Voices Heard Spring 2022 THE SURVIVOR NEST PROJECT by EmpoweredVoice

Voices H eard S P R I N G 2 02 2

THE SURVIVOR NEST PROJEC T

...SURVIVOR NEST ...WAKE ME UP ...THE IMPRINT ...MATERNAL REJECTION ...VISION TO YOUNGER SELF ...WELCOMING MY BODY HOME ...SELF AFFIRMATION ...HOME

PHOTO BY DEBBIE BAX TER AND THE NEST PROJEC T

Dear Me. It’s Me.

Here to remind You that You still exist. That We exist. Fractured but unbowed. A survivor second and a human first. Always growing. Always healing. Always thriving. Forever reconnecting oursel ves with our inner child. The one that still hurts. But that hurt doesn’t define You. It doesn’t define Us. Our fight does. Because no one can take Us away from Ourse lves. No one. And no thing. We refuse to be silenced or cast aside. We deny others the ability to place labels on Us. Because We know who We are. We are rooted. We are blossoming. We are here. A human first. A survivor second.

LOVE, ME

1 in 5 girls and 1 in 6 boys are a victims of child sexual abuse. If you or someone you love has been victimized, please reach out to one of the many organizations, like HAWCDV.org or RAINN.org for help and guidance. Paid for by WORTHY GIRL

EDITORIAL TEAM

CLAIRE O’LEARY

Fo un d e r, Edi to r- in - Chi e f Creative Director S T E P H A N I E S TA N FI E L D

VOICES HEARD

Copy Editor

Spring 2022

CONTRIBUTORS

DEBBIE BAXTER C A R L A B E AT R I C E TINK BESS K AT I E B O U R G E O I S BROOKE COLEMAN MAGGIE D ONOVAN DONNA JENSON LISA K AWSKI M I N DY L AT H E N BARBARA JANE KRISTINA ANNE STELLAS ORCHARD SARAH RITT SHARON ANN ROSE SARAH SHAMEL KARO SKA BRENDA WIBERG

PHOTOGRAPHY

TA B I T H A R O B I N S O N -A L D E N DEBBIE BAXTER AND THE NEST PROJECT CARLA BEATRICE K AT I E B O U R G E O I S LISA K AWSKI ABIGAIL MORIN TOMO SAITO

INSIDE

THE SURVIVOR NEST PROJECT

FROM THE EDITOR ...IN AWE!

THE BEGINNING SURVIVOR NEST

It’s a raw, gut wrenching and

an unspeakable wound...

BAPTISM

A woman I know reached out...

WAKE ME UP...

We were touched by the healing energy brought...

A LET TER TO CARLA

But why a nest? How would being...

VINES AND STICKS

It was a wonderful feeling...

ODE TO MY DAUGHTER

You call my name...

NOT YET

I was already way out of my comfort zone...

FED BY ROBINS

I t gave me a visceral...

DARKNEST

When the stars come through...

THE SOUND OF HEALING

It was twilight...

A GARDEN OF NOPALES IN MY BREATH My lungs inhale cactus thorns...

25 26

28 THE NESTERS DONNA

My niece Melisa found me

THE IMPRINT

Going into the nest – the climb...

I SPEAK

I speak because...

CARLA

I’m bringing my 6-and-1/2-year-old self

BIT TERSWEET, WISTERIA

I look in the mirror

SARAH

How could she ever...

MATERNAL REJECTION

born from her black skin...

MAGGIE

My body has been trashed...

VISION TO YOUNGER SELF

She crouches, knees tucked..,

TINK

When I was 11 years old...

WELCOMING MY BODY HOME

I am bringing you home...

BARBIE KRISTINA

It was a heart opening...

SELF - AFFIRMATION

I’m saving my life...

MINDY

The abuse started as a...

HOME

No one is here...

WHY WOULD ANY THING BE WRONG?

Commence living room dancing...

WE SURVIVED ...WE THRIVE

We Survived ...We Thrive is

RESOURCES BOOKS FOR ADULT SURVIVORS FOR KIDS & TEENS ONLINE SUPPORT IF SOMEONE YOU KNOW IS IN CRISIS OR IN SUBMIT AN ARTICLE NOW

62 63 65 65 68

THE SURVIVOR NEST PROJECT The Survivor Nest Project is a transformational healing arts project organized by survivor Carla Beatrice of Survivor Nest in

collaboration

with

other

incredible artists, healers and advocates for survivors of incest and childhood sexual abuse.

Beatrice, who lives north of Boston Massachusetts, invited Portland Oregon artist and author Debbie Baxter of The Nest Project to build a life-sized nest and offer Baxter’s signature Nesting Experiences. “This is open for everyone, for all kinds of bodies,” said Baxter. “Our bodies have lived through these experiences, and we hold onto these things in them, and the nest invites people to just leave all that behind.” After building the nest at an ocean location significant to

Beatrice’s childhood with people who have supported and influenced healing in her own life, Beatrice and Baxter moved the nest to Beatrice’s backyard for 5 additional survivors to share in a weekend of healing. Throughout the project, nesters were bathed in the sounds of Lisa Kawski’s Sound Healing of the Soul as Katie of Studio Bourgeois documented the process. Donna Jenson from Time To Tell, in her role of survivor support person, led the group in writing during and after the weekend as they all processed the Nesting Experiences. “Knowing other survivors helps you realize you’re not alone, that you’re not the only one,” says Jenson. “And building community with other survivors around using our voices is very empowering.”Claire O’Leary of Empowered Voice invited all the artists, survivors, and community involved in this project to contribute to Voices Heard.

The culmination of the Survivor Nest Project is an installation at Old Town Hall in Derby Square in historic Salem, MA from April 20-30th 2022.

The giant nest, narratives of

each

nester

written

by Baxter, a sound loop of

survivor’s

voices,

accompanying video, and the

powerful

portraits

of the nesters will be on display. Additional public programming will take place as survivors and supporters gather in community during Child Sexual Abuse Prevention and Sexual Assault Awareness Month.

The Survivor Nest Project collaborators

Survivor Nest

FROM THE EDITOR ...IN AWE!

“

Photo by Tomo Saito

I am in awe — of the stories, the

poetry,

submitted

the for

photography

this

issue

Voices Heard. I knew the photography would be top notch from the moment I saw Carla’s website for the Survivor’s Nest. Debbie’s photography from previous nests spoke for itself. It drew me in — called to me. I immediately understood how being in a nest in a fetal position and allowing that comforting energy of the nest’s protection to permeate would be healing for all. I wanted to be there — to heal my own wounds — but it was not meant to be ...at least not this year. :) I immediately invited the creators, Carla, Debbie and Donna to be part of Voices Heard and I’m so glad I did. The poetry, the stories, the art — mothers, daughters, friends, all of it so beautiful and compelling. Tears came to my eyes over and over as I read these incredible stories of healing in the nest. Healing survivors yes, but also healing each person who took part in The Survivor Nest Project. Each story different and yet the result is the same — feeling

whole again. Each contributor from bystander to survivor shares their story with you in this most compelling issue of Voices Heard. Whether you are reading this in print or viewing it online, you can experience it yourself through the videos, sound and stories that are linked throughout. Just look for the orange text. In the online version, they are live links. As Debbie Baxter states in her article Survivor Nest, “It’s a raw, gut wrenching, and an unspeakable wound in our culture. ...this trauma is a deep one that sits in our core and creates a ripple effect in the lives of the survivors and of the family members involved.” This is exactly why we are here — with each survivor healed, we also heal each person whose life she/he touches. Read on as the story unfolds... Remember you can also purchase a printed copy of the Spring 2022 Voices Heard at empoweredvoicetravelingexhibit.com/ voices-heard/

H ealing survivors yes, but also each

person who took part in the project in

some way. Each story different and yet the result the same

—

feeling whole again.

Photo by Debbie Baxter and The Nest Project

I have a strong sense that it happened to me too. I’ve had the same recurring dream and vision of a family member of mine touching me when I was a baby. I don’t know for certain though…but maybe that’s what everyone says when the process begins? What I do know for certain is that for many years every time I would hear of this violation happening to a child, I would feel completely heartbroken, helpless, and sick to my stomach. And, if I sat with the feelings long enough, they would turn into rage.

Like I said, I don’t know if this trauma happened to me, but I know that this trauma is a deep one that sits in our core and creates a ripple effect in the lives of the survivors and of the family members involved.

SURVIVOR NEST By Debbie Baxter, (she/her)

It’s a raw, gut wrenching and an unspeakable wound in our culture. Nobody wants to hear about it. And, nobody wants to talk about it except the brave souls who have a pulsing in their hearts for freedom not only for themselves but for the many other children still being abused. Five years ago, I built a Nest for myself in my backyard as a way to express and heal the pain of my past. I had a challenging childhood that included a mother that was in and out of a mental institution, a disabled older brother, being raised by my father, and the chaos that occurred because of those things. As an artist, I was continually making art as a way to make sense of my upbringing and the feelings of abandonment by my mother.

Building a nest was a way to give myself what I had always longed for…a safe, loving, and nurturing home. Once the nest was built, I knew I needed to get in and it was only natural to strip down to how I was born. It felt visceral and serene with the branches on my skin. I immediately felt calm and peaceful. I had a self-portrait made and at that moment I knew I created something that others could benefit from. I knew that this experience of stripping down, feeling held, cradling the pain, and being witnessed could help people process the past and be more present, grounded, and whole in their lives. Over the last 5 years, I have photographed and held space for over 400 people and built over 50 nests. One of those nests was The Survivor Nest with Carla Beatrice along with fellow collaborators, nest builders, community, friends, and family of Carla, and 5 survivors who participated in the project.

The Survivor Nest Project was not only an experience of building a human sized nest and being photographed in that nest, but it was also the experience of facing and embracing a massive wound. It was a moment to witness and be with the vulnerability and give it the tenderness and love that it deserved whether we knew it happened to us or to someone we cared about.

It was a moment to sit with the heartbreak and the rage together rather than alone. The Nest portraits and stories that you see throughout this magazine are a visual and written reflection of the brave souls who have a pulsing in their hearts for freedom not only for themselves but for the many other children still being abused. My deep bow and gratitude goes to everyone that was involved in organizing, fund raising, gathering the people, watching the kids, building the nest, and giving the survivors a safe space. My deep bow and gratitude goes to everyone that came together to create a ripple effect that is based upon healing our wounds, tending to our vulnerabilities and building stronger foundations.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Debbie Baxter (she/her) is a mother, artist, fine art photographer, creator of The Nest Project, and author of “NEST.” Debbie has traveled to multiple cities worldwide building handmade nests and offering nest experiences. Her continued mission is to create art that inspires and reminds others to slow down, tend to our wounds, create safe spaces, and reflect on how we treat the vulnerable parts of ourselves and the vulnerable members of our society. Learn more about Debbie at debbiebaxter. com or on instagram at IG @thenestproject.

