Until Educators Begin To Teach Self-esteem, We Will Have Drunk Drivers 
There's Been A Lot Of Controversy Regarding Caroline Petrini And The Accident 
Which Took The Lives Of Two Men.

13c 12-17-94 Cougars Trying Despite Lack Of Numbers

By CECE TODD; Times Leader Staff Writer
 Sunday, December 18, 1994 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Page: 1A 





WILKES-BARRE -- As a little girl, Sharon Brittingham lived with constant
violence and uncertainty. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 At age 8, she called the police as a boyfriend beat and choked Mom. As a
teenager, she was abandoned twice by the mother she loved and trusted and
molested by her alcoholic stepfather. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; As a young adult, she dabbled in drugs, had three children out of wedlock
and tried twice to kill herself. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 With many detours along the way, the road to self-respect has been long.
But now, at age 43, the Wilkes-Barre woman looks forward to graduating next
month from Wilkes University with a degree in psychology. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 As a counselor at Victims Resource Center, she helps abuse survivors cope
with their trauma. As a mother of three, she successfully parents her children
-- without abuse. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Her 20-year-old son is in college studying to be a social worker. Her
youngest sons, ages 7 and 15, live with her in Wilkes-Barre. The boys do well
in school and regularly attend Mount Zion Baptist Church, where their mother
is a licensed minister. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "This has been a very long journey, a journey I decided at an early age
that I was going to take," Brittingham says. "You live what you learn.
Violence -- that's your impulse. But the focus in me was saying that I would
not do that." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Not all child-abuse survivors are that strong. Experts maintain that most
people who hurt their kids were abused themselves. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 When it comes time to defend parents who kill, attorneys often bring up the
parent's own history of childhood abuse. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 But Teddi Berlatsky, executive director of the Family Service Association
of Wyoming Valley, points out that although some abused children are unable to
overcome their past, some do. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "Having been abused as a child is not necessarily a predictor to being an
abuser," Berlatsky says. "People do overcome it, and often they do because at
some point, another adult made a difference in their life." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 For Brittingham, the difference was not so much another adult as it was her
faith in God. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "That was something I could depend on," she says. "God is where the hope
is. You can't do it by yourself." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Innocence lost &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Childhood was more like adulthood for Brittingham. She was her mother's
confidant at a young age and primary caretaker of their home in Rochester,
N.Y. She remembers being 8 years old and watching as her divorced mother
fought with a boyfriend. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "He threw her down on the floor and started choking her," she says. "I made
the call to the police." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Her mother eventually married again -- this time to an alcoholic who beat
his wife and molested his stepdaughter. When Brittingham's grades started
falling, teachers advised her to spend a couple quiet hours each night
studying at home. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "Quiet hours? I was too embarrassed to tell anyone about all the screaming
and yelling going on," she recalls. "I was too embarrassed to say I had to fix
dinner and clean the house." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 At age 14, she came home to find her mother packing. "She chose to desert
all of us because of the domestic abuse. It was very odd dynamics. She was the
one leaving, but I was comforting her." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Her mother had made other living arrangements for all the children -- two
sons from a previous marriage and two daughters -- except daughter Sharon. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "She left behind a letter saying I should decide for myself," Brittingham
recalls. "That was devastating. I had trusted her." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 For a time, the girl lived with her grandmother. Then Mom returned for
Sharon. They moved in with her mother's boyfriend and his daughter. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "Several months later, they fought and she moved out and left me there,"
Brittingham says of the second time her mother deserted her. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Such experiences shatter a child's ability to trust. As an adult, survivors
of abuse then struggle with issues of trust and control in all their
relationships, she says. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "When you can't trust your own parents," Brittingham says, "you figure you
can't trust anyone." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 The toughest times &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Brittingham describes her late teens and early 20s as "the very screwed-up
years." The devastating effects of child abuse and neglect began to show. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 She lived with a foster family, graduated from high school and became a
