United States Army top security clearance.  Chief Warrant Officer. Ex-marine. Worked at the National Security Agency in MD.  Went to church. Taught bible school.  Helped with Girl Scout events and projects. Bowled on the base. Fished with friends. 

Imagine a happy family - church going every Sunday and at least one night a week for bible study or youth group.  Active in the military community, had friends over for games and dinner.  Bowled in the base couple league. Went on military sponsored trips as a family. Vacations, holidays, and other activities like any other family would do.

The lights would go off and this US Military Officer, ex-Marine, educated degreed, top security clearance - would take off his mask and become a rapist, pedophile, master manipulator, angry, violent violator.

He would take advantage of his position as father and he would threaten and use scare tactics to get what he wanted. He groomed us.  He wanted to make sure that we would play the game and we would do what he wanted.  He wanted to make sure that he would never be found out.  

And us...young innocent children didn't know any better.  What we did know was that this man controlled us, we had no way to put words to what was happening for anyone to be able to understand, because we didn't understand.

We were children.  When children are faced with a situation that is overwhelming, where there is no escape or way out, children learn to "go away" in their head.  That is what I did.  Like watching a movie, it was as though I was watching everything that was happening to me from a distance.  This aides in why details aren't remembered fully.  Somewhat like an out of body experience.

I was afraid, I was afraid of the threats that he made.  As I got older I was afraid that no one would believe me.  I was also very afraid of the consequences for myself and for my abuser.

I would blame myself, as I got older.  Why didn't I stop it, why hadn't I spoken up, why, why why.  Shame and blame drive silence and when you are a child, you are held captive - not only by the abuse, but by all the emotions and thoughts in your head.

I am sharing all this - because we have to change - we have to understand that abusers are not slimey scum people from the gutter. 

Child sexual abusers are everyday people.  Larry Nassar (gymnastics doctor), Don Delosh (US Army Officer), Mike Tyson (boxer), Jerry Sanduski (Penn State Football), Jared Fogle (Subway), priests, pastors, coaches, lawyers, military, teachers, scout leaders and the list goes on.  These are everyday people with everyday lives. Some are famous, some aren't.  

We as a society and the world, need to take the time to listen and believe.  Not question, not victim-blame, but we need to take a step back and truly listen and believe.

Things not to say to someone (adult or child) who is breaking the silence of their abuse:

1. Why didn't you say something sooner.
2. Of course he/she loved you, why would they ever do that to you?
3. Fathers have a special kind of love for their first born daughters.
4. Did you do anything that could have been misinterpreted?
5. What were you wearing?
6. Did you ask for it?
7. Why didn't you stop them?

It is time for us to break the norms, it is time for us to realize abusers come in all shapes and sizes, all types of careers, all types of backgrounds, all types of communities - they can and do easily look like the perfect person in the community.  We have to stop - pay attention and BELIEVE SURVIVORS.

“Being quiet and hidden is no longer an option.” – pennie
#SexualAbuseAwarenessMonth #ChildSexualAbusePreventionMonth

This blog entry is not a blog of excuses, this blog is the hard reality I have come to and want to share this journey with you.  It is extremely hard to admit when I am wrong, it’s especially hard to admit when I really need to self-reflect and change myself.  I wanted to share this, in case there is anyone out there struggling with the same or something similar.

My oldest son graduated in June of 2018.  It was a hard couple of years.  He was doing what teens at 16-18 should be doing, stretching their wings, tasting freedom and taking on more responsibility.  It was hard.  He had always been my guy.  We were so close his entire life and all of a sudden he was gone off with friends, music and school activities.  I was so concerned about what he was doing; I didn’t trust him and at the time he hadn’t done anything that would cause me to think otherwise.

As time went on, I was harder and harder on him.  Pushing him on grades, lecturing him constantly on what to do, yelling when I thought things weren’t going correctly, and really making life miserable on all of us, especially him.  He was trying to figure out who he was, he was fearful of adulthood that was coming quickly and he was trying to find his way through all of the struggles and pressures on teens.

I would lose temper more times than i care to count and looking back I have said things and acted ways I am completely embarrassed to even share.  I would challenge his every move, I would track him on his phone, I would call him and quiz him and the list would go on.  I so badly wanted to assure that he was always doing the right things.
During this time I pushed him further and further away.  There was a lot going on his world, terrible girlfriend, bad breakup, emotionally draining friends, school struggles, life struggles and more of the same.  I wasn’t the parent that I needed to be to my son at that stage in his life.  His anxiety and depression grew and I was no longer the person that he wanted to confide in or talk to, most of the time.

