Sunday Funnies - Nov. 30, 2008

flashback to picture day:


Breakfast conversation is always hilarious:

Elijah: How's my smile?
Mack: Fine.
Elijah: I don't want it going all the way up to my eyes. How's it now?
Mack: Fine.

Hair combed, kids almost out the door, where is Elijah?

Finding him in the dog kennel, for Baxter's last morning love; his hair is array, his smile is huge. Hair or smiles, I have to decide!


and then....

Elijah (age 7) brought home his school pictures today. After all we went through on Picture day to look practically perfect [not counting the dog kennel incident], now this:

"Mom, I don't like my smile. I don't think that Olivia C. will draw a heart around my face in the yearbook. Can I have redoos?"

Redoos sound great. Can I have life redoos?

honest scrap AWARD!

THANK YOU BUTTERFLY KISSES, FOR THE AWARD!

...with this award i have to post 10 HONEST things about myself.

FYI: i posted this on my family blog too, some of you might have seen it there. it is important for me to keep this journal private, but i also felt that the HONEST SCRAP was best suited HERE. so, as i shared both places, please keep my identity here for here.
THANK you my friends.

here goes:

1. i really am not good at keeping up with my house. i save EVERYTHING. i want to de-clutter but don't have the courage to do it. IT DRIVES ME CRAZY. I have a hard time having people over. I never used to be like this. A year ago I had my idea of PERFECTION.

Somewhere I crash and burned, and we are all suffering for it. My kids are on board to organize, they have the energy so it will get done.

2. Instead of food storage, we have toys and chocolate. I stress that we don't have enough to provide in time of necessity. This goes along with number one. De-clutter, and get food storage in order. And with number three, as you get the feeling that I am making a list: TO DO

3. I make crazy lists. I write everything down that I need to do everyday. Without the list I can't seem to function. I spend more time making the list than it would take to do have the things on the list. I reorganize my list; for efficiency, which requires rewriting them. I live by the list. I also make my kids live by a LIST. A checklist: home from school, wash hands, check, snack, check, pet care, check, chore, check, practice piano/guitar, check, homework, check, help with dinner chores, check, dinner, check, scriptures, check, journal, check, brush teeth, check, pajamas, check, prayers, check, 30 minutes reading, check. [compulsive behaviour passed along to the kids, another need for therapy when they get older.]

4. I can eat a half a gallon of ice cream during one movie.

5. I am writing a healing journal to try to break free from the pain of abuse and abandonment in my childhood. [that was a hard one to write, and not embelish or minimize, just honest] I wont ramble about this one.

6. I blog in layers. One for family, private, one for cyber friends [now i am being too honest], and one to spill my guts, my healing, very private.

7. I blog too much. (ouch, that was hard to admit.)

8. I know that there are some people reading this that will talk about me behind my back. I know who they are and it does hurt my feelings. Hey, you know who you are. This was not easy for me to be honest about. How about we just try to be nice?

9. I love serving in my church. I may be a broken mess about my gospel, but I believe in it with all my heart. I love the Savior, he is my friend, my partner in healing, my guide. I am thankful.

10. My kids are my delight, they are my everything. When I am with them, and with my husband, all is well; laughter is present, sometimes tears,

we may not have it all together, but together we have it all.

Amen to all these honest revelations about me. It is more than I wanted to know, so I can imagine how you feel. I just have to remind myself that this exercise is good for me, and that it is for ME. So there I have it. And what have I learned, oh, the growing pains of being honest about yourself.

I NOW AWARD:

Prayer Girl

AlkySeltzer

Atiyanna

Lulabelle

Gabrielle Moonlight

Psych Client

Amysplash

strong and determined

shadow

broken child

quiet rage

one tough cookie: Kim

April Optimist

survivors can thrive

If you don't want to do this, don't feel any pressure.

This is my honest sCRAP.

Actually, this is the same thing that I posted on my family blog. This will be the first thing that I blend about myself; who I am, in both places [besides my Sunday Funnies! Which are all real; honest! ☺]. This is HONESTLY me. #8 doesn't have anything to do with YOU all here. You are my support, I appreciate you. So this is more like a SHOUT OUT.