BAPTISM

Baptism, Oil on Canvas by Katie Bourgeois

This past September, I had the pleasure of filming a short documentary about Carla Beatrice’s The Survivor Nest Project. After Carla’s nesting experience, she walked down to the tide pools on her own at dusk and bathed in the cool salt water. It was a beautiful moment and one that I’ll never forget. I decided to make a painting of the scene. A woman I know reached out to me asking to buy it because it resonated so much with her. I found out after telling her the backstory that she is a survivor too.

Katie Bourgeois studiobourgeois.com

The Survivor Nest Documentary is still in the filming phase and will hopefully be done

late next year. This teaser gives the viewer a small taste of the power of Carla’s nesting experience with Debbie Baxter on the ocean in Rockport, MA. From the secret passage through the woods, to the blazing sunset over the water, to the half moon hanging in the sky, this was one of the most magical healing experiences I have ever witnessed.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Katie

Bourgeois

documentary

filmmaker

artist

and

working

The Survivor Nest Project. As an artist, Katie is interested in the elusive but commonly shared sentiments of the human experience. Her work aims to shed light on the golden thread that connects us all and tells us what it means to be alive. Learn more about the Survivor Nest Documenatry and Katie’s other work at studiobourgeois.com

Photo by Abigail Morin

WAKE ME UP... By Carla Beatrice

Photo by Lisa Kawski View The Survivor Nest Project Video

“

We were touched by the healing energy brought together not just by the

project collaborators, organizers and

participants, but also by the community.

“Mom, for some reason I have this song in my head.” My son grabbed my phone so we could listen to it while I drove both of my kids to school that first week of September, soon after Debbie arrived here from Portland, OR for The Survivor Nest Project. We listened and sang to Green Days’ “Wake Me Up When September Ends” the rest of the way. It wasn’t until the middle of The Survivor Nest Project that I realized this song would become my mantra for the month...and beyond. For me, the song was referring to the air of magic and “pinch me, is this real?” feeling. The amount of connection, healing, and sense of “we are all here together for a very special purpose” was indescribable yet intensely palpable during the project. I was paying close attention to everything, and everything – every little thing – mattered. Nature seemed to be in tune with us, as

the weather also mimicked the depth of all of the feels that were going on. We had it all…mists and sprinkles of rain, bursts of sun, clouds, a late evening downpour (which actually wrecked my pop up tent) fall breezes, humidity, and late summer bees…not to mention butterflies..lots of monarch butterflies, blessing our site and reminding me of their symbolic nature of metamorphosis and change. Summer has come and past the innocent will never last wake me up when September ends Somewhere during September 9-19th I looked up and paid closer attention to the rest of the lyrics. Turns out this song is about loss, and dealing with the pain associated with loss. And yet, what I took from it was the transformative qualities of healing… that core healing taking place with our adult survivors. These survivors are no strangers to the feelings and depths of loss that comes from childhood sexual trauma.

Here comes the rain again falling from the stars Drenched in my pain again Becoming who we are. As my memory rests but never forgets what I lost Wake me up when September ends Beginnings and endings, joys and sorrows, vulnerabilities and comforts…we laughed and we cried when we gathered for Nesting Experiences in my backyard.

Ring out the bells again Like we did when spring began Wake me up when September ends

I don’t know if my children will ever know that a reason for doing this work is so the cycle of generational abuse stops. I wish to do whatever I can to give

children,

We used the arts to heal, just as this song had a healing message for me. We wrote in nesting journals, we did expressive movement, and we listened to incredible healing sounds. We were touched by the healing energy brought together not just by the project collaborators, organizers and participants, but also by the community.

future

The community that showed up for us when we were in need…the last-minute call for curtains and tablecloths to provide the nest with an enclosed space...the neighbor who picked up the ice for me for the refreshments, the school parent who had his two hired hands drive all the way to help us move the nest and transport it from its ocean location to land…

As we sang this song together, loud and clear, to the strumming of guitar, I realized the enormity of all that came to pass that month. Needless to say, it brought me so much joy.

The list goes on and on, and I am still needing time to take in all the support that came to us for the first phase of this project. Please know how grateful I am to every one of you who has helped us create the “dreamy” September! When my child came back from time at their dad’s house, the weekend that Debbie left on September 25th and without knowing the impact this song had for me he said:

“Mom this is our song.” and showed me how he taught himself how to play it on guitar.

children

everywhere

Photo by Katie Bourgeois

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

the safety and ability to be

My name is Carla Beatrice and I created

believed and heard. We cannot

Survivor Nest to offer art experiences for

protect our children if we are

survivors of incest and childhood sexual

not able to see and accept this real-life issue.

The Survivor Nest Project will spread this message of hope and transformation, so all survivors can feel nurtured and bring awareness to the public so we can better protect and take care of our children. We will ring out the bells this spring with our April exhibition for this end. Stay tuned as the magic continues!

abuse. As an artist and energy healer, my passion is to help people connect to their creative center and support community, connection, as well as offer an opportunity for healing. When we all feel held, supported and safe, we can live a life that allows us to integrate all of our life experiences, even the most challenging and painful ones.

A LETTER TO CARLA By Sarah Shamel

The weekend you hosted your

I’d born witness to the time

flock of survivors, I taught

in your life when you came

your kids to play Wingspan. It

to terms with your history

felt fitting to play a board game

of abuse.

about birds, while an hour away,

“

But why a nest? H ow would being naked in

The Nest be healing?

you and your participants took turns in The Nest. I’d watched the idea for The Survivor Nest Project hatch, over the years. First there was the rough nest of old wisteria vines in your yard that made a play space. Then it became the scene for a photo shoot for kids and families, where the sale of the photos would benefit survivors of sexual abuse. Finally, the concept became that the nest itself would be the support – providing emotional support and a healing experience by holding survivors of childhood sexual abuse, like yourself. Can I admit that I didn’t get it at first? I mean, I understood the power of art to heal. We’d each been working on that, since the beginning of our friendship, in the mothers’ writing group together. And I knew that you had much to heal.

I’d kept track with you as you wrote 50,000 words in a single month. “Writing it out” you called it. But why a nest? How would being naked in The Nest be healing? I may not have gotten it, but I do know that’s how it is with creating – sometimes you just have to start weaving branches together before you know exactly how your nest will take shape. I see you gather a bounty, the community that forms the support structure for The Nest. I’m glad to add my piece to the framework, by combining our broods this autumn weekend. It reminds me of old times when our youngests’ were mere hatchlings together, with soft fuzz on their heads and wide, hungry mouths. Now our two youngest children are old enough to read, to make their own snacks, and to learn a complex board game. But they are just as creative as always, making up their own ways to play, deciding that

regardless of what the rules say, their goal is to collect as many bird cards as possible. For my next move, I play a bird with a bowl nest. As I place it on the table, I flash back to the night before – the evening in your yard, the kickoff event for The Survivor Nest Project, the sound bath. I had closed my eyes and let the sound envelop me. A fine mist had settled on my face. The air smelled of the sea. It was after I had opened my eyes, slowly sat up, then stood, a little woozy, into the dusky night, that I finally got to meet The Nest (the new one), under a tent in your yard. I was enchanted! I wondered if maybe the salt air had been a kind of fairy dust that transported, or transformed me.

As much as our younger kids exhibit playfulness, your older child exhibits perception. I’m struck by the beginnings of a conversation that I witness between the two of you. I’ve just shared about my recent estrangement from a relative. This leads him to look at you and say, “Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask why you no longer talk to ______” and he names your abuser.

At first I want to huddle around you. I want to take back my careless venting that led to this question! But you answer him with a new confidence in your

The Nest was so familiar,

voice. I realize then, this is

densely woven like fallen

a fledgling moment. All these

birds’ nests we’d examined

years you’ve been practicing using your voice, owning your experience.

with our kids. And yet it was so different to witness it on a human scale. I was

compelled

how

the chaotic complexity of branches

came

together

All

season,

you

try it. As I watch our kids experiment with the rules of the game, with their open curiosity, I remember that childlike state I had reached, admiring the nest, the night before. And to me, this is why survivors need The Nest. This is what I hope you get from it. I hope you feel so safe that the innate curiosity and wonder of childhood emerges. I hope you feel The Nest’s protection. I hope you feel that you belong. Right here. Just as you are.

of childhood emerges. I hope you feel The Nest’s protection. I

hope you feel that you belong. Right here. Just as you are.

to nurture because The Nest

has

nurtured

you.

I’m proud of you, as I watch you spread your wings wider to take on this tough conversation, anew, with your teen. It turns out we all learned something about wingspan that weekend.

had wanted to crawl in and

curiosity and wonder

by, The Nest. You are ready

roundness. Most of all, I

such

safe that the innate

crafted, and been cradled

You’ve grown this nesting

create

I hope you feel so

have

perfect

“

season.

Photo by Tabitha Robinson-Alden

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Sarah Shamel is a mother of 3 and an occasional writer living in the Boston area. She has known Carla, The Survivor Nest Project organizer, since their babies were born, about 10 years ago. Always a fan of creativity and community-building in general, and of Carla’s projects in specific, Sarah has been a supporter of The Survivor Nest Project since its inception.

VINES AND STICKS Brenda Wiberg – vine and stick provider By

“

It was a wonderful feeling to provide 14

the materials Carla needed for this

unique project.

Photo by Abigail Morin

When Carla contacted me to see if I had any vines or branches in my yard for use in her Nest project her timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I had already been working on clearing some brush and was happy to offer whatever materials she thought suited the project. Soon after Carla’s call, she and Debbie were walking around the yard with me and I could see their vision for the project was really taking shape. They were especially excited by the bittersweet vines hanging from a dead tree and I was happy for them to take as much as they could carry. They agreed that using a pickup truck was the best way to transport the wood. And they left that day in search of a truck.

Everything was right on track. Let the trimming begin! The rain came but didn’t deter us a bit. And before too long, with many hands at work, the truck was bursting with branches and vines, as much as it could carry. Now, with the harvesting of wood a success, the real art and work of fashioning the nest was next. It was a wonderful feeling to provide the materials Carla needed for this unique project. She took some great photos of all the steps along the way. Enjoy!

