it's up to me

We often count the days or hours in our lives.

We credit those who pass on by their accomplishments and talents. But do we stop to think of the courage it takes to walk the miles in the shoes of that person.

What their experiences have been, good and bad, and where their journey took them?

Each persons inner growth can not be measured by what is accomplished on the outside.

We walk miles and miles with our memories, the good are fun to live with, but what of the terrible events we carry to our journeys end.

They make us who we are in the end. They are often the clay we mold our life decisions by. And they take us down roads we would otherwise leave uncharted.

So where does that leave you and me?

I am left with a barrel of memories, good and bad.

I am left sifting through the remains of my childhood, deciding which memories to keep and which to leave at the site of destruction.

I am learning to choose what to keep and what to let go of.

This is what I have come to find.

As I pass my own mile 191, I slow down but I will not stop.

This is where I feel I am coming to the top of the hill, where if I endure I will see more clearly the road ahead.

I am going to make it. And I can tell you why.

Despair and depression have encompassed me. I will always have my days where darkness overcomes the light.

But I have learned that the sunset is a beautiful thing to see, but by experience the sunrise the following day is by far greater that any sunset.

A new dawn, a new day and it is up to me where I go.

ready to heal

I am caught in this turmoil of tears, anger, passion, fear.

I have to do something with what I know and have experienced.

But I don’t know what it is.

I have a dream. In my dream I am a strong person. I am trying to protect my children. There has been earthquakes in our city, I am trying to keep them safe, as the quakes get more and more magnitude. I finally feel the next one starting; I know that this is it, it will be over for us all.

Then I wake up and I am in an institution. I have dropped my basket.

Everything I was aiming for is gone and I have truly lost it this time.

My children come visit me, my husband can only cry when he looks at me. And all I feel is confused. Is this how it is suppose to end for me?

Am I eventually going to drown in the sorrow of my own fears?

Or is there a plan; a road map for me.

What is it I am supposed to do with all this?

I can’t hang on to it anymore. I am ready to heal.

broken...

thank you 1427.17.

this - i needed.

Merry Christmas: Funnies

For an absolute laugh you have to go to Lulubelle's blog post titled:

I am pretty sure

this is how my family feels when I sing

I am laughing right out loud

and it feels so good,

it might even wake up my family

and we will begin Christmas Day.

Love, hugs, and Merry Christmas to you all.

my comment to lulubelle:
omgosh.
I just read the title of your post
and I am laughing right out loud

....i hope the kids don't wake up

...tonight as I layed by my son as he fell asleep,
I was singing to him

...he asked me if we could just listen to his ipod:

House of Pooh Corner....

such a kind way of saying:

Mom, please stop singing.

so funny.
I am going to blog this, and link to you...can't help myself!

Now, for my funnies from my family blog:

BLOG that! MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

Christmas Eve Day:

Elijah: Mom, since I can't find my
Christmas stocking this year
I'll just use this Winnie the Pooh one.

[first, i didn't know his was missing :( ,
second, sadly, and worse,
i didn't know he was longing for it...]

Me: We will go right up to the
attic and find it in the
extra Christmas decorations.


[third, i banned half the decorations this year, and my kids caught me boxing up
the ones we had put out a week ago. they called me GRINCH, and yes, I have been the grinch this year. I felt all green, with a heart too small, as I SHOVED those decorations BACK WHERE THEY CAME FROM.]

Elijah: (answering my solution to go find the sock),
No, that's not good.
I don't think we should
spend our time working on Christmas Eve.


[You would think it was Sunday, the way he said it.]
....him thinking....he continues:

WHAT, DADS WORKING TODAY!
.

..it wasn't a question.
It was a statement of pure disgust.

He is so hilarious. He stayed in his PJ's all day,
decided he would go to bed at 630 to have
Christmas come earlier!!!!! ☺


Christmas Eve Day "FUNNIES", take two:

The kids have been getting Santa Helper
gifts for the 12 days of Christmas.
Today was their 11th gift.
As they brought it in the house
they were all talking about how
COLD the package feels.

ME: There is no place as cold as the North Pole.

..well, except maybe my grinch heart...no, I didn't say thatjust thought it!

Elijah (again, and speaking very professor like): Except for Antarctica, it's pretty certain that it is colder there,in fact,scientifically it's probabilitymuch more colder.

BLOG THAT! (he, he, i did, and i got to it before Cece!)

Merry Christmas Everyone!

{the above links take you to my family

blog....please know i am trying to not

come out of my closet....there...

but i wanted to share another part of

me with you}

Merry Christmas....

...hope your holidays are filled with love and peace,
and moments that will become memories to last....
..and a few moments that are memories worth BLOGGING. ♥

broken things to mend

I belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I have learned from church as an adult that you can be loved, you can be mended, you can be healed, having Faith in Jesus.


I have always felt as though they were talking about everyone else, not me.


I love my church. I love the people who come each Sunday, who put their arms around me; Who Love me. I know they do, I feel it, I want to be there each week, no matter how sad or broken I feel I never stop going. Even when I have been breaking the commandments, I still go. Even when I loose the light in my eyes, and people come up to me and ask me what's wrong. Even the day my Grandmother died, I went.


A talk was given during one of our conferences titled Broken Things to Mend, by Jeffrey R. Holland. I remember it was beautiful.


For Christmas this year I bought the book: Broken Things to Mend for my sister, and one for my mother. I went back and got one for me. I haven't read it yet, but feel that it will be a really good part of my healing process.


Today, missing my Grandmother very much, I got a surprise visit. My mom came by. Everyone loves surprises, but you know what I have told you about my mom. My childhood.


She came by, and it was good.


Let me tell you more. She brought with her little Santa bags. Bags she had sewn herself, to give us as Mrs. Claus bags. My Grandmother always played Mrs. Claus for us, it is by far my favorite Christmas memory ever. And I am missing her greatly, this healing is partially coming and necessary due to losing her in October. Something in me broke, my heart and more, so badly when she died. And when that broke, the rest of me fell apart.

