. Intent on making me pay!! Someone had to PAY!! The belt whipped through the air down onto my back and the back of my legs. She gave me a good whipping, cursing me all the while, sputtering and spitting as she went. I took my beating as usual, like a good sport. No tears would fall, no screams would escape my throat. I was 5 years old had been trained since birth to take what I had coming to me, and to take it with silence and a stone face. It is after all, what I deserved. I was a bad kid. I needed to be whipped. I needed to be slapped. I needed to be "taught" a lesson. I was always asking for it, I was told. I never once remember asking for a beating, but that is what they told me, so it must have been true.
Through the years my mother continued the beatings, the tyrannical rants, the abuse and always threw in that "you were asking for it", even after I confronted her about not stopping my brother from sexually abusing me at 8 years old, she just snarled and said, "you were just asking for it". I never asked for any of the abuse my family dished out on me, however, I did ask for love, for care, for compassion, for concern, for pity, for mercy, for love, which I never received. I guess a person doesn't always get what they ask for.
WHY I CONTINUE TO SPEAK OUT AGAINST CHILD ABUSE AND PROMOTE CHILD ABUSE PREVENTION AWARENESS
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I want to thank everyone for tuning in and supporting my work through the years! As always I continue to place a warning on my shows dealing with Child Abuse Prevention and Adult Survivor Issues, please LISTEN AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION! IF YOU ARE UNDER AGE AND OR SENSITIVE TO THE TOPIC AND ISSUES SURROUNDING CHILD ABUSE OF ANY TYPE, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, SEXUAL ASSAULT, SEXUAL EXPLOITATION AND ANY RELATED TOPICS TO VIOLENCE, PLEASE DO NOT LISTEN TO THIS SHOW. WE ARE ALL RESPONSIBLE FOR OUR OWN CHOICES. MAKE THE RIGHT CHOICE FOR YOURSELF. THANK YOU! Human rights advocate, child rights advocate! Promoter of human rights for men, women, and children. I am not a professional counselor or a professional legal adviser and I have no professional certificates in these fields. This is not a professional show. The information and resources on these shows is from the web, and the accuracy is only as accurate as the originator's material was. Please make the right decision for yourself and listen at your own discretion. Minors and under age children must have parental/adult consent to listen to my shows in order that they stay protected at all times. Please have an adult listen to the material first so they can help you with the decision as to whether you should be listening to my shows or not depending on age appropriateness. Child Safety and Protection is my first priority. Thank you!