So much is in my heart. I am happy, yet I am broken, overwhelmed, and totally burnt out. I was watching Lilith Fair, the documentary, and it was so good, the songs I grew up listening to. All the moments of my life, and the tears started flowing. When all of those artists came onto the scene, those were the words to the story of my life. Those were the songs that played through the tears and the hopes for the future. The life I have lived and the experiences I have had have given me an immense amount of strength, hope, and a longing for things to be different for me. I want freedom, I want the kind of peace that feels complete. I want the kind of rest that makes me feel renewed each day. I am in a difficult place right now, and I understand why, yet at the same time, I don't. I am in a place that I have worked so hard for, and there is a hole. There is this sadness, this intense sense that I am missing out on something. There is a need to belong somewhere, and yet I don't really belong anywhere. I no longer belong in the teaching field; I have yet to belong to the counseling field. And I, in my own skin, have yet to hold spunky and help her heal her heart so much all at once. I just need more of myself, more time, more space, more light to believe that I am truly going to make it. Maybe even that I am worthy of all the things that I long for.
I recently received my copy of Sara Mclaughlin's new album, and one of the songs, of course, you guessed it, brought me to tears.
This healing journey is so long, and as I work on these last few pieces, the last few pivotal pieces, it's a lot. Daily, I wonder if I am strong enough and brave enough for these steps. I just want her with me, beside me, a part of who I am in my everyday. Not someone sitting in the past trying to make it right. Because no matter how badly I want to make it something other than what it is, I can't. No matter how long Spunky sits there trying to make sense out of all that happened, there is no making sense. It was just terrible, and it happened it happened to us and we have to face it, and find a way to be ok. The amount of energy everything takes right now is extraordinary. I want to be this bubbly, happy person, but right now I am just not ok. I can't even tell you how hard that is to admit. I am not ok, and I want to be more than anything. I dread waking up every day, going to a job that just isn't the same. I am tired of being hit, and everyone keeps saying 'more data, more data.' How bad does someone have to get hurt before something changes? Goodness, there are good moments. I love the kids, but I just can't anymore. I feel like I am lost in a swamp, trying to stay alive in quicksand. The daily triggers are just too much, and I am not sure what a person is supposed to do with that. I can not be grabbed at my neck, slapped on my chest, bitten on my chest, and pretend that everything is fine. Maybe someone else can take that and keep going, but I cannot because it affects me so deeply. I am not sure that others can understand the impact that it has on me. In those moments, I am thrown back into the most awful moments of my life.
I am trying harder than I ever have to heal Spunky, and I feel like I am beating my head against the wall. I want nothing more than for her to be a part of me and join me on this journey. I feel like I need her now more than ever. She is so much a part of everything that I do in my everyday, and yet there is a distance. I don't hate her anymore. I want her with me, and as much as I want her with me, I am terrified. In my bone,s she is all the things that I don't feel like I am. She is me, and I am her, but there is a separation that is more than hard to put into any kind of words. She is everything I am not. I am everything gross and disgusting.
I am just not ok right now, and I am overwhelmed. There are so many things that I want, and I feel like I am not very good at any one of them.
I heard this the other day, and it sparked a thought that made me smile, going backwards before going forwards. People often look at healing all wrong. There is no switch, and everything is magically better. There is a time to look back, and there is a time to move on; both are necessary. I smiled to myself because that could not be more true, and I wonder how true that is for many people. I hear it all the time: you have to look forward, you have to move on from the past, you need to look towards the future. Don't look in the rearview mirror, all those things are gone, there is nothing in the past, just look towards the future, leave the past in the past. All of those things make sense and I understand them, but there is a time to look back, heal the things that hurt, then continue to move on. There is a new song out, and these words I heard so very clearly: "The pain keeps coming till we face it till we heal it".
So many people run from the things that hurt, the things that are buried in their soul, with the thought that buried things shouldn't bother them, but maybe the matter of fact is that those buried things are the things that bother us the most. Perhaps we need to look back to live fully and be able to move forward.
