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.