The Survivor Archives Project

BIO

I was born in Maine but now live in North Carolina. I am married to a wonderful man, which I like to call my guardian angel. I have two dogs that I love dearly. I spend much of my time planting flower bulbs in my gardens, working in the yard, and writing.

In 2002, I went back to school to get my high school diploma and then continued on to college. Getting my high school diploma was just the beginning of all to come in my ventures. Going back to school was not easy but I was determined. My determination got me an Office Systems Technology certificate, in 2004.

I started writing my first book, Living Nightmares of Abuse, while in college—finishing it and getting it published in 2006. I am now writing my second book, a fiction fantasy. Writing is a highlight in my life. Along with working a full time job, I am involved in several organizations. I have regained my self esteem and feel like I can concur anything.

I am very much a people person. I love to meet new people and love talking. I also listen to people, especially to the elderly—they have much knowledge to share.

My goals in life are; to be the best that I can be, in whatever it is. I hope to become a great writer and have at least one best seller. I believe in dreaming but make it worth while - dream big!





 

Email:         dianebenton@roadrunner.com

Homepgs:   www.pdbenton.org
                         www.myspace.com/phyllisd

Q & A

1.  What is your favorite coping skill?

I like to get on the computer and write. I write articles and do other fun things. I also like to go outside to listen and watch the birds—play with my dogs. They are such good friends. I also spend quality time talking with my husband or my family.

2.  What was the best piece of healing advice you ever received?

 That you can’t change the past, you have to go forward.

3. What was the worst piece of healing advice you ever received?

It will always be there, you’ll never get over it.

4.  What were the three hardest obstacles to overcome?

1.  Learning to believe in myself, regaining my self esteem. 
2.  Excepting that I am a good person.
3.  Not being afraid to go forward.

5.  Have you ever hit "rock bottom"? What kept you going?

Yes, I have hit rock bottom. What kept me going was a voice inside of me, telling me that one day it would all be over and things would be better. I told myself that I was a fighter, that I wasn’t going to give in, and that I would fight back.

6.  What does forgiveness mean to you?

Forgiveness is a hard word to define. I think most people do forgive others for their wrong doing.  Sometimes if you forgive them, you are giving them permission to do wrong again, and saying that what they did was okay.  But in some cases, you can’t forgive.  That doesn’t mean that because you don’t want to forgive, you can’t still go forward with your life and not have any regrets later on.

7.  When did you know that everything was going to be okay -- that you were going to make it?

The day I decided that I had to deal with the pain and go on with my life. I had to put the past behind me or I could not survive. I realized that for too long in my life I had waited, and now I had to make up for it. I needed to start living for me and what was important in my life—my goals and my needs. I am a survivor.

8.  Is there anything that you would like to say to someone just beginning their journey?

It is a rough road. I took one day at a time at first. There is no rush in healing.  However, there is, only if you are in a hurry to get on with your life like I was. Life is short and we have to live our lives to the fullest. Sure, the hurt, the bad dreams, being afraid, is all normal but there is help for us all. Talk to positive people; get involved in projects that you enjoy. Don’t get defeated. Especially, have a list of hotlines or websites that you can go to for help if you feel you are losing the battle. Be positive and know that you are a good person. Be stronger than you've ever been - it’s your life you are getting back. Go forward and be proud of the person that you are.

9.  If there was one piece of advice you would give, or one thing you would want the significant other, best friend, etc. of a survivor to keep in mind through out the survivor's healing process, what would that be?

Never give up! Survivors are important, not just to others, but to themselves. Putting the past behind them and living for today, for themselves, is the most important step they can take. Let them speak what they feel and encourage them to go after their dreams. There is a rainbow afterward.

LITERATURE

Happy Birthday to Me
Written by Phyllis Benton

I was awakened on my birthday with my husband singing happy birthday to me. He whispered, "happy birthday", in my ear. 

Seven years ago I met a man that was unlike any of the men I had ever been involved with. He intimidated me at first. I almost passed him by because I was afraid of getting into another abusive relationship. He told me stories and I questioned if they were true.  I was so used to being lied to. But somehow this man was different and I felt it was so right. He was laid back and didn’t let much upset him. 

We laughed and talked and it felt good. We wanted the same things in life:  happiness, loving each other, and working together to achieve those things. We had good communication. He told me the truth about everything.  Even if he felt I wouldn’t like it, he was honest.   

