Book

I have thought about publishing a book. I have been writing bits about my childhood and past. A week or so ago I sent a proposal to a publisher and they want to see the full manuscript. HOLY COW. I am not sure I am ready yet. However, writing the book has been so healing. I am a journaler and writing my feelings helps me process them.

Anniversary

My wedding anniversay is coming up soon. I can't wait to celebrate. Oh a different note, my health problems are not over. I am still working with the doctors to try and determine what exactly is going on. I hope soon it will all pass.

Update

I have been having health issues. My periods have been crazy and not constant. I went to the doctor and they found a tumor. The biopsy came back negative. All my blood work (thyroid, sugars and such) are normal. My body has stopped producing hormones which explains the darkness that has been surrounding me. I have a follow up soon. I'll keep you posted. About my diet, I did GREAT for a few weeks then went on a trip and it all fell apart. Now I am back on the straight and narrow. I hope I keep up the good work. Food is the enemy. It calls to me when I am down and out. Food wants to comfort me but I need to find a new vice.

Mercy and Grace

It is no secret I have been struggling the past week or so. I just have so much anger and confusion trapped in side of my soul. I ran across a blog that I can't quit thinking about. Oh how I wish I could find the peace that the author of this blog has even after she faced such horrific outcome. If only... Until next time...

Dark Clouds

The dark clouds are trying to take over my mind, but I will fight. I may still be a little weepy. However, I will never give in to the darkness. It just isn't me. This happens several times a year. I have fought and won so many times. I know I can get through this too. I just need to hunker down and get ready because I don't think this will go away as fast as before. I feel too weighted down. I work at a dead end job for a state agency. I recently completed my degree and additional training to break out into a new field but I don't have any experience so I can't land a job. I really feel I am missing so much with my kids and I am stuck 8 hours a day in a cubicle prison truly dying to get out. I know I should be grateful for my job and life but right now I just don't have it in me. Rest assured that soon and very soon I will. Until next time.....

Friends or Foes

I need to go to the dentist. I have a tooth that has cracked. I hate going to the dentist. I never went as a child so as an adult every visit just means more and more work. For many years, I didn't have dental insurance so that became my excuse. Now I have good insurance yet still I find myself putting it off and putting it off. I read a book that made a correlation between hating dental work and abuse. I don't know why exactly I hate the dentist so much but I do. I am home with a sick kid today. I always feel so guilty when I need time off from work to care for my kids. I am not sure why I do, I just do. I work at a state agency and there is nothing I am responsible for the is life threatening. If I didn't do my job for weeks or probably even months, nobody would suffer severe consequences. However, that doesn't stop the guilt. My kids are my most important role yet why do I feel so guilty? Is it because I am the primary bread winner? Partially because of the rising cost of everything and not getting income increases in years (yes I said years,) I know that our family has smaller and smaller buying and savings power. We are becoming increasing closer to struggling. This drives me nuts. Both my husband and I work hard and take care of our family. We both have college degrees and have furthered our training. Yet we are slowly slipping one pay check at a time closer to not making ends meet. This is scary as you can imagine. I know if something did happen, we have people who care a great deal for us. It is odd because I have never been one to ask for help. I think friends and family would help but I don't know. I am scared to ever have to found out. I would rather just pretend they would, just in case they wouldn't. Until next time...

Politics and Abortion

I hear and read discussion and articles about abortion and politics and I wanted to weigh in. These are tough and complicated subjects separately but when added together it creates an even more emotionally divisive subject. Please understand I am not judging anyone, just stating my opinion. Your opinion can be different. I am not asking to debate anyone just expressing myself. I personally don’t like or care for abortions. Lucky for me I live in a country where I can choose. While I wish we never had to abort a child, I also wish we protected every person from rape and incest but this clearly isn’t the case. I know people say that most people getting abortions aren’t victims of a crime. To me if even one is, she should have the right to choose. I can’t imagine having to make that choice and then live with the consequences everyday. Rape and incest scars you for life, then to add in the fact that the victim could become pregnant and have a child to show for it. This is just more than I can comprehend. Recently the state legislature in my state made it a law that all women who have an abortion must have a 3d ultrasound performed before the abortion. My heart really breaks for these women. As a survivor of sexual abuse, I know how deep the wounds run. I still have flashbacks. Now the primarily white male state legislature has decided to further inflict the victims with this requirement. I just don’t get it. I wish we would focus on helping end sexual violence and help to educate people to make better decisions when and how they are choosing to have sex. I think our efforts are better served on these issues than arguing if a woman has a right to chose. Won't it be nice if someday there was not a need for abortions?

