Sometimes words have two meanings and all our thoughts are misgiven.
But my hope lies in the whispering wind, “to be a rock and not to roll.”
“Some things still turn to gold.”
Monthly Archives: April 2014
Time to Take the Harsh Outta My Mellow
I gotta thinkin’ birds are free. I’m free. Why not sing about bein’ free.
Mellow time.
Say No More to Sexual Assault
Please feel free to reblog, retweet, FB or all three.
There is only one way to break the silence and bring this ever growing nightmare to the forefront of the minds of others and that is to SPEAK out in the capacity that we can.
Say No More
The Night the Lights Went Out *Trigger Warning*
I’ve been working on this post for several days. It is the single most difficult post I’ve made. It is my hope that in the end you will have found it to be encouraging.
Raw unadulterated emotion reduced me to a fragmented heap in every sense of the word as *Jon’s* lawyer ripped what was left from my heart and soul. He condemned his prey to death with the stealth and viciousness of a Leopard; I could hear Jon’s words creep like the grim reaper from his lips and into my thoughts exacting a cruel and hefty price for my defiance. The courtroom, packed with onlookers, stifled the air. They needed no oracle to see all of the destruction; the gruesomeness overpowered their urge to turn their heads.
Streaming tears gave way to guttural groans; breath escaped me; heaving and gasping my composure fled. My defenses hemorrhaged onto the stand, as the predator circled and clawed ferociously ending me with ease. Gravity weighted me to the seat, I couldn’t stand under it’s supremacy. I buckled under the pressure and gasps escaped from the (now) audience in the courtroom
Granted supervised visitation, I met with my children every weekend. The release I’d felt when I left my abusive environment quickly turned from hope to hopeless. My health and mind quickly declined; depression settled like a black stormy cloud. The gnawing, deep seeded pain, no longer tolerable, drove me down into the hell of hopelessness. The wish for a shove or a slap and even death replaced the desire to survive. Alone and rejected by everyone I relied on, I screamed into the void, my voice went unheard. In my mind, recourse did not exist. I’d failed at every attempt to retrieve my children and now the desire to rescue myself no longer existed.
I couldn’t divert my eyes from the bottle of pills on the coffee table. It somehow drifted into my consciousness incessantly, calling my name. The harsh unrelenting words and actions of Jon over the past 19 years cut like a knife. The memory of his attorney’s assault invaded my senses and I questioned my sanity. The cries of my children and their inability to cope formed the final bullets of death.
Separated, mind from body, I took the bottle into my hand, I stared into it’s eye and it stared back at me. It understood what I had to do, it invited me. I twisted off the cap and 20 or 30 pills spilled into my hand, they seemed to sparkle like jewels. I answered their call and swallowed them down a few at a time and then 30 more. I did not seem to be in control of my body, it was moving through the actions without my consent.
Three days later, I found myself drifting in and out of consciousness unable to move. My hands, tied to rails on either side of the bed, ached. A respirator effected the rise and fall of my chest. The hospital room was cold and sterile and the machines played a lulling song. I could hear my own heartbeat on the monitors; silent tears rolled down my face.
I returned to my mother’s a week or so after my suicide attempt and still I never sought help. I returned to Jon and my children a few months after that. I grew angry and insolent as time passed and even contemplated another suicide attempt. I didn’t follow through because of one simple act of kindness. Someone reached out to me and spoke living words into my heart. Those words ignited my hope into a fire that would give me the courage to ask for help.
I went to a rehab/shelter, told my story and it was heard. I knew then that if I’d reached out to the right people I could have prevented such an awful act of violence against myself along with untold suffering.
They called outside resources to come in and provide counseling concerning Domestic Violence. I was given a plan with local resources, the hope to fight and the strength to win. It was a welcome reprieve, a place of strengthening, encouragement, and acceptance. I was safer and freer than I’d been in a very long time.
Three years later, one year ago, my children and I walked out for the last time. We received therapy and I’m blessed in their presence and living the life of a survivor. Many good and bad things happened in that three year interim and I reached out for help.
While the reasons for our pain may be different, one fact will remain the same; heartache is, at times, intolerable to bear without help. The choice to reach out to someone in my desperation saved my life and the lives of my children; I hold firm to that belief.
