AN Innocent Little Face

I am not sure if this post will actually be published tonite - I guess if you are reading it then I decided yes.
And even if I do publish it, I may not leave it on the blog for long - I'll see how I go.

Hopefully, when you read further you will begin to understand where I am at with this. I am not going to identify anyone with this post but rather keep it very open.

Today, I had yet another new experience. Not one that I ever want to repeat again, but I will if I ever find out similar information.

I had to sit in as a 'protector' or a 'trusted adult' on an interview with a child with Department of Community Services.  I am also not going to get into any political debate about any of this.  I feel honoured that this small person, who I have only known for a short time, felt that he could trust me enough yet other adults around him are so hideous.

I guess that this is my blog, and my space to vent, or let go of some things. Normally I relate some of the pathetic pieces of my life, and I know that I will return to this for my next blog post, as I have more to tell.

But tonite, I am doing this for a young person who knows far too much about the horrors that adults can bestow on others, and more importantly children. ANd I guess for all those who have suffered, at the hands of supposed loved ones.

This young person held it together whilst describing incidents that they go through on a daily basis.

From someone they should be able to trust.

And they are frightened. SO frightened. They are frightened the minute they walk in the door at the end of the day when they should feel at their safest.

They are frightened to talk.

They are frightened to look the 'wrong way'.

They are too frightened to do anything other than move quickly and quietly to their bedroom and hope that today has been a good day for others.

They already know about what can do physical damage and how to hide it.

They already know how that it doesn't matter most of the time about what they say or do, they will suffer some type of physical abuse. Be it hands, wooden spoons, or pots and pans.

Hitting them.

In places where others cannot always see the bumps and bruises.

Not to mention the horrific emotional abuse.

AT such a young age, they know that it is wrong but they have a weariness about them that at the age of 7, their is nothing they can do to fight back.

I'm sorry but I am typing this with tears streaming down my face. I have had tears since I came out of this meeting. WHen this young person was so brave but looking at me with their beautiful eyes, and trusting me to be there with them and yet I was the one who broke down when he left the room.

ANd I am the one who came home (and cuddled my children ever so tightly) and have cried most of the evening just thinking about this little one.  I just hope he is safe tonight.

I don't even know how to end this.  I cannot put into words how I feel about the so called adults subjecting this little one to this violence.  This little one should be having fun, kicking a footy at the local park, playing with his mates, and trying to sneak lollies off my desk.

Instead every morning he comes and shows me an empty lunch box because he trusts me to fill it up for him.  WIth his innocent little face and his scared eyes.

And I just hope that he is there tomorrow, so we can do it again.

And I hope he is ok tonite. WIth all my heart. Like I haven't hoped for anything in a long time.

ANd if you can find a way to explain this to me, good luck. Because I think it is about frigging time a number of adults got over themselves and woke up. Because maybe, just maybe, you might do something good for someone one day, instead of being a complete piece of shit!

Lisa