He encouraged me to do the things I wanted, and not to do anything that I was uncomfortable with. He encouraged me to be myself and to go after the things he knew I wanted. I now know the true meaning of love, and of loving. With so many accomplishments in the past seven years, I am a lucky person to have such a wonderful husband. 

 I Remember When
by Phyllis Benton 

I remember in my childhood, of not having enough to eat, sharing with seven brothers and sisters. Wanting more to eat at supper time but the food was gone. I remember of the hunger in my belly while trying to sleep at night, remembering the taste of rabbits and hens that my father raised, the vegetables in the not-big-enough garden he planted. The berries we picked and ate during the day to help the hunger. 

I remember when the shoes on my feet were too small and hurt my feet, or so big they wouldn’t stay on—shoes that another child had worn out already. The clothes that people had given me, outdated and falling apart. Taking what clothes were left after my sister picked through the hand-me-downs, and of having only a thin, worn out coat in the freezing winter to wear. 

I remember going to school and being laughed at because we were poor—walking home from school in tears—having no friends except the for the immediate, neighbor kids to play with. Wishing that I had dolls to play with like the other girls. In the winter, sliding on hills on tire tubes and cardboard—having no sleds.   

I remember being cold in bed at night, with only one wool blanket to keep me and my sister warm—the ice that hung from the nails coming through the roof. My hands and feet numb from the cold. Getting up in the morning, hurrying to get to the wood stove to get warm in hopes there would be room for me with all the others. 

I remember summers of picking berries to sell and shoveling snow in the winter for neighbors to buy Christmas gifts—a candy bar for each one of us. I remember at Christmas when the few toys I received had already been played with. I remember of eating turkey for supper on Christmas that social services had brought the family.  

I remember the water being carried from the well and heated on the wood stove to bathe in. Being able to bathe only once a week in the steel tub—sharing the same water with my brothers and sisters. Wishing I could bathe in a real tub with running water—using as much hot water as I wanted. 

I remember the man that tried to molest me as a child. I remember the loneliness and heart-ache of the separation of my family—not knowing where my brothers and sisters were. Moving from home to home—having to share space, food, and a bed with other foster children. Being physically abused by a foster boy in one of the homes—running away to find help.  

I remember the abuse I endured as a young adult—being emotionally drained and feeling useless—wanting to end the pain. I remember leaving everything behind  and being left with no place to go—no money or food—sleeping in a car—feeling alone. Having to find a new job and making new friends in a strange place.  

I remember the beatings in a new relationship and not being able to find a way out. The nightmares I once still had from that relationship. The guilt I felt, with mixed emotions, when I watched him die. Wanting to find someone to share my life and love with—wanting not to waste the rest of my life. 

My brother, Bobby, was the oldest of eight children born in our family. He was protective of his sisters—always hugging us and watching out for us. He loved his family until one day we were taken away. He would eventually turn to drugs and alcohol to escape the hurt and pain. 

Bobby was so proud of himself when he graduated from grade school—dressed in his suit—he looked handsome.  He was a good student and loved to write. He wanted to one day become a writer. He had dreams of being somebody. But that all changed the day our mother walked out on us. Bobby stayed with Dad while the rest of us went into foster care. He stayed in school and graduated, and then went into the Navy. He came to see me once in my foster home dressed in his navy whites. He looked good. Then, having some medical problem, he was discharged early. At that time Bobby went back to live with Dad again.

He found it difficult to deal with the separation of his family—he turned to drugs and alcohol. The painkilling effect of drugs and alcohol became a solution to his discomfort. 

I went to visit Bobby a couple of times in my adult years. He lived in a shack that he had built for himself in the woods. He was either drinking or had been drinking when I would see him. He worked either at the local fish factory or in some other seasonal job - enough to just get by. He had no ambition to do anything anymore.

While visiting him one time, a bird landed on his only window sill. The bird sat there and looked in, not seeming to be afraid.  Bobby talked to the bird who seemed to be listening. He told me that he talked to the birds as they often visited him. He said he had lots of friends in the woods. On another occasion that I visited him, he told me that at night he would see a pair of red eyes out by the edge of the woods, looking at him. He did not believe it was a wolf, but rather some other strange animal. He explained that it came closer each night - that he talked to the animal and they became friends. 

Bobby became friends with all those living things in the woods. I believe he knew that they would not turn on him or abandon him. After the family separation Bobby lost his will.  He dug himself deep inside a hole and didn’t want to come back out. He had chosen drugs and alcohol as a solution to his unwanted problems. 

