Left Unsaid

Lately, since I’ve been networking with various service providers both faith-base and non-faith base one of the big things that I hear that actually annoys me is when they say, “These girls need to reconcile with their family,” or “This program believes in forgiveness and these family need to forgive these girls so they can go home.”  The reason why this annoys me so much is that you can’t create a happy ending, it doesn’t work that way and it’s almost impossible to be done especially if the family/girl does not acknowledge a problem.  We hear of stories of children reuniting with their family after abduction, child rape or even runaways, but on the surface we see this picture perfect family that gets that one time family snap shot and goes home.  What most do not realize is that it’s just a new beginning for another chapter of healing and if that family wants to ignore it to move on, the reconciliation will not even happen.

I’ve spoken to many survivors of sexual abuse, rape, domestic violence and even trafficking and almost every one of them have severed ties with their family, but those who’ve never been in their shoes will shake their heads and say, “They need to reconcile so they can move on.”  Do we tell battered women to reconcile with their batterers so they can be a happy couple?  Do we encourage women who’ve been date raped to reconcile with their so called boyfriends or dates so they can go on and find another happy date?  NO, we don’t so QUIT suggesting that bullshit line!  I’m sorry, but I’m sick and tired of PRETENDING that everything will be fine by reconciliation.

The moment I returned home from Trafficking, my scenario didn’t look like the Hollywood version of reunification.  We didn’t run into each others’ arms and cried and said we missed and loved one another and home-cooked meal would be waiting for us.  Do you honestly want to know what most homecoming would look like?  Then keep reading.  I remember coming home and you could feel that cold uncomfortable feeling of tension filling the room.  You don’t know what to say, your parents can’t even look at you.  Unimaginable possibilities run through their mind as well, they don’t even want to know what’s even happened to you.  I remember my mother would be in the kitchen and to break the silence she would say, “Are you hungry.”  Even sitting down with my family around the table for the first time, it truly felt uncomfortable.  All you could hear is the clattering of the silverware against the bowls or plates.  My dad was so uncomfortable with the silence that he got up left to the living room to eat his food in front of the TV.

I had the look of disgust, shame and ridicule, being the oldest of a Korean-American family I should’ve known better to runaway even if I was over 18.  My parents had an assumption that bad things happened to me, but I wasn’t consoled or even reminded that I was this great survivor, I never felt more empty and out of place in my life then being at the presence of my family.  Even though, I knew my family’s MO, but there was this little girl in me that was hoping my parents would hold me, console me, allow me to cry my eyes out in their arms and tell me that everything will be all right, but reality hit and that did not happen at all!  The first night, I unpacked what belongings I had in my old bedroom.  Flashes of memories of my youth resurface, I fall on my knees to cry, but made sure that I didn’t make a whimpering sound.  I was told that crying shows signs of weakness, so I was literally arguing with myself while tears flooded my heart.  “Don’t cry, they’ll hear you!” I would pound my chest with agony and just wanted the pain or the emotion to go away.

The days went on pretending that everything was normal, but I knew in my heart it wasn’t.  I remember one of my sisters would walk in my room and say, “I’m not glad you’re home, you’ve given mom and dad a lot of grief, so while you’re here just don’t give them a hard time.”  I remained silent and ignored her.  I ate, I slept and I cried in silence, inside I felt like I was slowly dying.  Sundays would come and it was time for church, I honestly didn’t feel like seeing anyone from church, but my mother would give me that uncomfortable guilt of not going, I would not hear the end of her griping that I missed out on mass, so I went.  People from our congregation were shocked to see me, but you could hear the whispering among themselves and when I’d walk by some of the people would even get out of my way and others were so nosey to pretend to be your friend.  You could just feel that fake smile on their faces as they walk up to you and give you that extra tight squeeze hug and they say, “So, glad you’re back let’s not get into the past and just move forward.”

Seriously?  Do they have any idea what I just went through?  I wanted to get out of there so fast.  The whole false facade really annoyed me, but you see “Jules” wanted to come out and play.  “Let’s entertain these fools!”  So, after a couple of weeks, I pretended too.  I smiled and gave back that extra hug, then I’d relish about my soul-searching for Christ and how he came to me in my darkest hour.  I smiled and shed a tear when I revealed to them that a group of Christians rescued me, housed me and fed me while I was homeless.  Oops, did I forget to mention that I was homeless???  The shock came to their eyes and the smile, but the smile wasn’t the same.  My parents were angry with me for telling the truth.

Gossip in our church started to form and I did my job.  I embarrassed my family, because I was homeless.  I got to the point where I held every pain, every horrid memory and every tear back that I just couldn’t hold it any longer.  I screamed and I cried!  Hoping at that moment, my parents would realize what I just gone through and praying for reconciliation, even I wanted it as much as anyone else, but it didn’t even happen.  The next thing I knew my whole family yelled at me calling me a trouble-maker, whore, a disappointment to the family.  I’ve shamed my family’s name.

You see, there was nothing wrong with our family, but me.  I was the problem, if only I would’ve “honored” my parent’s wishes, by staying home and taking care of them I wouldn’t have gotten into this mess.  I use to be naive and believe it ONLY happened to Asian-American families until I realized “pretending” comes in all cultures and races, even with White-American families as well.  When we become advocates to victims/survivors of any type of abuse, do not pressure the idea of reunification, this is very IMPORTANT for social services dealing with runaways as well.  You would be considered very lucky if you truly had a family that encouraged counseling, healing and being very very supportive in your journey to recovery, but those family come very far and few between.  Don’t believe in the media hype or the Hollywood version of reunification, almost all of us don’t even get to return home at all.  Thank you for allowing me to share, this has been on my mind for quite sometime and I wanted to share.