I’ve included a national suicide hot line link here. I also have resources and help links at the top of my blog page for those struggling with Domestic Violence.
Don’t suffer in silence. Reach out.
What the Hell is Trust?
I’ve been given an assignment for the day week month year foreseeable future by a good friend and confidante Tela and I have to say that it’s not one I really care to participate in, as once again, I must look inside myself and pull out some ugly shit. However, I believe it is something I must address in order to grow into my new self. Thank you Tela for being pushy. I need it. 🙂
The wrecking ball responsible for reducing this foundation of trust into a pile of brick and mortar is termed abuse, which comes in many forms. While I experienced physical abuse, more often than not, I was the victim of gaslighting as well.
***
The following, are words on a page:
Gaslighting is a form of mental abuse in which false information is presented with the intent of making a victim doubt his or her own memory or perception thereby causing the victim to question their own sanity. Instances may range from the denial by an abuser that previous incidents ever occurred, to the staging of bizarre events by the abuser with the intention of confusing the victim.
The term “gaslighting” comes from the play “Gas Light” and its film adaptations. Today it is used in clinical and research literature. Wikipedia.
***
The spit required to initiate the catabolic process of this word is severely hampered by the chemical toxicity (bullshit) of the act itself. Why on God’s green earth would anyone choose to be so toxic to his or her fellow man/woman? What provokes the idiotic, egotistical, maniacal, exuberance in such an individual? I suppose I don’t really give a rat’s ass to know the what’s, when’s, how’s, and why’s of such anymore.
I’ve stepped out into my own and it is of great comfort to me to know that I can recognize it again if need be. I have no desire to be “lit” up again and if such an act of lunacy is attempted, I believe I will be able to recognize the match for what it is. Let there be no mistake that I will extinguish that motherfucker before I go up in flames.
(Mini rant over)
The following is gaslighting is all it’s corrosive glory:
Ingrid Bergman had been “lit” up by her husband and was on her way to the madhouse, until he was busted. Reasons? Doesn’t matter.
Back to the questions:
The cure for atrustolee, (no trust)?
After my arm had been paralyzed I was forced to go to PT and put tiny golf tees in tiny holes, my fine motor skills resembled that of a child trying to grasp cheerios from the table for the first time. I was clumsy and awkward; it took all of my concentration to be able to make a fist. The arm itself was extremely hypersensitive to any sort of touch. I had to pull and stretch muscles I’d protected from the pain. It was a long, painful and mostly irritating experience. I was relentless in regaining the use of my arm because without it I would never be able to function normally again. Machines and therapists surrounded me at each visit to assist in my dubious recovery.
The issue of trust isn’t any different. It will be required that I use muscles I’ve tucked away for safe keeping. It will most likely cause pain at some juncture and I will be awkward and unsure about it. Relentlessness will be required once more in order to regain the tone and use of my trust muscle. My heart is hypersensitive to any random touch and I find myself once again, surrounded by machines and therapists to assist in my dubious recovery. At this point, I am trying to place those tiny golf tees into tiny holes all over again. Mark my words; before it’s over I’ll be brushing my own hair and living life to it’s full extent.
Thank you for all of your support. I mean that.
Perverted men
Thank you.
A Must Have App For All Women In Danger
Awesome App……Thank you Ladywithatruck!
My sister in law is visiting and made me aware of an app you can download for free that has the potential to save lives. This is a link to the news article about it. http://www.reuters.com/article/2013/10/30/ca-whengeorgiasmiled-idUSnPnLA2PhzY+169+PRN20131030
Dr Phil’s wife Robin McGraw has a foundation for helping victims of domestic and is offering this app that can be downloaded to your cell phone. It appears on your cell as a news app so anyone snooping on your phone will not be alerted to it. You use a prerecorded message or record your own, if you are in danger you only have to activate the program and it automatically calls a number that you have programmed in or it can call 911. Once it makes the call it immediately starts recording everything that is going on to be used later as evidence if needed for court.
I think it is a great idea…
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Domestic Violence: Why People Don’t Leave.
This is a TED talk by Leslie Morgan Steiner on why domestic violence victims don’t leave. She discusses her personal experiences with domestic violence while filling us in on the statistics. Various patterns of abusive relationships are revealed.
