by Phil Foley

The attached link: https://apple.news/AHlaKkpEJTVmRga9-wAy21A is from an article in The Atlantic. It illustrates the catastrophic consequences of the Law enforcement community failing to Protect and Serve. Criminal Sexual Assault is a plague on our society. There are steps that can and should be taken.  Reducing the number of these heinous crimes is within our power.Those with the power to act must recognize and not dismiss victims who have the courage to come forward.
We need to demand that our Law enforcement community follows their mandate to Protect and Serve. This Epidemic of Disbelief is further compounded by the current political assault on reproductive rights.
We can and must do better.

MEN & THEIR FATHERS
 
Untangling the Knots
 
By Kathleen Hoy Foley
 
 
I am not going to give that guy a message from his dead father, I whispered to Phil.  But that old familiar sensation of density and pressure, of walking through glue when a spirit energy is close and wants to connect was increasing.  I’m not going to do it, I insisted.  I have my rules and boundaries.  An opportunity must present itself and must be very obvious.  I never search—I only respond.  Those are my parameters and I stick to them.  
 
Bringing up a deceased loved one to a stranger is always risky.  Not everyone is okay with the concept of communing with the departed, and I wasn’t up for the stink eye and banishment from the premises with silence and a long, cold stare.  Plus the guy—tall and lanky, well north of fifty if I had to guess—looked way too reserved, far too intellectual with his nose buried in a book as we browsed, apparently unnoticed, in his antique shop. 
 
So, I ignored him and his dead relative, kept my eyes on the treasures, and soon escaped to another room.  Just another undeliverable message…  On the bright side, I’d spared myself all possibilities of the stink-eye curse.  Then the guy poked his head in…friendly, chatty, artistic, kind…  Still I resisted.  Until the opportunities began appearing quicker than I could shut them down.  The man’s dad was persistent.  He needed to talk to his son.  Sorrow and promise weighted the air.     
 
A bruised boy becomes a bruised man.  But when a boy is bruised by his father—the most significant, most influential male in his young life—he is more than bruised, he is deserted.  Stranded alone on the pothole-strewn path to manhood.  Shut down by his principal mentor.  Left to his own undeveloped devices to get where he does not know he is going.  And the bruising within keeps widening, tunneling, quietly becoming entangled with love and anger, guilt and responsibility.  Along with the historical demands that pit personal growth and emotional survival against duty, expectations, and obedience to an unworkable image in an unmanageable dynamic. 
 
So it is that the beautiful boy even as a beautiful man may not identify this bruising—this emotional damage—caused by his father as trauma, but trauma it is.  And the knots of that trauma keep tightening.
 
And so, on that day, in those very humble surroundings of small trinkets and minor valuables, a father in spirit worked against all odds—including a reticent medium—to reach across dimensional planes to attempt to heal the heart of his son.  The son said “yes.”  The time was right.  The energies aligned in harmony.  So, I delivered the message:
 
Your dad knows.  He gets it.  He really gets it.  He wants you to get it, all of it.  He is profoundly sorry about it.  He will not burden you by asking for forgiveness.  He only wants you to know that he now understands.  And he totally supports and encourages you to go all the way to the bottom of it and express every single thing about the pain he caused you.  He does not want to be an obstacle to your growth in any way.  Say it all.  (Even the things you think you’re not supposed to say or think.)  This is the path to your healing.  And, yes, now he is in a very good place because he finally understands what he has done. 
 
I don’t know what the “it” is that the father was referring to.  It is not my business to know.  What is certain is that the love this father expressed for his son is unconditional.  And that kind of love—born from the deepest depths of profound understanding and self-evolution—has the power to transform. 
 
Healing is a long, slow journey of twists and turns.  But whenever the son decides to go down its path, his dad will be present, guiding him to the source of trauma hidden within the bruises of betrayal and disappointment.  The older soul will be embracing the younger soul’s tender heart with unconditional love and complete support as together they explore the tangles and knots of secrets and consequences in his boy’s search for clarity.  The old man will ensure his son’s safety on a path that often feels so frightening, lighting the way forward for his beautiful boy: forward into freedom.
 
In case you’re wondering, this message is not at all unique.  Though I go through my little hissy-fits of anxiety when I’m presented with an opportunity to deliver a message, it always comes through the prism of profound, unconditional, evolved love.  It does not matter whether the communication comes from a late relative, a departed childhood friend, a long-ago, mostly forgotten, deceased acquaintance, or the gentle light of an unknown, invisible guide.  It does not matter whether the message is given directly, overheard in a crowded room, carried by the wind to a listening ear, or stumbled upon by a reader. 
 
If the message resonates, it is for you.  And be assured that there is a loving, evolved spirit who is—and has been—reaching out to you.  
 
It’s a beautiful thing.
 