Anxious about Deployment

It’s 2:04 a.m. and it’s Saturday morning and I have yet gone to sleep.  My mind’s been racing all day and night, I tried to play some online games to erase the thoughts, but it just seems to echo louder.  Tonight, I just want to vent.  About a week ago, I finally had the courage to tell a friend how I felt about her whining and because of that she cut me off, I was hurt and angry and said “Fine.”  I met this friend in 2010 through a church and what started out as a person in need of a mentor turned into a loss of friendship.  In nearly a year, I did the best I could to be her shoulder to cry on, provided unlimited resources for her situation and she refused or decided to pick which ones she wanted instead.  I’ve even offered her new housing options so she could start a new, but all she kept going on was her ex that wasn’t paying child support either on time or not at all, this situation have been going on since July of 2010; we are going into May 2011.  I just got to a point that I was tired of hearing her whine and blasting him on her facebook like a high school girl, displaying what he’s done to her, which she has been doing this since July of last year.  I finally had the guts to tell her off and tell her to quit bitching about it and DO something!  I did the best I could to encourage her, to support her to knock down every negative thought she continued to plant in her head, then I realized I can’t fix her and she has to learn the hard way to figure shit out.

If I did the right thing, why does it hurt so bad?  Why do I care if she’s okay or if she’s still crying?  Would writing her back and telling her that I’ll always be there for her enable her to latch on to that co-dependency?  I admit, we had fun.  It was nice to visit each other homes and sit by the fireplace, drink coffee and just rant, either way it’s still a loss.  Plus, I’ve been feeling anxious lately with my husband’s deployment that I don’t know if my irritability has to do with that.  I haven’t had a cigarette in almost 8 days and really haven’t been craving it either, odd.  I’ve been spending a lot of my time at B & N and just finding some self-help books or humor books for women to read.  One of my pet peeves is to bitch about anything and I’m not one to whine, I like to move forward and keep moving forward.  I feel if I sit too long I might drown in my own misery.  Am I missing something?

Yesterday afternoon, I had dinner all planned out, my husband LOVES my homemade spring rolls, so I drove out to Komart and got a few items for the spring rolls, I had assume I had some extra rice papers at home so I didn’t think to get any.  By the time I got home, I put up the groceries and waited for my son to get home to spend some time with him while hubby was working outside of the house.  By the time 6 p.m. rolled around I got home getting the ingredients prepared and had my son assist me, until I realized there were no rice papers for the spring rolls and the nearest Asian market was about a 15-20 minute drive and I was very hungry.  Right then, all I could think about was wanting to scream.  I was watching my husband sitting on the recliner playing x-box, while I was preparing dinner.  Since my son was in the kitchen, I didn’t want to get angry so I got out some frozen dinners and popped them in the oven instead.

While I was waiting for the oven to get hot, I sat at the computer to play some games to calm myself down.  Racing thoughts came real quick in my head.  “Why is it that I ALWAYS have to prepare meals?  Just because you’re about to leave for deployment, why is it that I have to pamper you?  I would like someone make me dinner for a change?  This sucks and I’m tired!”  I could feel my head get hot and I wanted to scream.  I was watching my husband play his game and I let out a few sighs to let him know I was NOT in a good mood.  Just three more days til Chris and I have to drive out to Forest, MS and then we have to stay there til he departures on the 7th at the crack of dawn.  That is when he aboard a bus that will take his battalion to Ft. Sill, OK for additional training before they are headed to Iraq.

I know what you’re thinking . . . If you we live in TX, why don’t we drive out to Ft. Sill, OK which would be a 3 hour drive instead of Forest, MS which is a 7 hour drive?  All I have to say is, ask the military they are the ones that put this in order not me.  The 7th is a Saturday and I’m assuming I’ll be pretty emotional, so I plan to drive out after I see my husband go and then stop somewhere in Shreveport, LA rest for the night and head out first thing in the morning.  My father will be house sitting for me while I’m gone and I plan to take some of my extra anti-depressants just in case, but no loss can mend a broken heart.  I get teary eyed just thinking of him being gone and since Iraq is his first deployment overseas and we know we won’t be able to communicate like we use to when he was stationed in DC; it’s going to be hard.  Loving a military man is NOT easy, you have to adapt to the military lifestyle as well as their rules and orders.  I feel sorry for my son, he didn’t ask for this lifestyle.  Lately, I’ve been having problems with my son’s behavior in school that I contacted MilitaryOneSource for help and they advised counseling for my son.

My husband and I joined my son in his first counseling session this past Wednesday and when the counselor asked my son how does he feel about Chris’s deployment, my son said, “I don’t want him to go.”  I almost got teary-eyed and I was shocked to hear that from him.  My son is 11 going on 12 at the end of the summer and he’s at the age where he doesn’t like to talk much, especially about his feelings and when I heard him say that, it broke my heart.  I wanted to hug him and tell him that we need to depend on each other and be strong.  I don’t know exactly when my husband will be returning from Iraq, he says the dates are unknown.  Since I’ve been married to my husband which has been in 2008; I never once resented him in being in the military, I’ve always supported him, never asked him why his battalion is in MS when we live in TX and never ever made him feel he had to chose me or the military; but there are times I just wish he would tell me more about his feelings for me.  My husband doesn’t like to talk about his deployment much, he’s the type that likes to make sure everything is in order, to organize our finances and make sure the house is still going to stand even while he’s away; I’m not the military and I’m not his soldier, I’m his wife and all I want him to do is acknowledge that I’m the one waiting for him to return, waiting for his phone call, e-mails or any additional news about his deployment and since I don’t live in MS where the Family Readiness Program is available to me, I am here in TX, feeling alone and scared.