I had to step back and really self-reflect.  I had to figure out what was going on inside of me and figure it out quick.  As a child I had very limited control over my life or myself.  My body wasn’t mine to control, my emotions weren’t mine to control, my life wasn’t mine to control. The fake smiles that everything was always ok and the push to always be perfect was my reality. I was told what would be done with my body, what clothes to wear every day, what activities I was allowed to do and who I was allowed to be around. I can’t even imagine what my first 18 years would have been like in the age of social media and smartphones.

After therapy and hypnosis the reality became clear – my need to control my life and my world – became a need to control my children.  To do everything in my power to assure that they do the right things or what is right in my eyes. This need caused my oldest great struggle and stress and was beginning to affect my youngest. I pushed and pushed hard – impacting our entire family. After another session of hypnosis – releasing my need to control everything – focusing on what I needed to change in myself so that I could be the best version of myself ultimately helping me be a better parent, I felt a complete release. It was as though the weight of the world came off of my shoulders.  I have moments now, but I stop and think hard about my reaction. 

I never knew the full impacts of my childhood trauma.  The impacts of which subconsciously control my life and those of my family and friends.   I still don’t know all the impacts, but I am learning over and over again.
Parents, guardians, families…stop and take a look in the mirror, what are we passing on to our children, that belong in the past? I have decided our job is to equip our children to be the best version of themselves as they can be and for them to find their way to share that with the world.
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xo
“Being quiet and hidden is no longer an option.” – pennie
 

You probably recognize this photo, as the picture on the cover of "Brave and Unbroken."   The picture represents so much of my childhood in one shot.  That is me around 2/2.5.  This is the living room of the house that we lived in while stationed in Texas.  Next to me on the left is a play phone, representing the child in me as well as the wind up radio - I had a lot of fun with those toys.  I loved to play telephone and tell stories, pretending that I was talking to my mom on the other end of the line.  I would wind up the radio and my mom and I had dance parties around the house.

The legs that you see to my right, are my abusers'. My biological father that admitted to sexually abusing me from the time I was an infant.  He was a smoker, he was inconsiderate and controlling.  When it came to his smoking, he smoked any where he chose, he didn't care who was around.  He would smoke cigarette after cigarette.  Ashes would fall of and go everywhere and it never seem to phase him. 

He was a groomer. He was grooming me for his sexual pleasure. He would play some of these games with me - then he would get to where he wouldn't and he would watch me beg him for his attention and for him to play with me.  From an early age, he would make me feel important and joke with me as though I was a lot older.  His jokes were as though he was talking to an adult, he would tell me how much he loved me and what my jobs were to keep the family together, as early as 4 years old I remember him saying those things.

His legs, in this photo, represent his physical presence everywhere I was.  He was always present, besides work. As I got older he would stalk me where ever I was.  Watching me at all my extra curricular activities, watching me from across the street during recess at school and always making sure that I was aware he was there or had been there. He would watch my every move.  I still don't know how he could miss work to come and stalk me all the time.

This photo represents my childhood being ripped away from, it represents the grooming pedophiles are so good at, it represents the silent violence that occurred day after day between the walls in which we lived. My fake smile trying to keep every one on the outside in the dark and everyone on the inside protected.

One in ten children are being abused. They are being abused by parents, grand parents, siblings other relatives, close friends and other children...we as adults have to stop the cycle and prevent child abuse.

We need to preventing the children from being thrown into the river, we need to move upstream and educated and stop the children from being pulled in.  That is our responsibility...being abused is not the child's fault. EVER.  

Guilt and shame is a real struggle for those of us that have been sexually abused.  No one wants to hear the details.  Everyone wants to victim shame and time and time again victims are asked what they did for the abuse to happen.

Children aren't asking nor have they asked to be abused.  I guaranteer my infant self - weeks old - didn't asked to be sexually manipulated by my biological father.

We must step up, do the hard things and stop child sexual abuse.

www.braveandunbroken.com
Stewards of Children Training - 8/21/18, 6-8p, Puyallup City Library, $10, Adults Only

The time has come to stand tall and Be LOUD.

xo
​pennie

My life is a bit messy - seems to have always had some bit of messiness.  I was thinking about social media today and how there are so many wondering things happening in people's lives.  That makes me happy. I know for me - most of the time I share the happy times, the fun pictures, the best moments - but in reality life isn't always peaches and cream.  