In this, maybe I should listen to my own words. I have come to a place where Spunky, that little 13-year-old part of me that still feels like she needs too much and takes up too much space. She feels like a burden and a bother all the time. She needs such a massive amount of reassurance that I often feel more than guilty for it. She doesn't believe she is okay, she doesn't believe she is worthy of common decency, and she doesn't even think she is lovable. Who could love someone who made such terrible choices, who lived through the most unimaginable? So she needs more light and love. I have worked more than hard, trying to heal her, and I often feel like I am running in place, round and round, trying to understand and make some kind of sense out of the trauma that she lived through and the reactions around her. Her focus is always on those around her who refused to see her hurt heart. Those around her who pointed fingers and made her believe that she was the one who had done something terribly wrong. She struggles to understand how she was left so alone and blamed for something that she never wanted. She wants to understand that more than anything. People have told her all her life that there is nothing that can be done about the past, so she should move on; her own mother refused to take responsibility for anything. So spunky took all the responsibility that wasn't hers and continues to pay the price.
She is in fight mode most of the time; when not in fight mode, she is frozen, scared of everything and nothing all at the same time. Broken in pieces, trying to put everything back together.
People tell her that things are over, but for her, they are all there, right below the surface, reminding her of the damage in her nightmares, triggers, and memories. I spend most of my time trying to get her to another place, anywhere other than where she is, and maybe just maybe, I need to be. Be there with her, just present. Maybe it's time I give her that space to look back, dig in the mud, face it, feel it, then come sit with me in our safe place and move forward together.
Oh, there are so many things, and I can't seem to get out of my own way. The exhaustion is absolute, and there isn't much time for anything. I have little patience. Seemingly small things are getting on every last nerve that I have. I am in a place that I have always wanted to be in, and yet there is that sadness that just won't let go. It's the ever-present heavy kind that I just can't seem to shake.
I received the evaluation from the conference, and everything was excellent, primarily, but I focused on the ones that weren't. The one who said they could have done without the music, but that music gave an insight that you wouldn't have had. The one who said they left feeling defeated missed the entire point; it was wanting them to be different. I am not even looking at it again. I can't right now. I read some of their comments and think they are not prepared for trauma or its effects, and that makes me sad. I need to learn to focus on the many good things that were said, and right now, that is more challenging than I thought. It was three negatives in a room full of positives, and all I see are the ones who don't understand. I know that there is no way in a presentation to make everyone happy, but goodness, I want everyone to see my heart and where I am coming from.
Even the other day at work, someone with all good intentions often told me to go home and get some rest. I can usually smile and keep going, but on Friday, I had heard it one too many times. I said no, I don't get rest, I have clients every night, and I have three classes. I usually don't eat dinner, because after going all day, when I get home at 8:30, there is nothing left of me to cook or clean. So, please, for my sanity, could you stop telling me to get some rest? Then there are those people who come into my classroom, ask how I am, smile, then walk out like they never heard my words ! DO NOT walk in here, see what is going on and then do nothing. Do not smile at me after I have told you the situation and pretend that everything is fnie, I am about as far from fine as a person get right now. I even asked a co-worker today, like I am not making myself clear. what else should I be saying for them to understand the situation ? So over it, and barely keeping my head above water.
There is this feeling of being on edge all the time, and it's not a fun place to be. At the moment, I don't know how to make it better. I know everything will get done, I always do, but at what cost? It's only the first week of September, and I have nothing. Work isn't at all helping the situation. It is nothing like last year, and we are barely getting by each day. What they want us to do is simply not sustainable, and I am unsure where that leaves me.
I hope this is just a phase and that I will soon snap out of it, get into the groove of this new phase of practicum, school, and work. I need to find a balance, but right now, there isn't one. I even tried to ask for Mondays off, and she said Oh, but you don't want to lose your office space. I have yet to determine when the assignments will be completed. I'm not sure where to fit them in. I just don't even have time to breathe.
I find myself so looking forward to Wednesday and getting to just be, no pressure, no deadlines, no judgment. There are so many things, and I don't feel like I am doing any of them well. I just don't understand the sadness, when I am in a place with all that I have ever wanted.