Being a military wife isn’t about waiting for our husbands to return home so things can be normal again, while he’s gone, I get to be mom and dad.  I get to be the handyman, plumber, and car mechanic, I get to be the protector at night while my son is asleep.  For the past three years my husband has spoiled me.  I was use to be independent, I was use to living alone and being a single parent, but now it feels too familiar but cold.  Am I making any sense?  I’ve prepared myself the best that I can, the list of supporters to call, places to visit to get a break and filling my days with activities and volunteer time, but no one can prepare me for the anxiety that I feel when reality sets in that he’s gone and he’ll be gone for at least 6 months to a year.  I’m going to close for now, thank you for letting me share.

Finding the REAL you!

Lately, I’ve been attracting both men and women who are currently going through a divorce, looking for new love in all the wrong directions and finding empty promises.  I decided to share some insights of what I learned about healthy relationships.  I noticed online there are very few books on Domestic Violence on Christianity.  Most of my friends are “Christians” and yet they find the wrong people all the time.  In church we don’t usually talk about dating or get into the deep elements of our emotions or our sexuality, it’s just not right to talk about that, but if we have those feelings of infatuation even as adults who do we talk to?  I’ve realized most not all women would dream to find that “Perfect” man that they see in the movies.  The one who will open doors for them, pull out chairs and bring flowers and teddy bears.  Most men will say it’s only fairytale, but in my experience I found that man in my home.

The day my husband proposed to me I said, “I’ve been beat down, I’ve been manipulated and abused and I refuse to go through that again.  You will respect me, you will treat me like a Queen and I will be treated like an equal partner in this relationship.  If you ever lay a hand on me I will be that crazy Asian woman that will be chasing you down the street with the cast iron skillet.” and I looked at him straight in the eyes and his response was, “Does that mean, yes?” and smiled.  Our marriage isn’t perfect, but I can guarantee that he’s not abusive, he doesn’t belittle me and always make sure that me and my son are very well taken care of.  That to me is a man.

Whether it’s a “Christian” man or not, the point is you’re tired of hurting, needing, begging and submitting yourself to emotional abuse and shame, well to find the right guy, you must first re-learn to LOVE yourself.  How can you expect someone to love you with all your baggages, shame, low self-esteem and issues if you don’t want to even bother with his?  And if you do, then you might need to reevaluate why you want a relationship in the first place?  If you’re looking for a man to fix your problems then you’ve found a man to control you as well.  Wouldn’t you want to be self-sufficient without needing a daddy or another baby to take care of?  Companionship is about being adults and being respectful.  But how you look for that man is how you present yourself.  I’ve seen women who are not physically attractive that can find a very handsome man and vise versa, it’s how he/she carries themselves.  I know it hurts that he left you and leaving you high and dry with the kids, no bills paid and not recognizing his responsibility.  Instead of sulking, do something get mad and change the circumstances.  1.) Take down all his pictures around the house and replace it with positive quotes or pictures around the house.  2.) Find positive music to revive that old soul of yours, remind yourself that you are worth the wait and to be catered to.  Never take anything less.  3.) Treat yourself; go to the movies without the kids, girls night out, find you a cute outfit you’ve been wanting to wear.  4.) Finding new hobbies; take a course in school, workout, redecorate your home, do something spontaneous, but fun!  5.) Never forget to heal, read a bible or a self-help book, praise yourself for moving forward even if it’s only been one day, but praising yourself is a self-esteem boost.

It took me years to figure out why I was picking all the wrong ones and the hardest part for me was to admit it was me that was the problem.  I didn’t realize I had issues and trauma to deal with, I was so use to boozing it down when I was depressed or get high when I was stressed out; but since I’ve been clean and sober for nearly 11 years I’ve learned some new ways to help me cope with my problems.  I’m not saying you have to be perfect to find the suitable partner, but it does help if you’re not always in crisis and in the midst of drama all the time.  A healthy person knows to set boundaries and will eventually walk away from you if you continue to turmoil yourself.  Only an abuser will stay, because that’s all they know and they think they can “fix” it or control you.  I’m going to give you some steps and these are from my personal experience that I’ve learned what to do and what NOT to do.

If you are a single mother, when you first meet a guy NEVER invite them to your home!  Find a meeting place: restaurant, book stores, coffee shop, mall, museum etc.  Some place public, if you don’t want to go alone, invite a friend to go with you.  Whatever you do, find a sitter never assume he’s too short he can’t hurt me or he seems really nice and he has kids too.  Those type of thinking can get you hurt, it’s better to be safe then sorry.  Never talk about your problems, he doesn’t need to know what you’re going through.  You don’t know him long enough to even call him your best friend, be a lady and keep your problems with the pastor, priest, shrink or very close friends.  A woman who shares too much and too fast gives an abuser ammunition to use against her later.  Don’t expect anything out of the meeting, be in the moment enjoy a appetizer together with some nice wine.  Talk about hobbies and ambitions on your issues.  Healthy people love stimulating conversation that can challenge the mind: talk about weather, science, books you’ve read, what you like to do other than being the housewife you use to be.  If you have kids, don’t give too much information about them.  Just say I am a single mother of #? and leave it at that.  Once you’ve DATED not sex for over a month to 3 months, then you can slowly talk about your kids.  Each person’s pace of waiting is different, my personal preference is 3-6 months of dating before I talk about my kids.