Like the time that I was in 8th grade and I had written in my girls bible study workbook that I wanted to end my life.  It was a hard time, I don't know that I would have ended my life, didn't know if I could actually follow through or not.  But it felt better to write it down.  My life was nothing but messy secrets.  It was full of masks...each day or moment, depending on what I was going to be doing or who I was going to be with, I would decide which version of me to take out.  

That day - I wrote that I wanted to take my life, I could imagine that ending the spinning in my head - would sure be nice.  I couldn't see any way out of it, except for something drastic.  The few hints I droped a couple people didn't trigger anyone to ask or to check more into my questions - and so I was alone in my own little world and in my head once again.

The day that I wrote those words, the announcement came over the intercom, during Ms. Henry's class. She was a strong, powerful woman of color and she was a woman that I thought very highly of.  "Ms. Henry please send Pennie Delosh to the office, her mother is here." 

My heart started to race, my mother never came to school, there were no appointments planned, no special events and I knew I never missed school for anything fun...so this couldn't be good.  Ms. Henry asked me to grab my things and head to the office. I did just that.

There stood my mother - 4'10" tall, fire red hair, pale skin and a look on her face as though she had lost her best friend.  She called me over to follow her out of the office and come be out of earshot of others in the hallway.  There she stood.  The grip of her hand on my arm was tight, she was holding my bible study workbook in her hand.  My heart sunk.  I never wanted her to know what I wrote.  I protect my mom, that was my job.  Do everything in my power to assure she doesn't ever experience any pain or hurt. 

My mind raced, what was she going to say, what was she going to do, that is when I noticed the tears streaming down her face.  She was expressing her hurt, anger and pain.  I played it off a bit, told her what she wanted to hear.  I was fine, wasn't going to do anything and that I was just seeking attention.  My mind raced, if I told her the truth, that my father was coming in my room nightly and raping me...that he was grooming me day after day to be his sex slave - to 
keep my family together,"she would be devastated.  She thought my writing these thoughts were bad, I could only imagine what would happen if she knew the truth.

The truth of the matter is - messy is real.  That is me...real and messy.  Abuse, my mother's cancer battle...climbing the corporate ladder as a woman and with only an associates degree...messy is the only word for it.  It's not been easy like many others.

Most of us have some messy - find your tribe - be truthful, honest and vulnerable...sharing your truth allows for others to find the space to share their truth. And the cycle begins...we all become truth tellers - sharing and asking for help and love and care and concern.  Truth tellers - voices - that is my wish for us all.  

Join me, won't you?
-xoxo pennie

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This weekend I had the privilege of sharing Brave and Unbroken with many of you.  I feel completely overwhelmed.  I have received many messages since the weekend regarding the book and the message of Brave and Unbroken.  My eyes tear up as I think about it and my heart races.  Nothing compares to the feeling of knowing my vision of Brave and Unbroken, is actually doing what I hoped.

When taking on a project like Brave and Unbroken, I knew I was putting my story into the world and wouldn’t ever be able to take it back.  I have shared my background and experiences at a very high level for many years, but this memoir shares details that most have no idea about.

Growing in a home of abuse forces you to never share the real you, your true authentic self.  Being sexually abused by your father forces you to constantly scan the horizon and assure you are protecting everyone around you and you are always putting yourself to the side.  Never did I think this day would come, the day when the courage to stand tall and put my life into the universe, would come.  Never did I think I would be able to muster the courage or the voice to share the truth of my soul, the truth of a child whose childhood was stolen.
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I have told everyone that has asked what the purpose of this memoir is, the purpose was simply this – to help one survivor, somewhere, find the ability to speak their truth.  Not to scream it loud, but to share with someone else.  Healing occurs when one can share their truth with even one person. That is what Brave and Unbroken is all about.
Someone recently told me, “but I am broken.” No you aren’t.  Your childhood was taken from you without your permission.  You are Unbroken and no matter what – your voice will find its way out.  Your strength and courage is deep inside of you. You are not alone.  I see you, I hear you, and I acknowledge you and your truth.
“Being quiet and hidden is no longer an option.”
 
Xo
Pennie

I turned 45 this past Sunday, and I now know that I can say, with the utmost certainty, I feel comfortable in my skin.

Since I was 16 I have colored my hair. Genetics are a crazy thing and gray hair started showing up at 16. I worried about being seen older than I really was and wanted to make sure my hair stayed young looking. My hair was also something I could control, in a world where I had very limited control.

Over the past 6 months I have become more lax with my hair, to the point a few months ago I went completely gray. Then I was bored with it, so I decided to go a salon. Rather than all over color, we used my gray and accentuated some fun colors.