Weepy

I sat and read all my blog entries tonight and now I am crying like a baby. So many mixed feelings, so little time. Recovering is defiantly a day by day thing. Some days I think about it all and I feel empowered like I can do and overcome anything. Then others like tonight I could just fold and die. Every breath hurts and I wonder if I will ever be happy again. I am sure this will pass like always but right now it is raw. Until next time....

Survivor

I recently found this blog listed on another website as one survivor’s tale. Survivor – wow I could think of a million nicknames for myself and that one would never be listed. Not that I don’t like it. I just haven’t ever seen myself as a survivor. When I say (or type) survivor I think about the people who survived 9/11, the holocaust, Katrina, being a POW, or many other horrible events. I copied the following definition of survivor from webster.com: to remain alive or in existence, live on, or to continue to function or prosper. Ok I am a survivor. However, using that definition, I have survived many things like not one but two children with the terrible twos, more than ten years of marriage, almost $4 a gallon gas, high school, college, and shopping on black Friday. I plan to survive many more things like proms, graduations, paying for college, and grandkids. I have said this before; I didn’t know not surviving was an option. I believe the most important aspect of surviving is thriving. Heck, I know people who didn’t thrive when their children hit the terrible twos or people who are stuck in a loveless marriage. When I was thrown a curve ball (sexually abused) at such a young age, it forever changed my life just like it did those who were in the holocaust, Katrina, or any other terrible situation or event. Statistics say people who go through such life changing events have an extremely high rate of using drugs and alcohol to mast the pain or inflict their pain on others around them. I refuse to do either of those options. I expect more. I wish I could say that I loved myself more than that but that would be a lie. I am learning to like me but I am not there yet. I am working on it. In time, I will be able to say I survived very low self-esteem. Until then I hope I don’t have to survive $5 a gallon gas….

No Answers Here

If you came here looking for answers, I am sorry but I don’t have any. However, I can tell you what has inspired me to move and continue to move through the pain. Remember, I am not a counselor or therapist just someone who has a lot of on the job training. Please know that a step, even if it is small, is still a step. No one has experienced what you have. I read a lot online about people saying others abuse is/was worse than theirs. Please don’t compare. Your abuse was the worst thing you yourself have experienced even if someone had it a little better or worse. Don’t discount it. Over the years many things have help move me on my journey. I have been inspired by Dave Pelzer and his books, God, friends, nature, my children, my husband and many many other things – too many to mention really. An important part of this is to keep searching for what helps you. I wish I had the answer. Hell, I wish someone had the answer. Unfortunately, no one does. No one knows you like you. I have heard and read a lot about the abuse not being my fault- easy for others to say but hard for it to sink in. That is a tough one for me. I always think of the what ifs – what if I told that teacher or neighbor, what if I stood up to the abusers or what if I called a hotline. Then I remember I was a child. Those that were suppose to protect and care for me failed and failed miserably. If I would have done any of the things mentions above, it might have changed the ending but it would have never changed the fact that those who should have protected me failed. For this, I can not be responsible. I am responsible for what I do now. I can get up, laugh and smile even when it hurts. For me the smiles and laughter eventually have numbed the pain. I can blog about my thoughts and feelings. This provides a great release. I can stop the cycle of abuse. I know that my children will never experience what I have. I am trying to stop the silence as well although this one is hard. As you note I don’t write this blog under my own name. However, I am making small steps I am talking / writing about it. It is a journey; you must go step by step. There are no easy answers. Don’t settle. Move. Until next time…..