I’m going to talk about SEX, because no one else is.  Most women who’ve been abused in our lives, we’ve used sex to validate who we are, to keep a man happy and for score keeping.  I’m going to go with the same concept of dating, how you find a man in a dating scenario is the type of man you’ll get in bed.  I’m not going to preach to you and tell you not to have sex, you’re going to do it anyways, but what I can do is provide some insights.  If you’ve just broken up with your boyfriend, husband, lover and you are use to that physical companionship, you’re going to want to find that person to fill the void.  You must first ask yourself are you ready to be intimate with a total stranger while you know you are thinking of him/her?  Is that aftermath of shame worth it?  Even just to get back at them, how do you think it will make you feel if the other person isn’t affected by it?  He/She could always say, wow I didn’t know you slept with that stranger and laugh at you?  Wise girls don’t kiss and tell.  If you’re going to find a man to be intimate with make sure they treat you like a Queen, no backseat of a car, or a roach motel, that shows little respect he has for you.  Having sex on a first night is NEVER a good option, remember you must respect yourself first before you can expect anyone else to respect you.

If you’ve been single for awhile now and is still looking, then write out what you are looking for specifically.  If you are looking for a Christian partner, then start joining in Christian single groups at your local church.  Remember when you create your list, ask yourself if the tables were reversed would you accept it as well?  Most of us don’t realize that we can set too high of a standard that makes the other runaway and if those standards were given to us we’d say no, so be reasonable.  The only expectation from any partner is: respect, dignity, loyalty and equality.  If your partner doesn’t treat you the way he/she wants to be treated it’s time to go.  Most importantly, you must deal with your baggages before moving forward to a new relationship, take care of you and love the NEW you!

Letting Go . . .

In the past couple of weeks, I realized that my family will always hold their grudge against me for the things I’ve done in the past.  I could sit here and keep track of every thing they’ve done to hurt me, but why?  Over 10 years ago, I was a victim of exploitation and trafficking, I was also an addict, thief and a cheat; but when a group of Christians and good Samaritans came to me and SHOWED me what love truly is, I became a different person.  I never thought in my life I could change or become the person I am today.  I have many friends and associates that tells me everyday how my strength to move forward inspires them, yet on the other hand my family can’t seem to let go of the pain.  I can’t help to admit that it does hurt every time I visit my parents or see my sisters and their comments of:, “Oh Chong I remember when you were an addict and how much you hurt the family, you went through a lot in your life, but it was your own damn fault.  If you hadn’t left home you wouldn’t have been trafficked.”  I could go through that scenario over and over if I wanted to seriously drive myself crazy, but I don’t.  You know what I find conflicting in our society?  When a boyfriend, friend, roommate or even a stranger inflicts pain or abuse we have the option to cut them out of our lives; but when it comes to our family there’s the obligation of loving them, forgiving them and keeping in contact because you still care for them; if I were to cut my family off completely in order for me to completely heal, I’d be marked as the “bad” daughter.  “How dare you not get in contact with your family?”  What message are we giving to our children who are being abused at home?  My family life wasn’t healthy or christian at all, even though we went to mass on a weekly basis, but before and after Sunday Mass, my dad still drank, my mom still screamed and beat us; but as long as we went to mass to confess our sins it was alright.  At least in my family’s eyes it was.

We study about abuse, the psychological affect that it has on us, but when we talk about our own family dynamics we say, “Get over it, your parents didn’t mean to beat you, you still have to love them regardless.”  I don’t know about you but I feel completely confused.  Right now I am torn between letting my family go, so that I can move on; and struggling with the need of wanting to belong in my family that I’ll tolerate their emotional and verbal abuse just so I can be in the presence of ‘family’?  It hurts, it really does, constantly being reminded of your own blunder.  I recently reconnected with my cousin who’s 5 years older than me and we just clicked.  I got the spend one weekend with her and realized that our family hers and mine are very dysfunctional.  I think everybody in my family needs an antidepressant, seriously.  I had my doctor’s appointment today, a follow up from my surgery in late September last year.  For the first time in my life, I found a doctor that understands my disability and gave me a permanent handicap card for my vehicle.  I was so happy, so I called my dad to share the good news, but when I did it just felt like I was sharing the news to a stranger.  I had a therapist that advised me to write my parents a letter and to separate the “hurt” and “anger” and that it was my option to share it with them when I was ready.  I wrote my letter when I found out that my father was dealing with stomach cancer.  I wrote my feelings down and I re-read the letter a few days ago and one of the things I wrote in the “hurt” column was, “I’m hurt that I feel like I can’t talk to my own father, when we are in a room together we are more like strangers than family.”  I’ve wondered, if I sent that to my parents would they deny my feelings or take them into consideration?

One of my sister and I don’t get along.  I haven’t seen her in more than three years and the last time I heard from her, she called me out of the blue last year and threatened to take my son away after I just got custody again.  Losing my son in the first place truly hurt me, I felt I lost apart of me and I was empty inside.  Yes, I’m still angry for that threat but when I saw her this Christmas, I was nervous I felt like walking on eggshells and didn’t want to do anything to make anyone mad.  I stayed out of the way while they prepared food and sat close to my husband the whole time, after Christmas I found out that she had issues with me and had to share her negative opinions to my son.  I couldn’t take her negativity anymore.  I wrote to her and told her I was sick and tired of her abuse and that she needed to let the past go and that I am not the same person I was 10 years ago.  Of course her response was more verbal abuse and I ended the note with: “Move on, let go and God Bless!”  She wrote again with such hatred and bitterness, I decided not to write anymore, I said my piece.

