Monday, August 31, 2009

I've started reading the book "How to Improve Your Marriage Without Talking About It." See hubpages for Part I of my review.

I am very excited to announce that I finally feel as though my writing is having a positive impact on its readers! I have submitted some of my work to, which is a writer's forum of sorts, and I have received very positive reactions.

Also, thanks to all who have read my blogs - my blog comes up as #11 in a search for my name on yahoo and I'm all over page one of a google search for my name :)

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Associating Positive Feelings with a Negative Incident

I was molested as a child. I know that is a pretty cliché statement for an emotionally dysfunctional female, but I have a unique tale to tell. I want to share it in case someone has experienced something similar and did NOT have the wise counsel I did to help me through it.

I never told anyone. I never wrote about in my journal. I never even really acknowledged it until 2003. I had moved back to Minnesota and was horribly depressed (NOT because I was molested, but because the sun never shines in that God-forsaken place). In an effort to clear out my head, I started writing daily. One random day in December, the subject came up.

Dec 16, 2003
There were at least 10 people I was intimate with by the time I was 10 years old. Some relatives, some females, some I was perfectly comfortable with (some were not so comfortable). Why does the fact that I was molested not seem to affect me?

When I was three years old, there was a man’s touch that I enjoyed, but it only happened once. For many years, I longed for him. Why is it that I have a love for him rather than a hate? How can I not be angry with him?

Why do I have the memory? Does he? If he does, I desperately want him to know that it is okay. He did not harm me – I feel as if he actually showed me love, care, compassion. That night in his bed is a good memory.

WTF is wrong with me?! How could I write/feel something so perverse? I was THREE YEARS OLD! Am I completely psychotic? Am I supposed to talk about this with someone?

If I ever feel led to say anything to anyone, I pray that I have the opportunity to tell him that it is okay. I would never want him to carry any burden about it…

This journal writing bothered me for quite some time. I didn’t understand. The whole thing was confusing to me. I wanted to know how I could be okay with someone wronging me in the worst possible way.

Soon after, I started to see a counselor for my depression. In March of 2004, I finally told her about the molestation and asked her all my questions. Her explanation was so very helpful to me. Her words brought me so much comfort and relief. She wasn’t able to answer all of my questions, but she brought enough closure to the issue that I have never looked back.

When a person is three-years-old, we are not mentally developed enough to know that sexual touch from an older person is wrong. If there is no physical pain involved, our bodies then associate a positive feeling with the incident. Only when we are older do we associate moral opinions with the incident (but yet still carry the positive physical feeling).

Because the touch was not painful, my body associated happy thoughts with intimacy. The fact that it happened again by someone else taught me that such activity was “common” or “acceptable,” “normal,” “okay.” This deleted the possibility that I would ever tell another adult, and so the molestations continued (and realize that sometimes, I was the aggressor).

The counselor went on to explain that when I was older, say 7 or 8, that I associated moral right or wrong and emotion with each incident. I re-created the memories to include whatever mentally developed thoughts I had. By that time, the repeated actions by others had ingrained in my mind that intimacy between two people – regardless of age or gender – was okay. Thus, deleting the possibility that I would ever tattle, and increasing my desire to have such intimate interactions with people.

There is NOTHING haywire with my brain. I am NOT psychotic! I just have a very different experience than most children who are molested.

Don’t misunderstand. There are side effects to my unique story. However, the side effects, I think, are of a completely different nature than most children who are molested. The most obvious of side effects is my ridiculous sex drive – seriously, like I could have relations with my husband four times a day if he was up for it. I believe this stems from my positive feeling associated with the first incident. I also place a LOT of importance on physical intimacy - much more than I should. I have a great fear of rejection, but only in regards to physical intimacy. Even so much as if my husband doesn’t kiss me the minute he sees me, I feel rejected. I know that my issues are still issues that I need to deal with. But truthfully, I think the abandonment by my father and the emotional abuse I suffered as a child had a much more lasting effect on my psyche than the fact that I was molested.