Joy

I spend a lot of time writing about the painful past I experienced. This is not the only aspect of me. I am generally full of joy. For me it is hard not to be joyful. I love life. I was dealt a crappy hand but I am not ready to call it quits. I love being a mom and a wife. I love laughing. I love talking with friends. I love learning more about me. I want to get up every morning and having a smile on my face. Actually, I like being joyful maybe a little too much at times. Not long ago a colleague of mine called me unfocused and undisciplined. I believe this person thought that because I laugh and smile all day. I am always saying something funky or acting silly. I just don’t take myself or life too serious. It is just my style. Laughter is the best medicine. Just for the record – I am neither unfocused nor undisciplined. Last year I completed 30 credit hours to graduate from college while being a mom to two young children, being a wife and working full time. Did I mention that I had a 4.0 GPA? I loved every minute of it and I laughed just about everyday.

Religion and God

I believe in God. However, I struggle with organized religion. God has been helpful at times. I pray and He eases my heart but where was He when I was a child. How could a loving God allow a child, any child to be harmed? The small town I grew up in had three churches – a Catholic, Methodist and Baptist. My father was a strict Catholic so I spend the first part of my childhood in a Catholic church. I learned the Hail Mary and had first Holy Communion. When my mom first learned of the abuse, she went to the Catholic priest and told him. His response was that children often make up stories to pit one parent against the other. My mom stayed with my father. After my father finally left, a neighbor began taking me and my sister to the Baptist church. I remember feeling so judged and pitied by the people in that church. It all fell apart for me one Sunday night. Everyone was instructed to bring in their smurfs to be thrown into a fire because some nut ball decided that smurfs were of the devil. (FYI – Smurfs were a cartoon that I loved more than anything.) That pretty much did it for me. I never returned. It was so confusing these righteous Christian throwing toys that were of the devil (whatever that means) into a fire. I think they were trying to scare the devil out of us but they just scared me out of church. I always have wondered why didn’t any of the church people see the hurt in my eyes or had they and looked the other way. Years later the local minister from the Methodist Church showed up at our house. He would always come and talk to us. He was just a jewel of a person. He began picking me and my sister up for church. I remember one Sunday a kid in my Sunday school class teased me about always wearing the same dress. If the truth was known, it was my only dress as we were pretty poor. The minister was quick to jump to my defense a say if he had a dress that pretty he too would wear it every Sunday. The minister demonstrated unconditional love to me with his actions and I will never forget him for that. I continued attending the Methodist church until I went to college. One Sunday while in church, I prayed a prayer to God telling him I just didn’t know if I could believe in Him but if He were real to show me by sending me a burning bush and get me a basketball scholarship to play somewhere, anywhere out of state. I don’t believe that God will give into demands. However, I think He knew I was at a cross roads and it was do or die. He was faithful and I moved to out of state for two years and played basketball. While out of state, I met my husband. I went through several boys before meeting my husband. I dated a boy that was very wealthy and tried to buy me to control me. When that didn’t work, he dumped me. I was sad and happy all at the same time. I felt as alone as ever but I also knew it would not work out anyway. One night, I was very sad, alone, scared, upset and crying I prayed another prayer. I prayed with every ounce of my being that He would send me a very special boy – one who was a diamond in the rough just like me. We would grow and learn from each other. Boy did I get a diamond in the rough. He is my love and my soul mate. We don’t have an ideal relationship but it works for us. He is secure enough to not control me and firm enough to call me out when I need it. I trust him beyond words. He didn’t save me. I saved myself. However whenever I have a bad day or am stressed out he is there keeping me on the straight and narrow. Not to mention, he gave me two of the most perfect, lovable creatures on this planet. It was one of these creatures that asked me not long ago why God would allow children to starve. Wow, that question hit me square between the eyes. If there is a God why does He allow children to starve or be abused? I don’t have the answers. I only know what I feel in my heart and to me that is real. I believe in God.

Parents

I spent some time with my mom over the weekend. I have come to realize she is very alone and scared. I could see it in her eyes. I just wanted to hug her and tell her the pain is difficult but releasing it creates a new beginning. You see, her father was abusive to her, her siblings, and her mother. Her father had many affairs on her mother. He would even tie her mother up and lock her in the closet. I don’t know where my mother was at the time but I suspect she was pretending it didn’t happen. She is the master at pretending things were different than they actually are. After my mom had married my father, my mom’s father came to her house and beat the crap out of her. My dad never defended her. I don’t understand how you don’t defend the people you love from such violence. From this and many other crazy events, my mom always felt stupid and insignificant - like nobody cared. It is not surprising that is exactly how I feel. She taught me my role and like everything in life I excelled. My father left when I was in the third grade or fourth grade. (He started to disappear for weeks on end when I was in the second grade.) He was taught this role by his father. His father left for the war and never came back. No, he wasn’t killed he just decided not to come home. His mother remarried and continued building her family with a new dad. His real dad and he eventually made contact but as you can imagine they never had a real connection or relationship. My father was just doing what he was shown when he left and never looked back. I forgave both my father and mother years ago. It would be easy for me to say they did the best they could but I feel that is a lie. I know first hand that they both could have made different decisions. I did. I just don’t see how the two of them raised me and I have it in me but they don’t. I’m just saying……