Many years later, I got a call from a sister—she was on her way to the hospital to see Bobby. He was very sick and the doctor said that he didn’t think he would live much longer. Bobby never went to the doctor very much, but instead used drugs and alcohol to help kill the pain that he'd been feeling. My brother passed away that evening. He was only 53 years old. The family made the decision to have his body cremated. There was a ceremony for him, but the ashes were saved until all the family could be there. 

A year later, we took Bobby’s ashes out beside a small Island in the ocean to lay him to rest. I lost my brother twice - once to drugs and alcohol, and the second time on the day he died. Bobby was misunderstood by many people. He had a good heart and soul. He just could not deal with the discomfort and unhappiness of losing his family and every day life. 

The cycle of drugs and alcohol addition begins with a problem, discomfort, or some form of emotional or physical pain. Everyone has experienced this in life to a greater or lesser degree. There are other solutions to deal with problems without using alcohol or drugs, which only create a new problem. Talk to friends, family, and if necessary, get professional help. Digging yourself in a hole with drugs and alcohol like my brother did, is not the answer. 

Written by Phyllis Benton

LETTER

To My Abuser:

It’s been a long time. I am doing very well. I don’t know if you are dead or alive.  But it really doesn’t matter because alive you aren’t really living, you are hurting—yourself and others. Being dead, you probably would be better off, but how could you get off that easy?  You made me and others suffer and took away part of our lives, my life.  I hope that you have found help because you really needed to be helped, and all the time, I thought it was me.  Ironic, isn’t it? 

You can’t hurt me anymore—I have grown beyond you. I do feel sorry for you—you wasted so much of your life being cruel to good people. People, like me, that saw you had a problem. I know you are in pain if you are still on this earth and how awful it is to be in pain. But honestly, I can’t forgive you for all the pain you've caused because what you did is wrong. If you have come to terms with your problem and have really received help, I will pray for your soul but I will never forgive you for hurting people.

I have put you out of my head and have become stronger than ever. I still am the person I've always been, but now much wiser. I know where I am going in life and have goals. You can’t hurt me anymore.

Good-bye forever.

 

All Writing Copyrighted  by Phyllis Benton and 'The Survivor Archives'
© 2007

1 Comment  Leave a Comment

BIO

Hello, my name is Kylee, and I am a survivor of physical, emotional, and sexual child abuse.  There once was a time when I wished I could be anyone but Kylee Jones.  For a long time, I wanted to be Amy (my alter-ego), the confident, independent princess who had six loving siblings, a mother and father who adored her and an aunt whose mischievous side added a little spice to life.  When I wasn't spending my time as Amy, I longed to be Anne - the imaginative, starry-eyed, orphan girl who found a supportive, loving home in Avonlea.  Yet, for all the wishing in the world, I could never be anything more than just old Kylee, the girl who was not good enough to make her father happy, who was afraid she would never be perfect enough for others to love her, and whose innocence was marred by an unnatural knowledge of things she was not ready to know. 

 

I hated being Kylee because she was alone.  She wanted so much to reach out to others, but she often found herself lashing out to keep from being hurt.  She was weak.  She didn't know how to communicate with others, and she feared making a mistake because she knew it would cost her the few people that she had ever really loved.  Kylee wasn't "normal."  She had secrets.  She had things that she had to hide.  She had to protect herself while also protecting her family from their secrets.  She bruised easy, and she was too sensitive.

 

If you were Kylee, wouldn't you have wanted to be someone different too??

 

It amazes me to look back at the person I once was and see how much has changed.  Sometimes it makes me sad to know that I lost so many years to abuse.  Yet, there are times when I realize that those years made me who I am today.

 

The Kylee of today is much more confident in who she is.  She understands that love does not have a price tag.  She knows that those who love you accept who you are - the past, your faults, and all.  She does not fear being judged because she knows she is worthy.  She is strong enough to stand against those who would try to oppress her.  She is capable of identifying unhealthy patterns in people and relationships, and knows when to stand up for herself.  She still has difficulty communicating sometimes, but she knows that she is not alone in her struggles.

 

My healing journey began about sixteen years ago - the day my mother took me away from my father's home.  Even though I say that my journey began that day, I was completely unaware that there was a path to be taken.