Having my mom come today reminded me of something I learned in church. Faith. I gave my mom her book, and a journal, and a little white bracelet with the word Faith on it. Like the one my son gave to my grandmother years ago, something she wore everyday the rest of her life, and was buried with.


As my mom played Mrs. Claus today I watched her from the rocking chair that my Grandmothers Father built. She gave them the gifts, with no fancy dress, no singing of Here comes Santa Clause...just a sweet gift of a journal and some old fashioned candy, like Grandma.


As tears came to my eyes I realized I wasn't crying because I was sad or broken. I was crying because I was happy. I remembered that Life is great. Life is and will be eternal. Life is love, and prayer, and Hope, and Faith, Life is happy, and Families are Forever.


We believe this in our church. And I will be able to see my Grandmother again. I may be broken, but I am beginning to believe that Broken is Better. And that being broken I have the Faith to heal, to be renewed. To be whole.



part of that conference address says:
"He is saying to us, "Trust me, learn of me, do what I do. Then, when you walk where I am going," He says, "we can talk about where you are going, and the problems you face and the troubles you have. If you will follow me, I will lead you out of darkness," He promises. "I will give you answers to your prayers. I will give you rest to your souls.""


Another part I love is:

Are you battling a demon of addiction—tobacco or drugs or gambling, or the pernicious contemporary plague of pornography? Is your marriage in trouble or your child in danger? Are you confused with gender identity or searching for self-esteem? Do you—or someone you love—face disease or depression or death? Whatever other steps you may need to take to resolve these concerns, come first to the gospel of Jesus Christ. Trust in heaven’s promises. In that regard Alma's testimony is my testimony: "I do know," he says, "that whosoever shall put their trust in God shall be supported in their trials, and their troubles, and their afflictions."


In the Bible the woman who touched Christ’s garment and was healed is a wonderful example of faith, determination, and resoluteness. Her motives were pure. There was no hypocrisy or deception, as she hoped her actions would go unnoticed. She did not want to inconvenience the Master or disturb those listening to Him. The woman had spent all her income on physicians, expecting to be cured of a blood disease, but to no avail. With great faith, this sister disciple sought out Jesus and in the midst of a crowd “came behind him, and touched the border of his garment” and was healed. Jesus experienced the withdrawal of spiritual power. He inquired of His disciples, “Who touched me?” The disciples pointed to the multitude thronging about Him and suggested that it could be any number of persons. Jesus persisted, sensing the special person in His midst and the nature of the event. The woman then came forward. “Trembling, and falling down before him, she declared unto him before all the people for what cause she had touched him, and how she was healed immediately.

“And he said unto her, Daughter, be of good comfort: thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace” (see Luke 8:43–48).

And Finally the conference address says:
If you are lonely, please know you can find comfort. If you are discouraged, please know you can find hope. If you are poor in spirit, please know you can be strengthened. If you feel you are broken, please know you can be mended.


Today, I can't help but think that by no accident do things happen. Even in my abuse I know there is power to heal and to mend. I know that while some of my experiences have been awful, most and many more, have been good.


I know that what I learn at my church is good, that I have been taught many wonderful things, that I have felt wonderful things, and that I have found peace in them. I know that Jesus Christ, whose birth we celebrate this year, is wonderful, and that he loves me. I know that the words of these men and women in our church are true, and loving and that they are inspired.

I seek to have the Faith to be whole, to be mended, and this time I want to have a choice, to choose the best parts of me to put back together. Actually, I quite believe today that I am looking forward, with Faith, to it!


Love and greetings, Merry Christmas, to you, my friends, who are with me on the way to my healing....I do pray that your holidays are safe, warm, healthy, and happiness be yours. Know that you are making a difference in my life, which is making a difference in my children's lives.


Love and gratitude to you!

Mile 191; the jOuRNey cOnTiNUEs...

Truth is we all have a lot to experience.

We all have pain and suffering. Some worse than others. Many worse than I; I am sure. And I have stopped asking why.

I even say I would take the very worst day of my abusive childhood over and over, to have what I enjoy now. I get to raise four of the most wonderful, beautiful, sweet children I have ever known.

I have a loving, kind, tender, understanding husband. We have a bounty of family support and love of our neighbors and friends.

I have on occasion shared my experiences with others and have been blessed to have them be so understanding and supportive. So I have to ask what is making it so difficult for me to move past this pot hole in the road. Why can I not make it to my next horizon?

I don’t trust myself.

I feel inadequate to be a mother to my children.

I often cringe when my husband kisses me.

I feel like I am going out of my mind. I dream the most horrific of circumstances.

I fear everything.

I won't be able to protect my own children from the tangles of abuse, and other horrible events of our world today. It consumes me. The effects of abuse do not end; especially for me. And I have never confronted my abuser.

Sunday Funnies

...I am going to be fine,
I am too stubborn to fail at anything,
including healing and Hope.

that said...

I have decided that if I have the time to blog
I am going to share the cute things my kids do
or say that make me smile,
and something I am thankful for each day.

Positive thoughts; positive momentum forward.

This week as I picked Elijah up from school, alone,

because his older siblings are tying out for the school play,

I DELIGHTED in listening to him talk.

He had so much to say
and I was THANKFUL for the time with him.

I think that he sometimes is quiet
because everyone else is so noisy.

He is a DANG cute kid.

I wish that everything he said would be as cute to you all,

but I have seen your blogs,

you have cute moments and funny kids too,

[which i enjoy...smiles...]

and seriously cool lives....actually that being said [the cool word]...

I have a story.

My story is my thing that made me smile today.

Elijah was talking non stop,

the boys at school,

THE GIRLS at school

- remember he is 7.

He was talking about the teams his friends are on.

I asked, teams, like sports, are you playing games.

Oh no, he says, not sports.

Actually the entire interaction

between kids these days is like a sport,

with NEW rules, not olden day style.

So, he is telling me about all these kids

and the funny events of the day.

He is laughing hilariously at himself.

So I said, "Sounds like you have a lot of friends,

you must be a COOL kid."

And that, my blogger friends, is where my STORY comes in.

"COOL kids," he responds,

"OH NO, that is the OTHER TEAM.

My team is AWESOME.