What stood out the most for me was the common factor of isolation. So many people I have met who are dealing with abusive relationships have recently moved to a new city where they have no supports. Watch the video for all the other patterns!
Leave a comment about what stood out for you!
THE PAIN OF SILENCE
Silence: A double edged sword.
Thank you Hastywords.
Chalk Outline
Recently, on a visit to the Cut-Throat Club Online I found a song that one of my fellow Cut-Throats, Sunshine, posted.
I had all but forgotten about this song until that day. I’d listened to it repeatedly all summer long.
I traveled anywhere and everywhere over the last summer and the radio blasted most of the time. I had to drive, feel the push of the clutch, the stick in my hand. I would decide when the motor revved and when it quieted.
I’d dreamt of liberation, I’d tasted it’s goodness, it smelled of sweet honeysuckle and it was good. It also came with a price. A price that I didn’t know I’d paid.
*********************
“Who is this? Where did she come from? I don’t recognize her.” My anger bubbled and burst.
“Where am I? What happened to me? Where did I go?” Grief settled as dew on a barren soul.
The rubber met the road and I drove….hard and fast. Just not fast enough or hard enough to get away from the woman I’d become and not slow and cautious enough to find the woman I’d lost.
They said welcome back. They said they’d missed me. They said it was good to see the “real” me again.
They didn’t know that I’d died. They didn’t know that I’d become nothing more than a chalk outline.
Neither did I.
*********************
I stood before *Jon* this week as neither the woman he’d killed nor the woman he’d created. He didn’t know that the dead can’t speak.
In my death, Tee had risen and she walked away today, for the last time, with Victory in her hands.
Each victorious step leads to another step of victory. It is you, my community here that gives me that gift. Know that.
I’ve included the music video as a memorial to her. Thank you Sunshine.
Don’t grieve for her. She’s at peace now.
I’m at the wheel and I’m a survivor.
Some days, some days…
Nikki Cat: This is for you. 🙂
This is for everybody.
Sometimes you just gotta do it. 🙂
Andy and Cleopatra?
I’ve had a great many suppers while watching my favorite Carolinian.
I’m mighty proud to say that I still do.
He is, by far, one sure fire way to put a smile on my face.
I hope you enjoy.
No More
Love ya’ll.
Please feel free to reblog, retweet, FB or all three.
There is only one way to break the silence and bring this ever growing nightmare to the forefront of the minds of others and that is to SPEAK out in the capacity that we can.
Say No More
Just Call Me Rocky
I have to say this has been a helluva week.
So, I’m just gonna spill the beans or at least a few of them. I’ve learned something over the past couple of days and I think it’s important that I tell it.
I’m going to be forced to see *Jon* every day this week and for the sake of legality I can’t tell you the reason outright. But know this: IT’S OUT OF MY HANDS. It was a blow. A HUGE blow. Not to mention all the regular shit that occurs on any given day.
My initial response, as is usual with me, is to shrink back into my cocoon and hide. So I made the post “I’m Out”.
Then I saw all the support ya’ll handed out and was overwhelmed. As luck would have it today, I stumbled upon Rocky and I watched (for the 4th or 5th time) , needless to say I had an epiphany.
I’m in the ring, up against Mason, “The Line”, Dixon, getting my ass beat to a pulp (in my own mind). And each and every one of you have my back. Standing in my corner, cheering me on.
You’re all my “Micky”. The bell dings, round 573 is over and you give me a stool, rub my shoulders, shoot hydration down my throat.
You advise, remind, pump me up, tell me “you got this, you can do it, now get out there and show him what you got! You trained for this all year, you’re ready, you know what to do!”
What you don’t do is give up on me because you believe in me, you know that I got this. You know he’s got a TKO comin’ to him and that I’m gonna be the one to oblige.
I thank the hell outta ya’ll for that shit. I really do.
I can’t think of any better way to say it.
I love ya’ll.
Almost forgot. What did I learn? I AM NOT ALONE!
Ok, I admit I ain’t no Rocky, mainly because I’m a chick. I won’t cite the other obvious reasons
But ya’ll get the drift.
Missing Marine
An Unlikely Pair
Thank you to a new friend Ryan at 21 Shades of Blue.
http://www.buzzfeed.com/summeranne/real-life-fox-and-the-hound-best-friends-will-melt-your-hear
Don’t Get Too Close To The Fox She Might Feel Threatened. Especially If She Is Screaming.