Thankfully, my counselor back in 2004 helped me see that I am not crazy. If you have dealt with molestation, please know I am sorry. But also know that there are a plethora of avenues to get help.

Post Secret

Monday, August 24, 2009

Quick Shout Out

Just wanted to let you know, I made the front page of Blogs by Women Bloggers.

I really really really want to write. I love it so much!

I also got a really cool comment today from someone who does NOT know me :) Thank you so much, CougarTales, for the encouragement!

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Possible Side Effects

One of my most favorite books is “Possible Side Effects” by Augusten Burroughs. It is a book that randomly accounts the life of a man. The story is written in first person, and I don’t think the character’s name is ever stated. This writing style results in the reader never actually knowing if the book recounts the life of the author or someone else or if it is made up. Either way, this book is HILARIOUS. It makes me laugh out loud (just as much as Stephanie Plum!). If you have not read it, I recommend it.

Another reason I love this book, is because it is exactly the kind of book I want to write. I would record all of the things I remember in my life and add in the psychological aspects, the growth aspects, the spiritual aspects. Is there a market for this? Is it self-help or fiction? Will it be the autobiography I’ve always dreamed of writing? Would it have to be in chronological order? Would anyone learn anything from the circumstances I have dealt with in my life? Which ones do I include and which ones do I keep out? Are some things too private? With my book, I think the Possible Side Effects would be pissing off people who are included in the book. Would I be able to mask the truth (to protect my relationships) and still be able to convey my message (to help the reader grow)? Do I focus on childhood, teenage or adult years? Can I get three or four or five books out of my life? (I have three blogs, why not five books?)

I have memories that start when I was less than two years old. I know the memories are from this time, because my sisters left me when I was less than two years old. I also know that the memories are mine and not implanted by someone else or a photograph, because I have never told anyone these memories.

The very first memory I have is of my two sisters and I, late at night. We should have been sleeping, but instead we were all on the top bunk. We were giggling. And then we heard a door slam and Mandy said, “Uh oh, Brian is home.” And we were all instantly scared. We cowered in the top bunk together until all was quiet and then I climbed down the ladder and went to my bed. For most of my life, I thought we were scared because Brian was mean, because he had come home drunk and we thought we would be beaten. I think I assessed the situation this way based on what I learned of him growing up. Now that I have a toddler, I realize that we were probably scared because we knew we were doing something we were not supposed to be doing – we should have been sleeping!

My next memory actually includes my biological father. The details are hazy, but I was in his apartment. I can see the layout. I met his girlfriend, Lynn. She was tall and skinny and had long dark hair. I liked her. The same memory includes Rick dropping me off at my mom’s house on Louisiana Ave in Crystal. He was holding me. He had on a hat - brown leather. He had a mustache. I was happy.

Okay, not funny like Augusten Burroughs, but entertaining none the less. “Possible Side Effects” probably sold millions of copies. My book might not sell millions. But if one person learns from it, it would be worth all of the effort.

Thursday, August 20, 2009


Good morning!

I haven't written for a couple weeks. The Broussard house was a little chaotic with visitors and then Brytin starting kindergarten. I have, however, started quite a few rough drafts. Look for upcoming posts to include such riveting topics as:

An alternative ending to my 07/21 post which leads into great detail about my parents
My observations on the great impact adults unknowingly have on children
Fun at the beach
A crazy night of dreams I had
Things my mother taught me
And more!

I very much want to spend a lot of energy honing my writing skills. The only way that can happen is if I actually sit down and write. Starting today, that is going to happen! Look for a new post tomorrow :)

PS - it would be VERY helpful in my pursuit to improve my writing if you add your comments.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Adam and Eve

Today, I offer you this excerpt from “Searching For God Knows What” by Donald Miller.