nightclub singer. She had her first child at age 23 and was on welfare. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 She used drugs and alcohol. Suicidal feelings set in. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "I would drive around and think, `This would be a good day to drive my car
into a wall or a tree,' " she says. "... I didn't feel like I was worth a
whole lot. I thought because I was sexually abused, there was something
inherently wrong with me." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 She overdosed twice on tranquilizers she had been taking since her mother
first abandoned her at age 14. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 After the second suicide attempt at age 21, Brittingham was in a coma for
five days. "When I came out, my thought was, `OK, God. You must have something
you want me to do.' That started my commitment to heal." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 But the process continued to be slow and painful. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 For about 10 years, she lived in New Jersey and started taking classes at
Rutgers University. She dropped out after two years to have her second child.
Still single, she moved several times, supporting her family by singing at
nightclubs and working in human services jobs helping the handicapped.
Eventually, she moved to Boston, where she had her third child. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 She nods as she recalls her nomadic lifestyle. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "That's another part of being a survivor of abuse," she says. "You tend to
get up and run away when things become overwhelming." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 In 1990, Brittingham moved to Wilkes-Barre to stay with a friend. Three
months later, she got a counseling job at Victims Resource Center, and
eventually enrolled at Wilkes University. She met and married a man who left
her after two months. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 For a woman who had been abandoned twice before, another desertion was
almost too much to handle. Local psychologists recommended that an emotionally
distraught Brittingham be hospitalized for about 30 days. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 With her children in mind, she refused. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "That was a turning point for me," Brittingham said. "I was not leaving my
children. I was not going to let another person affect my life again. I
realized I had it in me to be strong." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 She became a minister at Mount Zion and stayed in school. She continued
working at Victims Resource Center -- helping others understand and overcome
the effects of violence and abuse. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Today, Brittingham laughs softly and speaks in an easy, gentle tone. But
she also remains forever vigilant. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "There's a lot of anger inside," she says. "The impulse is there. It's how
you act on it. I've kicked doors. I've punched walls. But I've been determined
not to let my anger hurt anyone else." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Still a challenge &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 The anger and fear never completely go away. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Holidays are difficult for Brittingham because they remind her of the times
her parents would drink too much and fight. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 At night, she can't sleep with her bedroom door open all the way, but it
can't be closed either. Sometimes, she rocks herself in bed, something she did
as a child. "I thought no one could touch me if I just rocked hard enough,"
she recalls. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Remembering how it felt to be her mother's caretaker, Brittingham says, "I
make a distinction with my children: `We can kid around, but I am your mother,
not your friend. This is not a buddy-buddy system.' &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "My kids are not responsible to take care of me." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Brittingham acknowledges she was controlling and verbally abusive to those
in her life, including her children. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "I became the master at verbal abuse," she says. "The intent was, `You hurt
me and now, I'm going to hurt you.' That's how I was in relationships.
Sometimes, I would yell; sometimes, I would do it calmly. I became an expert
at verbally ripping people apart." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Now, instead of engaging in a verbal assault, she sometimes withdraws.
"I've always been a loving, giving person. But there is a side of me that's
cold. I can get real quiet, detached. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "It means, `You don't exist for me. I'm cutting you out. I'm shutting
down.' " &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 But moments like that happen less with time "because I live a healthier,
happier life now," she says. "I make better decisions." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Most of all, Brittingham has learned she cannot handle it all alone. As a
young adult,

Faith Guides Single Mom To Triumph Over Past 
Life As Sharon Brittingham Knew It Was Violent And 
Cruel. But A Divine 
Sense Of Purpose 
Drove Her To Turn It Around For 
Herself, And For Her Children

Faith Guides Single Mom To Triumph Over Past Life As Sharon Brittingham Knew It Was Violent And Cruel. But A Divine Sense Of Purpose Drove Her To Turn It Around For Herself, And For Her Children