I know I said I was “out”. But I’d forgotten my daily commitment for the NO MORE campaign.
I am completely overwhelmed by all the love and support from ALL of you. Thank you for reaching out with your hearts and positive energy. While reading your comments, I found this jewel, an answer to my ever so curious mind, by way of Ivy_Mosquito in my comment box on “What Do I Say?”
This young lady’s blog is awesome, I wish you’d go check her out. Specially if you want to know what the fox really says.
****************
I love ya’ll.
Say No More
I’m Out
I’m a survivor, I want to make that clear.
However, I need to take a break from the edge of hell and regain my composure.
I assure you all, I’m fine.
I’ll be back.
I want to thank all of you for your unending support, kind hugs, warm thoughts and positive energy.
Rock On
Do Ya’ll Want To Know The Truth?
The day before my escape from the war zone that had been my life, I ran to my neighbor’s house with my children for safety.
The week prior to my court date I asked my neighbors to testify to what they’d seen.
Their answer?
“It ain’t none of our business, we remain neutral.”
My 12 year old son had to testify, because of course, I’m crazy.
Three months before abandoning EVERY fuckin’ thing, social workers were sent to our home to determine why our children hadn’t been to school.
His reply?
“I worked Black Ops, I don’t even exist. I know ya’ll have an agenda here, I’m a human lie detector, now what are you really doin’ here.” The only black op he’d ever seen was in his own black soul.
The week prior to my court date I paid a little visit to said social workers and asked them to testify.
Their reply?
We don’t recall any such conversation.
Four months prior to my exodus, I hid in the bathroom to call my dad. I stood next to the door so I could hear footsteps. I didn’t, but he was there, listening to my every word, became enraged and kicked the door in. The door put a gash in my forehead. The phone flew from my hands.
His response?
“I told you your mama’s crazy, look what she did to herself, now she wants to blame it on me.”
My response:
W-A-K-E T-H-E F-U-C-K U-P P-E-O-P-L-E
You want to save the animals, the ozone, the economy, the fuckin’ trees and while I agree with all that shit, how about you take into consideration that without the fuckin’ woman there’d be no one here to admire all the other shit you’re tryin’ to save.
Three women are killed by their husband/intimate partner/boyfriend EVERY single day.
LEARN SOMETHIN’ ABOUT THIS SHIT. HUG A VICTIM INSTEAD OF A DAMN TREE.
What Do I Say?
Words elude me today, so I decided to let nature speak for me, kinda.
WTF does the fox say?
Just another of life’s little mysteries.
All Thoughts Prevail
Head swirling
Steady as a rock
Mind reeling
Standing still
Heart thumping
Beating not
Really feeling
Then again not
The touch of a hand
In absence dwells
A heart torn apart
Whole and well
Imposing a thought
Clean slate
With no legs to walk
Run away
Heaven or hell
No way to tell
Love it
Leave it
All thoughts prevail
A Successful Blog is 33.3% Work
I write about DV, ya’ll know that. OM has been instrumental in helping me to increase my readers. I gained double the followers in 36 hours and I am glad of it. The more our voices as survivors are heard the greater the chance that we can help a victim and support other survivors.
Thanks OM. You did an amazing job.
Say No More To Sexual Assault Month
Please feel free to reblog, retweet, FB or all three.
There is only one way to break the silence and bring this ever growing nightmare to the forefront of the minds of others and that is to SPEAK out in the capacity that we can.
Say No More
Lifes Journey – For Teela
My good friend Jenni over at Unload and Unwind made this post for me as she knew I was feeling a little down yesterday and I wanted to share it with ya’ll. It touched my heart and I want her to know just how much her friendship means to me.
I think that sometimes it is important to remember how far we’ve come and take joy in the journey you’ve now set for yourself. I thought that a very brave woman who I’ve met here [Surviving Domestic Violence] could do with a reminder of just how much she has changed her life.
What I Want
This post is one that expresses my desire as a woman. Being an abused woman doesn’t exclude me from a woman who needs to be loved and cherished. I deserve that. We all do. We are worthy of love and care. We deserve it.
I want and need a simple man. Which brings to mind a song I love and reminds me of a man I know and adore.
Teela Hart 