The next day as I was waking up I had a vision of a white truck turning into my driveway. Hmmm, I thought, that was an interesting subject for a vision. That morning Carla let me know that they would be returning to collect the vines. A few hours later a white truck pulled into the driveway and I thought, “Ah, just as i should be!”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Brenda Wiberg of Rockport, MA Artist, gardener, caretaker

ODE TO MY DAUGHTER By ABF

You call my name For help in vain. I was not there. I shed a tear. Where could I be? I did not see. I sit and cry. Oh why, oh why! In my just mind I was so blind. That close you were I did not stir. I am so sad. I am so mad. It was not just. In me no trust. The time is now. To make a vow. I feel your pain. I do not feign. I feel the blame. I bow in shame. I was not there. I shed a tear.

NOT YET Anonymous

“

I was already way

out of my comfort zone and I was only ten

minutes into a day,

which unbeknownst

to me, would rock my soul and reintroduce me to me.

Photo by Lisa Kawski

It was early on a Saturday morning

September.

The

car was packed with suntan lotion, a gallon of drinking water,

hiking

shoes,

hiking

stick, a sandwich and snacks, and, of course, loppers. The GPS was programmed to a cemetery on the north shore of Massachusetts. Where was I going? What was I doing? Why had I said I would participate in this day? I was already way out of my comfort zone and I was only ten minutes into a day, which unbeknownst to me, would rock my soul and reintroduce me to me.

I was traveling 100 miles to build a nest which would be large enough for a human to be “in utero”. I parked the car at the cemetery, donned my hiking boots, grabbed my hiking stick and headed off into a huge brush wall which, I was told, was the head of the trail to the nest building site. After traversing roots and branches, fending off flying critters, fording mini swamps and slippery rocks, the path opened to a majestic view of the Atlantic Ocean. Framed by huge worn rock formations, the cerulean water was hurtling white waves against the rocks, and was being matched by a blue sky peppered with soft white cirrus clouds. The blazing sun was a spotlight on this magnificent panorama. There were no buildings or other humans within my sight line. Barley breathing, I stood perfectly still taking in the

total magnificent scene allowing the gentle wind around me to almost breath for me. So far all I had accomplished was to arrive. Not yet did I comprehend the magnitude of the day’s event.

We had our own history,

Slowly as I gained my equilibrium, I was introduced to the five other women with whom I would be sharing the nest building experience. Only one of the women did I know before this day. I had known her over thirty years before as a student in my fourth grade classroom. It was by her invitation that I was participating in this day’s experience. What an honor!

another, intertwining our

After some organizing of gear and branches, we climbed a bit up the rock ledge to find a shady spot to share our stories and set intentions for the day.

The coup d’état for me was the opportunity to curl up in the nest with all the loving women surrounding me. With my eyes closed and my body snuggled up in a fetal position, I could hear the soft conversations of the people around me and sense that there was another world beyond me, but I was not a part of it. Not yet. I was in a safe space, warm and nurtured by all the people and stories that had been woven into the nest. I let go of all my angst. I rested and soaked in the love and safety and the knowledge that I was not alone.

Each woman’s story of what brought her to this day was heart wrenching to hear. The raw truths that were forth coming brought tears to my eyes more than once. When I shared my story, I saw many nods and the positioning of bodies which said I hear you and love you.

I felt so safe and so supported. The initial covenant meeting set the tone for the day. We worked side by side weaving our life’s stories together creating a human sized nest. Every branch that we wove into the nest was as unique as each of us, each a different size with a different personality; wiry/supple, smooth/rough, long/short. The symbolism of the different branches yet the sameness of all was not lost on me. It was just like all of us gathered there.

stories, smooth spots and rough spots but we came together to support one life’s stories with love and renewal. We worked for four hours, hauling, sawing, trimming, poking, prodding, and working our stories and the branches into the exquisitely formed nest.

When it came time for me to leave the nest, all the women took hold of my hands and whooshed me out into the glorious sunlight. It was a dramatic moment.

I had new breath and new vision. I felt like a different person but could not explain why. To this day I cannot explain why, I just know that I am not yet fully me but I am working on it one branch at a time.

“

I let go of all my

angst. I rested and soaked in the love

and safety and the

knowledge that I was not alone.

FED BY ROBINS By Sharon Ann Rose

Robins in Nest, photo by Sharon Ann Rose

I cannot forget their eyes. The way

they

Deep

“

I t gave me a visceral understanding of

organic nurturing,

safety, wisdom and freedom.

into

gazed

black something

into

mine.

pools. . . portals I’d

I digested the bravery it took to grow from fragile egg into soaring flight.

Existing inside a soft downy

rarely

body that would instinctually

experienced in my body or

lean over the edge of a mud-and-

lifetime.

stick encasement when it was

Many years ago, I closely watched some baby robins tucked inside a nest in a tree in my yard, as they offered me a delicate reality that went straight into my soul. Through a blend of utter vulnerability and a powerful instinct to fly, I was lifted beyond the world of constructs about what weakness and strength are. It gave me a visceral understanding of organic nurturing, safety, wisdom and freedom.

time to JUST. LET. GO. And fall.

In return, I opened my mouth, arched my neck, and accepted this restorative nourishment. I could taste its strength going down. I could feel what these birds were fed and held by.

Or fly. My body could feel the abiding sense of safety poised upon this fragility, that this birds’ nest was built upon.

I wanted to get closer to this. To step inside and savor its potential. I am a feminine alchemist and women’s transformational facilitator. Not so many years ago, I could count on one hand the number of times in my life when I actually felt safe inside my own body. Ask any woman, she’ll remember her ‘safe times,’ usually in

visceral detail. It’s that palpable and rare to feel this in our society and selves. For the past 20+ years, I’ve been a nest builder, helping my sisters to access their breadth, bravery and dignity through creating healthy, sustaining and fortifying INTERNAL nests.

This is where we dismantle, reweave and reconstruct a

new

energetic

and

emotional container built upon revitalized practices, patterns and beliefs that give us continual access to our internal place of nurturance, care, protection and creativity. Out of this deep restructuring process, we begin to breathe and inhabit our own flesh and form, flowing into a new way of being in relationship to self, life and each other. It was a natural unfolding from working with this inner restoration of a woman’s safe

Baby Birds in Nest, photo by Sharon Ann Rose

haven, to find others committed to building nests of nurturance for humanity and our world. My path first crossed Carla Beatrice’s, the creator of The Survivor Nest Project, when a mutual colleague introduced us. Carla and I are New England natives who migrated to Portland, Oregon, yet never met while living there. During the Autumn of 2015, I was taking a ‘pilgrimage’ to my east coast motherland, to weave my self-healing, childhood and body of feminine wisdom together differently. Carla had recently relocated to the east coast. This is where our shared story began. Carla invited me to lead events at her Ladies Entrance Art Studio when I was in the area. One summer we sat together in the nest she’d built out of wisteria vines in her backyard. I recall the bright sun. I remember our vulnerable stories. I see the black boots on my feet, resting on twigs at the edge of the nest. I recall how my body felt, residing inside this soft, sharp-edged, material of encasement. This was one of those ‘safe times’ that felt distinctly palpable to my body. A deepening relationship of support was cradled and further built inside this weave.

“

Not so many years ago, I could count on one hand the

number of times in my life when I

actually felt safe

inside my own body.

Continued on page 20

“

As I’ve restored and 20

reconnected to my

inner nest that was initiated with this

weekend, even as I

was on the other side

of the country, I feel

how deeply woven in to the larger web my healing is.

In the Nest, photo by Carla Beatrice

I was scheduled to fly eastward in the Autumn of 2021 to be a part of Carla’s support team who’d be crafting a nest for The Survivor Nest Project weekend. A bicycle accident that resulted in a dislocated shoulder, caused me to cancel this trip. In a dream the night before I fell, I heard, “You will never go back to your mother’s house to sleep in your childhood bed again. No more.”

This was the way my body’s wisdom was guiding me to stand on the edge of my current nest and JUST. LET. GO.

internal nesting for my soul.

I knew I might fall. And I might fly.

exhaled

interconnected,

into yet

the

personal,

work at hand that The Survivor Nest Project was inviting us into, to release past experiences from my body and childhood, into a new strengthening of

As I’ve integrated my process with The Survivor Nest Project, I’m reminded of those baby birds and what they offered me. How to move with the cycle of life held inside my body, while my body is held in a container built for my wholeness, wellbeing, growth and vitality. As I’ve restored and reconnected to my inner nest that was initiated with this weekend, even as I

was on the other side of the country, I feel how deeply woven in to the larger web my healing is. All healing is. The body does not forget her safe time and place. I am a woman learning to live from this soft downy and vulnerable body, that has known great hurt and healing. I lean over the edge of my nest, when my instinct calls, to trust my body is held by and holds her own nest. I internally experience and feel all that I’ve built within and around me to nurture myself.

I respond to the impulse of my skin, as it outgrows itself, exhaling

into

the

wind,

carried into a life born of

The Survivor Nest is built from the raw natural elements of an artist’s journey into her own healing and love. It reflects the circle of life that lives within each of us, guiding us towards our opening into these cycles of birth, growth, flight, return, rest and renewal, over and over again. See you amongst the branches, and in the skies, dear Survivor. With all my heart, Sharon Ann Rose

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Sharon Ann Rose is a mother, author, and feminine alchemist, who helps soulcentred creatives build safe interior places to restore inside their own bodies.

intimacy with this resilient

After years of witnessing the impact of

and ever-changing nest.

oppression on women’s healthy expression,

The vital personal work we do, building our safe and sustaining nests, provides an enduring container for our creativity to thrive. It holds us in radical homecoming, as we keep releasing past situations, experiences, beliefs and relationships that our skin has outgrown. The wind will carry these away. We can open our mouths, arch back our necks, and allow ourselves to be fed by robins.

themselves and reclaiming their sustaining,

Birds Nest, photo by Sharon Ann Rose

she supports her sisters in rebirthing natural power and voice. Learn about her artistry of care @ Sharon Ann Rose website and Empress Circle.