 

Being removed from an abusive situation was the beginning.  However, it took several years for my mind to begin to feel safe enough to let me begin the healing process.  After about two years, the flashbacks began.  Although they were terrible, and I wanted nothing more than to purge myself of the reminders, I know now that it was the first sign that true healing was ready to begin.  My mind was finally able to let go of it's secrets because it knew I was strong enough to begin dealing with them.  It was terrifying, but it was time.

 

After a while, I began to have trouble coping with the images.  In order to get the images out of my head, I began cycling between silence and "purges."  In a purge, I would select a friend who had never heard my story and tell them about what was happening.  This helped release some of the intense feelings for a while, but even this strategy stopped working after about four years.

 

I finally fell apart in college.  I couldn't cope with the anger, frustration, pain, and fear any longer.  One of my friends directed me to a counselor who helped guide me through the healing process.  At first it was really difficult because I was numb.  It was like there was the world that I lived in with no problems, and then there was the world with my counselor where we talked about the problems that were tearing me to pieces. As time went on, I began realizing that I had to actively participate in the healing process if I were to make progress.  I learned that I had to allow the abused part of myself to be integrated into the everyday part of me.  It was then that I began researching childhood abuse outside of my sessions and created my website as a healing tool.

 

It took many years for me to begin accepting the abuse as a part of who I am.  That does not mean that I began to allow it to define my existence or essence.  Yes, abuse has touched my life, it has changed my life, and it has shaped me into the person I am - but it does not make me who I am.  I have that choice.  My abusers once told me that I was unworthy & unlovable, but I now know that they saw the world through diseased eyes.  Many of my behaviors may stem from abuse, but I have the power to learn from and change them.  I will not let my abusers win by believing that I must accept their perceptions or live with their secrets.

 

I will speak out, and I will make a difference because that is who I am.

 

Kylee's Contact Info:

Homepg:    http://btrflywngs.org

Email:        btrflywngs@msn.com

 

 

 

Writing.  By putting my thoughts and feelings on paper, I am able to get them out of my head and into a more concrete form.  Over time, this allows me to review my thoughts over and over to gain perspective and ensure that my healing process is progressing in the right direction.

 

 

Go to counseling.  Most people are afraid to seek professional help because it means "something is wrong" with them.  However, counseling gave me courage to find the answers and provided a clear path for the journey ahead.  After leaving counseling, I was able to continue my healing journey with tools that allow me to develop coping strategies and deal with new issues as I encounter them.

 

 

Take medications.  When my friend and counselor suggested anti-depressants, I told them I would only do so if it was absolutely necessary.  I felt that taking medications would only prolong the inevitable.  If I took meds, I would feel better, which would in turn make me feel as though there was nothing to confront.

 

While I do not disagree that medications are very helpful in combating depression and anxiety, I feel they are only a part of the solution to overcoming emotional distress. Over time, stress causes the brain to not only build up barriers, but decreases it's ability to produce the chemicals that lead to healthy function.  In order for one to have success in healing, he/she must learn to restructure their thought processes, which in turn will help return balance to the brain.  Only then can taking medications help one achieve stability.

 

 

1. Changing my perspective - for so many years, I had been taught that I was a nuisance, that I would never receive approval and love if I was not good enough, that I was bad if I accused another of hurting me, and that perfection was important.  It took a long time to realize that, when I thought these things, I was seeing the world through the eyes of my abusers.  I was looking at myself through the perspective of people who were very unhealthy and who held very limited views of the world.  Even in the face of these realizations, years passed before I was able to begin to understand that I was the opposite of everything they had taught me to believe.
    
2. Ending toxic relationships - as I stated before, I felt that I was a bad person if I ever admitted that someone else hurt me.  I thought I would be "bad" if I ended a relationship because someone hurt me repeatedly.  It was not until my father threatened to whip me, at the age of 26, that I realized that I was not bad for wanting to be treated with love and respect.
    
3. Distinguishing real and suppressed emotions - this has probably been one of the most challenging parts of the healing process for me.  Because touch was very rare in my childhood, I never learned how to associate the appropriate feeling with each type of touch.  When relationships become physical, the overload of emotions and the inability to understand them often causes me to bounce between closeness and distance.
    
    

Yes, the Christmas before I started counseling I just wanted to curl up and die.  I was just coming out of a very difficult relationship, and my issues with abuse began resurfacing.  I felt lost and alone, and for several weeks, I had suicidal thoughts.  The fear of messing up and living with even more pain was the only thing that kept me alive at that point.  It took some time for me to realize that giving up on life would be the same as giving up on the people that loved me ~ and that was something I could not bare to do.  Although learning to live again was something that only I could do, I was fortunate enough to have friends who understood what it was like to feel broken, and they helped me to see that there was hope for healing.