We are definitely not

Constipated, Outdated, Overweighted, Losers."

HELLO, what was I thinking.

It is so not cool to be COOL.


So, YOU, you are awesome.

You are the awesome team.

I am not sure that I know ANYONE who is cool these days.

And, it is Over WEIGHTED, not over RATED....I also learned that tidbit.

KIDS these days.

FUNNY!

me

How do I describe me today?

I am at what feels to be the bottom.

About two years ago, the things that I was really good at, began to suffer.

Being a good mom, being a kind mom. Being a friend.

I began to feel numb, and I stopped doing the things that matter.

I stopped walking with my kids, taking them to the park.

I stopped playing games.

I stopped cooking, baking, caring about eating. The kids have not gone hungry, but they have not had the care taking that they were used to.

I stopped tucking them in, reading with them.

I stopped coloring.

I began to sit, and stare.

I started crying at the drop of a hat.

I yelled, I taught my kids words that I would never want to hear them say.

I gave up on how I look, and on cleaning our home.

I stopped sorting and organizing.

Their homework doesn't get done. They fight more now. They talk back to me, and sometimes what they say is truly a trigger that they are not doing okay either.

They have seen me at my best. They don't know what to do with me now; at my worst.

They want their mom back, so do i.

when your basket breaks

I had to read my story to my Father.

He cried, I cried.

He begged forgiveness for not protecting us, for not coming for us.

He lives now with the pain of all we were tormented with.

Then my stepmother. For her and few others who I have shared this story with, she was sickened, defiled by the details of abuse and the subject of abuse.

It is truly hard for others to even imagine the degree of torment that children suffer through daily.

And the realization that we continue to suffer for the extent of their lives; for this kind of abuse never leaves a person. It remains a part of who you are for life.

There comes a point in therapy when you just have to take a break. I did.

I suppose that it was good timing. I was healing.

I never expected things to bottom out, but they did.

birth to a new journey

During the following year, we had our first baby, a son. He was beautiful, wonderful and I felt so much happiness; and then plummeted into the worst despair I had felt to this point of my life.

How could I protect him?

Would I be a good mother, or would I be like my mother had been?

Could I love him enough, what was enough?

I started some really intense therapy at this time. I had to confront these and many other issues over the next year.


I first had to write my story. That was possibly more difficult than living it the first time around. I had to recall vivid, graphic details of the years of abuse.

I had to write it, read it ,say it out loud.

Then came the time to bring in my husband and read it to him. I think that was the hardest part. Seeing the pain in his eyes as he heard things he had known and some things he didn’t. It was horrible.

Then I brought in my real father.

What can I say about my father?

He was my daddy. He was hurt in this process too. His wife, my mother, had left him, took his children.

He was learning that his children have been abused, mistreated, beaten.

What can I say?


This was a very difficult time, a time to begin my healing. A time to break, and a time to choose which pieces to pick back up as I re-created the me that I am still trying to become.

true loss

I think the biggest tragedy of all in this was that you had sisters hurting, and hating each other because an evil person spent his energy promoting meanness between you.

It is awful that we lost that bond of childhood because of him.

That to me is the worst part of it all.


When my sister spoke out, my mother finally left.

I should be happy for this but all I could feel was what was wrong with me.

Why was I not good enough to trust, to stand up for, to protect.

It just compounded my feeling of uselessness and lack of compassion from my mother. She really showed me that I mean nothing to her. It was horrible for me.

And in some ways it still is.

hate

Our abuser, my stepfather, would tell you that you were worthless, no good; and would amount to nothing. You felt you did nothing right, if you did anything good he would find a way to make you feel you had failed.



It was as if there was a standard, an impossible standard upon your head and you could NEVER come close to it. You were beat down to nothing. He would say awful things and set you up to fail so he could laugh at you for being so stupid. It was a game to him. And if you dared to stand up to him, he would beat you. You had no value or purpose but to entertain and muse him.

I still can not think of this without wishing that I had some power to have known; to have done something; to have known that he is really the small, the inadequate, the weak and nothing of a man. My mother continued to live with and subject my brothers and sisters to this man after her abandonment of me.



This man; an evil that lives in my mind, day and night. The most difficult part of the entire tragedy is knowing that they had to continue to live with him after she left me. My brothers, my sisters, had to be subjected to him; even years after I had the courage to tell. They didn't escape.

Being abandoned was what saved me. They didn't escape, and it pains me to this day.

My older sister left home to serve a mission for our church. She finally was able to escape her own nightmare, only to find that it will continue for her entire life in living color every time she closes her eyes.



The nightmare we live with. Every time we close our eyes.

Every time someone stands behind me; I feel the threat of being beaten for doing something wrong. I know I haven't done anything, but I never feel safe.

I didn't do anything wrong as a child and I was beaten or threatened.

When I see a father and a daughter, or any may who finds a child charming; I wonder.

This trauma causes you to accuse in your mind. You can not understand just love and concern. It is a nightmare never ending. No it is a night terror, with eyes wide awake.

While my sister was serving her mission, she was able to finally speak out and tell someone of the years of abuse. She had always supported our mother, in moving, in living with him again, in her own pain she had not been able to escape.

She stayed. I am sure that is the haunting part of her nightmare; that she stayed.

I hated her for a long time. Martin Luther taught his son that hate destroys you. That you should never get so low as to hate. But I hated.

My anger, intense pain; hurt; and it felt like hate.

I never want to feel that again.

insomnia

i know that if i try to sleep the dreams will come. i have a hard time sleeping and it makes the days hard. being tired, and a grouch. i feel like the grinch. i am going to try to write my feelings and then move on to gratitude.

i am thankful that i have a home to sleep,

to stay warm, food and clothes.

...

...basic, but i have gone without these things, and i truly am thankful.



tonight i have a lot on my mind. my mom is still homeless, and now she is going through typically unimaginable things. except i can imagine them, i have been there.



she said, this is killing me. i said to her, I WAS 9 years old. I survived....you will too.



then i wonder if is should take her in. give her an apartment we have, and bless her with the very things i am thankful for. then I remember, the abandonment, ...but have i forgiven.



i need some sleep. and to think and pray about these ramblings. there is so much to it. i will try to sleep and figure it out, in prayer, tomorrow.....today....





i wonder if the effects of being abandoned ever go away? and will i ever feel safe...





