|Photo credit: fanpop.com / Stop child abuse|
This post is another response to something I read….where my comment became way too lengthy, and spilled over into my blog. This time from a blog post on BlogHer about whether we should have any compassion for child abusers.
My honest answer? Absolutely not.
I am all about forgiveness and understanding how someone got to be where they are in life, but this is a very personal topic for me. I was abused. Physically, verbally, mentally and sexually, for nearly 10 years of my childhood. My ex-step-father was a piece of work. Was he abused as a child? Yes. Did that give him the right to hurt me and my brothers? To touch me? Hell, no.
You hear this sort of thing come forward a lot during the trials of child abuse crimes and it makes my blood boil. Just because someone was abused as a child does not give them some sort of semi-free passage to inflict pain upon any other human being, let alone a defenceless child.
There is a line of compassion based on what you do in life, and when it comes to abusing a child, that line can’t be crossed.
To be completely frank, it pisses me off. I was abused and yet I know absolutely that abuse is wrong. I don’t have some warped sense of behaviour correcting justice in my head. I look at my daughter and wonder how anyone could ever harm someone so small?!
Does she make me mad? She’s a toddler. Obviously And I am well aware that the button pushing gets worse with age. I am sure I drove my poor mother batty! But no matter what she does, it will never be ok for me to hit her, and especially not because I was hit. If anything, I feel I am more aware.
There has to be more focus on helping people overcome what they go through as a child. This is no different than promiscuity, drugs, etc, that abuse victims fall prey do. I wish more people who have been abused could stand up and talk about how good their life is. How they grew up to have success, health, love, family. I have those things, in spite of my abuse.
I have made mistakes and definitely ones that I can assign to my childhood, but there is a line, as mentioned above. And it should never be crossed.
I know this blog post doesn’t fit with the regular chipper and witty tone that I usually write with. I’m not always going to be funny. But honestly, my childhood is part of why I started Ideally speaking. It has always amazed me that I still have this Wally Cleaver-esqu way about me, even after everything I’ve been through.
Ideally speaking, no grown adult, no matter their experiences, would ever feel the need to cross that line.