Cats & Kids

What if they could all choose where they wanted to live? Sid adopted me about four months ago. He showed up. He stayed. My home has become a cat haven… When I moved into my condo over two years ago I inherited a mama cat & four six-week-old kittens. They were living on my patio. It was the perfect cat-lady-starter-kit on my door step. I found a home for one kitten, but that still left me with four. Everyone, Riley, Tobi and Tate, got sprayed at four months. Well, everyone except Neytiri (the mom). I couldn't catch her. Then, I watched in horror as she got pregnant. Again! Everyone got locked inside. No boys allowed. Six babies were born exactly two months later. I loved & hugged on those babies every day. They were good therapy. All but Feisty found a new home. I was down to five cats. Finally Neytiri & Feisty were also spayed & everyone was free to go back outside. Suddenly, my Neytiri disappeared. I searched to no avail. Then just before Christmas the condo HOA said I needed to bring all the cat food inside because they were afraid I was also feeding stray cats. I was thinking: of course I am. They’re all stray cats and you should be paying me to feed them.  I've cut down on the cat population by spaying six of your baby makers! Anyway, the food came inside, but the slider stayed open enough for my kitties to come in & out. That’s when I realized I had two other cats. Max. The biggest black cat I've ever seen. Not fat, big as in 44” from his nose to his tail. His body is over two feet long. I think he's part panther. Love that big guy. And the adorable green-eyed ginger kitty Sid. The biggest shock was waking up to a raccoon, looking at me, at night. Yes. In my house. The slider it's now locked in a position that only a cat can fit through. Raccoon problem solved. So back to Sid. I got him neutered. He got his shots. He became a permanent fixture on my couch. A couple of weekend ago. My girlfriend & I hear a couple talking outside. Woman: "Look. It's Joker. He's looking at me. He's inside that house. Joker. Come Joker. He's not coming to me. Why won’t he come? He’s just staring at me." Man: "That cat is no good. Leave him. Come on. Good riddance." Woman: "I can't believe he just left me. Oh well." And that was that. Away they went.  We stepped into the living room. Sure enough. Sid, aka Joker, is sitting at the slider looking out. I ran outside to see if I could catch them, but they were gone. I never even saw them. I wanted them to know I didn’t “steal” their cat. The slider was ajar. They could see that. And Sid wasn’t about to leave. They haven't come for him. I guess he's really mine now. Many of you know, I also take care of my neighbor kids. Since this happened, I’ve been thinking, I bet I'd have a few of them permanently living with me, if they, like cats, could just go where they wanted and stay; where they were loved and fed and cared for. But they can't. I'm glad they at least know they can come here and get hugs and love and food, if they're hungry. They know I care deeply about each of them. There are children all around us, just like my kitties, who are starving for love and a safe place. That's one of the reasons why I support Childhelp. It’s also why Trish and I started Butterfly Dreams for survivors. When you buy my art, 10% of every sale will be donated to ending abuse. It's a win-win for you ~fine art and a worthy cause. Here’s the link: Michal Madison Art Tobi, Tate, Riley, Feisty, Max, Sid and I send love and thank you for helping make a difference in the lives of children. ~m If you'd like to receive my email blog, sign up here.

Copyright © 2014 michal madison art, All rights reserved.

April Awareness

April. Child Abuse Prevention/Awareness. Sexual Assault Awareness.

Child Abuse. Sexual Assault. They've both touched so many of us. Changed us. Haunted our lives. Fearlessness became fearfulness. Confidence shattered. Insecurity grew. Second guessing became second nature. Adrenaline surged. Fight or flight became every response. We have endure one of the most horrific crimes imaginable. We survived.

Years have passed since the trauma was an actual event. But not a day passes that we don't feel traumatized by what happened. Sometimes it's only a brief fleeting thought. Other days it's too overwhelming for words. Our body remembers and rehearses the pain. It takes our breath away. We break down. We break through.

Bravely we face every day. Courageously we fight for the freedom of our souls. We cry out to Creator. We scream "NO!" We ask "Why?" We pound pillows. We kick heavy cushions. As we release the inner rage we become lighter. Our very existence becomes an inspiration to others. We become an Unstoppable Force for Goodness. Truth. Justice.

The wind whips around us. Nothing knocks us down. The rain pours on our parade. We dance in it and march on. In the depths of our spirit is an unquenchable flame. We are truth-tellers. We bring hope We empower others. We live love. We walk with grace. Once again we're fearless. Confident. Brave. We are Survivors.


