Domestic Violence Resources by State

 

 

 

 

 

Susan Stone Salas

Behind the Brush

Born in 1962, my mother had been diagnosed with severe
mental illness when I was 1. Inspired by the freedom I
found riding horses, I began drawing and painting them
at 4, it was a form of escapism I utilized to cope with
instability. After my parents divorced when I was 5, my
mother decided to move to Mexico, Spain, and Guatemala
to save money, and to gain in cultural experiences. My
artistic expressions began to shift from horses to animals
I saw, burros carring heavy loads with bloody wip marks,
starving dogs, and bulls dieing in bull fighting rings. I was
no stranger to nuglect, verbal, emotional, or sexual abuse,
and had been kidnapped at 11, inwardly I was in turmoil
struggling to hide my insecurities and related to tortured
animals as comrads, attempting to expose injustice by
giving them a voice through art.

After 10 years we had moved 13 times and I had attended 9
differant schools, living back in the USA life at home began
to crumble, mom was geting sick and abusive again and by
15 I was out on my own, a throwaway runaway, and while
grief and sadness was a large part of my life, I hid it well
beneath an intoxicated smile.

By mid winter at 17, I had been beaten up, drunk, and was
homeless, when a couple of police officers picked me up and
took me to The Samaritan Home, an over night place for
transients. I was so drunk I could hardly walk, as they had to
drag me in the door by each arm. The next day while in a
thick haze, a small middle aged woman named
Mama Flores
offered me a beer, oddly I declined, perhaps it was because
of my head injury, or maybe because I intuitively sensed that
she was a gifted counselor. I don't know, except that Mama
Flores took me in, gave me a place to stay, food to eat, and
most of all a place of belonging. She counseled me, and
counseled me, until I was blue in the face, no, I did not want
to hear about my drinking problem, or about God, or Jesus, I
could not believe the things I could see, much less the things
I could not see, but she planted a seed, and though it would
take years for it to set root, it became a ray of hope from
which my darkest of paths became enlightened.

I appeared like somebody on the outside, but on the inside I
hated myself and thought I was an insignificant nobody. One
day I got down on my knees and prayed for the truth, I said
"God if you really do exist, please let me meet a decent man."
It wasn't long afterward I met the love of my life, it was as
though he could see to the depths of my soul, and though that
scared me, he was a ray of hope for me, that inwardly I was
lovable. But then he got shot and died, I was devistated. During
a season afterwards he showed me that he was still alive in the
spirit, and sent me to a church where I accepted
Jesus as my
Lord and Savior. From that time on my life began to slowly
transform from self hate, bitterness, resentment, unforgiveness
to self respect, dignity, tolerance, honor, sincerity, understanding,
mercy, unconditional love, and I continue to work on forgiveness,
unresolved fears, and hidden anger . I belive that through every
tradgedy and hardship there is a shinning glimer of hope that
comforts victims beyond this physical world's comprhension.
By Susan Stone Salas © 2004 All Rights Reserved



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Created on Oct. 26, 2001 Last revised: July 01, 2007