I guess my point is, even though I would love to move on with my family I’m finding it very hard to cut off all contact.  After my weekend visit with my cousin, we talked about our childhood memories, I looked through old photos of how my sisters and I were so close, but ever since I ran away from home my family never forgave me.  I learned through the years that being a Korean-American you are shunned from your family for exploiting them, but I wasn’t trying to exploit anyone, I just wanted the abuse to stop.  The only option I felt I had at the time was running away, so I can understand where these girls (girls who are victims of prostitution/trafficking) come from.  When you are a teenager, you don’t realize that there could be more danger out on the street than in your own home, so it’s like a rock and a hard place, which is the lesser of the two evils should a child chose?  I do wonder, if I never ran away from home, would my family and I still be close?  Would I truly be happy or would I be the submissive obedient daughter, who’s inside is slowly dying?  All I can do right now is just take one day at a time.  I look at my son and my reassurance of the past makes me feel proud of what I have accomplished today.  It’s hard, but I know in my heart I’m moving forward and if my family refuse to support me that is their loss not mine.  I’m happily married, I’m a loving mother,  a recovering addict of +10 years and a survivor who continues to teach the rest of us that life does go on.  I hope you find this blog to inspire you as well instead of discouraging you to hang on to the past.  Life is too short to stay angry and bitter.  Smile, share a hot mocha with a friend and enjoy life!  God Bless!!!

Christmas 2010

Christmas is usually a sad season for me.  I’ve lost so much in the past years, but this year I decided to bring the spirit back.  I remember as a small child, I loved Christmas not because of the gifts under the tree, but the lights, music and the snow.  I would watch the holiday cartoons every year as a child.  This year my husband finally came home on December 5th and we waited a week later to put up the Christmas tree and a week before Christmas we added the lights outside of our house.  Seeing the lights help put in the festive mood and since we didn’t have much in gifts this Christmas we made the best of it.  On Christmas Eve, our family went to the military base to get some last minute gifts and then went to El Chico for lunch.  When we got home, hubby played on the xbox for a little bit.  Then we started the turkey around 3 p.m. and the whole dinner didn’t start until after 10 p.m.  We had turkey and it was so moist and tender, yum!  We also had homemade stuffing, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, gravy and cranberry sauce (homemade) as well.  I baked two homemade cheesecake the night before Christmas Eve.  One for us and the other to take at my parents.

Then on Christmas Eve, Chris wanted to show me his anime and we watched it til midnight.  Sent Anthony to bed, usually on a weekend he gets to sleep in the living room, but since Christmas fell on a Friday/Saturday night we told him to sleep in his room, that way we could sneak the presents under the tree.  By morning, my husband woke all of us up and we gathered in the living room by the tree and each one of us took turns opening our presents.  Anthony had a special one outside and my husband tricked him and told him to remove his toy from the porch, when Anthony went outside he saw his new bike with Barbie tassels and bells.  It was funny, but it was really good that we got to have laughs and enjoyed the moment.  Then we cleaned up after wards and relaxed for a bit, I got to get ready and fixed myself up before we were to head out to my parents.  My sisters and I aren’t really close so when we got there I was shocked to see gifts for me, but I was very appreciative of the thought.  I didn’t know what to get them so I decided on gift cards for everyone.  While we waited for dinner to be ready, we played a movie game where we call out the movie and the actor/actress who played in it and then we call out the movie that that actor/actress played in, if we miss we spell out the word M-O-V-I-E; once we reach E we were out.  It was fun, the whole family except my parents all played, even Anthony.  My sisters helped Anthony out since he didn’t know a lot of movies.  After dinner, more of my parent’s guest had arrived and my husband and I sat in the living room resting from our full stomachs and watched the game.  Cowboys vs. Cardinals (AZ) and while we were watching the game, I got to hold Sophie, my niece and she was so precious.  It reminded me of Anthony being that small, but less hair.

After awhile, we moved from the couch to the dining table and played some Rummy and it was on!  I was beating my husband it was so much fun!  There were times he beat me but we were so animated according to our guest that played with us.  After the game we started to say our goodbyes, we left Anthony there to spend time with his Aunts and grandparents, Chris and I drove back home.  That was our Christmas and it was pretty good this year!  I want to wish all of you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

My Revelation

There is a movie that opened my eyes that triggered my emotions and behaviors.  “The General’s Daughter” a very profound movie of rape, sexual abuse and betrayal.  I realized the worst thing that can happen to a soul is betrayal it is far worse then the acts of violence itself, because it’s about a broken trust of someone we love or put our whole life on.  The movie portrays a military daughter who’s father’s military pride becomes first on his agenda then the aftermath violence of rape of his daughter.  He assisted in the cover up so he could continue to get his gold star, after the betrayal that the daughter received she decided to hurt her father in the only way she knew how.  She became extremely promiscuous and slept with every guy that was under her father’s battalion so that the General had a reputation that his daughter was a whore.  The ‘whore’ the name didn’t affect her anymore, because she already felt damaged by her father’s betrayal.  This movie shed a light to my own discovery of my first love, JM.

Ever since my child sexual abuse as a three year old I thought my life would never be the same, but I was bound and determined to save myself to someone special.  Someone I had loved for many years and his love for me would haunt me forever, for now we’ll call him “J M”.  As a teenager, I didn’t date or was even promiscuous I was actually a virgin at least to me I was a virgin.  I had known JM since elementary and as years went on our friendship grew along with my trust in him.  When we were teenagers, we’d spend night after night on the phone and he would fill my ears up with lies that he told me things that were so profound that I didn’t realize he was so poisonous for me.  Because I knew him since we were kids ourselves I never thought my best friend would betray me.  One summer I was so in love with him and was mystified by his lies and deceit that I didn’t see what a monster he truly was.  He was nothing but a charmer, a man who uses charms to manipulate to get his own way.  I was a virgin and he lied to me and stated that he was too and I believed him, he persuaded me to give myself to him and we would unite together in paradise.  I believed him so much and wanted to make that happen, then a friend of mine wanted to take me out of town with her and some friends.  I went and found myself  being re victimized after 15 years of hiding myself from my pain from my very first rape that I would be reunited with that nightmare that night.  It was at that time I wanted his comfort, his sympathy and his protection, but he stood beside himself and cast me away treated me like damaged goods and said because I was no longer pure I was not worthy to be in his arms.  I was so devastated from his betrayal that the rape itself seemed mediocre.