Photo and narration by Debbie Baxter and The Nest Project

darknest By Brooke Coleman

when the stars come through

and the sudden

she invites me

fire-hose force

let’s go out into the darknest, mama

into and though my first scar as you fly

she sinks in

the one that reminds me i had a cord

soaks it up

a placenta a darknest that held me

somehow i know

and the grief of all the mothers before

she remembers

a need to go out into the night

the warm dark nest inside of me

to drop my robe

this fledgling

to feel the first milky moon that you didn’t

with her own nest inside her i feel my own hand gently moved to hold my other hand ocean sips sundown quarter moon brightens

a seagull calls

waves louden

while i’m fetal

i take my newborn self

naked

at tidal pace

holding my own hand

into the nest we built of spiraling vines

nestled with my shroud belly out on the land’s edge

my first wet breath

held in the liminal phase of this day

expanding lungs

that mewing

river flowing into my center

like lightning to my center

placenta bridging the worlds

the years old dream

green eyes see me

i thought was just for paula

i land, sweet milk

as her mom lay dying: a giant nest on an edge and hearing

and i take my 45-year-old self in, too

“you will know how much you are truly loved’

holding knobby-knuckled hand

as red seagulls fly

as you exhale the final time

i laugh, i cry, i wail

newly whole

i know

and the river flows from my heart into yours

you willing to turn inside out to meet me

a spiral wind

you willing to push me out to fly

bridging worlds as you expand

you becoming everything outside me again

and meet all those pups again on the trail

i can’t see the sun

your face surprised at the ease

she centers me i root into the warmth in the darknest don’t you just love her so much?

Photo by Brooke Coleman

This spiral wasn’t built as a nest, but now one is ready to emerge from the center. A physical form of the energy from the placental phase of grief after my mom died. I received a truckload of her furniture and belongings and the potent air inside smelled like

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

home (in Utah 2000 miles away) and it blew me to rake the leaves

Brooke Coleman grew up in the Utah

into the spiral path before I could do anything else. This year the

mountains and landed on a Massachusetts

spiral goes the other way. When I turn myself over to the creative

farm about 15 years ago. She’s a parent to

force I feel so amazed by what can happen.

three children whose placentas are now nourishing apple trees. She’s had the privilege of studying and working in education, nursing, midwifery and deathcare and currently teaches health, sex-ed, preschool and storytime. Brooke hopes to keep weaving it all together to prevent and heal sexual violence, even of our ancestors.

THE SOUND OF HEALING By Lisa Kawski

Photo by Debbie Baxter, The Survivor Nest Project Experience The Sound of Healing for Yourself

I am personally not a survivor of

It was twilight and as the sun

incest nor rape. I felt incredibly

set, I felt myself morph into

honored to be invited into this

a mermaid or some mystical

project and am forever indebt

aquatic

to Carla for having the vision

came naturally, soothing and

of bringing all of us together.

loving those who experienced

My involvement began several years ago when Carla first had the idea and approached me (before Covid, I actually think it was 2-3 years ago!) asking if I would like to offer sound work for the participants as they had their individual experiences in the nest. I knew that my sound work could provide a feeling of safety, nurturing, love and caring as they shared their personal stories and then undressed to enter the nest to be photographed. They were incredibly vulnerable and trusting of all of us who came together to create this experience. Not only was I to offer my sound work for each participant, but also to hold the space for Carla at the ocean’s edge! I schlepped a few of my quartz crystal bowls, drums, chimes and bells as well as my 36” diameter gong down through the winding path to the water/rock’s edge. My experience doing sound work with Carla was magical.

creature

doing

offering a public sound session and perhaps individual sessions as well.

what

my sound work. The crashing sounds of the ocean blended with the sound vibrations of all of my instruments. I became one with the ocean, sky and beach area. I held Carla’s being in my hands with tenderness, and gently rocked her within the nest with sound.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I was also invited to offer a sound bath of healing for all the participants as well as the public the night before we began working with the group for individual sessions. We had brought the Nest from the beachside to Carla’s backyard at her home in Beverly. I set up my instruments under my canopy and created an evening that felt like a soft blanket being wrapped around all of us.

When Lisa Kawski was first asked to

I am proud and honored to have participated in this project and am looking forward to being able to “show” it in the coming future. At the Survivor Nest exhibit, I will once again be

bowls she would create her business,

play a quartz crystal bowl at a friend’s gathering, she experienced a shift in consciousness that changed everything. As she stroked the bowl, she felt the vibrations of the sound go through her entire body. She instantly knew this was the instrument for her to share her “voice” - and that through singing Sound Healing for the Soul. She invites others to join her to journey within for reflection, realizations and insight.

a garden of nopales in my breath By Karo Ska (she/they)

my lungs inhale cactus thorns / a garden

of nopales in my breath / shame simmers in my flesh / scorching my neck & shoulders / an anger bakes in between my heart & solar plexus / i can’t sleep / afraid to dream / numb & shadowed / i hide under a thick, polyester blanket / thinking about the man who molested me at the age of eight / Mixed media collage by Karo Ska

thinking about whether he’s still alive / whether he lives at the address listed for him in the white pages / whether i can drive to his home / confront him with a garden of nopales on my breath / i shed my skin of shame through the vengeance of my imagination / an anger shifts into thorns / the thorns shift into words / a garden of selflove blooms in my flesh / a bright pink prickly pear beating in my chest /

Mixed media collage by Karo Ska

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Karo Ska (she/they) is a South Asian & Eastern European non-binary poet, living on unceded Tongva Land. They migrated here in 1996 from Warsaw, Poland. Some of their other work resides in Dryland Lit, Resurrection Magazine, Sobotka Literary Journal, Cultural Daily, Ayaskala Magazine, and Marías at Sampaguitas. Their first fulllength collection, loving my salt-drenched bones was released on February 23rd, 2022. For updates, follow them on Instagram @karoo_skaa or check out their website karoska.com.

Photo and narration by Debbie Baxter and The Nest Project

DONNA My niece Melisa found me when her dad, my brother,

Melisa was 8 years old at the time.

died, 24 years after he stopped speaking to me.

He wouldn’t speak to me and he wouldn’t allow the

She let me know on Linked In.

subject to come up in the family.

“I’m sorry to tell you this way but this was the only way I

She was a preemie when she was born and could fit

could find you.”

in her father’s hand.

I thought I had lost her.

We were really close. And both survivors in our own way.

When he was born I was 9 years old and 2 years into being abused by my father

It was awful and infuriating.

I remember when my mother told me she was

That little shit.

pregnant, I went to the bathroom and cried into a

Nobody loved him more than I did.

towel begging God to take the baby back because

I was almost angrier at him than my mother for not

He shouldn’t send another babe to this family.

protecting me. I have less acceptance about my brother.

My brother was my saving grace.

I felt we had a different relationship.

I was his second mom and adored him. He gave me a reason to be happy to be there

This summer Melisa wanted to take me to her father’s

Even while all the abuse was going on.

grave.

I was crazy about him.

It was next to my mother’s with matching gravestones. It’s the last place I would go but I will go for her.

My guess is that he couldn’t reconcile being a man

She looked at me with tears running down her face

from a family with a father that sexually abused a child.

and said,

His first response was in a letter.

“I want to know everything”.

“I believe you and I’m so sorry it happened. I wish I had been the older sibling so I could have

When I was in the nest, I had a sense that now that

protected you.”

David has passed, he is happy that I’m loving Melisa and his grandchildren and that they have me.

My mom asked me, “did your father touch you when you

I’m so much more at peace with this story now that I

were little?”

have Melisa back.

“Yeah mom, he did.” She started wailing.

“Aunt Donna, I believe everything you told me. I always knew you loved me.”

My father said “I don’t remember doing such a thing.” My brother decided my father was telling the truth and I was making false accusations.

I got Melisa back.

THE IMPRINT By Donna Jenson

Going into the nest – the climb, the fitting in, the settling in – time and I stood still. And then I felt held. I was the only one climbing in, but I was not alone. I felt seen and supported by the circle of survivors sharing this experience.

Going into a nest built exclusively for survivors of childhood sexual abuse with the comradery, the community experience, made time stand still for an entire weekend. We formed circles to write together, dance together and experience a sound bath together. We ate, shared, were seen, and were heard. Such a rare happening – childhood sexual abuse survivors in community. It was all about “us” – not Covid, not politics, not my best friend’s dementia. Everything other than nesting got suspended. It was about each one of us, and all of us, all at once. Going into this nest I took my cherished “survivor” quilt with me for comfort, for protection, for cover. In 2019 I spent a weekend with another group of survivors. There were 18 of us – it was in Milwaukee, the town where I grew up and the scene of the crime. We wrote together all weekend. Wild and wonderful writing about using our voices to change the world. It took about 20 minutes for us to feel like a community, a tribe of warriors on a path together. In the last hour, a woman entered our writing room laden with a tall pile of quilts. They had been made specifically for each of us by a quilters group, none of whom were survivors but who wanted to honor us for our courage. We each got to pick the quilt we wanted. The moment I saw the sage green one with patches that read “Home” and “Love” I reached for it. And I was instantly overcome with emotion that a group of strangers cared

Photo by Carla Beatrice

enough about what we’d been through to make us the quilts. I had a hard time getting my tears to stop. I had to keep telling myself, ‘Breathe.’ Since that day I’ve kept the quilt very close. It’s draped over the rocking chair in my studio. The chair where I work on editing all my writing. The chair where I sit and have phone calls with other survivors. The quilt is either resting beneath my head or pulled down and draped over my lap.

It serves as both a reminder of the kindness of allies and a magic carpet for my spirit to ride with my writing.

photo is clutching her blanket, pressing it into her heart. Upon my first encounter with this photograph a quiet voice in the back of my head started screaming, “This is what I may have looked like when my father was done with me. Clutching my blanket for dear life, and tilting my head back, scrunching my face to muffle my tears.”

Viewing

the

photograph,

instead of a seeing bright-eyed woman, people are going to see what the aftermath of fiveyear long assault looks like, nearly seven decades later. An imprint that lives only in the

It’s a constant reminder, which I am sometimes needing, that I am not alone on my healing path. So, into the nest it came with me.

body. Looking at me in person

The Nest photo is showing

Survivor-me and the little-girl-me, even after all these years, mourn the loss of innocence, the invasion, the betrayal, the crime. The more I look at the image, I’m coming to see the imprint is also a stark reminder of how far I’ve come on my healing journey. There’s no erasing what I lived through but there is life to be lived beyond it.

me a part of myself that makes me sad. The expression on my face is not how I usually look: a bright-eyed woman full of attention, excited to meet, whatever life throws in front of her. No, the subject of this

you wouldn’t know this imprint is in there. But it is.

“

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you. ~ Maya Angelou

I wrote this poem after reading the quote above.

I SPEAK By Donna Jenson

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Donna Jenson is the survivor support person for The Survivor Nest Project. Author of Healing My Life From Incest to

I speak because I must. I speak because if I don’t, I’ll get sick. I speak because I was told not to. I speak because it’s a way out of the jungle …of pain sprouted by my incest experience.

My voice, a beacon to follow out of the jungle. My words, a machete. My stories, a torch – burning a clearing, incinerating poisonous plants, hanging vines twisting to grab my limbs and keep them still. I speak because I want to feel alive.