[sorry, no sunday funies...an apartment/condo building burned, and many people (80+) are displaced...i was helping with the Red Cross. I just didn't get to it.



By the way. The RED CROSS is in desperate need of donations, for homeless, for children, for disaster recovery. After watching them in action, they are amazing, they are angels.

If you have the means, find a Red Cross in your area and donate anything you can. Your time...see if you can be trained to assist, or just show up.

Volunteer: while I was there an angel helped me, and I was given the strength to continue to help those who were burdened by the disaster. Truly sad. Many of them lost everything, others have major damage. ..and all of them are homeless...won't be able to consider returning for a year. Awful



so I am thankful to be home, and I am going to try to sleep...

being nothing

Life went on. My mother came back into my life on one level when I had my first surgery for a fibroid tumor. She was here for me but more for herself. She seemed concerned but it is easy to be when you are circled in the arms of all who were caring for me in my life.

She was here to be a part of that, for the attention she could have for herself.

She should have stayed gone.

After her return home, I continued dating and fell in love with my husband. My mother again came to the wedding.

My wedding. What can I say? I am glad that I married, but more about that day is worthy to be forgotten.

I had hopes for the fairy tale; take me from my pain, beginning of a new chapter. Little did I know what the next chapter would involve.

I really enjoyed my younger sister coming to the wedding. It had been so long since I had seen her.

I remember that everything was to be left unsaid, as if life before now should be left forgotten. But the pain hiding behind her smile tore me up inside. She was still living a nightmare of her own, and I was no longer able to save her from it, being so far away.

My sister, what can I say. I do not know what it was like for her to be taken away, to have to meet up with the abuser and live more years with him.

It was as if all I had said to my mother did not matter. My sister assures me he never touched her again, but her hell was not over, it was just a different kind of hell.

I know that the terror of his existence is enough, and knowing that he knew, that he had every ability to hurt, kill or maim you was a threat, a daily threat.

He continued to hurt her in other ways, and he hurt my brothers; humiliation, manipulation, emotional and mental abuse. Being raised by that man made you feel as though you were nothing.

come what may...

i am sad tonight. i dont think that this is a good kind of sad. i broke down talking to my son and that was not good, although it made me cry and now i am going to let myself cry and go to bed.
i don't understand yet why i am hurting so bad, but something broke in me and i am not the same person that i was. i don't clean, i wear the same clothes day after day. i sleep all day and do nothing productive. i have stopped caring and stopped feeling. and tonight i am sad. i cancelled all the dental appointments for next week, i cancelled the surgery. i cant handle having to go anywhere and i cant think of my mom trying to come to the surgery. emotional disaster. i am so sad, and i miss my grandmas so much. it was bad enough to have one pass away recently, but then my grandma, my surrogate mom, my friend and mentor, my safety, passed and i cant seem to function. i sit and eat rocky road ice cream every night. right out of the gallon. i feel her there with me. that was her and my favorite thing to do. i know she is there. then tonight i started to apologize to my son for being such a horder, it bothers him, and he is trying to clean stuff up, and he threw away stuff that was good stuff. things that we can donate, and i broke. i told him that i was that child that desperatly needed one book, one toy for christmas, and here is my kid throwing away stuff, because he has everything, and he has never had to hurt or worry about having what he wants and needs. so he just throws GOOD stuff away, without thinking of donating. and he threw away a journal item, something precious to my younger son. who didn't feel he could tell his brother to stop throwing stuff away because he wanted to be cool. and he threw away something that my grandma gave me. and that made me break. i hurt so much. i began to cry and then i told him i don't know what is wrong with me, i know i am not the mom he remembers from a couple of years ago. that i am a mess, i told him that i miss grandma, that everything hurts, that i am to the point where i don't care about anything. i feel numb and broken. i was crying so hard, and then i told him that i dont give a fuck about anything. instead of getting surgery i want to get the tattoo that i have always wanted. i want to get xxoxoxxx, and a beautiful small rose. because of my grandma, but it is the worst thing I would do. she would take a switch to me if she were here. but she is not, so i will do it, and deal with her later. i guess that i just needed to write all of this down. i need to go to bed and finish crying. i need to let myself feel and deal with this, and then get up tomorrow, clean up my house, put up a tree and decorate. then i need to START shopping for christmas, it will come, come what may and love it.
my grandpa always says that, come what may.
so that is what i will do




this button links you to his talk, Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin

is an Elder in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints

the talk is amazing, and if you get a chance, read it.

it does give comfort and peace, and is just what i needed right now.

love and hugs, and appreciation for your support of me.

thanks for reading my ramblings, even the hard stuff.

take care, and i will get back to reading everyone this weekend.

i have not been doing very well emotionally,

and sleeping alot.

avoiding alot.

sorry

book mile 191 cont: unraveling

The truth is my best friends life was beginning to unravel.

I was trying to repair them as quickly as the end of the tapestry was being unraveled. I couldn’t help.

Everyone around me was hurting.

I learned that this family had a whole lifetime of pain of their own.

They had taken me in and helped me to begin to heal all the while they had their own pain to deal with.

My foster mother had been taking pain medication for all of her children’s lives.

The doctors back then kept prescribing medications and then when she couldn’t get the medicines she would forge or steal; whatever she had to do.

She had her addictions. This time her addictions took her life.

She froze to death in a place she had always found peace.

Off mile 191; through her favorite canyon, the canyon that once led her back home. The canyon that seperated her childhood, and her life as an adult. The canyon; had she stayed on the road, had she not veered at mile 191, quit at mile 191; she could have returned to either home.

While many were looking for her, no one knew what mile would be the end of her journey. Now we know.

There was a funeral, tears, anger, suppression of feelings and moving on, but the pain is, and forever will be, a part of her family.

Her family encompassed in pain then and continues to hold.

Whatever the addiction; alcohol, sex, drugs, pornography,
I have seen the destruction of families by these horrible things.