The red highlights to my gray were for fun, I have no reason to hide the natural color of my hair, I have had people ask me where I had the gray done and how much it cost me!!

It has taken me a long time, but I am finally there, fully 100%, comfortable in my own skin. I have been criticized, chastised, belittled about my weight, my hair, my voice, who I am...I am over it.  As Brené Brown says...

"If you’re not in the arena also getting your ass kicked, I’m not interested in your feedback.
If you have constructive criticism you want to give me, I want it.
But if you’re in the cheap seats, not putting yourself on the line, and just talking about how I can do it better, I’m not interested in your feeback."

There is a small list of people that I care what they think, but for the rest - don't throw tomatoes from the stands - come directly down to the arena and look me in the eyes - then we will talk.

Today, a guy on the streets of Bellingham said, “Hey girl with the candy cane hair,” I turned to see who he was talking to, he stops to look at me directly, “you look great in your new car.”

Girl with candy cane hair, I finally made it...cheers to the next 45+.

Dig deep and find your “girl with the candy cane hair.”

xoxo

-p

When you saw the title of this blog post, or the picture associated, what did you think?  What did you feel?  Did you want to open it up or did you want to go by the blog and move on?

​I have been working on a memoir.  As I hung up from finalizing the cover to my upcoming memoir, my son asked a question, that caught me off guard.  He reviewed the cover and then he asked, "Are you writing this book to sell or are you writing this book to help people?" I thought about his question for several moments before answering.

I said, I am hoping to help people, but if I could sell a few books along the way, that would be great too.  He said, "Well you might help some people, but no one will buy it with that word on the cover." I couldn't imagine what he meant.  That I asked what word he meant, he quickly replied, "Incest."  He spoke the word with caution, with almost a whisper.  It was just the two of us in the entire house.  I wasn't sure why he was so cautious and quiet.  

Then he explained that people do not like the word "Incest."  He informed me that the word is taboo and that it makes people uncomfortable.  He felt that I needed to change the word so that I could sell books.  I thought a few moments before responding. I realized in that moment, that my 18 year old, who doesn't watch the news much, was sharing with me what I am bothered most by our society...and he is right.  

We don't talk about incest.  My son thought most people thinks it means sex between cousins.  The official definition is the crime of having sexual intercourse with a parent, child, sibling or grandchild. (dictionary.com).  This is what my childhood was "INCEST"- yes all capital letters.  Its real, it happens and he is right, we do not discuss in our society.  

That is one of the greatest taboos, we don't talk about child sexual abuse (CSA), we don't deal with it and we don't hear from it.  Or in other words that are many that don't and can't.  The more voices we hear, the braver we become.

One of the reasons that the #MeToo movement frustrated me.  We tried to partner with #MeToo, but the reality is that people who are coming forward with me too, aren't necessarily survivors of child sexual abuse (CSA).  We are in the dark, we are in the shadows, we aren't seen and we are barely heard...solely because the topic is hard and the conversations are harder.  I ask people all the time, when they want to talk about my abuse, are they sure that they want to hear all the details.  One reporter asked why I ask that question.  

It's simple, the details are unfathomable by the human mind.  No one can understand why and how and who would do such things and its harder to believe if the perpetrator is someone they know, a person in the military, someone of authority, family and so forth.  

"Do you know how lucky you are?"  This is actually what a police officer said to me, when they arrived at my mother's home, the day that my mother called them to say that we had been sexually abused by our biological father.  I remember saying to him, "You call this lucky?"  He went on to explain that most mothers DO NOT stand by their chidlren.  They don't believe their children or they don't want to go against the man (father, step, boyfriend so forth).  Most would rather keep the man/woman rather than turn them in.  He also said, that most human beings won't believe our story of abuse or that our US Army Officer father could have done any of this to us. That incest isn't talked about and people would much rather turn a blind eye.

My son brought that all home for me that night.  The reality is that I may not sell many books with INCEST on the cover. I told my son that night, that I haven't really ever cared what people thin and I am not going to start now.  The time has come to start talking about it.  The time has come that children are heard and believed.  The time has come for my mother's reaction and proactivity to be the norm and not the exception.  The time has come that incest isn't taboo, but that it is something that we hear and discuss and listen and believe.  

As we start out April 2018, Child Abuse Prevention month - the time has come to hear the voices, help those that haven't found their voice - to find their voice and the time has come to be different and start changing by starting to talk, hear and listen.  The time has come that we survivors of child sexual abuse don't feel tarnished and shuned, but that we are tall and heard.  Its time for our voices to ring loud!