Joy, playwright of What She Knows: One Woman’s Way Through Incest to Joy, editor of the anthology, Survivor Voices; and producer and principle of the documentary Telling Is Healing. She has been leading writing circles for survivors since 2008. Find her on Time To Tell Instagram and Timetotell.org.

Photo and narration by Debbie Baxter and The Nest Project

CARLA I’m bringing my 6-and-1/2-year-old self to the nest.

Intellectually, I know it wasn’t my fault.

That’s when I first met Seymour and he drew the

But, deep down there’s a child in me that thinks it was.

portrait of me at my grandparent’s house. That excited

When you’re a little kid, you look up to adults.

child believed that the world was her oyster.

You love adults. You need adults. They’re your world.

There was in an inner knowing of what brings her alive.

When you’re a kid, you think…”well, it can’t be their fault.”

Art brings her alive. I had a feeling that I was just bad. When I watched someone draw…to me…it was like

I certainly felt bad…the shame, the secrecy, and the

magic.

disconnect from myself. I felt unworthy.

First grade was when I started art lessons with Seymour

Like, I’m not good enough.

and a new abusive relationship in my life began.

I felt crushed.

I felt like I lived 2 different lives.

Sometimes, like I wasn’t supposed to live.

The life of the child and the secret life that nobody knew about.

It has been hard for me to face the child being drawn that day.

During middle school, I was totally immersed in his

It’s been hard for me to face that this child had a whole

family’s life.

other side to her.

I would do private lessons every Friday.

I just wanted to see and love the happy child, the free

I would stay and have dinner, babysit his kid, and he

child, the spirited child.

would drive me home. I felt like I was having an affair.

It has been hard for me to reconcile and face the fact

I couldn’t talk about it with anyone.

that I was a sexualized child too.

He was my best friend. In the nest, I’m welcoming her in. He saw me.

I’m remembering.

And, he took advantage of me.

I’m letting her know she is safe again.

He saw that I had been opened up sexually at a

I’m being with her.

young age.

I’m loving her.

He would say things like “you’re mature for your age”

She is me now.

and “we’re soul mates”. I was a child thirsty for love Seymour took art away from me. He had power over me and then he blamed me and said it was my fault. I was crushed by that. I just wanted his approval and his love.

Art brings her alive.

BITTERSWEET, WISTERIA

I look in the mirror of the consignment shop down my street

I look in the mirror of the purple bedroom in my house

It’s called Worthy Girl

Piecing together an outfit

I need to buy something presentable to wear for the poem I will be reciting

I need to look presentable before the judge down the street

I look in the mirror of the consignment shop down the street

I look in the mirror of the purple bedroom in my house

This color doesn’t look good on me; It’s ugly

I’m wearing it again; One year and 8 days later

But it fits.

This time it matches my skirt.

Bittersweet

Wisteria

I look in the mirror of the consignment shop down the street

I look in the mirror of the purple bedroom in my house

Yup, it matches all right It is the color of my hair

It’s purple like the delicate cascading blossoms that arrive each spring

I buy it on my birthday

New growth has come since the leveling of the age old trunk To the ground

I’m never going to wear this top again, I say to myself Bittersweet. Worthy Girl. Consignment.

Pruning providing a maelstrom of sticks

What does that word mean?

Wisteria

Somebody else wore this top before me Somebody else owned it Somebody else decided they didn’t want it anymore Somebody else wanted to pass it along

My family gathered while I was out My family realized building a fort wouldn’t work so My family stood in the middle of that pile My family kicked the branches out and

for a price

created a nest

It’s mine now.

It’s a garden bed now.

Bittersweet is everywhere It’s woody orange roots are hard to pull out It keeps coming back Wrapping itself around the fence of my home Impossible to clear

Wisteria is everywhere the essence of its blooms are a salve for healing It keeps coming back Providing shade and beauty along the fence of my home Seasonal growth astounding

Its roots are deep invasive

Its shoots travel laterally widespread

Photo by Carla Beatrice

I look in the mirror and see Bittersweet fabric wrapped around the fence of my heart and the Wisteria supporting walls that envelop me while I sleep I look in the mirror and remember An artist who skirted and also bore the nest Deeply rooted

Photo by Katie Bourgeois

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Refusing to be leveled.

My name is Carla Beatrice and I created

I look in the mirror and wonder

survivors of incest and childhood sexual

How many stitches are holding that nest together; imagine the needle poking holes into the fabric Covering my legs

passion is to help people connect to their

The nest before the nest It is a fiery orange The sacral chakra of creativity the womb space With two precious eggs inside I look beyond the mirror I am the Bittersweet I am the Worthy Girl I am the one with the Healing Wisteria I am On the day I was to go inside of the nest I went into my backyard and clipped from the lush greenery of life the bittersweet and wisteria intertwined where the parent tree once grew. Hairs lost since the fallouts are growing back in Reuniting my child and adult self inside the portal Ocean holds me; Rock steadies me, and the bittersweet wisteria crowns integration

Survivor Nest to offer art experiences for abuse. As an artist and energy healer, my creative center and support community, connection, as well as offer an opportunity for healing. When we all feel held, supported and safe, we can live a life that allows us to integrate all of our life experiences, even the most challenging and painful ones.

Photo and narration by Debbie Baxter and The Nest Project

SARAH How could she ever think it was ok? I was 3 years old. I’m furious. I was violated. It’s not fair. It’s not fair and there was no one there to help me. I want to come home. I want to feel safe. I want to feel cherished. I was violated. “I know little girl. It wasn’t ok. I’m here now. We are together and you are not alone.” I came into this world hungry for connection—to speak and create and express myself. I never lost that, but the abuse in my family gave me other things that were never mine to hold. My mind blocks out cohesive memory, but my body holds onto the shame of my abusers. Sometimes I feel dirty for reaching out to connect with other people. Sometimes I mistake hiding in my home for the only way to live and feel safe. I want to release my shame. I want to allow my soul to dance free. I want to release my need for approval and just...be in the world. I was violated. “I know little girl. It wasn’t ok. I’m here now. We are together and you are not alone.”

Self Portrait, painting on vinyl (acrylic on 45 record with glass beads and pearls) by Sarah Ritt

maternal rejection By Sarah Ritt

born from her black skin, this pale white a dumping ground for (quiet) hatred. dressed in pink, i was given to her brother, who molested me.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Sarah Ritt is a visual artist and tarot reader living in Boston, MA. Her artwork gives new life to old or overlooked materials. Sarah also gives private tarot readings and public, collective readings on her YouTube

she knew.

channel. To see more of her work you can visit her at linktr.ee/SarahRitt.

i am 40 years old. this little girl has been screaming my whole life. i’m just learning to understand the scream and hold her close.

i love you little girl.

Photo and narration by Debbie Baxter and The Nest Project

MAGGIE My body has been trashed by me and other people. I don’t show my body any love or attention. I don’t like it and I’m afraid of it. It deserves some recognition and some space. My abuse happened from ages 15 to 18 but I developed an eating disorder and started physically harming my body when I was 14. My family doesn’t know about the abuse. But, it wasn’t hard to tell when it was happening. It’s impossible for them not to know. When I think of a time that I felt free in my body, I think of me now lying naked on someone else’s bed. My scars are in plain view. I can see the hair on my body. I can see all of my flaws. I’m comfortable, I’m safe and I’m seen. I’m proud of them. Dear Body… I love you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I have hurt you. Thank you for never giving up on me no matter what I did to you and others did to you. Thank you for always holding me up and allowing me to be. Thank you for healing yourself. There’s no going back.

VISION TO YOUNGER SELF Maggie Donovan (they/them)

She crouches, knees tucked up

a child. And I hope that sticks with you when

to her chest, in the little clover

you have your own children. I hope every child

patch in the corner of the yard. She is seven years old with greasy, clumpy hair, pink shorts, white sandals. Concentrating hard, her pointer finger swirls

you teach, every child that walks into your classroom, makes you think of her. Look at her, and think long and hard about everything you’re about to do.

How. fucking. dare you!”

through the leaves searching for four leaf clovers, two already clutched in her left fist. She hears the two of us approaching, and sharply looks up, more quizzically than frightened. For a moment, time stands still. She stares at us, standing side by side, and we stare at her.

“

H ow dare you take advantage of her,

brainwash her, how

dare you splinter her

until she would rather be dead.

I don’t know what surreal chasm of time and sound barriers stand between us and her. Arms crossed, I turn to you and say, frankly:

They lay, knees tucked up to their chest, in the nest in the corner of the yard. They are twenty years old, a bundle of clovers clutched in their left fist. Concentrating hard, they listen to the wind swirl through the leaves, and rustle the tent above. For a moment, time stands still. They are trying to let go.

“Look at her. How dare you put your hands on her. How dare you put your hands around her neck. How dare you force child porn out of her. How dare you stop her from breathing, just for fun.” No longer so frankly: “How dare you bully and threaten her into submission. How dare you rape her in her sleep.

SHE IS A CHILD. SHE IS. A CHILD. How dare you take advantage of her, brainwash her, how dare you splinter her until she would rather be dead. How dare you gaslight her, hold her prisoner over a burning flame, licking her skin as she screams and screams and you kiss her and whisper “this is love”. Look at her now. See the scars you will etch on her soft skin, the bruises you will paint on her chest. See the fear you will burn into those curious eyes, the mass you will shear off her small bones. You can call her a prude all you want, but the reason she doesn’t want to have sex with you is because she is a child.” “Look at her. Would you hurt this child? Would you have sex with this child? Would you threaten this child? Because you did. Old enough to be held responsible for her own decisions, but not old enough to drive is still

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Maggie

Donovan

(they/them)

psychology student, who works with the non-profit organization Time to Tell. org as a technical moderator for online writing circles. They also co-curate an e-Zine for queer survivors of sexual abuse and violence, Beneath the Soil at www. timetotell.org/beneath-the-soil.

They

hope to continue working with survivors as long as possible. Music and laughter are their best medicines.

Photo and narration by Debbie Baxter and The Nest Project

TINK When I was 11 years old, one of my abusers—a much older grown man and camp counselor— was obsessed with me and wanted to take pictures of me naked all the time. In particular, my breasts.

That part of me associated being photographed as crossing a boundary.

In the nest, I could choose. It was my choice what I wanted them to look like. These are mine. The crosses on them is not only a symbolic gesture of healing that 11-year-old but also of my gender fluidity. Don’t make assumptions that because my body holds these parts that it says anything about me.

It’s my birthday next week. I’m turning 60. I bring all parts of myself to the nest. The female, the male, the baby, the 11-year-old, and the incredibly strong 60-year-old. I’m ready to fly knowing the nest is always here when I need it.