Me

I have tried to figure out what caused me to rise above my past. I wonder if it was something I read or a speech I heard. To be honest, I don't ever remembering thinking I would not overcome and that my kids would have the same horrible childhood. I always knew that I would not settle for less because I wanted kids and I wanted them to have an incredible childhood. I believe I have been successful at creating new and different childhoods for them but if there is a regret in it all, I wish would have understood that I should have expected more for myself. I am worthy of it. I was trained at a very early age to put others wants and desires above mine. My dad showed me that his needs and wants came before mine when he used me for his sick pleasure. My mom taught me the very same lesson when before counseling sessions we talked about what we could and could not talk about like the fact that she had overnight guests. It is a pattern I learned from my parents. A pattern now I am trying to unlearn. As with anything, some days are better than others. After my real dad left, my mom decided that we need counseling. We went to individual and group therapy. It was horrible. I never talked. I just sat very still in hopes that I didn't have to answer any questions. I remember in group counseling a young girl that shared the details of her sexual abuse with the group and she used terms that I wasn't familiar with. The counselor described in great detail what exactly she was talking about which blew my mind. I was way too young to understand and it was scary. Those counseling sessions were in many regards as bad as the abuse. Lots of mixed messages like sex was dirty and we shouldn't have it but we were suppose to come to this class and talk in great detail about sex and it was ok. Really weird. When I reflect on specific stories during my childhood, I do think it is nothing short of amazing inner strength that carried me through. Both of my sisters and my mom are all on mood altering medicines but proudly, I am not. It has never been an option nor will it ever be for me. Thinking back used to haunt me but now it actually gives me strength. It is that strength that makes me feels like I have a new life. The abuse is in my past but my future is my to do with as I choose. I will enjoy every single minute. After all, I worked hard to get to this point.

Eating

As I mentioned earlier I am reading Living the Truth by Keith Ablow. This book has been life changing for me. I always knew my overeating was related to my past. I thought that eventually I'd had the will power to stop binge and over eating. I have for a day or two but never any longer. Since starting the book the cravings and binge eating has ceased. I am still not certain why food is wrapped in with my past but it is. I am nervous about talking about and thinking about this subject because I don't want to fail again. However, it feels different this time.

Responsible

I alone am responsible for me. Yes, I have endured many bad things. Yes, they shape my thoughts. Some days, I feel as though the voices in my head are trying to convince my soul I am nothing and therefore deserve nothing in life. I know this is not true. I am worthy. Actually I am battle tested. People may have opted to hurt me but I am responsible for how my life turns out. Allowing the horrible things to over take my soul is truly the worst thing that could come out of all of this.

Mommy Dearest

My mom had cancer when I was in the second grade. This happened right after my dad moved out. She spent two weeks in the hospital and had two years of chemo and six weeks of radiation. She was very ill. I really thought she would die and I didn't know what would happen to us. I worried excessively about this, almost like if I worried hard enough it wouldn't happen. Interesingly enough today I am a huge worrier - what if we run out of food, if our house burns, if I get cancer, or if my kids die. You name it and I worry about it. When she was in the hospital, my older sister would drive us to see her even though my sister didn't have her driver's license yet. During one visit, my mom told me that she did not love me and wish she never had me. That comment haunted me for years, my mom denies saying it and my sister says my mom said it while she was all "drugged up." For some reason, I always felt lucky that my mom took care of me, not understanding that it was her job as a mom. These feelings coupled with my endless worrying was almost more than I could bare. I never asked for anything from my mom. I never wanted to give her a reason to not care for me. Frankly if she didn't I didn't know who/if anyone would care for me. I knew we didn't have any money and even if we did my mom really didn't care for me. I would wear shoes that were too small. I started my period and didn't even ask for pads. I just made them out of rolled toilet paper. I just tried to get by the best I could with what I had. I still find it hard to buy things for myself or do something just for me. I truly feel invisible like no one would/could love or care for me. At this stage in my life, I pour most of my efforts into my children. I don't ever want them to experience life the way I have. I want them to know that their mom loves them because they exist - nothing more or nothing less. I want them to never be scared of saying something to me even if it might hurt my feelings. I want them to know without reservation that their lives matter not only to me but to themselves.

