Hello Faithful Reader,
I hope this month's issue of "The Black Birdseye View" reaches you in high spirits and good health. I'm doing well 😊. I'd be delighted to extend a personal invitation to you for my book signing event for "Secrets on a Hill in Chocowinity, NC." I'll be present for a chat and to autograph your copy. It would be wonderful to see you and your loved ones there.
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Brave Survivor and Esteemed Author Robin Mills Set to Appear at Barnes and Noble in Raleigh, NC
Raleigh, NC – September 2023 – Child sexual abuse is a deeply troubling and complex issue that affects countless lives and has profound, long-lasting impacts on survivors. The alarming reality of this abuse is often obscured by underreporting and the betrayal of trust involved, reflecting a grave societal problem that demands attention and understanding.
Many instances of child sexual abuse go unreported, or the reporting is delayed. Therefore, the statistics provided here might not fully capture the actual extent of the problem. While there can be variations in the numbers found across different studies, the research typically reveals some alarming trends.
In the United States, approximately 1 out of every 4 girls and 1 out of every 13 boys experience child sexual abuse. These numbers alone cause concern, indicating the pervasiveness of this grave issue in society.
A staggering 91% of child sexual abuse is committed by individuals known and trusted by either the child or the child's family members. This betrayal of trust adds a layer of complexity to the challenge of preventing and addressing this form of abuse.
The cumulative financial impact of child sexual abuse in the United States is also substantial. It was estimated to be at least $9.3 billion in 2015, reflecting the profound economic burden of this serious issue. This figure encompasses the immediate costs associated with medical care and legal proceedings and the long-term financial toll such trauma can have on victims and society.
To shed light on this pervasive issue, brave individuals like Robin Ess (Mills) come forward with their personal stories of resilience and triumph. Ess, a survivor and author, will participate in a book signing/discussion in Raleigh, NC, on September 16, 2023, sharing her harrowing tale and serving as a beacon of hope for others who have endured similar suffering. Her story, along with staggering statistics on child sexual abuse, emphasizes the urgency and importance of confronting and addressing this devastating problem. This appearance reinforces her steadfast commitment to engaging her past and inspiring others on similar journeys toward healing.
Robin Ess and Barnes & Noble extend a warm invitation to everyone interested in hearing from this courageous author, understanding her journey, and participating in this critical dialogue about domestic violence, child abuse, and mental health. Please join us in welcoming Robin Mills as she takes another bold step in her ongoing journey of healing, advocacy, and triumph over adversity.
Save the Date / Time / Location: Raleigh, NC, Barnes & Noble (5959 Triangle Town Blvd Unit 2107 / Triangle Time Center) store. September 16, 2023, 3pm-5pm
About Secrets on a Hill in Chocowinity, NC – www.secretsonahillinchocowinitync.com
About Barnes & Noble: Barnes & Noble, Inc. - is the largest retail bookseller in the United States and a leading retailer of content, digital media, and educational products.
Prologue from Secrets on a Hill in Chocowinity, NC by Robin Ess (Mills)
Prologue
The year was 2002. I was a student at Indiana Purdue University studying philosophy and anthropology. I was divorced with 4 children and in a relationship that was holding on by a thread.
On my way to campus one day, I suddenly had tunnel vision. It was like I was looking through a peephole. When I walked across campus, it was as if I were in slow motion. I thought the walls were caving when I stepped on the elevator. I could not breathe. When I finally arrived at the class, my whole body trembled from the inside out. It wasn't good. I couldn't hold a pen steadily because my hands trembled uncontrollably… That's pretty much how I ended up in therapy the first time.
The funny thing about trying to get away from whatever you're running from is that the whole time you're running away, you're so busy looking back to make sure whatever you're running from hasn't caught up that you steadily run into new sets of misfortune. I have always been running.
I felt consistently tired, tried, angry, disappointed, unprotected, unloved, suicidal, out of control, generally disgusted, and at the end of my rope for most of my 20s through late 40s (I am 53 now). I wore black on purpose back then. I mourned everything. I mourned what should have been but never was.
The past resurfacing was the opening of a can of worms waiting for their chance to escape. Amid a severe bout of self-diagnosed depression, I was forced to look at memories I had buried on purpose long ago. I'd patted them down to suppress them. One thing old folk say about pressure is it bursts pipes. One day, the pressure of everything I'd tried to forget exploded around me, and from that moment on, life was a daze. To eyes that didn't know better, I was well put together. Little did they know I was holding on by a dangling thread.
My friend LaToya encouraged me to seek professional help. She said I needed help with processing my thoughts and feelings. Up until that point, I had never even thought about therapy. I never saw therapy as embarrassing. I saw it as a weakness, but I made myself go.
I'm a proud woman, so the sign that said "Psych Support" really big on the door was a problem for me. I wondered who thought putting the words "PSYCH SUPPORT" in large font on the front door…real big was a good idea. In my world, no one wants to be seen going through that door. It made no sense at all. I sat in my car, willing myself to get out of the car and go through that door. Heavy tears hid behind my eyes as I opened the door. I walked through it, announced myself at the front desk, and was told to have a seat. I sat, willing myself to remember to breathe and not to cry. I looked around and noticed that something was off. People in the waiting room were rocking, tapping their feet or fingers, and making loud outbursts. Naturally, I told myself those people were way worse off than me. I got to thinking that maybe I was in the wrong place. Everything about this doctor's office was dusty. I wondered if I looked dusty, too.
I can't remember my first therapist's name. I believe it was Julie. She was a young white girl. Real laid back. She painted her nails during my appointment. I entered her office for the first time. I noticed that the office was bright and airy. She introduced herself and asked me to come in and have a seat. She got right to the point,
"So, why do you think you are here?"
she asked, looking casually at me.
"To fix me,"
I replied.
"What do you think needs fixing?"
she asked.
"Me. I am broken from a lack of a mother's love."
I replied.
She straightened up in her chair and asked,
"Do you have symptoms?"
That's when I told her how sometimes I feel like I'm outside of myself watching, how I'd become detached and isolated, and about my experience when I arrived on campus that day. I watched to see her reaction.
She said, "Well, those are symptoms,"
I told my therapist my story and confided how I felt when I told Gail what happened to me when I was a little girl, and her cold-hearted response was,
"If he never did it to me, why should I think he did it to you?"
I didn't speak to Gail for over a decade behind that statement. Gail was the one person I thought would always have my back. I was wrong.
I told my therapist how I tried to tell Dan what Jackal did, only to have him say (twice),
"I don't wanna talk about that. I don't wanna talk about that."
I explained to the therapist how I could recount what was said and done like nobody's business…but I have never remembered the specifics of the molestation.
I told the therapist I had very few memories of elementary school. Most people I know can remember who their favorite elementary school teacher was. My first memory of my teachers' names is in middle school; even then, it's foggy. My therapist told me that in many cases, a person, especially a child, often blocks out memories they don't want to remember. I told my therapist how when my girlfriends and I got together and talked about our first sexual experiences, they all talked about how painful it was and how they bled. I sat quietly listening, not understanding why I didn't feel pain and didn't bleed. I took a deep breath. It was all too much. I sat, crying silent tears in front of a stranger. I cried from the most profound depth of my spirit. The deeper we delved into my story, the more she'd tell me,
"It's amazing how well-adjusted you are, considering your unstable foundation.
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