WELCOMING MY BODY HOME By Tink Bess

Dearest Body,

I am determined.

Fuck you Dad for not being a Dad.

I am bringing you home,

I am bringing you home to me dear one.

Fuck you for your sick ways. Fuck you for thinking what you did to me was ok,

To me,

Be patient,

For me.

It is happening.

Hang in there. I am determined.

Such deep, deep disconnection for so many years.

I am sorry we are not one yet.

Did I even have a body?

I am sorry for everything you have been through.

I sure did not feel it.

Please release your fear that I will never love you enough.

Smart mind that knew to disconnect the body to survive.

I WILL one day look in the mirror, touch your skin,

Thank you mind.

Just enough,

Thank you for taking care of me.

Opening to the hurt,

You did a great job

Opening to the despair,

As I am still here

The rage,

And I did more than survive thanks to your

The many wrongs,

And only see the gratitude for all you are.

Oh, how I long to love you fully In the way you deserve. Oh, how I believe in the loving of you. I so believe in finding an affectionate acceptance of every Flap, fold, crinkle…

Fuck you Dad.

Smart,

Vigilance.

Fuck you for not knowing a grandfather does not tell his Daughter that her two-year-old has a cute sexy body.

You can relax now, Dear body. My true self is here finally,

I know the way now.

I am determined.

Thank you for knowing to hold on until I was strong enough

I will keep fighting to connect my head

To walk us both back home,

To the rest of me.

Together as one.

Repulsion to my physical imperfections is not mine.

Fuck you Dad.

Fuck you Ted.

It knows I am messed up by family, culture, society,

Fuck you Ted.

Fuck all the grownups who were not there to protect you.

Sickness in the guise of care, love…

And the millions, like you, who objectify every woman’s body. Fuck you for your cruel self-serving ways.

Veins slowly giving permission

My cells will keep pulsing the chant of

I will unfold creases of skin holding

To open,

Strength, power, and possibility

hate turned in,

Untangling all the internal mess made by others.

Until they feel at one with every limb, muscle, fat, organ, bone…

Kick the “if only” off every pore.

As I pull the dead skin off, Soothing the wounds with compassionate loving care, I am healing, The scars slowly appear To remind me of my truth, To remind me of the warrior I am, the warrior Who wasn’t defeated. I move through clumsily with grit, Feeling the ground getting firmer With each step. I am still here To claim what is rightfully mine, My body. My life.

Fuck you to this world that worships all the wrong things. Fuck you to all the posers. And oh yeah, Fuck you Dad a thousand more times over. And fuck you Ted, a million more times over than that for the pedophile rapist you are.

I will push out judgement, I will fill those crevasses with fluffy luscious whip cream

Hand to hand,

Moving my finger through the

mine,

lightness,

leaning into each other On my heart,

Licking the taste of delight, Anytime I choose.

Fingers tips gently touching,

Fuck you Dad, Ted and all the other men who are like you.

Hands together,

Fuck you all.

pointing upwards,

You will not have the last word.

Forming a temple

On what is mine, Only mine.

I sigh into a prayer That holds hope filled faith. I hear the small voice stammering, “hang in there”.

It is invigorating to own what has always been there. With fervor I can finally fight those demons in daylight.

When I am patient enough to trust I can always find the abundance Of possibility.

I am here with open arms Patiently waiting for the embrace That welcomes you, My beloved body, Home.

Mixed media 3D collage by Tink Bess

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Having turned 60 this year, Tink Bess feels as though she is entering the prime of her life. A few poignant past life experiences include social work for the elderly, being a hospice volunteer, and raising three entertaining children. Her next chapter combines two of her deepest

passions;

dancing

being

in community with other survivors. Beginning in May, Tink will be offering movement classes on zoom for survivors of sexual abuse. The hour long class is an opportunity to move into our most authentic selves while having fun & feeling powerful. No experience necessary; for all bodies & abilities. Tink is a certified Let Your Yoga Dance® instructor — a movement practice bringing user friendly dance and the chakras together. This is an experience without pressure and much joy. Join Tink’s free class, May 7th on zoom. She will be offering ongoing zoom weekly classes. For more info email: Tink. Check out her instagram page @ letyoursurvivordance and her website: letyoursurvivordance.com.

Photo and narration by Debbie Baxter and The Nest Project

BARBIE KRISTINA It was a heart opening. It was total forgiveness. It was forgiveness of my father. It was forgiveness of his demons and everything he had done. It gave me my love for him back. He was my Daddy. The times he abused me were periodic. It wasn’t violent. It was inappropriate, yes. It never should have happened. But, he also showed fierce loyalty as my father. I don’t believe he was being evil. I believe he couldn’t contain himself. I remember times when I would get hurt as a little girl and he would just hold me. It’s been 50 years of grieving. I’ve been 36 years sober. I’m Bi-Polar I’ve been institutionalized I’ve lost 100 pounds several times.

51 This nest is the completion of this healing journey. It’s the birth of my joy. I know the other side of this and I have been to those depths. I’ve nurtured and healed myself. Now it’s time to call in a partner in my life. I want to show up as a loving, kind, compassionate woman for someone. I know I will make mistakes again. I will probably hurt someone’s feelings. I will most likely lie. I might even cheat on my taxes. But I accept myself. I’m human for God’s sake. I do the best I can. It was a heart opening. It was total forgiveness. It was forgiveness of my father. It was forgiveness of his demons and everything he had done. It gave me my love for him back. He was my Daddy.

SELF - AFFIRMATION By Barbara Jane Kristina Anne Stellas Orchard

52 Photo by Carla Beatrice

THE NEST–SEPTEMBER 17, 18, 19, 2021

“

Come to me my

Dear One. I am

ready to hold your

hand and heart and

have you hold mine.

I’m saving my life by embracing in the Nest MY JOY. Leaving –

not

leaving

honoring,

–

poignantly

goodbye,

the

years and years of grieving, of shedding the atoms of hurt and horror. Cleansing my palate with the fresh water of humility, service, and discipline to taste the joy of what Goddess has to give me – ABUNDANCE. Abundance of sensation, feeling, touching, compassion, connection, relationship. The myriad of others; and/ to rather than either/or. BEING IN ALL ITS FINEST. Extravagant and simple as the falling red maple leaf soon to come on this Equinox weekend hearalding the seasonal change in New England, home of my mothers ancestors and part of my lineage. Come to me my Dear One. I am ready to hold your hand and heart and have you hold mine. Share with me, please, the years of your journey. I’ll share mine.

Let’s learn the dance of two, together.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Barbara Jane Kristina Anne Stellas Orchard is a daughter, grand-daughter, and cousin of many wonderful strong womyn. Their tenacity, courage and brains run strong in her. Born in New Jersey in 1952, she, like her generation, is filled with the promise and hope of a future of peace and opportunity. The New Jersey can-do spirit is in her blood. Her purpose is to excite possibility through the creative arts of poetry, prose, theatrical producing and performance. Watch for her production Incest and Evolution coming in 2027. If you’re interested in being involved, email Barbie Kristina.

MANIFEST YOUR NATURAL ABUNDANCE BE AWARE MIRACLES AHEAD! Move from feeling stuck and uninspired to manifesting from your deepest place of joy and abundance

• Practice easy and effortless miracles? • Dissolve your limiting and fearful beliefs? • Learn the science behind manifesting

www.makingshiftshappen.com/manifest

www.makingshiftshappen.com/manifest 53

Advocate Safehouse Project is the only community-based victim advocacy program in Garfield County offering free, confidential and comprehensive services for survivors of domestic and/or sexual violence and their children since 1987. It should be noted that it has the only Safehouse Program in the Roaring Fork Valley and Garfield County.

www.advocatesafehouseproject.org

Photo and narration by Debbie Baxter and The Nest Project

MINDY The abuse started as a baby. He was the only one that showed me any kind of love. So, it was confusing. Now, as an adult, I don’t trust things. I don’t trust love. I don’t trust myself. It’s getting better. But, I still don’t feel like I deserve any good things like love and connection. Looking back at myself as a baby feels unfamiliar. I needed to keep it at a distance. I hated the parts of myself that were vulnerable and needed things. 55

Being in the nest is hard to describe because I have only felt that kind of openness, love and connection with myself a few other times. It felt like I could be myself and accept all of me. At the end of my session, I felt my baby move a lot and was reminded of how much joy I feel as I get to know my kids, build a relationship with them, and parent them in the way I always needed. That is why I smiled. I was feeling how much of a gift it is to be where I am, doing what I’m doing - healing, parenting, and reparenting.

HOME By Mindy Lathen

No one is here.

I ignored my body

I am utterly alone.

And drove myself into the ground

Left to carry an impossible burden

Over-functioning, over-achieving,

On my own.

Over-pleasing, over-doing everything Hoping it would make me good enough.

I had no choice but to survive.

Some day maybe I would be good enough

Pretend.

for someone to

This was just life—

Rescue me, fix me,

The abandonment and betrayal,

Make me belong, and finally make me feel loved.

The terror and disconnection.

No one ever came.

I felt dead but had to keep functioning.

Somehow the Universe guided

I learned how to perform,

Many people to me who could help though.

How to act normal and good.

Slowly, over time I began to find my Self.

The loneliness and pain underneath

This Self was so new to me.

Was hard to carry.

I had never known her before.

But this was just life.

My trauma began Too early for me to even develop my

No one showed me a different way

Sense of my Self.

And no one even got close to knowing About the living hell that was my life.

I learned to trust that I had a Self, A Self that existed before the

I hated myself.

Pain and abandonment began.

I felt stupid and less-than.

I saw that this Self–the core of me–was

I felt so different, so shameful.

Good and wise and

I held these feelings viscerally.

Beautiful.

Nothing could convince me otherwise.

She had nothing to prove.

So I ran away from myself.

I got to see tiny glimpses of my Self,

I perfected my acting,

Here and there.

Lying to everyone including myself

It made the pain of my life feel worth it.

About how bad I really felt.

For once, I felt like I belonged. I was free to be me And I knew I was enough.

The Universe has orchestrated A beautiful messy creative process of Finding and belonging to my Self again. I never knew how great it could be to Simply be alive! To be in my body And experience and witness Beauty Connection Acceptance, and

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Intergenerational healing.

Mindy is a survivor of childhood sexual abuse and severe emotional neglect. From a very young age, she felt called to the path

Now I receive what I always needed

of healing, growth, and helping others.

And it is a gift.

