Monday, October 28, 2013


I'm not the greatest fan of Hallowe'en. Don't know why. I find nothing particularly wonderful about seeing horrible masks, ghouls, freaks, cobwebs on trees and houses and all the other things that scare children ... and adults too for that matter.

Maybe it's because of my past, of living with someone of whom I was so frightened that I was too scared to go to bed at night. I still hear doors opening when everyone was supposed to be asleep. I see the thin shaft of light coming into my room and the dark, looming figure of a man ... my father ... carefully closing the door behind him and feeling his way in the dark over to my bed...

My monster was alive, real. He put on a different mask when friends were around. He was Mr. Friendly, affable, personable. He cared about his wife and child. But he didn't wait for or need Hallowe'en to terrify me. He just did.

Sorry if I don't get into the spirit. Oh I still give out the candies and smile at the sweet little princesses and angels who come to my door shyly saying "Trick or Treat". And I even write poems for them, and in my heart hope that the only monsters and ugly people they ever see in their lives are the other kids running around the streets in costumes on October 31st.

Viga Boland, NO TEARS FOR MY FATHER: a true story of incest

Sunday, October 20, 2013


One of the most devastating after effects of childhood sexual abuse and incest is the FLASHBACKS. For years, the victim may not have them. Then suddenly, they may smell something and it sets off a panic somewhere inside. Or they may hear a bit of music that triggers a memory of something horrid, unpleasant, but they're not sure what's happening. All they know is the memory hurts. It begins hurtling around their minds and try as they may, they can't get it to stop. It feels like it's consuming their minds. It's overwhelming, like screaming in the brain.  And once the flashbacks start, it seems to take less and less to trigger them and the vicious memories come harder, faster, deeper every time they strike. What is going on? 

According to Beverly Engel, author of "The Right to Innocence", as awful as flashbacks are, they tell you something very important about yourself. You are evolving; you are changing, growing emotionally even if you don't believe it. And as much as you despise how it makes you feel, like you were going insane, it's what I call, a necessary evil to recovery and healing. To repeat what I so often say in my private group at Facebook: "No pain, no gain". The longer you avoid facing the truth about your past and what happened, the longer you are going to suffer. As Beverly says:

“You cannot make yourself have a flashback, nor will you have one unless you are emotionally ready to remember something. Once remembered, the memory can help you to face more of the truth. You can then express your pent-up feelings about the memory and continue on your path to recovery. Think of the flashback as a clue to the next piece of work. No matter how painful, try to view it as a positive indication that you are now ready and willing to remember.” The Right to Innocence by Beverly Engel

So many readers of my book, NO TEARS FOR MY FATHER, have asked me how I got over it. How come I'm so "together" today.  Don't I have flashbacks? Yes, I do. Every day in fact. But the intensity isn't even remotely close to what it was 10,  20, 30, 40 years ago. It's more like the sudden storm that terrified me as a child but instead of running and hiding, I applaud how far I've come: it doesn't frighten me any more. Now it's just a reminder that I am free, no longer a prisoner of my past.

Saturday, October 19, 2013


Until now, while incest is the focus of my blog, I have generally spoken most about father/daughter incest, because that's what I know, and that's what I wrote about in my book, NO TEARS FOR MY FATHER. 

But over the past year, I've had the pleasure ... if that's the right word ... of meeting with and speaking privately with the many courageous victims of incest who are members of my private group at Facebook, SPEAK OUT FROM UNDER CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE in FAMILIES. What I have learned and heard from these valiant victim/survivors has moved me to tears, made me bristle with anger and made me what to scream "What's wrong with all you parents, the mothers and fathers, aunts, uncles, grandparents who know this is going on and refuse to acknowledge it or help the victim!"