I refuse to allow these addictions to be a part of my life and pray they will never be a part of my children's lives.  

book review: among the hidden, ch 1 and 2

i thought that i would get through this book and review it. I love writing book reviews, commentary, etc. and passing GREAT information on to the public. We all need a boost in the right directions from time to time, and I believe that finding a great read, writing and passing along reviews, and speaking out through them is a perfect way to influence our society.

this book is written for ages 8-12...I have pratically three children in that category, my older two have read the book, my third child wants to...so I though, read it again, make sure it is okay for THIS child, and MAYBE write a commentary or public review for positive influence of a difficult subject matter.

regarding my children...each child is so different, and this specific child is very sensitive, and extremely emotionally touched by trauma. [imagine one of my children being like that].

so i am off and reading, first for him, second for me.




i am into Chapter 2 and I discover a flood of emotion and trauma that is very personal to me.

The book I am talking about is among the hidden by Margaret Peterson Haddix.


notice first of all that among the hidden is written in lower case. i tend to write a LOT in lower case only. i think that using uppercase is necessary only to emphasize importance, and in general i don't use I about myself. i don't find myself all that important.

now, this may not have been something that the author or book designers really put much thought into, but the fact that I, meaning I, did is something to me.



some of what i am really being flooded with has to do with the following passage:


QUOTE:

She paced, then jerked back to face Luke, "Sure. YOU CAN BE A COWARD [emphasis chosen by me, not in the book].

...and HOPE someone else changes the world for you. YOU CAN HIDE up in that attic of yours until someone knocks at your door and says, 'oh, yeah, they freed the hidden. Want to come out?'

IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?"

Luke didn't answer.

"YOU'VE GOT TO COME, Luke, OR YOU'LL HATE YOURSELF THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. When you don't have to hide anymore, even years from now, there'll always be some part of you whispering, 'I DON'T DESERVE THIS. I DIDN'T FIGHT FOR IT. IM NOT WORTH IT.' And you are, Luke, you are.

You are smart and funny and nice, and YOU SHOULD BE LIVING LIFE,

INSTEAD OF BEING BURIED ALIVE
IN THAT OLD HOUSE OF YOURS---"

CLOSE QUOTE


now, what i am thinking is that if i read over and over the parts that i put emphasis on i hear what i am saying to myself, or discovering through just reading this much.


I am keeping myself captive in this CLOSET, buried alive, with so much life that I could be living.

Waiting for some magic to absolve me from the pain of my past.

Something magic eraser to take away the memories and experiences that have made me who I am, the things that having been through have created this being, this person.

WHO I AM. And I like who I am. I just don't like some of the choices that I make, nor do I like how LAZY I am becoming because I am so obsessed with the painful parts of my past.


I want to overcome, I want to heal. I want to break free, and I don't want to wait for someone to come break me free. I want to do that for myself, because I am worth it.


okay, so that said...

i am only two chapters into the book. a couple of the things that i have reflected upon are the feelings of being my own shadow. of being in hiding, in real society, the society that doesn't want to believe that bad things happen to really little people.


the society that we live in that glosses over the pain that is real, and that doesn't do anything to really protect small innocent beings, beings that grow up and become, like me, struggling to face each day, with the memories, the triggers, the syndromes that come of traumatic events in early childhood and youth. And that continue with the messed up fabric of our broken homes and disfunctional families, [and i am talking about GROWN UPS here, who in our lives are so messed up that our being messed up can't even be dealt with.]


phew, i said it.

[these feelings are sparked a bit by the fact that I am having a surgery next week, and my mom wants to come to the hospital. I am ready to cancel the surgery because I can not handle the dramatic events that unfold. I just want no one to know about it, to go do it in private, and come home to heal for a few hours and go on with life....i can't stand the attention that it will cause so I will probably cancel it and reschedule it when i wont have to tell anyone about it, until afterward.]



i find it really intersting as i read the book that the main character: LUKE, who is also the main victim [i say main because the rest of the characters are also victims of this society, the society that doesn't allow Luke to exhist because he is a third child, and there are laws against his existence.]


...Luke is the only one who really seems to handle his trial well. He seems to be the only one who is turning out decent, every one else around him is a basket case about life.

he happens to hear his mother say once: things could always be worse.

And Luke is prepared for that to happen.


this is somewhat how i see the things in my life that have happened to me, or are happening.

for my family in particular it isn't enough that the abuse and neglect and abandonment happened to me, i get to help EVERYONE else get over it, and help THEM to feel better about it.


IT HAPPENED TO ME, and yes, they each have their own suffering and pain from that period of time, but what I don't get is that I continuously get to help them all to feel better about it happening.

...and, if I have surgery, it won't be about me having surgery, it will be about them knowing me and I am having surgery. i don't think i can handle this right now. so i may not.



in the meantime. i will post a couple more chapters of my own story, and i will keep reading this book.

i look forward to reading more of the book as i am sure i will discover more about my own personal feelings that will give me strength to break free of my closet, the darkness and entrampment of being stuck here.


i think with that desire to break free, and to break loose the bands of my memories and triggers that keep me from healing...that desire might be the strength i need to keep healing.

...but for now. I must remind myself that I am the mother. I have to get a grip on the holidays, and my house work, and in taking care of my family, as well as myself. thanks for reading♥

no mistakes...

yes, i agree that

we are all made up of our experiences...

thanks everyone.

i do HOPE that this is not only helping me,

but helping you...you all are in my thoughts

... and yes, you are in my prayers.

i do not feel alone. thank you♥

brave is something
that you have
to be
in a bad situation,

but courage...


Courage is a choice.



courage is what you do
with the bad situation.



courage is an action!



courage brings healing,

courage is coming out of my closet,

out from under my bed,

sharing the awful thoughts in my head.



courage is in lifting a friend
when their down,

courage is sharing smile
when all they have is a frown.



courage is living
when all you want is to die.





i had to be brave to live in the past

but courage is what helps me

choose living at last.

no mistakes...
only a change of direction in the journey...

faking

It would be four years until I would know where my family had moved.

I now know that much of my extended family knew all along where they had moved, but my mother had told them never to tell me.

