Last Friday evening, my local university’s Womens Center held a “Take Back the Night” rally at our town square. Along with another wonderful presenter, I was asked to speak. So below is what I threw together on that day to share with the audience. I kept in my favorite quote from Martin Luther King, Jr. and message of awareness here as I had written into my presentation at the Soup Supper because I believe so much that we all need to be reminded that we can help.  I thought I would share it with you.

Peace,
Dawn

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Hello my name is Dawn and I am a survivor of violence.

When I heard there would be a Take Back the Night March and I was asked if I might want to share part of my experience as a survivor, my first thought was where do I begin?

Out of a mind numbing litany of painful days from six years of an abusive past — one day in particular — one 24 hour period — jumped clearly to the forefront of mind. It was what I call my worst day and my darkest night.

At the height of abuse in a relationship that started when I was fifteen and my abuser thirty two, I sat one evening in a dilapidated motel room with my boyfriend and watched with mounting dread as he drained the last drop of cocaine out of an exhausted pipe. I knew he was about to snap and he would do what had become a sick and twisted pattern he would lash out, punch me, hit me, slap me, pin me down in any cruel way he could and rape me to vent his rage. I began to cower as his lip curled and his bood-shot glare shot daggers of hate in my direction. He leapt up from his chair to grab me, and I made a mad dash for the door. I didnt make it and a struggle ensued. But this time it was different. This time his hands slipped and I miraculously was able to make a second try for the door and race out into the night.

Wearing only my night shirt and slippers I bound across a busy intersection and into a local convenience store, begging for help from anyone as I hid behind the store clerk. Nobody knew what to do with me. A young frightened couple agreed to take me somewhere safe after having seen my boyfriend lurking outside, but the only address I had was a long shot, a friend, who my boyfriend had long ago distanced me from. It was the only place I hoped I could go and spend a safe night.

The couple let me off on the street in front of my friends house and drove off, not waiting to see if I would find safety, only glad to be relieved of the responsibility of me. I approached her door, held my breath and knocked — then knocked again — then knocked again. There was no answer — and in the frozen fog of an early December morning, I shivered on the porch and cried.

After what seemed liked hours I gave in to the hopelessness and rejection of that closed door and made my way to the street to hitch hike back to my abuser. May be he would be sleeping. I could just sneak in and get warm, I told myself desperate to be somewhere off of the streets.

I did get a ride. Almost right away and for an instant I felt lucky. It took less than five minutes before the drivers hand was at my throat. Im going to kill you bitch he growled as he squeezed harder and drove far into the upper desert.

I cried and begged him not to hurt me. He told me to shut up. I plead some more and then I bargained. Please mister, Ill do anything you want, please, just dont kill me. He smiled and kept driving. At a desolate stretch of the highway he slowed down. I then took what was my only chance at survival and jumped out of the moving car. Bloody and bruised I ran towards a nearby onramp, flagging wildly at every vehicle that passed. To my great relief another couple, older this time, pulled over and let me in. I thanked them and breathlessly asked to be taken to the police.

The police systematically took down my story and checked my wounds. I had lost my slippers and tore my nightgown in the fall and was given a blanket to stay my shivering. Daylight crept in on us and I thought how this morning could have been so much different. I could have been lying on the side of the freeway, a rape and murder victim. When the police finished, they asked if they could take me to someones home perhaps back to my boyfriends.

I didnt understand. Why would they want to take me to him? I told them he hurt me. But I didnt say a word and exhausted I allowed myself to be driven back to my abuser.

He greeted us at the door and thanked the police for bringing me home to him. He put his arm around me and lovingly guided me inside, smiling and waving goodbye to the officers until the door was shut and they were gone. Then he turned to me and proceeded to savagely beat me, leaving me broken, bloody and alone for days.

In looking back, I dont know how I could be alive. I was a girl in a deadly relationship, who thought when she finally had the courage and opportunity to break away from her abuser she would be free and find help.

I wanted to shout please help me. I wanted someone to reach out to me and know what to do. I wanted someone to see me, see that I was in trouble and that I had been hurt. I wanted someone to be there with an answer, a solution, a number, a place anything.

But that wasnt the case. Instead it was a night where nearly every turn I made was more rejection and brutal assault.