 
Namaste             
​

​JUST THE FACTS MA’AM…Sgt. Joe Friday
 
Cops and Sexual Abuse Trauma
 
By Kathleen Hoy Foley
 
 
Just the facts, ma’am.
 
Duly noted.
 
Just the facts, ma’am.  Just the facts!
  
I get it.  I get it!  Nobody wants to talk about sexual abuse.  Least of all cops.  Especially when it’s personal.  Especially when it sort of, maybe happened to you.  Especially when it did happen to you.  So here I am stuck with facts…only there aren’t any.  Not the kind that can be quantified and measured and put on a stat sheet. 
 
Sexual abuse is the type of criminal activity that sneaks through the sewers undetected.  It starts with kids…boy kids, girl kids.  The gender never makes a difference.  It’s a matter of opportunity and convenience for the abuser.  Every kid is vulnerable.  Once you were vulnerable.  If it happened to you…you still are vulnerable. 
 
Every victim of sexual abuse—and I am one of them—wants to hide.  Desperately needs to hide.  Clings to the protection of personal privacy.  Nobody wants their vulnerability exposed and exploited by the trolls and lowlifes who take pleasure in accusing and shaming, and in attacking with malicious judgment until both your personal and professional life are all but destroyed.  I don’t need to tell you that cops are favored targets in the public sport of people shredding. 
 
I was publicly shamed and accused--very publicly—over details of sexual abuse that I never wanted revealed, and sure as hell never wanted turned into fodder for strangers to gnaw on.  No one wants that kind of scrutiny and blame.  If I was noble, I’d say that I wouldn’t wish that kind of agony on my worst enemy.  I am not noble.
 
I must confess, I don’t drink beer, way too many calories for me.  But I know that beer talks.  Drink enough of it and you’ll be telling your mother-in-law how much you’re enjoying her visit.  Alcohol alters the brain chemistry and loosens inhibitions and starts those lips flapping.  And soon inviting your mother-in-law to stay forever somehow seems like a really great idea.  And you tell her so. 
 
Trauma works the same way, only opposite.  It too alters brain chemistry, but it constricts.  Trauma blocks and suppresses emotions that demand resolution in order to clear out.  Without resolution, the energy of sexual abuse trauma becomes imbedded pain: serious, dark pain that lumps in your stomach and amasses like deadweight in the center of your chest.  And when that emotional pain is triggered and starts throbbing, trauma starts “talking”.  Like how that beer magically pops somebody else’s dumb words into your mouth, trauma impersonates you as it directs your actions and behavior.  It manifests as sickness.  Reveals itself through injuries.  Trauma uses anger to express itself through your mouth.  It speaks through the depression it buries you in.  Trauma wants you to hear it.  It will not let up until you listen.
 
There is emotional risk in revealing something as explosive as being sexually victimized.  Exposure carries with it the weight of humiliation over the act itself, over being rendered helpless, over the inability to physically and emotionally defend and protect yourself.  In a profession where defending and protecting go with the badge, a cop who discloses such personal information risks being judged weak.  Though actually, the weakness lies within those who mock and vilify.  It’s a slight-of-the-hand trick used to deflect attention by those being strangled by their own dark secrets.  But that’s little consolation when you’re on the receiving end of cheap shots.   
 
In reality, confronting your past where the trauma of sexual abuse remains alive and thriving is a powerful, take-charge action that reveals authentic courage.  It is one of the toughest jobs you will ever do.  When you allow the victim hiding within you to speak bluntly, you will lose the weight of trauma and begin to build real muscle. 
 
But I’m realistic.  I know that a snowball stands a better chance against a blowtorch than I have of assuring you of these facts.  Still, no matter how strong you appear outwardly, unresolved trauma will continue to generate inner havoc.  It is relentless.  Ignoring it only emboldens it and weakens you.  That’s just the way trauma energy works. 
 
Addressing trauma doesn’t have to be a big deal.  You don’t have to announce it or talk about it.  Or join a support group.  Or make an appointment with a professional.  You can start without a lot of fanfare right where you are.  In the privacy of your own thoughts, in your own time, and at your own pace you can begin the process of healing simply by developing an inner pathway of compassion for yourself. 
 
By silently acknowledging that yes, something happened, you take the first monumental step toward self-care.  The next step, admitting that yes, something happened to me, is another huge step toward emotional relief and resolution.  Strength is built one step at a time.  Each acknowledgement builds on the one before it. 
 
By using the discipline of your professional training—the process of creating order by asserting facts to calm the chaotic—you will build the inner strength to match your outer muscle. 
 
The basic facts of sexual abuse are these: the victim of sexual abuse is never at fault.  You were a victim of sexual abuse.  You were not at fault.  The pain is real.   
 
It is a safe place to begin.
 
Sgt. Joe Friday lives…
 
 
Namaste
 
(To schedule a confidential healing session, email [email protected])