Living the Truth

I am reading the book Living the Truth by Keith Ablow. The author believes as do I that in order to truly live you must revisit the past. It was easy for me to blame my dad for all my issues. However, after reading this book, I haven't dealt with any of the issues with my mom. She is a very selfish person. I think she loves me because of what I do for her. I am the daughter who always excelled at just about everything I try. I easily make friends and make others feel comfortable around me. And after all if I am so incredible it must be because of her - she's my mom. The whole world revolves around her. I haven't been very comfortable in my skin. However, I am starting to realize that I am an incredible person. I have felt that no one noticed me like I was invisible. I owe it to myself to be comfortable being me. I am not invisible. I am very smart and funny. I am able to multitask at extreme levels. I am trying to become more comfortable each and everyday.

Double Life

Sometimes I feel as though I live a double life - the life in my head and the life I let others in on. As I said a few days ago, I have not shared my story with many people yet it influences everything about me. I want to share I just can't - not yet. I want others to know that the abuse crosses my mind several times a week and sometimes even daily yet I don't want to be "the victim." I struggle with trying to work with the hand I was dealt but not allowing it to control me. Today the weather is grim which always haunts me.

Abuse in the news

This week there has been alot of news about abuse from the religious sect in Texas and the pope meeting with victims. I watch with horror to think others have endured these kind of actions. I know all too well that abuse causes never ending nightmares and flashbacks. Abuse also ruins relationships. Abused people have layers and layers of issues to cope with everyday. I truly consider myself a lucky one. Somehow I not only survived but thrived. Why me? What is in store for me? Is it more horror and anguish? Am I destined to change my family tree? What is it? Was I suppose to start this blog to help others?

Guilt and Embarrassment

Talking and writing my story has been very difficult because I am truly embarrassed. I know in my head I should not be embarrassed as this was not in any way my fault. However, I just can't help it. My head understands but my heart isn't quite getting it yet. Everyday I wonder who is going to stop talking to me or being my friend over telling my story. I guess this is why so many sexually abused people remain silent. It is very difficult to fess up. Luckily, I only told people who truly care about me. Everyone has express sympathy and are amazed that I have come through this ordeal and have a healthy, positive outlook on life. The healthy, positive outlook is defiantly a choice I make everyday. I can be a victim or play the blame game or try to put on a smile and rise above to be the person I long to be. Some days it is easier than others.

Sharing

I haven't told many people about the horror I faced as a child. Up until a week ago I had told my roommate from college, my mom, her attorney, a judge, my dad's attorney, a few counselors, and my husband. I don't know why but last week I felt compelled to write it down for the first time in my life. I emailed my story to my closest friends. It was freeing and scary to write and send it. I felt so alone, raw, and vulnerable. One of the people I shared my story with was my boss and his wife. He is a middle aged man who in some regards plays a fatherly role to me. Just for the record, not a disgusting role that my real father played but a role that encouraged me to complete my college degree and listens to all my kiddo's stories and laughs. His wife has become my pen pal and we share aromatherapy, organic finds and gardening info. I started this blog after the two of them encouraged me to continue to write and share my story. I doubt I will ever write an entry everyday but I will try to write several a week. I'd love to here from anyone who reads this. Just an FYI - I said I told my story to a couple of lawyers and a judge and I want to explain. My father sued my mother for custody of my and my sister when I was 16. I had to testify in the judge's chambers to the abuse. It was horrible. I still can't believe I testified to a judge in a court of law in the United States of America about the sexual abuse and no charges were ever filed against my father. Actually I googled him the other day and found out he is a deacon in a church not far form my home. Scary!