When Adam finished naming the animals, after all his work and effort, God put him to sleep, took a rib out of side, and fashioned a woman. I had read that part a thousand times, but I don’t think I quite realized how beautiful this moment was. Moses said the whole time Adam was naming the animals (what could have possibly taken 100 years) he couldn’t find a helpmate suitable for him. That means while he was naming cattle he was lonely, because he couldn’t really communicate in the same way with the cattle, and when he was naming fish he probably wanted to go swim in the ocean with them, but he couldn’t breathe underwater; and the entire time he could not imagine what a helpmate might look like, how a helpmate might talk, the ways in which a helpmate might think. The idea of another person had, perhaps never entered Adam’s mind. Just like a kid who grows up without a father has no idea what having a father would be like, a guy who grows up the only human would have no idea what having another human around would be like. So here was this guy who was intensely relational, needing other people and in order to cause him to appreciate the gift of companionship, God had him hang out with chimps for a hundred years. It’s quite beautiful, really. God directed Adam’s steps so that when He created Eve, Adam would have the utmost appreciation, respect, and gratitude.

I think it was smart of God because today, now that there are women all around and a guy can go on the Internet and see them naked anytime he wants, the whole species has been devalued. I read how very beautiful it was the God made Adam work for so long because there is no way, after a hundred years of being alone, looking for somebody whom you could connect with in your soul, that you would take advantage of a woman once you met one. She would be the most precious creation in all the world and you would probably wake up every morning and look at her and wonder at her beauty, or the gentle silent way she sleeps. It stands to reason if Byron, Keats, and Shelley made beauty from reflecting on their muses, having grown up around women all their lives, that even these sonnets could not capture the sensation Adam must have felt when he opened his eyes to find Eve.

You probably think I am being mushy and romantic, but the first time Moses breaks into poetry in the Bible is when Adam first meets Eve. The thing about Moses was he was the king of understatements. He could pack a million thoughts and emotions into just a few words. Here’s what he said about what Adam thought when he met Eve:
Bone of my bones
And flesh of my flesh (Genesis 2:23)
If you think about these ideas they are quite meaningful, and the bit of poetry Moses came up with truly summarizes the scene because, for the first time in his life, Adam was seeing a person who was like him, only more beautiful, and smarter in the ways of love and encouragement, and more deliberate in the ways of relationships. He must have thought to himself that she was perfect, and after a few days of just talking and getting to know each other, they must have fallen deeply in love. After Adam had taken Eve to the distant mountains where they could look down on the four rivers, and after he built for her a home and showed her the waterfalls and taught her the names of all the animals, he must have gone on a long walk with God and thank Him, and I’ll bet that was a very beautiful conversation. I’ll bet Adam felt loved by God, like he was somebody God was always trying to bless and surprise with amazing experiences, and I’ll bet they talked together about how beautiful Eve was and how wonderful it was that the two of them could know her, and I would imagine that Eve felt safe, loved, not used or gawked at, but appreciated and admired.

I know it sounds sensational, but I used to think that story was just a cartoon. But they weren’t at all; they were people and they felt all the things we might expect them to feel. And certainly a lot of this stuff really did happen to them, and certainly Adam was taken aback by Eve, surprised and amazed, and this is summed up wonderfully in Moses’ poem.

Books by Donald Miller

Monday, August 3, 2009


I read recently that the subtle nuances in poetry can express beauty better than any essay ever could.

Tonight, as I stood on my back porch, soaking in the full moon, I greatly wished for the gift of prose. But alas, I have none.

The way the moon back lit the sporadic clouds was simply breathtaking. Adding to the glory were the random, barely visible stars. Included in the sight was the ominous darkness of the "moutains" (big hills, really, but the closest thing to a mountain I have ever lived near.)

I wish I could write you a poem so you could see it too. Maybe my inability to write "fluffy" is a side effect of often skipping the description in books and jumping to the action. Hmph.

I know from experience that a photograph would do that sight no justice, so I did not even try. But that imagine will be forever ingrained in my mind.

Romans 1:20 "The basic reality of God is plain enough. Open your eyes and there it is! By taking a long and thoughtful look at what God has created, people have always been able to see what their eyes can't see; eternal power, for instance, and the mystery of his diving being. So nobody has a good excuse." (The Message)