Something About Nothing by Julie Seedorf

Last week I shared with you my shock at the abuse my author friend, CeeCee James, went through as a child. Not only was it verbal and physical but also sexual. It started as a small child and continued until her teen years. I start my series with a complete stranger to you to introduce the hidden victims around the country in the olden days. I start with a stranger because it is hard to comprehend this horror could be happening to someone right next door to us.

Reading this book brought up questions in my life. How often did we look the other way in the ’50s and ’60s when I was growing up? This was happening in the ’80s, so what is still happening that we aren’t seeing beyond what is being reported in the media today. Do the words we say in anger constitute abuse? Have I ever used my life and power to abuse? Do we live with abuse in our lives and just put it off as a normal day or an incident that may never happen again, but does over and over? How do victims rebuild their lives? This is Cee Cee’s story. What questions will you ask yourself when you finish reading this interview?

First, a blurb from the back of her book, “Ghost No More”: “Behind the glitz and the glamour of the beauty queen mother lays a web of secrets. CeeCee is a child desperate for a touch of approval, the love of her mother. Her reality is her mom’s retreating back, abandoning CeeCee in front of a burning car.

But somewhere amid the chaos and despair, CeeCee holds onto something precious, the only thing that drives her on — hope.

“Ghost No More” is a child abuse true story that proves joy can be found beyond abuse.

You are a fiction writer.  What prompted you to share your earlier life in your book “Ghost No More: A True Story of Escape” and the serious subject of child abuse?

CeeCee: I actually started my writing career with my memoir. There were a few reasons I wrote it, though not for the cathartic reason that most would assume. Writing it never felt cathartic. In fact, it felt like climbing a never-ending mountain. At times, it hurt so much that I cried and wanted to delete the whole thing. Oddly enough, I often summed up the most traumatic memories in just a few sentences and focused instead on something more irrelevant. It truly was coming face to face with a big part of why I was the way I was.

One of the main reasons I wanted to share my story was in hopes that it would encourage other people that their stories mattered. I wanted a chance to validate the readers in what they overcame, and, if they didn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel yet, it was coming.

As a reader, this was hard for me to read. It took place during a time when the world seemed less harsh than it is today. I had a hard time understanding why no one helped you or came to your rescue. What do you have to say about that, and do you harbor any bad feelings toward those people who could have gotten you out of your situation?

CeeCee: No, I don’t harbor any bad feelings. I will admit that the fact that no one came to my rescue was confusing at times, and seemed to validate everything my parents were saying was true; it really was me being a bad girl. Recently, I drove through one of the neighborhoods (specifically the one in the book entitled The Dark House). As a child, I used to wander miles through those back roads. And I remembered stopping at different houses, and the people there would feed me. At the time, I didn’t really think anything of it. But now I wonder how odd that must have been. Some blonde girl wanders on their property and befriends any of the little kids living there, asking the kids to see if their parents would make something to eat. The adults made me sandwiches without blinking an eye. I’m very grateful for the kindness of strangers.

There are so many horrific things happening yet today when it comes to abuse. What advice do you have for those in the situation and those of us who are bystanders and ignore what we may see happening?

When the news sends a constant barrage of pain and misery, it’s sometimes hard to know how I can help. Sometimes, it feels like throwing a pebble into the ocean. Then I look back at my childhood and remember how unexpected kindness made the difference. Things like a smile, an encouraging word, or someone validating who I was and reminding me I was here for a reason. Names are important and, as someone who grew up enduring abuse and assault, I’d been called a lot of negative names. So hearing positive names was encouraging to me — you’re a good student, a good worker, you have a gift for writing.

Now, when I see people I look for the good in them, and try to share it when I see it. I do this with everyone I meet. Because, from what I’ve seen, you can’t tell what a person’s been through or their personal struggles by looking at them. Everyone has something they’re dealing with. Kindness is contagious, and it costs me nothing.

I’ve also learned to trust my gut if I do see something wrong. It can be very scary to get involved, and I’m not sure there is a black-and-white answer. I take each situation separately and do the best I can to help.

How did you escape?

CeeCee: I’m not sure I truly escaped. At 16, I ran away, was returned by the police, and later kicked out. I spent some time homeless, all the while still continuing high school and work. Honestly, as a teenage girl alone, I’m lucky I made it. It was the most traumatic year of my life.

What is your life like today?

CeeCee: I’m a wife, mom, and grandma. I’m so blessed to be able to talk with and encourage other survivors. I’m an author and a pet-mom to two mini-dachshunds who are convinced in their tiny hearts that they are Doberman Pinschers. They make me laugh all the time. 

How did your healing process start and it wasn’t an overnight thing so what would you tell those who are trying to heal their lives now?

I realize everyone has a different story of escape. I can only share mine. I’ve always felt rescued by God. It wasn’t an instant recovery. It took years of therapy and facing the experiences I so desperately wanted to forget. It took getting mad and standing up for the little girl who’d gone through it all alone, who’d never had anyone stand up for her before. There was a lot I had to learn, and still need to learn, but there’s no rush. As long as I make a step forward, no matter how tiny, the abusers don’t win.

For my brothers and sisters on their healing journey, I want to share that they aren’t the names they were called in their past. They aren’t the things our “inner voice” can condemn us for. They are people worth love and healing, no matter how they feel. I’d ask them to start reminding themselves of that. There is hope. They aren’t alone. There are many other survivors out there who support and care about them. They’re stronger than they think, and they are good enough, even on their bad days.

Wells resident Julie Seedorf’s column appears every Monday. Send email to her at hermionyvidaliabooks@gmail.com.