Don't say you don't know. I don't believe you! I can't believe you! The truth is you don't want the truth to come out because of the embarrassment it might cause the family. Or some of you mothers are so damn dependent on your spouses, you sacrifice your daughter to her father's or stepfather's lust. Shame on you all! You are as disgusting and as despicable as the perpetrators because by your refusal to rectify the situation, you allow this to go on and on and be carried from one generation to the next, because sadly, statistics are showing that indeed many of the abused become abusers. Those subjected to incest as children grow up to sexually molest their own children. The domino effect of incest is real. Worse yet, incest is alive, well and happening, even between brothers and sisters. Don't believe me? With her permission, I share some of T's story of sibling sexual abuse, most of which occurred before she was 9:

"I would like to start by saying some people should not be allowed to have children, and if a child is unlucky enough to be born into that hell then they should be removed immediately. My mother was one such person. I grew up with 5 brothers and one sister. 4 different fathers. We were never stable moving from house to house and husband to husband. I can honestly say not one of my stepfathers ever touched me violently or sexually."

"Her (T's mom) first time away over night was when the abuse started. I pitched a fit at being left alone with R (T's brother), and she said to me 'Why do you have to be so selfish? I get very little time to myself and you are trying to ruin it. God punishes selfish girls'. 

R came into my room that night and told me we were going to play a game and if i got it right he wouldnt have to throw me out the window of my bedroom. I fought and he beat me and choked me (He liked to call me the C word- over and over again until any variantion was just a drone)  until i did what he wanted, vomiting in the process which brought another beating. For years i thought this was my punishment for being selfish.

Then next weekend brought another over night trip for my mom and another opportunity for R. I didnt fight that time, i was good and did everything he wanted even when he started touching me hard and hurting me. After he was finished he beat mr for being a whore and of course every variation of the c word known to man.  Every punch or kick i was told that i had done this, look at what i had done.

It didnt seem to matter what i did: I was sexually abused then beaten weekend after weekend and occasionally if My mother had a dinner date during the week. It was like she didnt see me, the bruises or any of it. She stopped looking at me. She would talk to me but look just above my head.

I went to my mom the next morning and told her what R had been doing to me. She looked at me for a long time, just a blank stare. I had no idea the slap was coming until I was on the floor. She  sounded so sad when she said 'You are from the devil. Why do my girls have to be lying troublemakers?' (I found out later that my sister have been sexually abused by several different men starting just before puberty). She stopped acknowledging my existence, pretended i wasnt there. I went to my room to hide and I heard her go out the front door with my little brothers.

I was completely alone in the house with R. He met me at my bedroom door as I was trying to run out and threw me against the opposite wall. Grabbed me by the hair and held me there while he ripped my clothes away, banging my head against the wall over and over ( i remember things going spotty and dark). I was crying for my mom to save me and he got really close to my face (i remember feeling him spitting when he talked) 'She said you are not worth saving, you little c**t'. He threw me to the ground and put his knee on my chest ( guess to hold me still) and i couldnt breath in, everything became black and i felt like i was floating away. I still think someone was looking out for me and knew i needed to be absent from my body. I still dont know what was done to me that night, I woke up naked and cold. I remember being so embarrassed that i had peed myself like a baby and there was blood on the floor. I couldnt get up, everything hurt so bad, even to scoot toward my bed seemed like it took hours and i was so afraid he would come back. i made it under my bed and against the wall at the back. I must have fell asleep and i dont know how long i had stayed there. I woke up and it was daylight and i could here my mom downstairs. I had peed myself again and needed to go again but i have no idea in actual time. i crawled to the bathroom and i my face and body were all dried blood and bruises. I washed away the blood and then washed my privates with the cleaner under the sink I think it was pine-sol, i contiued to do this until i was 12 and living with my sister. I was still bleeding a little from down there and i was sore but i was able to walk.

I went downstairs and my mom acted like nothing happened. She smiled and said 'Good morning Sunshine' like she did on her happy days but she didnt see me."

Sorry that was so long (the full story is longer) but if you managed to read it all, what are you thinking now? I know what I thought of T's mom and her abusive brother, R. And I ask you: how does this happen? What was with T's mom? How did T's brother turn into such a beast? And why did T's family take her brother's side when she finally lost it and attacked him at age 13? Thank you T for letting me share parts of your story that proves sibling abuse and incest is alive and well and may be happening in a house near you who are reading this blog.

Now, If you're a parent, do you really know what is going on between your children when you're not around?