THanks aGAin. for your support. ♥

communion

poem that i found visiting my grandfather this week. it is one that was written in my grandmothers handwriting from many years ago. i found it interesting that my grandmother would find peace in these words, that she needed them at one time in her life, and that, so timely, i would come across them.

i am small tonight,
and heaven is far,
only God and I,
and the evening star --
the perfumed breath,
from the heart of a rose,
whispers to me;
"He cares! He Knows!"

hope, love, peace in the path and comments: YOU

as i commented to a few of you who read me i realized that this is where i am finding my healing. through the web of friendship and support. my comment to steveroni was so profound to my healing and i really wanted to remind myself by posting this, that i am healing. (i hope it is okay for me to share, hope, wow - to think that is the name steveroni gave me.)

me, hope, to steveroni and prayer girl, who are there every step with prayers and thoughts:

Hey, i am back. I wanted to say thanks for the prayers and the love, i love my new name(s). hope and loive. so sweet.

thank you for being so kind. i am doing better than i thought, the holiday. even surrounded by the pain, we felt it together, as a family yesterday....and NOOO drinking. I couldn't believe it. I was such a pessimist, lost in the past.

We had the best holiday as a family, ever. Even with feeling the sadness of 20 years.

today i learned my uncle passed away last night. It was time for him. I am sad, but don't feel devistated. that is good.

I posted some awful stuff. i actually scheduled it to be posted, while I was out. Seeing it today hurt a lot. But not as much as I thought it would. I feel bad that it is there, for everyone to read, but the pain for me isn't as bad as in the past. i think that is healing. thanks for giving me a place to ramble on about my feelings today. and for the friendship via the web.

and thanks for the prayers at Mile 191. that was so thoughtful. I usually hold my breath as I pass them. to think that you, a stranger, would pray for me. and that you would think of me. means the world. thanks.

i didn't think that our holiday would go very well, with all the pain that comes from losing my foster mom 20 years ago. the day was better than i could have imagined. it started with my older sister calling me, crying, hurting about the loss of our mom. i told her how proud i was that she would express her pain, pain that has been stifled this long. i told her she wasn't alone, i would be there.

we cried, we talked, then we laughed, we danced, we ate, we played. it was amazing.

it showed me that by talking, by writing, by opening up about the hurt, the devistation, YOU CAN HEAL.

yesterday was good, no fighting. both my sisters, my brother, my dad, all the grandkids; we had an amazing day together. i am not trying to sound cheesy, but when you are used to painful, bad holidays, this was really a better day.

and the talking we did....which brings me to writing. as bad as my writing gets, the painful memories. I do have HOPE that it will heal me to no keep so much in my closet.

NEXT:

to patty after writing Thanksgiving Blues, which shows such strength with all she has been through.

me to her:

this is an amazing post. i especially love the quote about when it gets dark 
enough you can see the stars.

my posting is in the darkest point. and yet, as i am writing the stars i see are 
those of you who let me know that you are there and that i am not alone.

that is what i have felt, but now, after reading your post, i also feel more 
heavenly about it.

we are not alone. as hard as it is for me to write what i do, i am so thankful 
that i can, i can give it to God in a sense, and i can give it to those who God 
sent here to be my angels.

quote from her post [thanks for letting me borrow it]:
"When it gets dark enough, you can see the stars" Charles A. Beard

"If I so chose, I can regard everything that happens in my life as a gift from
which I can learn and grow. Today I will find something positive hidden within a
difficult situation and allow myself to be grateful. I may be surprised at how
much a little gratitude can help."

i have much to be thankful for.