She had told them that I was taking drugs and drinking and had moved out or ran away.  [a big lie - the only drinking i did was in her home.]

Whatever it was it was enough for them to lie to me for too many years about where she was.

I went to school; my senior year.

I had to go to a court and became a ward of the state. My father and his new wife did not want to keep me, they thought I may have been trouble, they did not know, so my father signed me over to the state and I became a foster care kid.

I tried therapy a few times but was never really ready to talk. People gave up on getting me to talk about it, and so life just went forward, with me supressing so much inside, the pressure that would surely become my eventual demise.

I really loved the home I was living in.

There were rules. I could not drink or smoke, or stay out late.

I finally had rules; different rules, the kind of rules you have when someone loves you and cares about your safety. It was really weird.

And these people they treated me like family. The entire family did, to the extended family, as though I had been there all along... From uncles to aunts and cousins. I was always a part of their family.

It felt really nice. I was able to be a kid, finally.

I went to work with my real father. I really enjoyed that. It was actually fun to get to know him and my other step-brothers and sister. And it lessened the difficulty of him not accepting me.


I thought that for once all was going really great for me. I had a lot of nightmares and I remember that I had a lot of tantrums.

I would threaten to run away, sometimes I wanted to die. Even the good couldn't completely alleviate the pain of the past.

I have been told my reaction was a lot like post-traumatic stress disorder.

What I know is that it was hard on the people who were loving me.

At first my grandparents did not know where I was and were told not to look for me because of my problems.
When they found me I was really sick with a flu.
My grandmother thought maybe I was hungover, she was trying to get me to say I was hungover; I was really, really just sick. And again, I paid for the pains of my mother, my past.

I was enjoying seeing my dad and grandparents, my mothers family, and I thought only the best was ahead. They were all really nice to me. It was wierd.
Wierd because my mom had taught me that they didn't like us. Some of the things that she told me, I learned, were true;
and I paid for trusting too much... trusting that I was okay to be loved. We weren't good enough, we came from a divorced family; it seemed our horns, the things that were wrong with us, would never go away completely.


And then in November, my foster family's mom died. She went away one weekend and never came back home. My foster family was hurting and I was watching this new chapter unfold. A life that would never be the same for anyone I loved again. It seemed to me that anything I touched, the lives of those who loved me, were destined to be destroyed.

And now I had to be strong for the family.

They were hurting so much. I didn’t know what to do. It was really like a nightmare. A new nightmare.
Again, I was supressing; Learning to live by blocking out the pain each day brought.
This seemed to be the beginning of my faking my life away, with a smile, and strength, not really courage, but bravery.

Sunday Funnies - camel what?

My 9 year old came home asking what camel toe is.

I won't go into the WAY TO LONG explanation that my husband gave him, or the fact that my son has been asking for a month, and he has been putting it off; or the advice he was given at work on how to tell our son.

Also, you DON'T want to see the pictures he drew [quick explaination, they were all of animals feet, up to the camels foot/toe, and then a few of...well go ahead, imagine]!

...best yet, you don't want to visualize my husband pulling his pants up really high to give him an effective, my boys will never be the same, example of it.

At near the end of this fabulous lesson in words we wish our kids never had to understand, explained that camel toe is like a sign.

LIKE A SIGN?

Follow me:

He goes on to say, like the loser sign; is the L.

Which brings us to things our kids should never learn from us:


now my 7 year old pipes in: Oh, I know dad, you mean like when mom holds her three fingers up and says, "Read between the lines." You know how if you take away these two fingers it means......

Dad interrupting him: (how he can respond without busting up is beyond me), "Yes, exactly. And again, NOT one of the things that you should do just because OTHER PEOPLE (including your MOTHER) do it."

thankful...

That God loves me, even when I do not do my best.

Mile 191: erased

I can not describe or even really remember the feeling I had as I walked through the empty house.

When I got to my room, however, their were my things; left behind.

Symbolic, I am sure of the fact now.

The fact that I was being left behind. Every trace of me erased from her existence; wherever that might be.

I was left. Later I came to realize that the word for that is abandonment. Abandoned by my mother, at the age of 16. I was homeless; abandoned; left by the one person who should have loved and protected me.

Looking back I had really always been emotionally and mentally abandoned, this was only a physical abandonment;

...and it hurt the worst because it brought the realization that a mother really can walk away from that which begins as part of her being.

i realized that it is not just a natural thing for a mother to love her child.

i realized there are some times things more important to a mother than the love, care and nurturing of their own child.

What was so important to her for her to leave me?
me: Her daughter.

At the time i thought this must be my fault.

What did I do so wrong?

It would take me; and may take, my whole life to figure out what and why.


...and maybe that is not part of my healing....


when i read this, and remembered when i wrote it, i remember that i was in therapy, 13 years ago.

since then i have come to understand some of why my mother left me.

...and some of it i still don't understand.

i understand the abuse that she was also suffering,

the struggles of her own childhood,

the pain and torment of being subjected to her own physical, emotional, mental abuse during marriage.

this man, my stepfather; didn't just abuse and beat the children, he also abused her.

at the time that i wrote this, i didn't put much thought into that.
[however; i don't excuse her from her behavior,
and; i do NOT believe i did anything wrong.
i know that it was not my fault.]

i do have a better grasp on where my life is now because she left me behind.

my life is better. that much i know,

i have had wonderful friends.
people who have understood me
you know who you are if you read this.
in high school, in my neighborhood
not one, but three essential people
who listened, who didn't run from
my nightmare, but stood with me
through it. no YOU didn't go through
it, but I think what you did standing by me
was harder than what I was dealing with
you who loved me
you who listened to me
you who saw the pain in my eyes.
you who felt the pain in my heart.
YOU are amazing people
the couple of you who knew things,
who helped me through
tough times. THANK YOU.