His betrayal haunted me for years, even while I was trafficked and after my trafficking experience I couldn’t get JM off my mind.  I kept having dreams about him talking to me and a therapist once said that these dreams would continue to haunt me unless I find closure.  A few months after my heart being broken I never thought I could fall in love again, I no longer had a goal to set to keep myself from anyone.  I just didn’t care anymore, so the next man that would sweep me off his feet was just a mere desperation to be wanted and needed from the love I thought was there to replace the whole I had in my heart from a man I trusted for years.  I’ve held this anger and resentment in my heart, looking back at all the “what if’s”, “what I shoulda done” and “why I didn’t see it” scenarios playing in my head.  After JM came a recruiter disguised as my one and only beloved, he became my first that I gave my heart away so seeing his true colors of violence made it hard for me to depart myself from him, making excuses that if I could change him maybe he would learn to love me better.  After my trafficking experience, something inside of me began to snap I started to split in two and haven’t been integrated as one.  The other part of me I call, “Jules” she’s the alter ego in me that help me to disassociate from my trauma of pain.  When men would come up to me, the “Chong” part of me would disappear and “Jules” would come out to play, she became them; a manipulator and would justify her unruliness from the hurt and trauma I’ve endured for years, that’s when I realized I’ve been damaged.  It explains the reasoning for my past behaviors of unhealthy personal relationships and the lack there of, because as a survivor we go with what we know and that is to be in survival mode.  I’ve done everything in therapy, but nothing has worked because therapist has not been updated on the long term trauma of sexual exploitation/trafficking.  When I would see a therapist and tell them about my trafficking experience I would get, “Sorry, it doesn’t happen here.” or “Wow, I don’t know what to say?”  Both scenarios would make me feel hopeless and lost, if the therapist couldn’t help me how was I going to find recovery?  Where was I going to start my journey?  In 2002, I went to my psychologist and begged on bended knees that I desperately needed help and medication and therapy alone wasn’t helping me I needed something more then just talking about it.  It was at that time my doctor introduced “DBT” (Dialectic Behavioral Therapy), ever since I joined the group everything made sense.  The Core mindfulness, especially when I get constantly distracted and my mind goes in racing thoughts of trauma, flashbacks and suppressed anger.  Learning to develop inter personal skills with other people, for years I’ve felt that I didn’t belong and didn’t know how to be “normal” because of what I was only familiar with to everybody else what I experienced wasn’t the norm.  The DBT also had skills training on how to cope with your flashbacks, your trauma and my alter ego, “Jules”.  It was called, “Distress Tolerance” and I loved it, it helped me to stay accountable and to be mindful of what I was thinking and justifying and creating a chain of reaction to my decisions that I made every day.  Since, my return to Texas I have not been reunited with DBT here and my marriage and my thought process got out of control.

My husband didn’t believe that I needed medication or therapy until triggers started surfacing and I was behaving defiantly and felt my suppressed anger towards men coming up.  I started to resent my husband and holding every mistake he made towards me as a manipulation and control, because I felt backed up against the wall, I didn’t realize that the “Jules” part of me felt threatened by any man whether healthy or not, it was the mere fact that he was a man and was advising me what to do and to “Jules” it meant he was trying to control me.  I didn’t marry in my early 20′s where everything is sugar and sweet and I’m still naive to the world around me, I married in my early 30′s after years of damage and regaining independence of my self-esteem and my welfare.  Not having to depend on anyone, but me.  Even though I would be considered low income it was the mere fact that I did it on my own and that made my proud and I wasn’t ready to let any man take that pride away from me.  Sometimes, I wonder if I’m making any sense in my blog, but I want someone to know who’s going or gone through a similar situation that we’re not alone and through adequate therapy we can find harmony in our lives.  Going back to the old fashion therapy and medication hasn’t helped me or helped me improve my skills, but I still use the DBT methods to help me stay afloat, but I need to find a DBT here in Dallas/ Ft. Worth, TX.  Last night, my insomnia attacked me again and my mind kept racing thoughts of running away, wanting and desiring to end my marriage to gain my pride back, it has been a very difficult transition for me and it’s still a hard transition.  I may not be in crisis mode anymore, but there are times I need someone to talk to, to vent and cry and say I want to runaway from here.  My husband has been gone for almost 2 months and I have finally settled into this independence mode and now that he’s coming back and his demeanor says, “We’re going back to the way things were” makes me feel inferior and threatened.  Does that make any sense?  Sometimes I feel like I want to move out and get my own place have my independence back, marriage is a VERY difficult transition for me and one of the hardest part for me is to accept it.  I have so much suppressed anger that keeps resurfacing and I need to find a way to deal with it, but I need my DBT therapist to help me through that.  I plan to go to MHMR next week and ask about their DBT program and I pray they let me in.  I will feel lost without it, it’s been the ONLY thing that works for me.  I’m learning my past transgression has a lot to do with my triggers and behaviors that I have toward my marriage am I the only one going through this?  I’d love to hear from another survivor’s spectrum.  Right now, I’m just venting because I feel so frustrated and lost.  My mind comes so randomly and doesn’t go in chronological order to forgive me for the confusion.  I’m going to stop here and thank you for letting me share.

Runaway

As survivors, when we feel like we are backed up against the wall and we feel even a little threatened, we tend to run away or want to run away, we’re not use to conflict resolution.  Even in my own marriage I’ve thought about running away, I’ve wondered how my life would be without my partner.  I know it’s not wise to think about those things, but when I come to a problem I go back to what I’m use to; that is either being thrown out or running away from my problems.  In my short three years of marriage I’m learning so much.  I’m learning to compromise and to understand that I may not get everything I want in a relationship, but that it is a give and take relationship.  A couple days ago, I was going through some problems in my marriage without consulting with my partner,  I immediately assumed that our marriage would be over.