If you are a victim or feel you are being victimized. If you know of someone who is or might be in danger, I URGE you to contact the womens center on campus or Shelter from the Storm and speak to someone who can help. We have numbers here at the table and flyers are being passed out. There are a broad range of services available for whatever stage of assistance you may need.

Lets educate ourselves. We can offer help. Real help. Please, dont let someone slip through the cracks because you didnt know they were reaching out.

I believe that we all have the ability to speak out against violence. We can all be the eyes, ears and temporary voice for someone who is in trouble. We CAN all be aware.

Before I go, Id like to make a shout out to my daughter. I want to tell her I adore her and think she is amazing.

Id like to end with a great quote from Martin Luther King, Jr.:

We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence of the good people.

Thank you. And. Peace.

Hello everyone and thanks for waiting for me to post about my trip to New York. Here are a few amazing photos of an event I will remember for a lifetime.

This is the place. Rockafeller Center, Times Square…The Rainbow Room.

Here I am graced by Eunice Kennedy Shriver, founder of the Special Olympics.

Then doubly graced by Eunice and her sister Patricia Kennedy Lawson.

Here is Benjamin Bratt with Earnestine and Hope, both Volvo For Life Recipients from the previous years.

I’m happy to share these with you, dear readers, if only to show you that even if you have been at the bottom of life, it is possible to get up, dust yourself off and stand tall.

Blessings to you all,

Dawn

Ahhhh….finally a moment to breath. Saturday was my local shelter’s annual soup supper. Everyone at the shelter has been working overtime in order to make sure all went well and I am honored to say that I was asked to be the quest speaker. Below I’d like to share with you my speech:

Hello.

I hope you are all enjoying your dinner and the excitement of the auction this evening. It’s wonderful to see the turn out here tonight, not only to raise money for support against domestic violence and sexual assault, but also to bring awareness of the existence of these issues in our very own community.

If you don’t already know me, my name is Dawn…and I am a survivor of violence.

I was fifteen years old and surrounded by adults when I fell into the hands of a thirty-two-year-old porn star. In my ordeal with my abuser I was repeatedly beaten, sexually assaulted, verbally, emotionally and mentally abused. When my abuser became addicted to cocaine, he made sure I was addicted too. The situation escalated quickly with the drugs, and it wasn’t long before I was violently forced to walk the streets and traded to drug lords for a score. Four people died one summer because they double-crossed the wrong person, and my boyfriend stood in the middle of the crime with the bloodiest hands. I was in constant fear that I would be next.

I was in what I knew was hell. Not only was I trapped, but due to the brainwashing I received by my abuser, I BELEIVED that even if I did escape, no one, not even my family, would ever want me again. Still the need to survive prevailed. I had to get out and I tried to run. Not once, but many times. Yet he was always two-steps ahead of me, ready to beat me back into submission, proving that any attempt to leave was futile.

I desperately needed to escape the insurmountable pain my life had become and although my mind occasionally provided a temporary solace of disassociation, the continued abuse pushed me to the ultimate edge — attempting suicide. Fortunately, my attempts were unsuccessful. However, I again remained trapped in that terrible cycle of abuse. At the end of almost seven years, I was finally rescued from my abuser by an intervention of neighbors. They were strangers really, who were shocked to witness the “nice guy” they knew as my boyfriend, beat me at the pool while they were having lunch. That year was 1981.

Like so many others of domestic violence I had no idea my life was like a page from a psychology book — full of classic scenarios and syndromes. I never really understood that I was not to blame or that there was any help out there for “someone like me”. I was left in a lot of trouble and with a dependency to drugs and alcohol. But the most debilitating residuals of the abuse were the remorse, guilt, shame, incessant sense of worthlessness, and post-traumatic stress disorder that clung to me like an ominous shadow.

Twenty-five years have passed since I last saw my abuser and in those initial years I stumbled through life. By trial and error I found recovery, counseling, and spirit, what I consider to be turning points for me.  I carried a quote by Anis Nin in my purse for years. The words, although simple, encouraged me to keep going on some of my darkest days:

“And the day came, when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk to bloom.”

Today, I have walked through my fears and dealt with my past trauma. I have a beautiful daughter who I adore and live a good, full life. I’m also a hotline volunteer and have the honor of working with other survivors as well as caring individuals whose lives were never touched by aggression – all of us dedicated to advocacy against domestic violence and sexual assault.