In this newsletter you'll read on Victim's impact statement "Why? Daddy Why?" The wound go deep. You will learn the Signs Children Manifest when Being Molested. Share them with other. When you recognize a child is being hurt, do something. You will discover ways to empower children. Your eyes will be opened once again to the truth and pain of abuse through poetry by Penny Smith. You'll read words from our the CEO/Founder of Butterfly Dreams, and find out what's on our agenda this month.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it for you.

~ Michal Madison

Here's the link to the April 2014 edition of  Butterfly Dream Abuse Recovery Newsletter... http://1drv.ms/1h1QCXk

Your Story Matters

Your Story Matters   

"Alone we whisper. Together we roar." ~ Faith McDaniel

Topics like the one we shared tonight on Butterfly Dreams Talk Radio are haunting. Disturbing. As if a child could ever consent to having sex with an adult. It’s impossible. Legal? Accepted as “normal”? The thoughts raced through my mind like a pack of wild monkeys. My stomach was reeling. How could something so utterly terrifying, so life destroying, so evil as pedophilia be considered “ok” by anyone? How did this even become a topic for the show tonight? Did it need to be addressed? Absolutely! How can a small army of advocates and survivors make a difference against the appalling typhoon that is soon to hit the United States, as it has the United Kingdom?

We will need help that is more than human. Angel armies. We also need to join together like never before. Empower the children in our corner of the world. Do all we can to educate people and raise awareness of what abuse does to the child’s life.

And… Talk. Talk. Talk. Tell our stories. Let our voices be heard.

In the past I’ve been tempted to think, does my story really make a difference? I am not “A Child Called It”. Last week I was convinced once again, that every voice counts, ever story matters. I shared my life journey with over 200 students that were packed into a tiny auditorium, with standing room only, last Wednesday night. I shared my truth… told it like it happened. I could tell that the students were “with” me, really listening. When I walked off that stage, they broke into applause, as I was sitting down, they were all standing up, thanking me for being honest. My story. A standing ovation? Yes.

So many came up to me afterward to thank me. I left not only feeling validated, but knowing that I had changed the perspective of many in that room… opened their eyes to the reality of what abuse does to a child’s soul.

Several days later, I was told, there was still buzz on campus about my story. Saturday morning over three hundred people gathered for the Kappa Delta Shamrock 5K. Together we were running and walking to raise money for Childhelp. Together we raising awareness about child abuse. Before the race started, while we were all stretching and getting ready, student after student came up to me, thanking me again for sharing my story. Some had been unable to attend because of classes, but had heard about it. One young woman came up and said, “You have no idea what an impact you had on the guys who heard you. They are still talking about it. No one gets through to them. You did.”

I was honored and humbled at the same time. Here I had been thinking, “Does my story make that much of a difference?” For several months now, I’ve thought, I speak because I’m willing to speak, willing to say what happened. That’s why they ask me. I’m willing.

I realize now, that is what is going to make a difference. Not a bunch of facts or a list of after effects found on a google search, but personal stories. Your story. My story. All our stories added together. Because stories are personal. The facts are no longer in a long list of bullet points, they are real; they are attached to a living breathing human being. That is how we will roar. By talking & talking & talking & not stopping! No one can deny your experience, your life, your story. So speak up. Share it in every way you can: Sing it. Dance it. Paint it. Speak it. Write a poem or a story or a blog. Get your story out there for the world to hear and see. That is how we are going to stop the deluge of pedophiles saying “having sex with an adult doesn’t hurt a child”. That is how we will stop this hurricane that threatens the lives of children everywhere.

Speak Up. Roar!

Here’s the link to the article that started tonight’s Hot Topic: http://together-we-heal.org/2014/03/04/we-cant-prove-sex-with-children-does-them-harm-says-labour-linked-nccl/
Here’s a link to the show: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/butterflydreamstalkradio/2014/03/11/its-a-family-affair--pedophilia-should-it-be-an-accepted-act#.Ux3_QVi97gw.facebook
Here’s a link to my website: www.MichalMadisonArt.net/galleries.html. Art is one of the ways I tell my story. Selling my art is one of the ways I support child abuse prevention and awareness via: Childhelp (www.Childhelp.org) & Butterfly Dreams Abuse Recovery (www.ButterflyDreamsAbuseRecovery.com).

Roar my friends. Roar!
~michal madison

 

11 March 2014