I had a fear of going back to the way things were, not that I couldn’t manage life without him but the reality needed to be checked.  Regardless of what I thought or how I felt I should be treated as an equal partner, I felt my needs weren’t met so I started thinking about finding housing for me and my son.  Without a 9-5 job and a record in your past it is hard to find a decent job.  Most of us who are survivors all have something in our past that tends to haunt us forever and even though we have blossomed and groomed to a better human being it’s still up to society to judge us whether we are capable to work in their environment.  I was watching George Lopez the other night and the episode was about their daughter, Carmen running away and even though she was gone for two weeks, she used what she knew to get her own way.  She threatened her father that she’d run away again if she didn’t get what she felt she deserved without looking at the risk possibilities and that’s something I’m learning right now.  I’m so use to being alone and handling things on my own.  Change for anyone whether you are a survivor or not can be difficult to adjust.  I’ll be the first to admit it isn’t easy for me and it’s a working progress.  Everyday that I talk to my husband he reminds me that we do need each other no matter how independent thinkers we are, but unity does have its perks.  I have to admit living with my husband I do have a home, my own car and I don’t have to worry about finding a job and I need to learn to appreciate those things.  I get to be a stay at home mom and spend time with my son and I feel as though we’ve become closer through the years.

If I were to move I’d have to find a job that will pay my rent or go to a Section 8 or government housing, having to worry about where my next meal come in and not having the things we use to have.  I’m not being abused for the first time in my life, my husband has been so patient with me with my struggles and my triggers and even though there are moments I like to have my “me time”, I have to remind myself that I’ve committed myself to a family so I need to concentrate on that.  My friend, Melanie is going through a divorce and she reminded me how lucky I am to have a man that is willing to listen and communicate with me and she is right.  Most of my past relationships I didn’t have very good communication skills as a survivor I’ve learned to deal with things and to prepare myself for the worst instead of learning to wait and trust and that is the hardest thing to do for a survivor.  When we panic we tend to jump into the lowest assumption of doom, at least I do anyways.  This past week has given me things to think about and to truly appreciate them.  My husband will be home this weekend and even though I want his homecoming to be perfect, I have to realize and give myself credit that I can do the best that I can and it’s okay not to be perfect.  Marriage is a learning transition for me and having to go through therapy has helped me, one of my past therapist reminded me that I’m not doing bad things, I’m just going over the survival method of surviving in my marriage and I just need a new tool to handle changes in my marriage instead of resorting to running away.  I’m still learning and I’ll continue to learn as long as my marriage continues.  Thank you for reading my blog.  I’m sharing this because I want you to know that my marriage is far from perfect and we need to recognize our own flaws and accept who we are to become the survivor we need to be and that’s what I still strive to be everyday.

Thanksgiving

As a survivor, the holidays weren’t the best for us.  I don’t know about you, but as for me I didn’t have my family, my last Thanksgiving before my trafficking was when I was gathered with my family.  Me and my sisters would do most of the cooking, my mom would make homemade apple pie, our aunt would come and visit as well.  That’s what I remember about Thanksgiving.  The years after that haven’t been the same.  The last Thanksgiving I had with my family since I’ve been out of my trafficking scenario was when my son was a baby, but it didn’t feel welcoming.  At that time I didn’t know what “trafficking” meant and to my family I was this prostitute and they were ashamed of me.  When we’d go to Thanksgiving Mass at the Korean church the members would ask my family where I have been and I would hear my parents lie and say I was at a school far away.  It was to keep the peace at the church, but it made me feel like a failure.  Since then I haven’t revisited my parents home for the holidays, I’ve been either spending it with friends who value and respect me.

My family wouldn’t even call to say, “Happy Thanksgiving”, they would call to see if my son was there and other times they would ask if they could keep him for the holidays and I was never invited.  If you’re wondering what type of blog this is, it’s me venting, because I am hurt.  Most girls from trafficking scenarios didn’t have a “Happy Family Home”, most would run away from an abusive parent or home and when they have come out of the abyss, they are faced with the familiar emptiness, that is what I want you to be aware of.  If you want to do something nice, invite one of them to your home for Thanksgiving it ‘ll be the best gift you could give this year.  Today, I consider my friends my new family and this year will be emotional, because since my husband is not available for Thanksgiving I was going to invite myself and my son to my family since we recently connected, but I have tried to get in contact with them and have not received a phone call yet.  My assumption is they saw the news, where I appeared sharing my story of trafficking the one thing my mother forewarned me about.  My mother knew about me doing speaking of Human Trafficking, but what she didn’t want me to do was to share my story, she said it would affect my family’s reputation.  What would the other Korean families think of them?  I use to carry guilt and shame when I was in hiding, I was too afraid to share my story afraid I would be rejected and no one would believe me, but in the years that I have spoke I saw the change and the phone calls and letters I would get from families who’s had or have a missing child, giving them some hope that their child could still be alive or that they weren’t going through the pain alone.  Holidays aren’t the easiest for me and there are times I find myself in anxiety of spending it alone.

If you are a survivor reading this, please know that you are not alone tonight and if I was there I’d invite you to my home and we could spend Thanksgiving together, enjoying all the food and company.  This year I am truly blessed with my friend, Melanie and she has invited me to a Thanksgiving gathering from one of our church members.  My son on the other hand is bummed out because he wants to stay behind and play with the neighbor’s kid.  I may not have the traditional Thanksgiving Dinner like they have in the movies, but I have my own family, my friends who love me and my home to share the celebration.  Thank you for letting me share.