What a first week of the semester! There are so many thoughts, so many emotions, and I am hanging on by a mere single little thread. I started experiencing a sore throat late Monday, and it worsened over time. Fever by the end of Tuesday and finally gone Friday, but still achy. And eating, who has time for that, because there is not just the cooking but the cleaning as well, and who has time for that? Can I survive like this for 16 weeks? I am not sure if I can really, and that worries me. The number of times I have gotten dizzy today is too numerous to count. Today is an extra day, a holiday, and yet I still don't have enough time to accomplish all the things I need to do. I'm not sure exactly where that leaves me or what my next steps are. But tonight I am in tears because there isn't enough, and a list feet long of things that still need attention.
Work well, it is awful. The year has not started off well, and I am overwhelmed. Nothing is as it was said it would be, and there is nothing they can do. I have already said that they are purposely pushing people out, and it is working. They will not have any staff left to cover the two rooms if they continue at the current rate. I tried to be as positive as possible going back this year, and each day, each hour, there are more and more mountains to climb, with insufficient help and resources. I am tired of staff members coming into my room smiling, as if everything is fine, and as a teacher, I am barely treading water. They are ok with that, and that is the reason I am on the way out. So many appointments for people coming to observe, but we are forgotten. They arrive at times with few students and tell us, 'Wow, look how well you are doing.' No, we are in survival mode, trying to care for our little ones. We are doing what we do, and we are burnt out, and we are four weeks into school. We all look around, asking the question, Can we make it through this year? Often there are no words, we just look at each other with a knowing, wondering what the day ahead will bring?
I have started seeing clients, and I am excited; however, I also feel an overwhelming sense of responsibility. That I wasn't sure that I was prepared for. There is a sadness, a lack of hope that is so heavy. I do love it, this is what I have wanted, but this isn't the place for me. It will be fine. In 16 weeks, a person can accomplish almost anything, right? School is crazy, my practicum teacher gives little information, and I am struggling. There is no syllabus, no direction, and I don't know if we are having class tomorrow on campus or via Zoom, because there is zero communication. I need to know what is expected of me, what needs to be done, and when I need to complete tasks. None of that is being shared.
Even as I sit here writing, I am more than overwhelmed. I am just going to bed, and let's see what happens tomorrow. A job that I no longer love, where the expectations are just not doable. A class with no communication. I am hungry, but too tired to make anything and then clean all over again, so I am going to read some Yalom, find the why I want to do this, and try to breathe. Tomorrow has got to be a better day. It has too. But I have little hope that it will be, and I am going to do my best not to cry.
I've been feeling the day coming for some time, and it's really heavy this year. Tomorrow is the day. 22 years ago, I got pregnant with my children, my greatest joy and everything that I never knew I needed. I find myself more than angry, feeling so affected, upset, and sad that I feel anything at all on this day. I feel like Amelia adds a certain sweetness, and I still wonder how I can be heartbroken. Without this day, there would be no Amelia. I am in a place where I am so unbelievably hurt at what I went through and incredibly grateful that I got to be a mom and now a grandmother. The struggle between the grief part and the celebration is something that I struggle to balance. I feel guilty that there is any sadness at all because, in the grand scheme of things, I would do it all over again to have my children and get to be their mom.
The sadness I feel is incredibly intense. The kind that stops a person in their tracks, like you are supposed to be somewhere but just can't. The kind of sad that sucks the air out of the room, and you're frozen in all the things you remember or don't remember and can't change. When I think about that day, I realize I just wanted to be normal, to belong, and to mean something to someone. Goodness, I was so excited getting ready, and I get so frustrated with myself that I was excited. There had to be a part of me that knew something wasn't right, but I couldn't see past my excitement of being normal. He included me, and I was going to do something normal, which felt really good. I feel awful that I get so sad, because really, I just went away. There came a point where I knew what was going to happen to me, and it was like this switch. I didn't feel a thing. He wasn't violent, yet I write that and think, how hard is it to rape a girl who knows what is coming and flies away to a place that is safe and far away. The last thing that I remember was that green pillow. In my head, I created this story that made things less awful. Somehow it fell directly on my face. There was a time that made sense. I'm really sure he put it there; he knew exactly what he was doing. A pillow doesn't just fall on a person's face. I just needed him not to be a monster, and if it was my fault, then I was to blame. I didn't catch any of the signs, and I wanted to be normal for even a short time.
