ABOUT Sara Niles

I write to make a difference, therefore my writing is mission oriented and imbued with a deeper purpose because of my traumatic life experiences. I write primarily nonfiction that exemplifies mans inhumanity to man, focusing of the triumphant human spirit within us all.

In Torn From the Inside Out, I call this "The power of the human spirit under fire".

Everyone wants to be happy, and everyone wants to be free; yet, suffering abounds worldwide. The injustice of man against man, is no where more unjust than in the home, where brutality abounds through domestic violence. Domestic Violence must be stopped, and if not stopped, at least, slowed. In any case, it must be fought. We were all born free with the right to happiness.

"Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains" Jean Jacques Rousseau

My memoir, Torn From the Inside Out, is a testament to the power of the human spirit under fire.

The Effects of Dysfunction and Domestic Violence are both primary, and secondary in nature, and for many, last a lifetime.

The internal pain caused by childhood abuse, becomes externalized through the triple threats of mental illness, trauma issues, and damaging addictions. I call this triple effect the 'Three Headed Monster'.

Hardback edition of Torn From the Inside Out:

Barnes and Noble


Other editions available via Amazon, Createspace, Smashwords , Kobo, and many others. Simply search Sara Niles.

The Face of Dysfunction

Dysfunction Within Families Breeds Dysfunction

Stopping dysfunction in its original form will prevent generational impact that affects individuals, families and society as a whole.

I spent thousands of hours examining people's lives under the microscope of counseling and I continue to see repetitions of the same underlying themes in almost every family. Healthy families beget healthy families and sick families beget families with many of the same sick dysfunctions that they experienced as children. Young boys and girls whose family role models were womanizers or man-users usually womanize or abuse and dispose of men, those whose models drank, usually have a substance abuse problem and those who grew up with hurt, pain, and abuse, usually inflict it upon their families in the same measure, over fifty percent of the time, or they may invariably find a partner who inflicts pain upon them. There are a rare few who escape this repetitive cycle, even though they were raised in it, but they are the exception. Many will marry the negative image of their parent or their opposite in an attempt to recreate what 'love' felt like and looked like to them as a child.

No matter how the child interprets it, when the family model is corrupted then the copy is corrupted. A very wise man that I greatly admired and who was a teacher and trainer once said there was a grandmother who baked a turkey with the edges cut off and both her daughters and granddaughters also baked their turkeys with the edges cut off. When someone asked the granddaughter why she baked her turkey with the edges cut off, she replied because her mother did it that way. When the mother was asked, she replied 'because my mother did it that way' and when the grandmother was asked, she said that she always had a pan that was too small for the turkey so she started trimming the edges so it would fit into the pan.

Dysfunction only needs to operate the first time, the rest will follow. We need to stop dysfunction where it starts in the first family, with the first children. If dysfunction by chance escapes detection, then stop it where you find it.

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

#MyStory by Sara Niles: Torn From the Inside Out

Memoirs about everything from minor subjects as trivial as how to tie your shoes to major works detailing trauma and tragedy that expands far outside the normal range of human experiences, such as   Surviving Auschwitz scatter the marketplace. A memoir is an account written from personal knowledge that professes historical accuracy, and personal honesty when the narrative is based on a true story of some significance. A meaningful memoir should leave a message behind, much like the duly acclaimed memoir  I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou.  In Caged Bird,  the personal struggle of young Maya to reclaim her self-esteem and identity after being raped, emerged into a powerful and poetic story of resilience. The inspirational message is you can survive and become stronger after earthshaking trauma; in Maya Angelou's case, she became her own earthshaking force as world renown poet, writer, philosopher and mentor to Oprah Winfrey.

My Story is a Memoir that recounts a childhood that was far from normal in which octogenarians relatives saved me just long enough for me to recover from the damage of early childhood neglect and abuse before my life catapulted me into the heart of a violent and abusive marriage to a mentally ill Vietnam Veteran, when I was only sixteen years old. My Story is a Memoir, Torn From the Inside Out and its message is clear: Domestic Violence bends, breaks, and kills. Too many victims never escape except through death, far too many who escape the actual abuse as damaged children, grow up to become broken adults who perpetuate the damage done to them: Broken People, Break People, and Hurt People,  Hurt People. The cycle of abuse has  be stopped; although domestic violence survivors champion resiliency and strength, the children bear the scars.

My Story is designed to increase understanding and raise awareness of domestic violence and its effect upon human lives, not just the lives of women, but all lives, the lives of  men, women, and children.

Torn From the Inside Out by Sara Niles

From the Prologue:

This book is for me and my children, as well as the millions of veterans of domestic war: those who live in homes predominated by domestic violence. Some survive the violence, stronger in some ways, and broken in others, and some do not survive at all.

In memory of the dead victims of domestic violence, I have retold stories of those who became casualties. The stories below are all true; I retold them from the perspective of my own visualizations in an effort to give some validation to lives wasted, and mostly forgotten. Some things are too precious to forget, such as the lessons of history, and the deeds of unsung heroes, for if we stumble into the habit of forgetting, we lose both the value of life and the opportunity to become a wiser and stronger generation. If we forget, we lessen our children’s heritage and cheat them of the legacy of their pasts, therefore we can never forget. 

I lived a life that was far from ordinary, and even far from normal. I was given away when I was barely over three years old to two aged, octogenarian relatives who had been childless until their early eighties, when they received me, much like a human gift. I was cherished and protected by them, that is, as long as they could offer such protection I lived in 'The Garden of Eden'. 

Time passed and I found myself far removed from such valued protection when I was on the brink of losing my life to a violent abuser, one I had married and pledged to spend a lifetime with. My life would take me far from my life's oasis, my childhood Garden of Eden.

Chapter 1

The Garden of Eden

Chapter 1

The Garden of Eden

Thunder rattled the window- panes two stories high and lightning split the sky; it was as if the whole world was in turmoil that night. My nerves were keyed up as tight as piano strings, and in a sudden moment of stillness and silence it felt as though my heartbeat was amplified ten times over. He was over a hundred pounds greater than I, nearly a foot taller, and I knew he could move his muscled body into unbelievable sprints. Rain started falling in torrents while the storm raged outside. I was not afraid of the storms of nature; it was the storm inside this night that I knew I might not survive.

Anticipation was so great that I wanted to scream at him to get it over with... and true to my expectation he lunged for me and my body did not disappoint me as I flew down the stairs two at a time in my bare feet. He stalled for mere seconds to enjoy his pronouncement of a death sentence upon me:

The date was February 13, of the year 1987, the night that I disappeared into a February rainstorm with five children and no place to go. I was twenty-nine years old.

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