Note to survivors:

(Feel free to share your Thanksgiving moments.  I’d love to hear your frustrations and joys.  You are welcome to remain anonymous.)

I’ve become a butterfly!

When I see all these helping institutions and programs that now exist, it doesn’t compare to the love and acceptance that I felt among God’s people.  I’m not one to knock down helping institutions or programs, but nothing compares to the human essence of touch, love and grace.  I’ve been in shelters, you name it I’ve been there from Domestic Violence to Transitional Shelters, but what makes human contact so powerful, is when it’s driven through love of God.  I will never forget the group of people that changed my life and saw something greater in me that even I couldn’t see at the time.  I was so low in self-esteem I had lost hope.  When you are so use to seeing treachery day after day and the only thing that seems to exist is death, you begin to lose focus of the fight.  My journey in my recovery was never easy and of course it was definitely a trial and error for those who saw me struggle.  Therapist banging their heads against the wall trying to figure out what was wrong with me.  Being prescribed by every drug to sedate the nightmares and flashbacks, which only fueled the triggers of the forced narcotics that I had to use to sedate my body.  I remember growing up in church and I remember the pastor would describe God as the Wizard of OZ.  I thought God was mean and loud.  It’s like going to the principal’s office, you are hesitant to meet the big guy.  After years of emotional and verbal abuse and being constantly told that God doesn’t love you and you’ll go to hell, you begin to give up hope all together.

But when I got out of my trafficking, the pain was too much for me to describe and I had no idea how I was going to even rise from it.  I had different churches turn me away because I was a beggar.  Every man that pulled over didn’t want to help me all they wanted was to bargain my body in exchange for food and a free ride.  Why not accept the hand that feeds you when they were the only ones around.  I was outcast by society, churches turned me away and the only people available to my vulnerability were the vultures waiting to take every inch of my being away.  If I was raped, I never reported it because I thought I deserved that too, but when one man welcomed me in his life, he didn’t bargain me for sex, he didn’t assist me temporarily until he got tired of me or to cast me out to institutions, he literally opened his heart and told me that God loves me.  I will never forget such kindness that was so unfamiliar and foreign to what I was use to that I couldn’t believe it.  I willingly took his offer for help because I was desperate, but inside my heart I was hesitant.  I always thought love had to do with sex.  He later introduced me to his group of friends, who were nothing more than college students.

Through their strong pact of friendship and devotion to God’s love, they stood by my side and helped me through whatever it was I was going through.  There were moments of defiance and rebellious that was because I was unsure.  I was not use to God’s love which was pure and filled with hope and grace.  I was waiting for the other shoe to fall off, embracing the pain I suppressed inside that I pushed them away.  I started sneaking out, running away and even when I did run away from them they always welcomed me back.  I knew I was exhausting them, they did everything they could to show me a life with God.  To show me God’s love and his humbleness and I felt the only way for me to grow is for me to figure it out myself.  Even though I separated myself from the group, God was still by my side.

When you heal, it’s not like a physical wound, there’s no heal date at least in my experience, you continue to heal as you grow.  Life is about growing and learning about who you are and what your calling is in life.  Even in my recovery, I had relapsed to drug, prostitution and self-pity, I kept pushing God’s love away from me because I just couldn’t believe that someone like me could be loved.  The echo sounds of my teachers, pastors and members of the church echoing in my ear when I was a child that God will never love me consumed in my conscious mind.  When I look back, God had touched my heart in so many ways, have given me big signs to show me his love and I didn’t show my appreciation.  It took me many years to realize those signs were for me and that God was serious when he kept me alive from attempting suicide, car accidents and keeping me safe in the darkest of night.  He watched over me when I thought no one else did.  Because of him, I am able to live and love the life I’m in.

“If you allow anger to consume you, how will your wings fly?” -C. Kim

“When we think about our lives, we don’t think about being kidnapped and how we should run away, there are certain emotions that come with that : shock, fear, numbness and submission. I can’t say how many times I’ve wondered about trying, but you feel like your body is stuck, you can’t move but you want to. That’s what I felt like in my experience and then afterward I would beat myself for not trying. Through my journey of healing the hard part is forgiving yourself. You play back the horrid memories and wish you would’ve done something different and you blame yourself for the trouble it caused for the other victims. I have moments where I find myself still blaming myself and wishing it would be different. There were moments I had lost faith in God I also felt angry and couldn’t understand how God could sit and allow children being raped and tortured in unimaginable ways. I started to believe that the fires of hell are no worse then watching children being raped and sodomized in front of you. That type of torture is beyond explanation and I was afraid my soul had died.” -C. Kim

I’m writing to tell you my story, what I’m doing now and how I spread my wings.  Survival is never easy, but is it worth it?  Yes, it is, especially if you want to be free.  Free from anger, bitterness, hate and being a prisoner of your own enslavement.  Words above are from my book, that I wrote and what I felt when I was held in captivity.  Welcome to my world and if you like just stay awhile and I will show you my battle wounds and my purple hearts.  A Marine once said to me, “Survivors are war heroes too.”  I agree with him, we are, we been through so much and we’ve come so far to come home.  The only difference between a Soldier and a Survivor; is the lack of training.  We don’t get training on how to protect ourselves from harm and how to hide from the enemy.  I decided to create a page for my fellow survivors who are out there, letting them know that they are not alone in this battle and that fighting for our freedom is very much worth the risk we take every day.

On this site I will be sharing my poetry, my thoughts and as well as my point of view about various topics, please be welcome to share your thoughts as well.  I want to hear from you.  Your voice is just as important, whether you’re a survivor of all types of abuse.  You are welcome here.