I am struggling to wrap my head around the fact that he raped me, but I felt nothing and remember so little. In my mind, I know what he did, I got pregnant, but for there to be a blank space is utterly confusing. I have no clue how he took my clothes off, and how his came off. There were no bruises, no fighting, no pleas. I kept saying, "We are supposed to go shopping," but he seemed to forget we had plans for lunch and that I was going to help him get what he needed for his trip. How can I be so sad about something that didn't hurt? How can I be so sad about something that I didn't feel and don't remember? I shouldn't be sad; I have my beautiful children.
I do wish that there were easy answers. I wish there was something, anything, that could bring my heart some peace. I wish that there were another mom like me to talk to. With all the grief and heartache about what happened to me, there are a few things that I know for sure.
I know that I am so very grateful to be Vincent and Mariska's mom. I love them more than I have words for. I am so thankful for each and every minute that I have with them, and I would not change a thing for them to be mine. I know that someday questions will come, and I hope that we can talk about them together. My experience, their experience, and our experience together. I know that Amelia has brought our little family together in ways that I never imagined. Someday she may have questions, and that is ok too. The three of us have come a long way, and I look forward to all the amazing things ahead.
My Vincent and Mariska, you will forever and always be the air in my lungs. You amaze me all the time with your care, your strength of character, and your heart. I hope that I make you proud, and that someday you can understand why I did some of the things that I did. Someday, I hope you will understand the significance of this day, August 22. I love you I love you I love you.
My Ms.Amelia, I love you so BIG. You have brought a light into our family that I don't have the right words for. I love every moment with you and look forward to so many firsts. You, sweet girl, are a first-generation Callahan who will know a good, kind, loving dad who will protect you with his whole heart. You have so many people who love you, and I hope someday you can understand where your poppy has come from, and all that I hope for you in this big world. Because of you, your mom, and your dad, my heart is bursting at the seams.
Oh my family, I heart your heart with all that I am.
I presented at a trauma conference, and one of the sessions was about psychedelics. And I don't think that I ever felt so free in my entire life. I have never truly spoken about my own experience, maybe mentioned it casually, but not in totality. I have never expressed what my experience with psychedelics was like, and what a freeing experience that it was for me. This is a much-needed intervention, and for the first time in my life, I am going to share my experience and the feelings that I was able to feel for the very first time. I wasn't afraid of anything, and that is something that trauma survivors rarely get, and I think maybe yes, it's about time that I did talk about it. So here we go.
It was just as my case was going to trial. We finally got a date, and it was set. I had spent close to two years talking to attorneys and detectives, trying to keep his stepdaughter safe. It was never a question of pressing charges on my father because I knew that I had to keep her safe. My only choice was pressing charges; there was nothing else. I was not going to let any other little girl suffer under the hands of my father. Doing it all on my own, I was exhausted. In the end, I just wanted the case over. I never imagined how hard the entire process would be on me; I just knew that it was the right thing to do.
A few weeks before court, the entire family was asked to come to the Da's office. I am not sure what they were trying to prove, or what their intentions were, but I was made to feel small and insignificant. They had my brother, Mother, and me all sitting in the same room. And she asked me a few questions about the abuse. My family is sitting right there in the room. She was asking me about the oral sex that I had to give my father. I felt like I was shrinking, and neither of them was in the room. I answered their questions, and don't really remember much else. But I left feeling like I was the one who had done something wrong. There was no care or concern, just a girl forced to recount the evil things that had been done to her. There were trips to the advocacy center, where I had to read my statement and answer more questions. I felt like there was no care; I felt like a bother. I felt like I got in the way, and they didn't understand my need to do this and keep Angela safe.