My Story

I want to tell my story mostly just to get it off my chest. I have spent the last 34 years trying to pretend I came from the perfect family. I thought if I created the illusion of perfection someday it and therefore, I would be perfect. I obviously was misguided, alone, and afraid. I have finally realized that I am not perfect nor will I ever be. However, I am happy with myself and my life. Frankly, that is all that matters. I was born on August 7, 1973 to two parents who had married out of high school because my mother became pregnant with my sister. I was the second child and about 4 years after my birth along came my little sister. We lived in a tiny trailer in a small rural community in central Oklahoma. My father was a long distance truck driver and my mom was a clerk in a government contract. The earliest memories I have of my father were disgusting at best. He was/is a child molester. He would touch my private areas with both his hands and mouth. He always tried to say I was special and everyone would be jealous of our relationship so we couldn’t tell anyone. (Thanks, dad for forcing me to have such a “special” relationship with you that it has taken me 34 years and thousands of dollars in therapy to begin to deal with it all.) I remember riding home in the front seat of his pick up after going to the skating rink and him slipping his hand down my pants to cop a feel. Or even the time he wanted to go outside and look at the stars and he laid me across the hood of his vehicle and ate me out. If he weren’t molesting me (I assume he did similar things to both my sisters but I do not know), he was beating my mom or bringing home his “friends” who were always young adult girls. He would sleep with these girls in our home. Strange yes. I endured the pain like a turtle escapes harm. I would just run away in my mind. I knew that no matter what happened, he or anyone else could/can not get into my head unless I allowed it. This from what I have read is the same way prisoners of war survive. Unfortunately, this technique can be of hindrance as an adult when dealing with persons in positions of power over you. I also learned the art of lying from my mother. She would write hot checks for clothes and dining out, pretending we had the money for such luxuries. She would lie to our neighbors and friends. She made us girls put on a happy face, pressured us to do well in school, and attend church regularly because we looked the normal family. Much of my childhood is a blur; thankfully, because I am sure I couldn’t deal with all the pain. I remember tidbits etched in my mind for all eternity. Even when my mom finally decided she’d had enough, I didn’t want our family to split. I thought we were normal and every other family was just like ours. If my parents divorced, we would be different. I wouldn’t have a dad and frankly the abuse was at the time easier to face than a class full of kids whose parents were all together but mine. In the end, lucky me, I got to face both a divorced family and a molesting father. Classmates can be so cruel. One day a classmate came to school and announced to the whole class that her mom had read in the paper that my parents were divorcing. Of course I lied and said her mother was wrong. Lying was the only way I could keep up the appearance. The lies were so much better than the truth. Even to this day I catch a glimpse of my overweight self in the mirror and I lie and say it is in the light or the clothes. Everyone from my father to my cousin to my brother in law had also let me down and treated me like my father had – using me for their sick pleasure not ever thinking of the enduring pain that I was and am trapped in. I didn’t know (and frankly still don’t) who if anyone I could trust. I have always felt that it was me against the world. Not to mention when it is just me I can create me own reality and I don’t even have to work at it. I can be whatever I can convince my mind I it is. Healing and overcoming are words I hear a lot when it comes to abuse. These words represent goals I wish I could achieve. However, I believe recovering is a better term. I don’t believe I will ever completely heal or overcome the past. I do believe that I recover a little more everyday. Everyday I don’t have to endure the actual abuse and every time I see the innocence in my children’s eyes knowing the abuse stopped with me I get more confident and recover bit by bit and day by day. Some days it seems like it wasn’t bad and I wonder if that is still myself lying. Yet other days, it feels like it is too much to bear. Why did I write my story down? Quite simply, because it is my story. Although, I am not proud of my past, I am who I am because of it. I am very proud of me. I am proud that the abuse stops with me. I am proud of the family and life I have helped create. I am sure the night mares, flashbacks and dysfunction will creep back every now and again. I will take comfort and shelter knowing that although I can’t change the past or cover it with lies, I can impact my future.

Here goes

For the first time in more than 30 years I wrote down my story. Unfortunately my story is full of abuse. I wrote it down so others will know they are not alone. I am not perfect nor will I claim to be. However, I try hard each day to become the person I know I can be. I am not sure what will come of this blog if anything except it will be a release for me. Tomorrow, my story......Until next time.