At Shelter from the Storm I have witnessed the commitment to raising the bottom for a victim and can truly appreciate how they provide opportunities to wellness. From the after care counseling programs, attention given to children, assistance with restraining orders, shelter, the amazing SART program, teen advocacy and much, much more. Services that weren’t available to protect me when I was fifteen, or help me after I escaped in 1981.

I have tremendous gratitude for the intervention that saved me from my abuser’s grasp, and the shelter I received afterwards. It was the beginning of stepping out of hell for me. I believe that we all have the ability to speak out against violence. We can all be the eyes, ears and temporary voice for someone who is in trouble. We CAN all be aware.

I’d like to end with a great quote from Martin Luther King, Jr.:

“We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence of the good people.”

Thank you.

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It was a bit difficult to get up and speak to an audience of over two hundred people, but the warmth and gratitude of many, made it worth it. We really CAN all be aware!

Happy Fat Tuesday!

Blessings,
Dawn

I am very grateful to those of you who are being so patient for news of my book and appreciate everyone of you.

I never thought in the beginning that it would take this long, but I also knew nothing about the publishing business. Although there is little I can do to expedite things, I want you all to know that I have been diligent with my efforts, never giving up or dropping the ball. Every rewrite or new write, that my agent has requested, I have gathered my strength, wits, and friends in order to complete her request, no matter how painful. I have my writing critiqued regularly by my local university professors and other writers in my area. I expand my knowledge of the hard truth of abuse by volunteering at my local shelter and being pro active in my community about the cause. I try to take care of myself, so that I am truly able to send a message of hope.

By living my life not only as a survivor, but as someone who no matter what curve balls life throws at me, doesn’t ever become a victim again, takes some practice and a lot of help. As some of you may have read by my recent posts, I have had some personal struggles lately. But I am not down. Thanks to many acts of kindness and love sent my way amazing things are happening and doors are opening. In particular, I want to give a shout out to a wonderful woman, an advocate, Sally Anthony, who is an amazing singer with a heart of gold. Her willingness to stand up and speak out for victims of domestic violence and sexual assault is truly inspiring. Thanks Sally, and I hope to be helping you raise awareness soon.

The wonderful thing is that word of mouth is growing strong and miraculously the book is gaining support.

Dawn

Hello Everyone,

This is a picture of a missing teacher from Georgia. Her friends have asked me to please post this message and I am happy to help. If you or anyone has any information regarding Tara Grinstead, please contact the email in the message below.

Thank you,

Dawn

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Hi Dawn,

I am a teacher in South Georgia, and a teacher in my school (Tara Grinstead) is missing. She has been missing for a month (Oct. 22). We are trying to get her picture and information out so maybe someone in the United States will recognize her and let us know if she is still alive. She is very well respected in Ocilla, GA and her hometown of Hawkinsville, GA. and we will love for her to come home. If you are interested in helping us find Tara, email me at angieregister (at) hotmail.com.

Thanks you so much Dawn!!!
Angie Register

Please help us!!!!!

Checking in with everyone of you who so faithfully come to read here and let you know I am okay….barely. I have run out of energy. Too many projects, difficult writing and unexpected emotional turmoil lately to find the energy to write a coherent post here. My apologies. I’m keeping the faith though, there is no doubt of that, but it has been a tough few weeks for me. A dear friend offered a wonderful weekend at his ranch in New Mexico last weekend and my daughter and I gratefully accepted. We had our own cottage on the river, beneath the majestic rocks and spent the days meditating and riding horses. It was so wonderful, like stepping into a warm, scented bathtub that washed all troubles away. Hard to come back, but at least now I know I am still breathing…and will continue to….no matter the heart aches, no matter the disappointments, no matter the…..

Be well friends. I will try to do the same.

Blessings,

Dawn

If I told you I have been busy, you may think, “what the hell, we are all busy!” So let me steal a second of my precious little time to say I sincerely believe my agent comes from hell. (Yes, I hope she reads this.)

She wants more….. More detail, thoughts, visions, senses, feelings, smells, sounds and any other sensations. More, more, more. Damn it. Doesn’t she know that I’m already ripping every shred of memory out from my roots. It hurts…and I just want her to tell me enough, “This is good Dawn, they will love it!”