She has moved towards greater wellness

Healing happens in day-to-day moments of

through body-based therapy, acupuncture,

Self-care, Parenting, and Self-compassion

yoga,

plant

medicine,

Somatic

Experiencing, journaling, and many other practices. She lives in Salt Lake City, Utah with

And also, in big moments like

her husband (who was the first person

Getting in the Nest,

to make her feel safe), daughter and

Giving birth, and Going on psychedelic journeys.

newborn son. She works as a postpartum doula, where she supports parents and advocates for maternal mental health. You can reach Mindy at instagram.com/

What I finally know is that being alive and being me Can feel good. For once I know and feel that I Deserve to feel okay. I don’t have to pretend anymore. I am home.

risingphoenixpostpartum/

BUILDING RESILIENCE

WHY WOULD ANYTHING BE WRONG? I’M TOOOOOOOOTALLY FINE! By Rachel Grant

“

This past Sunday, I had one of

room dancing like

no one is watching (while also being hyped up and

reminded that this present!)

most

glorious

and

luxurious of days. It started

Commence living

moment is it

those

—

with breakfast in bed with my girlfriend brought to us by my sweet guy. Then he wandered off, and she and I were left with hours of time to fill with all of our luscious feminine energy. Next up was a 90 minute Healing in Motion movement class, during which we got to embody different types of weather and did some mirroring movement exercises as well. This led to our bodies opening up, stretching, and relaxing...so landing outside on the back porch, lounging on the day bed in the sunshine was exactly the right next move!

As the sun set and hunger set in, we rifled through the fridge and decided on old school grilled cheese sandwiches. As my girlfriend nudged me out of the kitchen, I breathed in the joy of being cared for and curled up on the couch, wrapped in my comfy, fuzzy blue blanket that reminds me of the Cookie Monster, and started scrolling through the top movies. Immediately I knew what I wanted to watch - Encanto! As I waited for the grilled cheese to toast, I turned on some music and this song came on first: Feel This Moment by Pitbull featuring Christina Aguilera. OMG! The best!! Commence living room dancing like no one is watching (while also being hyped up and reminded that this moment is it — be present!). Grilled cheeses in hand, we hit play. I missed the first few minutes as I was so blown away by how damn good that grilled cheese was .

Rewind. Restart. Now fully my five year old self — ready for a movie and yummy lunch.

“

Beloveds — take a

breath. You cannot carry it all. You

cannot do it all. You

cannot do it perfectly.

The whoooooooole movie is amazing. But the scene that got both me and my girlfriend most in tears was when the sister, Luisa (played by Jessica Darrow) breaks into her song Surface Pressure. The lead into the song is her assuring her little sister Mirabel that, “I’m fine, of course I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be fine!!??” Sound familiar? How often do you walk through life as the “strong one”, unquestioning, pushing, doing what’s demanded, and pushing way way way down the parts of you that are scared, feel worthless, anxious — constantly ready to blow? Beloveds — take a breath. You cannot carry it all. You cannot do it all. You cannot do it perfectly. If you know this but don’t know how to shift out of being a one-person show, please reach out and connect with me. I’d love to support you with that! Here’s to releasing the pressure.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Rachel is the owner and founder of Rachel Grant Coaching and is a Sexual Abuse Recovery Coach. Rachel holds a Master of Arts in Counseling Psychology and is the author of Beyond Surviving: The Final Stage in Recovery from Sexual Abuse and Overcome the Fear of Abandonment. You can download both free on her website. She works with survivors of childhood sexual abuse to help them let go of the pain of abuse and finally feel normal. Her

program,

Beyond

Surviving,

specifically designed to change the way we think about and heal from abuse. she has successfully used this program to help her clients break free from the past and move on with their lives.

Rachel

Reach Rachel here or on Facebook.

WE SURVIVED ...WE THRIVE GENEROUSLY SPONSORED BY THE EMPOWERED VOICE

We Survived ...We Thrive is a sponsored page that invites survivors to be listed in support of other survivors. It demonstrates the secretive and pervasive nature of sexual abuse/assault and gives survivors’ a voice.

DEBRA ADAMS

Rifle, Colorado

TANISHA BANKSTON

Oxford, Mississippi

DENISE BOSSARTE

Houston, Texas

CARLA BEATRICE

Boston, Massachusets

TANYA BLACKLIGHT

Paonia, Colorado

DENISE BOSSARTE

Houston, Texas

KATE BOSWORTH

Oakland, California

DRU COWAN

Oakland, California

ALISON EISEN

Santa Monica, California

JANE EPSTEIN

San Francisco, California

DINA ZISKIN FORTUNE

Latham, New York

RACHEL GRANT

Oakland, California

JULIE HART

Glenwood Springs, Colorado

BARBARA JOY HANSEN

BOB MCNUTT

MassachusettsKIMBERLY HENRIE Glenwood Springs, Colorado

Glenwood Springs, Colorado

ROGER HOUSE

New Castle, Colorado

Denver, Colorado

DAVID IRVIN

Watertown, Connecticut

JACOB JAQUEZ

Avondale, Arizona

JEANNETTE JAQUEZ

Avondale, Arizona

DONNA JENSON

Leverett, Massachusetts

SHANNON JONES

Carbondale, Colorado

ANNE LAUREN

San Diego, California

CARI KNAUDT LAUSIER

Fruita, Colorado

MINDY LATHEN

Salt Lake City, UT

VERAKERR LOPEZ

Oakland, California

CHARLOTTE LOZANO

Seattle, Washington

ANNIE MARGIS

Long Beach, California

CLAIRE O’LEARY

BARBIE KRISTINA ORCHARD HOLLY PERREAULT

Ireland

DR. LORI PITTS

Los Angeles, California

SARAH RITT

Boston, Massachusetts

SHIRKYDRA ROBERTS

Seattle, Washington

JAY SANTOS

Brazil

STEPHANIE STANFIELD

Glenwood Springs, Colorado

TINK

Northampton, Massachusetts

ANU VERMA

Coventry, England

MICHELLE WHITE HART

Los Angeles, California

RESOURCES: BOOKS FOR ADULT SURVIVORS aims to help victims understand the impact sibling abuse has on survivors, provide tools to help them begin their healing journey and emphasize that survivors can leave the past behind and build happy lives ahead.

Beyond Surviving: The Final Stage in Recovery from Sexual Abuse by Rachel Grant. Author Rachel Grant brings to the table a passionate belief that you do not have to remain trapped or confronted daily by the thoughts or behaviors that result from abuse. Through her own journey of recovery from sexual abuse, she has gained insight and understanding about what it takes to overcome abuse.

The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma by Bessel van der Kolk M.D. Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, uses recent scientific advances to show how trauma literally reshapes both body and brain, compromising sufferers’ capacities for pleasure, engagement, self-control, and trust. He explores innovative treatments—from neurofeedback and meditation to sports, drama, and yoga—that offer new paths to recovery by activating the brain’s natural neuroplasticity.

Healing My Life: From Incest to Joy by Donna jenson. A deeply personal story that explores the sexual violence Jenson endured at the hands of her father, the refusal of her family to acknowledge her pain, and a rocky escape as a teenager from the Midwest to start anew in sixties-era California. Jenson writes with her sense of humor firmly intact, reminding us that joy is possible in the face of great pain. Poignant, brave, and helpful, Healing My Life offers a much-needed testimony for anyone affected by childhood sexual abuse.

Healing Sibling Sexual Abuse: A Very Personal Story by Hannah Louise Cartwright RN, MA Memoir and self-help book for adult survivors of sibling sexual abuse written by a psychotherapist. Her book tells the personal story of recovering from sexual abuse at the hands of a sibling. Cartwright

The Journey of the Heart by Anna Cley. From floating boxes to lifesaving riddles to an enlightened mirror, The Journey of the Heart is a timeless tale that speaks to the inner child in us all. The Journey of the Heart offers heartfelt assurance that no matter what circumstances we are born into, our future is ours to write.

The MindBody Toolkit by Kim Deramo, D.O. Ten Tools to Instantly Increase Your Energy, Enhance Productivity, and Even Reverse Disease. The MindBody Toolkit explains the science behind the mind-body connection and gives you 10 tools

you can use anytime, anywhere to activate self-healing and awakening now!

Miss America by Day by Marilyn Van Derber. Former Miss America, Marilyn Van Derber, tells the story of how she was sexually violated by her father from age 5 to age 18. She was 53 years old before she was able to speak the words in public: “I am an incest survivor.” Van Derbur describes in detail what specific “work” she did on her successful journey from victim to survivor.

My Pain is My Power by Tanisha Bankston. Tanisha’s life changed before it began at the age of 5 or 6 years old when she was raped by a friend of the family and she wasn’t believed. The damage caused her to have to relearn how to walk. Her pain continued through adulthood before she could finally enjoy life.

BOOKS FOR ADULT SURVIVORS CONT.

Sibling Abuse: Hidden Physical, Emotional, and Sexual Trauma Second Edition by Vernon R. Wiehe Often excused by parents as `kids will be kids’ behavior, sibling abuse remains largely unrecognized. Symptoms of such abuse and its devastating effects on victims go undetected, victims do not receive appropriate therapeutic intervention, and transgressors do not come to the attention of the courts.

Sibling Sexual Abuse: A Guide for Confronting America’s Silent Epidemic by Brad Watts. This book is written by a counselor who rehabilitates offenders. The author gives insight into sibling sexual abuse—the causes, the effects and the devastating statistics.

Thriving After Sexual Abuse: Break Your Bondage to the Past and Live a Life You Love by Denise Bossarte. This book is an eloquent and empathetic selfdevelopment book laying out a blueprint for survivors to heal themselves. Bossarte writes with fierce candor as she shares her own traumatic experience with childhood sexual abuse.

The Ugliest Word by Annie Margis tells the story of a little girl named Lark whose father is molesting her, as she navigates childhood, and the woman she becomes. An aspiring writer and artist, Lark’s spunk and creativity buoy her as the abuse progresses. The Ugliest Word is for those who survived childhood incest and for everyone who loves a survivor, is friends with or works with one.

Victim 2 Victor by Anu Verma. This inspiring and brutally honest memoir details the struggle for survival and the search for healing and happiness. Raised in abuse and navigating through consequences, a young, broken soul finds the strength to embark on a journey to reclaim her self-worth. Her inspiring journey is a lifelong struggle to find self-worth on the ruins of self-esteem.

What Do I Do Now? A Survival Guide for Mothers of Sexually Abused Children (MOSAC) by Mel Langston PhD and Leona Puma. What do I do now? is a mother’s cry after she learns her child has been sexually abused. A mother’s belief in her child’s disclosure and her active support and protection after disclosure are essential to recovery from the horror of sexual abuse.