...but there is a great deal unsettled, regrets, frustrations and anger, missed memories.

being away from my sisters and brothers,

...being separated from them was awful.

and during that time, the experiences they had would need to be overcome;
adding insult to injury you could say.

for me, to be erased from my mothers life,

to be forgotten,

to be selfishly abandoned by her....

i was just a young girl;
and no, it was not my fault that she left me.


i can not put to words how that makes me feel tonight.

i think i am still not accepting it.
i don't understand it, and i don't even know how i feel about it.

i feel that is part of the numbness, when i stopped feeling.

when i began to go through the motions of life,
without thought to my personal satisfaction and pleasure,
blocking and erasing my life; even as i live it.

going through the motions...
i guess you could say that i began to abandon myself,
to perpetuate the abuse that i had experienced,
and that i have not stopped the cycle of abuse.

yes, i do need to be honest with myself,
i need to choose to move forward, to heal.

this is my journey, this is why i am here,
this is the purpose of this place,
to safely work through the entries of my life,
and to only keep what i choose.

my approach of mile 191, what do i choose? where do i go from here?

the gray area

today i am lost in my thoughts...i keep thinking about a couple of comments, GOOD that i am thinking, so don't get me wrong. more than one that i need to stop blaming myself, and realize that i didn't do ANY of this. and that is good for me to hear. and the other one was It sounds like you really love your children; they need you. ...that comment is really getting me today.

it is so good that you give me input to think about...

today, i am in the gray area...let me explain. i went to the doctor. this was a really big step for me. my mother did something called Munchausen by proxy when i was a kid. she really enjoyed the attention she got i think from me being sick. i don't think i was ever really sick, and as an adult i have thoroughly studied my health records, and there was no reason for me to be on the medication that i was on, the medications that made me sick, the medication that i nearly died from taking, and the same medication i wanted to use to kill myself at age 9. as an adult i have learned that i didn't really have the problems that i thought i did as a child. i was left in the hospital ALOT, and that abandomnent is part of my issues. this Muhchausen has been said to be one of the worst forms of child abuse, and i am dealing with that as well.
however, that is not what this is about...so

going to the doctor is really hard for me. i never think that anything is wrong with me, i always think i am fine, things will go away... except that i grow tumors, and those don't go away. so, I haven't been feeling well, physically, or mentally.. obviously. I made an appointment, POINT FOR ME, I actually decided to do something to take care of myself.

I go, and the doctor thoroughly checks things out. One tumor has to go, he says, so i have to see a surgeon. My fears of hospitals is creeping up on me. i hate them, having been left there so often as a child, and the dream, the night terror that constantly haunts me...anyhow.

this doctor also reads into that all is not well with me emotionally, mentally, psych...etc. he starts asking me questions, and me, trying to be brave, brush them off. I AM FINE, as i always say.

then the tears come. he says, listen, you need to get help, it is okay to ask for help, or to accept help. i say, no, i can't because the help i get doesn't help. we talk, and he says his wife is a psychologist, and that there is good help out there.

will I PLEASE let him offer me help.


last night, with my husband, I am filling out forms. it asks all these questions, and he is helping me to understand my answers, in relation to how he sees me.

i am pretty smart, and i noticed that there is a gray area on the form, on ALL the answers.

pretty soon my husband says, they are going to admit you with all the answers in the gray area.

so I think, i guess i will have to lie about some of these answers. but what is so SURPRISING to me is the way that i have been for 20 years. 20 YEARS. when I said to my husband, how long have I been like this, or that, he said since i have known you. i guess I should take comfort in that because he loves me, he married me this way, he has stayed with me and been really good to me.....but seriously.

i do have a couple of people who have really been there for me. BUT IN GENERAL I feel alone.

i hate that i am this way, i am irritable and frustrated with how I feel.

and most of all, I need to be more patient my kids...doesn't every mom.

some of the questions asked how I feel about my family, and i feel numb..

yes my family needs me. I love them...i always love them. this is only in the past year that i have become kind of shut off. i remember having fun. my kids are great kids, i still delight in the things they say and do. they make me smile. but so much i notice that i am being less enthusiastic, i am being impatient with them. i never used to be this way.

my husband said that he noticed this particular change only in the past two years. he reassured me that i have been a great mom, loved, cuddled, protected, laughed, played and raised GREAT kids. but something has broken. something happened and i have become numb.

i have shut myself off from feeling.

 i compare myself to everyones perfection, even though i know that isn't realistic. and i fake really well that I AM DOING JUST FINE.



i don't know what to do. again. the comment: it sounds like you really love your children, and they need you. i hear that, and i know that inside, deep inside i do, i cant give up on this.

I have stopped feeling, and that bothers me to learn about myself. it hurts.

i am in the gray area, and i don't know how to change that.

"it will all be okay in the morning"

No, I said, no police. I will go home and tell my mom.

I called. Mom, I have something to tell you. He was on the other line. What is it?, they say. I will tell mom when I get home. I want him to leave. I tell her I wont come home until he leaves. What is wrong? he says. You know, I tell him. I am going to tell what you have been doing. I haven’t done anything. I say, I wont come home until he leaves. Okay, so he will leave. Bear walks me home.

I know now that had I walked home alone, I would be dead, or missing, but I would never be able to tell, I would have no end to my story. I would still be living it. He chased Bear home that night, if he couldn’t get me it would be her, then he could come back for me.

That was how he was. She made it home, somehow, she flew through the door, locked it, and he was right there...at the door, trying the nob...she was safe. but what if...

I toldl my mother everything. It is all true. What happened to my friend and me. He started touching my baby sister.

She says to me that whatever happened I must have brought it on my self. He wouldn’t do that, he is my daddy. Why am I telling her these things, these lies. How can any of these horrible things be true. I would have known, she says.

I would have noticed something. Like the times you were in bed with us while we were having sex. I would have noticed him touching you. I would have noticed if my own daughter was pregnant. Of course, if any of this were true, I would have known. She reminds me that I have always been a liar, this is just another one of my lies, a lie so I wont get in trouble for missing curfew.

Then everything changes, the look in her eyes.. suddenly she becomes kind, "go to bed dear. It will all be okay in the morning."

She says she will figure something out. I sleep. For the first time in nine years I go to bed without him touching me.








The next day is the beginning of a new route for me. How could I have known where this road would lead? I was trusting my mother, I was hoping and dreaming things would finally be better for us. She is trying to explain to my brothers and sisters where their daddy is.