 

 

Letting go.  For years I held all of my anger toward my family and the pain that the abuse caused inside.  There were times that I would attempt to forgive by trying to purge myself of the feelings I had been holding onto, but the hurt would always come back.  Finally, I came to understand that forgiveness is not forgetting or excusing, but letting go of your need for vengeance so that you may not be consumed by it.

 

 

After I had been in counseling for about three months, I began to feel more comfortable with my feelings and was making progress in letting go of the pains of my past.  My counselor told me one day that he thought it was time for me to move on to better things, and that was my last session.  It was a wonderful feeling to know that I was finally capable of coping, on my own, with something that had consumed my life for so many years.

 

 

Even though it hurts to watch your loved one go through something difficult, please understand that we must do this on our own.  Healing is an active process, which requires participation from the survivor.  Please resist the urge to rush in and "fix" everything because it causes us to feel as though we will never be able to cope with or control the problems that we face.  Love us, support us, and walk with us along the way.  That is all we ask, it is what we need, and it will help us more than you will ever know.

Fading

 

What have I become -

An empty shell of me

Love, joy, peace, and light

No longer do I see.

 

Hope leaves me alone -

And so too do my dreams;

Shades of me fading

Into the scheme of things.

 

Gone now is the love -

And laughter that did ring;

Tears stream from these eyes

No more my heart does sing.

 

� 2002 ~ Kylee Jones

 

 

Ode to Innocence

 

Innocence - how it fades away;

How quickly it doth depart.

Before the knowledge it exists,

It disappears from the heart.

 

Shimmers like a silver moonbeam;

Dances thru mists of night.

Organza ribbon to which I cling,

Sparkles translucent in the light.

 

Shadows eclipse the shinning stars;

Bring with them a bitter chill.

Fill me up with quiet sadness,

Evil from within I feel.

 

� 2002 ~ Kylee Jones

 

 

I am a ...

 

To the little girl inside:

 

How do I begin to tell you how I feel - to say how sorry I am for ignoring you for so many years?

 

For years I lived in fear of you because I didn't know who you were.  I thought you were a shadow who sought to do me harm.  Your whispers haunted me, and your knocks at my hearts door sent chills down my spine.  Each time I caught a glimpse of you in the darkness, I ran the other way.  It was terrifying to know that there was someone else lurking in the depths of my very soul.  I did not want to be trapped by your secrets because I was afraid I would never see the light again.

 

But one day I finally realized who you were.  I finally understood that you did not wish to hurt me, you just wanted to be understood.  You only wanted someone to listen to the pain you felt inside.  You reached out when you saw me because you wanted to be understood.  Just like me, you wanted to be loved, accepted, and hugged.

 

I know it's too late to save you from the darkness, but I want you to know that I am here now.  I will always be here for you.  When you need me, I will listen.  If you wish to cry, I will dry your tears.  I won't ever forget you again.

 

With all my love,

Kylee

I really don't know what to say except that I appreciate your apology.  I know that sounds harsh, but I never thought I would hear those words from you.

When grandmother died, what happened with you and [my brother] at her funeral really upset me.  It was like watching every hateful moment you had ever had toward mom all over again, except it was through [my brother] this time.  After that day, I decided that the three of us needed to sit down and talk things out.

Then, at Christmas, when you "jokingly" threatened to whip me, at the age of 26,  for not wanting to be in a picture with [my brother] and his new family, I realized that things would never change.  I could not believe that you would  threaten me, joking or otherwise, with something that had hurt me so deeply as a child.  It was then that I understood that, if I was ever to save myself, I had to walk away.

I know it hurts you to hear this, but you have said many things to hurt me too.

There are lots of things you do not know because I knew I could not trust how you would react.  Because of your idea of love, you spent all your time trying to "fix" me as a child instead of trying to figure out what was actually causing me to be broken.

After I replied to his message, I read his e-mail again and realized that the "apology" he made was not an apology for his actions, but for my misperceptions of them.  Although I misunderstood his original intent, it gave me and opportunity to express my feelings without fear of judgment.  Barriers that had been standing in my heart for most of my life fell, and I finally began to feel and own the pain that I had always tried so hard to hide.  My father has not responded to my e-mail, but it does not matter.  What matters is that I was finally able to find my voice and speak out against the pain that he has put our family through.

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