FOR KIDS & TEENS

30 Days of Sex Talks for Ages 8-11: Empowering Your Child with Knowledge of Sexual Intimacy by Educate and Empower Kids. This is a series that helps you discuss sex education as a family. Having these talks with your child will establish a pattern of healthy conversations for the future. As you move through the discussions, these interactions will gain depth and your relationship will strengthen. Your child will become more comfortable talking to you about anything as he or she grows into the healthy, knowledgeable person he or she will become.

Ascend, a Zine for teen survivors of sexual assault and friends. Ascend supports young people who are survivors of sexual assault. Continued on page 64

FOR KIDS & TEENS CONT. accessible and honest graphic novel guide to growing up, from gender and sexuality to consent and safe sex. Perfect for any teen starting to ask questions.

Cory Helps Kids Cope with Sexual Abuse First Edition by Liana Lowenstein This therapeutic story and collection of creative activities are designed to help children cope with sexual abuse and trauma. Therapeutic games, art, puppets, and other engaging techniques address the eight components of TF-CBT (TraumaFocused Cognitive Behavioral Therapy). Includes a reproducible story, assessment and treatment activities, and detailed parent handouts. Geared to children aged 4 to 12.

Good Pictures Bad Pictures Jr.: A Simple Plan to Protect Young Minds by Kristen A. Jenson (Author), Debbie Fox (Illustrator) It’s not if our kids come across pornography, it’s when. This is a great book for parents to read to kids about why pornography can be harmful.

Please Tell: A Child’s Story About Sexual Abuse (Early Steps) by Jessie Written and illustrated by a young girl who was sexually molested by a family member, this book reaches out to other children in a way that no adult can, Jessie’s words carry the message, “It’s o.k. to tell; help can come when you tell.

I Said No! A Kid-to-kid Guide to Keeping Private Parts Private by Kimberly King and Zack King (Authors) and Sue Rama (Illustrator) Helping kids set healthy boundaries for their private parts can be a daunting and awkward task. Written from a kid’s point of view, I Said No! makes this task a lot easier.

Repair for Kids: A Children’s Program for Recovery from Incest and Childhood Sexual Abuse by Margie McKinnon (Author), and Tom W. McKinnon (Illustrator) R.E.P.A.I.R is Recognition, Entry, Process, Awareness, Insight, and Rhythm. Enter a Six-Stage Program with your child to cross the Bridge of Recovery and make available a whole new world of hope.

Good Pictures Bad Pictures by Kristen A Jenson (Author) and Debbie Fox (Illustrator). A comfortable way to talk with your kids about pornography. This newly revised edition of the original bestseller from Defend Young Minds makes that daunting discussion easy! Good Pictures Bad Pictures is a read-aloud story about a mom and dad who explain what pornography is, why it’s dangerous, and how to reject it. Let’s Talk About It by Erika Moen and Matthew Nolan. The Teen’s Guide to Sex, Relationships, and Being a Human. Inclusive,

Some Secrets Should Never Be Kept by Jayneen Sanders (Author), and Craig Smith (Illustrator). A beautifully illustrated children’s picture book that sensitively broaches the subject of keeping children safe from inappropriate touch.

Tootles the Turtle Tells the Truth by Lenell Levy Melancon. This is a lovely book that playfully walks a child through a story about someone scaring a child into not telling. The characters ask interactive questions at the end of the book to engage readers in a candid discussion of good, bad and scary secrets.

ONLINE SUPPORT

IF SOMEONE YOU KNOW IS IN CRISIS OR IN IMMEDIATE DANGER AND NEEDS MEDICAL ATTENTION, CALL 911. RAINN NATIONAL HOTLINE 800.656.HOPE (4673) Live Chat 24/7 Crisis Text Line: Text “START” to 741741 Rain Website National Domestic Violence Hotline: Select “chat now” Or call 1.800.799.7233 (If you’re not alone text LOVEIS to 22522) NDVH Website COLORADO CCASA Hotline: 800.799.SAFE (7233) CCASA Website Advocate Safehouse Hotline: 970.285.0209 ASP Website Response Hotline: 970.925.7233 Response Website Colorado Crisis Services: 844.493.TALK (8255) Text TALK to 38255 4 pm – 12 am 7 days a week

ONLINE SUPPORT GROUPS FOR SURVIVORS: 1 in 6 sponsors free anonymous chat-based support groups for male survivors of sexual abuse seeking a community of support. Sessions are offered Monday through Friday. These written chat (no audio or video) groups focus on education and mutual support for males and are facilitated by a counselor. Complicated Courage is a website and blog for sibling sexual abuse survivors. Healing PTSD Naturally offers support for people who suffer from PTSD to help them discover

natural methods of dealing with PTSD, no matter what the cause. This group supports all trauma not only sexual abuse survivors. HelpRoom is an anonymous online group chat option that allows members of the community who have been affected by sexual violence to connect with one another. Trained staff facilitate group discussions to ensure a safe environment for all visitors to discuss topics and experiences related to sexual violence. Hidden Water Circle has groups meeting weekly — either inperson or online — that are designed to enable participants to find the growing edge of their healing alongside others who have had similar experiences with childhood sexual abuse. Incest AWARE is a group for those working to end incest and help survivors of incest abuse to heal. The Incest AWARE Facebook was born following a large meeting of incest prevention advocates, healers, and authors who came together in February 2021 to talk about the opportunities and challenges we face today in our efforts to prevent incest. Isurvive is an online abuse survivor support group. Their forums/chat rooms are open to adult survivors and their loved ones seeking to heal from all forms of abuse including sexual, physical, verbal, emotional and ritual. The Lamplighters is dedicated to recovery from incest and child sexual abuse. They have chapters located throughout the US that organize groups for survivors. National Association of Adult Survivors of Child Abuse NAASCA has a list of recovery groups and services worldwide for adult survivors of abuse, including incest. Their online daytime recovery meetings are an open discussion forum about child abuse trauma and recovery and are hosted by volunteer members.

Rape & Incest Survivors Facebook Group is a place to realize you aren’t alone & to provide support. Only survivors know what it’s like to live with the memories & PTSD that has lifelong effects on us. Helping others helps us deal with our memories. Even though they don’t go away, we can lessen how much they affect our lives. This is a Peer to Peer support group,. No professional therapists available, therapists will need to be found near you. Sexual Assault Advocacy Network (SAAN) Facebook Group was founded to support the people who support sexual violence survivors. Their active Facebook group connects survivoradvocates who are working to support other incest and other sexual abuse survivors, change policy and raise awareness. Survivors Of Childhood Trauma is a friendly group that offers help and advice to fellow survivors from all walks of life. Survivors of Incest Anonymous (SIA) is a 12-step recovery program for adult survivors of incest. They offer a range of peersupport groups including virtual, phone and in-person – all free of cost. Their website also contains resources and information of interest to incest survivors. StopSO Support for Families Online Group is designed to be a safe and supportive space for family members of a sexual offender or for family members of someone who is worried that they may cause sexual harm. (This organization also provides services for those at risk of offending and concerned about their thoughts or behavior.). Tail of the Bell is Geared toward adult survivors of incest, Tail of the Bell will soon be offering peerto-peer incest survivor facilitated groups called YANA. Participants will become members of small groups of 6-8 survivors maximum who will meet weekly in a virtual space to offer mutual support and guidance.

Triumphant Trauma Tribe: Started by an experienced therapist, this is a virtual group support meeting for trauma survivors gathering several times per week. The format is a combination of sharing and group support. If you have something you’re going through, they encourage you to talk about it and others can give feedback, support, or just general encouragement. There is a screening process to get into the group; this ensures that the membership is appropriate for this setting. Wings Support Groups offers a variety of virtual and inperson groups in the Denver Metro area. Wings supports adult survivors of childhood sexual abuse to live their fullest, healthiest lives as they speak about, heal from and thrive beyond CSA trauma.

SUPPORT FOR FAMILIES OF SURVIVORS M*OASIS (Mothers* Of Adult Survivors of Incest and Sexual Abuse) is a resource website and blog for anyone looking to understand how to support a survivor of incest and sexual abuse.

SEARCHABLE DATABASE Psychology Today’s website has a “Find a Therapist” directory of therapists, psychiatrists, treatment centers and support groups located throughout the US that is searchable by city or zip code. RAINN’s “Find Help Near You” database connects survivors to information about centers located in their region that may offer support groups and other local resources. NSVRC has compiled a list of linable websites and resources offering support and help for survivors, which includes links to support groups.

C re a t i v i t y U n le a s h e d

The 9 week Creativity Unleashed program encourages survivors to unearth the root of their story & nourish their creativity through expressive arts to find their voice YOU WILL: • Heal with a small group of women like yourself who are committed to healing their sexual abuse • Create an artist book or art of your choice using simple, effective techniques • Learn how to be vunerable yet powerful as you share your story

ACCELERATE YOUR HEALING AND RECOVERY • Learn simple practices for when you get triggered • Share your needs and desires confidently at home and in business • Reclaim who you are at the core and love yourself completely

R E C L A I M YO U R C R E AT I V I T Y T O A C C E L E R AT E YO U R H E A L I N G J O U R N E Y

www.empoweredvoicetravelingexhibit.com/creativity-unleashed/

Thank you Claire For Empowering Our Voices! Love, The Nesters

The North Shore (of Boston) LGBTQ+ Network is dedicated to connecting with and empowering the LGBTQ+ community to live safely and authentically. It is a centralized resource to assist and enrich the queer community.

www.northshorelgbtqnetwork.org northshorelgbtqnetwork@gmail.com

YOU‘VE HEALED

You‘re Strong, Determined and Powerful Shouldn‘t your car reflect that?

ARE YOU READY TO SHARE YOUR STORY? Giving voice to your stor y helps you heal. Seeing it and hearing it helps othe rs heal as well.

S H A R E YO U R S TO RY . . .for you . . .for the m Voices H ear d is the inte rac tive e -Zine that e mp owe r s s e x ual abus e sur v ivor s to shat te r the ir long he ld sile nce through s tor y te lling , and e x p re ssive ar t s .

BE ONE OF THE VOICES HEARD!

Supporting local families for 44 years.

Submit ar t , vide o, po etr y or a p ersonal stor y for a future e dition.

GWSford.com

SUBMIT AN ARTICLE NOW

Our mission is to empower survivors with the tools to break silence and end sexual violence through empowerment, social justice, and creativity

Voices Heard shatters the long held silence of sexual abuse survivors through story-telling and expressive arts.

Voices Heard Spring 2022 THE SURVIVOR NEST PROJECT

Articles inside

Voices Heard Spring 2022