Then there was the trip to the courthouse. I was terrified; everything seemed so much bigger when I was that afraid. I needed some care and concern at the time, and none was given. The DA walked me into the courtroom, where we would be, and showed me where I would sit and where he would be. She showed me a small, closet-like room where I would sit when I couldn't be part of things. I can remember the panic; my heart was racing, my legs felt like rubber, and I couldn't say a single word. I know that she was talking, but I don't remember her words. She was talking at me not including me. I wanted to take the room in to be prepared, but felt rushed and unseen. We left that courtroom, and she saw other attorneys, who were more important, and she said the exit was that way, and I was left on my own. I don't remember any words of encouragement or that things would be ok, I didn't feel like a person at all. I can remember my mind swirling with a million different questions, walking faster and faster past all the police, attorneys, and criminals. I couldn't get out of that building fast enough. No one bothered to ask how I was or what I was feeling. I am pretty sure I got sick once I got to my car, and the tears started on the way home. The entire world was going to know the things that I had to do for my father, and I felt like I was the one who had done something so terribly wrong.
So I was asked to go to a rave with a co-worker. Without a single second thought, without caring about a thing, I said yes. I wanted something normal, something that didn't have to do with the court system, court houses, DAs, or police. I was a bit nervous. I was a good kid, and drugs were never something that I ever entertained. I just needed some relief, something to not have to think about what was ahead of me. I even joked that I would be the one to get arrested, and he would go free. They gave it to me, and I thought, "This isn't going to do a thing; I will feel nothing."
I was witness to all of those around me, having their own experience, and yet I felt like an outsider. They kept asking how I was, knowing it was my first time. I would shrug, saying that I was fine, and they would smile, telling me to give it time. Then in a single second, I leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. The absolute rush that came over me. It was like the world lifted, and I had never felt so light. I sat there for who knows how long, feeling like there was not a care in the world. For the first time ever, I wasn't afraid of the people around me. I didn't really care what anyone thought. I was free, I was there in the moment, fully present. It was the incredible sense of calm that I have ever experienced. I eventually got up and was able to walk around. I can remember seeing a group of people smoking, but they were all unable to find their mouths, and I thought how strange it was. For me, my experience was one where I felt normal. The fear that I woke up with and went to bed with was gone. I felt so much lighter. I was able to be in an environment where people were just people and not monsters. I had such a feeling of freedom. I can literally remember thinking, "This is what it must feel like to be normal". Every sense was so heightened, and I took it all in. No overwhelm, no dread, no panic. For the first time ever, I was experiencing the world with a calmness that I didn't realize ever existed. I listen to music and feel everything, and this was even more intense. I can still hear the music in my head Children by Robert Miles in true trance fashion, and I was there in the middle of it all, listening to the music, dancing without a care in the world. I made my way to the DJ, and I was just present, feeling each beat to my core, and I wasn't a victim in those moments, just a girl dancing, enjoying the music.
I didn't see the people I was with for the rest of the night. The great thing is, I wasn't even looking for them; I was safe in my own skin. No thoughts of anything that had ever happened to me. Just there, free, thinking I never want this feeling to end. There were a few moments, and I ended up sitting in a chair, and a few of my brother's friends saw me. They were tripping hard, and I said hi. They were a bit confused to see me there, and were actually pretty funny. I will forever be grateful for that night. On the way home, everyone was under the influence, and I find it hard to believe that we made it home safely. I had my head lying on the window, watching the street light go by, my thoughts drifting to what a little girl must feel when she doesn't have a care in the world. We made it back to his house and watched some trance music that created different screen images. Such an open freedom, it was now early morning, I could see the sunrise, and I felt the effects wearing off. The sadness began to fill my heart, my shoulders once again tightened, and I could feel the fear creeping in, worried about what others were thinking, worried about all the things that I had no control over. I eventually made it back home and to my own bed. I was sad; I wanted the experience to last longer. There was a sadness to experiencing something I didn't have. I have held on to that experience my entire life. I am grateful that for that time, I had an understanding of what it must be like not to be afraid, and to be glad to be alive. That night at the Ridglea Theatre was everything and more than I ever expected. I didn't get arrested, and my father was given a plea.
I hope that in the future, I can use something like this as therapy to help with the most challenging parts of my story, and that in the process, it can help reduce the intensity, allowing me to truly heal. I have not done it since; the memories of that night have stayed with me, and I am grateful to know that feeling normal, not being afraid, is possible. I felt like just another girl in the world, and that is a feeling I will never forget. Maybe someday I can have that, a sense of true freedom that is all mine just because I am a girl living her best life.
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