A Close-Up Look At People Who Matter : Young Victims Find Someone They Can Trust

Joan Donalson has heard hundreds of stories of betrayal and seen a thousand tears fall.

Each week, the 58-year-old Westlake Village woman sits in a small room on a horseshoe-shaped sofa, surrounded by the happy trappings of childhood--stuffed toys, puzzles and crayons--and hears children tell tales no small mouth should have to speak.

A volunteer counselor for 13 years at the Family Stress Center in Van Nuys, Donalson helps girls ages 5 through 8 deal with the lasting pain of sexual abuse.

“They’re usually isolated in their problem. They kind of come in all folded up and tight and hurt,” she said. “They’ve all been molested by a trusted family member.”

The children are struggling with the aftermath of abuse--the guilt, rage and uncertainty that come when an adult they love and trust takes advantage of them.

“They’re usually confused,” Donalson said. “I personally believe it’s the most impactive thing that can happen to a person. For me it’s really kind of a personal mission.”

Donalson, who also lectures on child abuse prevention and symptoms, isn’t sure why she became interested in helping sexually abused children.

“It may have been because my own children are grown,” said the grandmother of two.

Donalson, who volunteers once a week at the clinic, works closely with clinical psychologists to help the children become stronger.

“For me it’s just a wonderful privilege to work with them,” she said. “They just kind of bloom like flowers. It’s a wonderful miracle.”

Not everyone could do what Donalson does, said Dr. Linda Damon, a clinical psychologist who heads the center.

“It’s a really special kind of thing to be able to work with the children because you have to be able to tolerate their pain,” said Damon. “For many, many people it’s just too painful and they find they can’t do it. She just has such a natural level of compassion and common sense and empathy.”

Donalson admits the stories that she hears sometimes break her down.

“I have cried here. I feel the pain of the child,” she said. “But I know inside me I can do something about it. I can help heal it. That’s what makes me able to do this is I know I’m making a difference.”

In the weekly sessions, the little girls sit around the room on the couch, on the floor, talking or role-playing.

Donalson will pull out two hand puppets and hand one to a child. The child names her puppet and the puppet in Donalson’s hand. Donalson’s puppet plays the abuser.

The child’s puppet tells the abuser what she thinks of him. She’s mad at him for what he did. Donalson’s puppet starts to cry. “But I love you,” he says to the child puppet. “I don’t care, I’m still mad,” the child puppet says.

In the safe, role-playing environment, the child can confront the image of her abuser, tell him what she feels.

As the children learn to identify and express their feelings, they also learn to say no, even to authority figures.

“They learn to protect themselves,” said Donalson. “They learn to say no when someone is going to do something that will impact them negatively.”

Donalson, who has a bachelor’s degree in education, was accepted in 1988 to a graduate program at Cal Lutheran University. But she decided against the higher degree.

“I didn’t want to stop what I was doing where I am. I didn’t want to leave the kids,” she said.

So instead she remains the center’s longest volunteer, the one constant in the children’s lives.

“This is the last thing I’d give up,” she said. “This makes me truly happy, making a difference in these kids’ lives.”

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