FINALLY:

to amy, who gave me an award today. an award that made me realize that i can turn Mile, into Smile.

turning my mile, my hope, my healing into SMILE.
thanks, you gave me more than an award.

i will keep writing my story, but my hope for healing will come with more of a smile. thanks for you. little things that make you think, ponder, reflect and heal. those little things that you do become the really big things in my life that are helping me to heal. love ♥

comments are love through the lines. and as today i have found peace in the path that i am part of i appreciate your amazing words, and that i can be a part of your journeys as well.

here's to all of you, and a final thought from prayer girl, thanks:

God has the power to heal even the most horrific of experiences. It will take patience, persistence, and time on your part. I believe you have all of these. You do your part and GOD will do the rest.

the rape - trigger warning

We are playing cards, I am losing, I am drinking a lot. She is drinking too. Man are we bad at poker. I have lost all my clothes. That’s okay, take another drink. Him: "Why don’t we go downstairs?" Oh no. We hear the door open. It is my sister. " Wouldn’t you like to go to the mall, here is some money", he says. My friend and I are in the top bunk of my brothers beds. She is laughing, he is such a great kisser. I know, I say, I have been doing this for years. Wow, finally what I have been doing is cool. This is so great. Then he is back, touching us, kissing us. Fondling me and her and we are touching him. Then he is raping both of us. It is no longer fun, the game, passionate. We can't get away. He is hurting me. He has never done it like this. So violent. So forced. So malicious. Suddenly i feel faint. I am feeling the alcohol, this is making me feel sick. I just want to stop, but he pulls me back. He is ripping at my body. Plunging and ripping, pulling, bruising my body and my soul. I am crying, that just makes him angry. You did this, he tells me. This is what you wanted. You have always been a whore. And now look, your friend. You have made her one too. He wants her and then me and then her and finally me and he finishes. I pass out I guess, he takes her back to school and comes back for me. He does it over and over and tells me I made his fantasy come true. "Isn’t this great. This is the way it can always be. Didn’t I tell you it would be wonderful. I can’t wait until your older and we can move away together. We can do this all the time. You can bring home your friends and we can do this forever." Then I was throwing up. My body wrenching. I feel the bruises forming, and I can't move well. I feel like everything is broken. Pieces of me are scattered all over the basement. The darkness settles in my mind. The darkness that will never go away. The darkness that will suffocate anything good that could happen ever again.

We had to go downtown to get mom from work. I was so sick. I threw up everywhere. My mom was angry, "she must have the flu." I get over it the next morening and am back to school the next day. I am waiting to tell my friend that she can’t tell anyone about this ever. She comes into the seminary building with another friend. Someone for support. Support for her. "I told my parents," she says, "they called the police. He is going to be arrested." Oh no, I think, I am going to be in so much trouble. The police ask me about it. I lie, I tell them nothing happened. She is lying I say. He is a good daddy. He didn’t do anything to us. I was so good at lying. I never went back to that school. I was transferred after a month of isolation. A month of his torture every day. A month of darkness. A month of pieces of me stolen that I can never get back. Black, evil, dark memories that I will never drudge up, divulge. my terror, what i will have to live with, alone. The police and others would come talk to me, but he was always there. It seemed as though I was never alone again. He made sure I said all the right things.

And at home, when no one was around, I had become his. I was now his to have anytime he wanted. He was obsessed. Then I wasn’t having my period. My mom said, check her, to see if she is a virgin. He checked. "Yes she still is," he says. Take a bath honey, you will feel better. Then he came in and did things. Things to clean me out, he said. Things to make it go away. So my mother would not find out. When he was satisfied with my bleeding and he left me there, in the tub. Watching it all go down the drain. Feeling as though I was dying along side this problem. The problem, that is how he spoke of IT. Your problem is gone now. You don't have to worry. You’ll feel better now. It will all be okay. We will be more careful. You wont have another problem.

probems. we spend our whole life working them out. this one will never work out. this problem haunts me. it stays with my entire soul. the sadness of his torture to release this problem from me. the wounds that he left are permanent. to this day i can't say what the problem was. i can't even type it. i feel so controlled by him, the situation is in my night terrors. the pain following, when it was safe, and we didn't have to worry about another problem. the pain of him trying to rape me, and me bleeding all the time. again and again. i never thought that i would be free from this torture. he was a monster, suddenly, so obsessed with having what he wanted.

i became pale, faint, almost like the ghost that he had taken from me, taking over me.