Please - hear, see and listen - victims and survivors need us to change the world. #BeLoudCSA
xoxo 

"Being quiet and hidden is no longer an option." - pennie saum

My grandmother says all the time "we are blessed."  There are many times I agree with her and some that I don't.  Four years ago, today, was one of the times, I just couldn't completely agree.  My mom was at the end of her 9 month battle with lung cancer.  After months of chemo and radiation, infections, multiple pic lines, hospital stays and transfusions...she finally crossed the finish line.  It wasn't a win that I wanted to celebrate, but it was a win nonetheless.  My mom had everything to live for and fought hard and received treatment clear till we brought her home on hospice.  

Her final weeks she rode in an ambulance every day, in excruciating pain, 2 blocks from the hospital for radiation.  Her one last hope, that she may fight the disease that taking over her body.  Her perseverance showed time and time again, how much she truly felt she had to live for, her children and her grandchildren.  The same motivation that enabled her to endure so many horrific things through her lifetime.

I get asked time and time again, "how did your mother not know?' So to that I share with you one of my posts from a while ago.  "Ode to My Mother."

I will never forget when the officer showed up at the house to take our first statements regarding our abuser (biological father) and the abuse we had survived, "Do you have any idea how lucky you are?"  I remember thinking that if this is called lucky I would surely hate to see what bad luck looked like. But what he meant that day was that - our mother called the police, she confronted the abuser as soon as she found out and she was standing by our sides holding us up.  This wasn't the norm, it was often that the mother would turn a blind eye and side with the abuser, father, boyfriend or whomever that may be.  A mother standing beside her children was unusual.  This officer made sure that we were very aware of how unusual this was.

And so I present to you my post "Ode to My Mother," Mother's Day 2011.  Thank you. Thank you for your support, your love and your continued awakening. The time is now.

Ode To My Mother....5/11/2011
The topic on my heart tonight is my MOTHER.  Yep....what an amazing woman.  She has been through hell and back.  To live in the house with my abusive biological father, to do everything that she could to protect her children, to be the best Mother in the world, to be there no matter what, even to this day.  To be the best Grandmother on the planet.  She is so full of love.

OK WAIT, your saying...go ahead...what are you thinking....how could 2 children be abused in a home and the Mother not know it's simple SHE WAS ABUSED TOO!!  If you have been reading my blog you know that I didn't know my brother was being abused or that my Mother was being abused.  My brother didn't know I was being abused or that my Mother was abused and my Mother had no idea that he was abusing the 2 of us.  The one common theme for the 3 of us, is that we thought by taking the abuse ourselves no-one and I mean no-one would suffer.  BOY WERE WE WRONG.

I will never forget that fateful night when my mother called me home from work, telling me that my brother had been abused by my biological father was abusing my brother.  My brother had taken the car (no license) and gotten home too late, by the time he got home, my mother was already home from work.  There she wait for him.  She made a comment that if my brother didn't shape up he would have to go live with my father, and all hell broke loose.  They were seperated at the time and the threat of the possiblity that my brother would have to go live with this monster sent my brother over the edge.

He began to talk to tell my mother all the terrible things that had been done to him and he continued to fill her on all the things that this terrible man had done to him.  She was in complete shock.  She called me I came straight home and my brother began to fill me in as well.  I was fuming mad.  I always thought if I had a sister that this would be the case, but not a brother.  Then I couldn't bring myself to tell her he had similar to me for all these years.  She was devasted.  Like someone had tore her heart out of her chest and put it back. He was so manipulative, calculated,etc.....he had us all convinced that we couldn't talk about it or we wouldn't see eachother again, let's just say he was good at what he did.

SO needless to say over the next 3 days everything came out, the police came for interviews etc.  The only thing to this day she always said she was trying to protect us from everything....but couldn't protect her children from the inside.  She was remarkable.  Unlike a lot of mother's that go through this, my mother stood by our side.  Even the lawyers, judges, counselors, etc said that we were very luck that most mother's stand by the man, father, etc...never ever do they stand by the side of the kids.  Can you imagine a mother not supporting their children??  I was in such shock.  My mother has always been so devoted to us, can't imagine a parent not standing by their kids.

Happens more time than not I have learned.

So -- tonight's blog is dedicated to a mother that loves and cherishes her children, that is totally dedicated to them and feels so terribly guilty all of these and still about what happened.  But you know what KUDOS to my mom for taking action and making a different in tow kids's lives....THANK YOU MOTHER FOR STEPPING UP AND SAVING US.  We love you.

Love to all, praying for lives to be changed.
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