It is my fault, of course, I made him go away, but it will all be okay, because she has a plan.



I needed to move out, because everyone was so angry that I had made their daddy go away. They all hated me. It wasn’t safe for me to live with them, she said.

It would only be for a while. She would find a place close by. Could I move in with my friends.

I moved to a friends house, then in a few weeks to another.

I called my mom, I had to go home for the weekend, the family would be going camping and waterskiing, which my mother would never allow to do. Mommy, could I come home please, just for the weekend. I miss everyone, I ask her.

No, go ahead and go with them, it would be too hard to have you come home. This is what my mom said to me. Have a good time, she says.



It was a great weekend. I had never been camping or on a boat. This was a lot of fun. Do people really do things like this?, I had always wondered. I couldn’t believe how nice my friends family was to me. Especially her dad. He was a lot of fun and he was kind to me. And I wasn't scared of him. What a thing. Dad's who are fun, funny, and nice. WOW.

It was a great weekend. I couldn’t wait to go home and tell my mom thanks, it really was so much fun.

We got home on Sunday night. I went to my house and used the key to go inside. Something was different, something had changed. The house was empty.

thanks for reading me:

after reading this post - it will all be okay in the morning, you gave me so much hope i had to share my gratitude.

thank you all so much. i never expected that i would find the support that i am getting here.

i am looking for a therapist, but nothing will ever come close to the kindness that i am experiencing here as you read and give me such love and support.

i do have HOPE. yes, thank you, i do.

i didn't when i started this. it was out of desperation, and tears. and i sat down, created the account, wrote that poem, and cried the rest of the day.

everything felt dark, and lonely. nothing could feel worse, i thought. and i had been through a lot.

broken, despair, just complete giving in finally to the pain.

and not giving in to anything else that would take it away, for i have come to know any temporary happy leaves me raw and in worse despair.

so thanks. i am finding my way out of the darkness, and you all are part of my healing now, my journey.

i feel like you all deserve an award, something not invented yet. something really cool.

all i have to give you is my thanks, and in my prayers, i hope that you feel my gratitude, a hug, and a moment when you KNOW that i thank you. i pray He will let you know, with some comfort to you in all that you are all going through. a warm feeling of love.

and this ♥ to say...love and thanks. my husband thanks you too, and if my kids knew...they would thank you. they want their mommy back, and i have not been the mommy they have always known  since i began this journey accepting my past and leaving it there so that i can embrace the future.

thanks!

READ the COMMENTS

sorry,....i practically wrote a book in my own comment section to each of you who commented to me. if you get a chance check out the comments for WORSE (below), there is a response to you if you wrote to me. and THANKS!

WORSE!

kathe kollwitz, rape, 1867-1945

I started a new school, again. I made a couple of friends. I just hung out with them, watching, listening, observing.

How would it be to be just a kid...?

To just be a kid. I would never know. I had never known. I loved being included and it was fun to be with kids my age.

But who was I???, I really didn’t know.

I made a good friend. She was fun and always made sure that I was included with her friends. She was there, day in and day out that year. She treated me like I had always been her friend. I was really starting to have a good time. I even had a boyfriend. I was in the eleventh grade, my boyfriend was 26. But he was really nice to me. He never touched me or tried anything. In fact, when I made him touch me once he never called me again. Oh well, I said, he is not normal. All men usually want is sex, so not worth it.

The summer came and my friend left for a while. That was okay because another girl lived down the street and we spent every day together. Now I had two really great friends. Things were going really well.



Then it happened, my baby sister came to me and told me something that destroyed my world. I will remember it to be the worst day of all my life. Yes, truly the worst, worse than all I had been through, was going through, worse.

She told me he was touching her. She told me he was touching her in her private places. I had always told her it was never okay to let anyone touch her, so she was telling me that he was touching her where it was never okay to let someone touch her.

I have never to this day cried as hard as I did that day. The day he started to hurt my baby sister. Hadn’t I done enough for him? Wasn’t I enough?

Why couldn’t he just have left her alone? I would have, I did do anything and everything I could to keep him from hurting her. I would have forever if he would have just left her alone. I went to my friend Martins house that night. I was out of my mind. But I didn’t tell him that. I would have slept with him, but my mother called. I was past curfew. I needed to come right home. She demanded that.


I didn’t go right home. I went to my girlfriends house. I told her. I told her everything. We should call the police, she said. We should tell her parents, she said. But I had not really told her everything. I knew if I really told, he would kill me.

He would put that gun to my head with a bullet this time and he would really kill me. He would kill my sister. He would kill my brothers. I knew he would. He could kill with his bare hands. He was a Navy Seal and that was what he would do.

Some of the worst that I never shared was in those moments, when he held me down, with a gun to my head and told me that if I ever told, he would kill me. Even years from now, he would find me. I would be asleep in my bed, I might have a daughter, he would say. HE would do things to her first, he would kill her first, he would come after me. I could never hide. He makes things disappear. He makes people disappear. I would be one of the things he would make disappear. I could never sleep. If I did, that would be when. So I could never tell, my life, my future, my baby sister, anyone I cared about would pay if I did.

No, I had to go home and tell my mother. I finally had to tell her. She would make it right. Everything would be okay.

help

why can't i seem to have the same strength for myself:

i am amazed at the strength that i read in your words. you share something so difficult and have been through your share of pain, yet you have so much hope, thanks for being so brave.

my son told me bravery is what you have to be in a bad situation, but courage is a choice you make to deal with the bad situations we all are given in this life. you certainly have a great deal of courage.

have the courage also to get help. i felt so strong myself coming out of really traumatic circumstances, which began to haunt and tear me apart as i got older, had my own children, trying to deal with stresses of raising a family. i definitely feel that if you can find the right help you will have a way of balancing the pain of the past with the pressures of the future.

take care of you. and keep holding onto hope.

me.


notice how i am encouraging her to get HELP., the right help, the help that i have lost hope in for myself.

after i read the response that i posted to this person, only 17, coming out of traumatic childhood circumstances, i thought, now why can't i believe this for myself.

okay. something more for me to think about. hmmmm.