To be honest, I really only want them to say, “Oh. I see. Interesting.” Or something similar to acceptance of the damn reality of the events. But NOOOOOO! Publishers want it all, I’m told. Argh. This is hard.

I have the hotline again this weekend. Last weekend the domestic violence calls just wouldn’t stop. Women in serious crisis, all needing real help; crying, unable to breath or think. They didn’t know what to do and their legs were cramping and they didn’t understand why. Why was this happening to them? “It’s not you,” I told them. “Nobody has the right to hit you. No matter what. Nobody! You deserve a good life. To be treated well.” The sad part is that they didn’t follow through. They never showed up for help on Monday to go to the safe house or get the restraining order. Damn. I know this made it harder for me to write deeper, like my agent wanted, about my own experience with John Holmes. Much harder.

For all of you who have been so patient for my book, here is the latest update. I have been overhauling the book as it had been written, by my agent’s instruction. She is tough. It seems it will not be released by late this year or early next. It is now in the hands of my agent and when she feels it will be ready to take to a publisher. “Soon, Dawn. It will be soon,” she tells me. But in agent-ese I’m really not sure what this means. I hope most of you can hold on, and if you can’t, I understand. Right ab0ut now, I’m not sure how I’m holding on with all of the rewrites she wants.

God, I hope the hotline doesn’t ring again today,

Dawn

Alright, I’m back. After being tagged by a an extremely bizarre person for the past ten plus months, I have decided to firm up my resolve and not be intimidated by the insanity of one sick individual anymore.

To fill most of you in, a woman, (who shall remain nameless), made claims to have been involved, (hidden in the closet), during the Wonderland murders. She asserted also that many other events took place that coincidentally rang parallel to what I experienced with John Holmes. Originally, she made these claims on another message board, stirring up a small group of posters who took it upon themselves to ask me, here on this site, to help her as a fellow survivor. I was compelled, yet what I knew of her story was extremely suspicious and my instincts warned me to stay clear of her and the “demands” to help her. In time, her story grew in unbelievability as I discovered her feigning to be a sweet blogger who loves basset hounds, the Navy and anything else my mother loved and wrote about on her own personal blog site. A site that has nothing to do with anything except family. This was an absolute invasion and insult to me.

I’m here to say I’m glad I listened to my instincts. Due to some wonderful investigative journalists and private investigators, everything this woman said to anyone, (and under every name she hid behind), was documented, researched and tracked. I am pleased to say this person has been exposed as a fraud. The facts revealed that she is a severely disturbed person with a history of placing herself into crime scenes and suffering from multiple personality disorders. This Wonderland story, it turns out, was just another place she was trying to make home. My sincere thanks to those who took her on and brought the truth to light. If you wish to read more on this story, I would direct you to the new link on this blog at www.8763wonderland.com. You may also find more information on the Wonderland gang and court hearings at this site by Rodger Jacobs.

So, friends. After a long spell of not really knowing who was a visitor with true intent on this site or a false presenter, I am now donning the war cry of Londoners and the world with respect to terrorism and coming back to post here without fear. This has indeed been the strangest of times.

Peace and blessings to all.

Dawn

This evening marks the 24th anniversary since the Wonderland murders. On this night, those many years ago, it would be the last evening four of the five people would ever spend here on earth. Everything was going to be great according to John when he left to go out that night, but we all know it didn’t turn out that way. Those four people never woke to see the sunrise again. All for what? A high?

I spoke to Sharon, to let her know I love her and hope she can sleep tonight. “I’ll be fine”, she tells me. But she can never sleep on this night, so I know she’ll be anything but fine. She will always be disgusted at the way John was involved, how he played a part in murder.

Thanks to Laura who made a comment here about how important it is to remember that the Wonderland gang, although very disturbed, were people too. That not only were their lives lost, but their families have had to endure terrible pain.

To Susan Launius who was left with the terrible wreckage of tragedy, may a world full of peace and blessings be yours.

Dawn

Hello Everyone,

Just a quick note to tell you that after a long wait my friend, Val Kilmer, has officially opened his website to the public. Congratulations Val. It looks awesome!

Check it out at www.valkilmer.com, and if you are in London, go see him in The Postman Always Rings Twice. I wish I could, it has got to be great.

Take care,

Dawn