Never a little girl

 

This one is more difficult, in imagine.  I was not a little girl. I was not an innocent naïve little girl with no care in the world. I have a body that I hate, that attracts attention that freezes when I need to fight.  I can understand that little 5 year old girl, afraid of the world.  Not having an understanding of what was happening to her.  Knowing that her body hurt that men could take what ever they want and leave you to clean up.  Those were the things of my life.  As a child there was nothing that I could have done to stop him from doing all of those awful terrible things.  From strattling my neck and making me hold his necklace as he raped my little body. The kissing, the touching the rude comments .  The leaving the bedroom door open like I was supposed to watch and learn, this is what a woman's body is good for. A body that wasn't made for those things.  Oh those thoughts in my head that it was ok, he just thinks I am my mom.  The thoughts its ok he will be done soon.  The thoughts when my body was in so much pain it literally felt like my guts were going to fall out. The thoughts that went to my stuffed animals, its ok we will be fine, he is almost done.  During that time, I was just a little girl with such a little understanding of what was being done, the words sex wasn't really in my vocabulary.  I knew terrible things were happening and somewhere in my mind it was just something that I was meant for just something that happened.  

Later as you grow up and there is a sense of what sex is and all those years of things being done to your little body, the things that murder your soul and make you believe that you were meant for this.  That is when that intense hate for being a girl for having parts that make you desirable to men.  To have a chest as a young girl that never goes without notice, those are the things of nightmares.  Those are the things that take away the girl and she gets replaced, and learns the way that a mans body works.  There is a problem when its a good night because your father can't get an erection.  For once you feel a sense of relief that makes you chuckle because you may not totally understand but you know that for this night the stabbing incessant pain is something that just won't happen.  These are the sentences that no daughter should have to know or ever write.  I never wanted to know how my fathers body works.  I don't want there to be relief in knowing that as he struggles, there is a sense of peace for me.  No daggers tonight, nothing to clean up I can sleep. This is the deep dark that a little girl should never understand.  This is the gross and disgusting of a little girl wise beyond her years made to do things of adult women. This is the life lived when your father is a monster.  There is this intense hate of your own body and how others use it, such pain and they still force themselves. Cries are not heard,  your too small body doesn't mater, and they will get what they want regardless.    

As I sit and write these things I get so angry,so frustrated that I bite my lip until it bleeds, and the tears stream down my face.  These things should never have to be written.  A child, an adult woman should never have to understand this . What I can say is that men have been attracted to me my entire life. I watched Patch Adams and as they sit on the porch and she says to him, "Men have been attracted me my whole life, as she tries to help him understand her heart. I felt that with my whole being. That little one so innocent doesn't know what's happening to her. There comes a day, a time when she does know and she can never ever get that innocence back. She knows the proper names and comes to understand that sex is the act and it kills a part of you that you can never get back. As you get older and understand more you are not a child anymore. 

For me somehow that innocence was lost between 10 and 13. My father was terrified I'd get pregnant, so the rapes became fewer but the oral sex was a constant. To me that was always the worst. , so personal and degrading. When your only 13, your father is on his back in your bed and you climb on your Very own bed knowing exactly what he wants that, that is the unimaginable, because I  should not have known that was expected. I , me that 13 climbed on her own bed; I am not sure I can ever forgive myself for that. A piece of me died, a piece of my life, the sad little girl climed right up like she knew what she was doing, doing her womanly job to make him happy.

So seeing that 13 year old as a child, is such a struggle. That magic of being a child or the wishing was long gone.  So you add to that, that I wanted attention, that I flirted and danced with don, that is not a child. That I kissed him, that my stomach had butterflies, that I for once felt special.......those feelings are not of a child. The first time he came to the door I realized so quickly he was not the same person. There was a look in his eyes I knew all to well. I knew his intentions and I faught, I faught with everything that I had, but it wasn't enough. This isn't what I wanted, This wasn't what I asked for but I sure accepted that attention a few weeks before. I begged,pleaded nothing worked. A child doesn't beg for it to stop. My cries were unheard, my flailing wasn't at all a deterrent. He came for sex and didn't leave until he had taken all that wasn't his.

Then again with friends, he returns. 5 of them, I was nothing not even human. I was warm and had parts. There are pieces of me that will forever remain damaged because of this day. Hour after hour turn after turn, getting lost in the blades of the fan, thinking surely this is hell. Surely this isn't the thought of a child?  Do children even have a picture of hell. Child thoughts are of laughing , friends and all things innocent living in a world where you are invincible  and can do anything. That??What is that I don't know, I imagine it would be amazing, freeing and life changing right?!! There will forever be parts of this day that remain black, devoid of anything because its just too much. I was defeated in so many ways I was treated like something with no name. At the end of the day, I wished they would have finished me off. My thoughts went to you have a gun, Why not use it to end my life instead of just inflicting more pain.

So finally, his last occurrence. All that was to be taken was. I was barely breathing trying to make my way. You come again, WHY ? You knocked on the door, like was I supposed to invite you in for tea??? There was no spirit no fight. That was not a little girl who opened the door, She was used goods. She knew to well what was coming, she had given up and she unbuttoned her pants and laid down. He came looking for a fight, she was in survival mode. She knew what was going to be taken, still bruises of black from the time before, her body still recovering. I made the choice to undo my pants and lay down. I knowingly made that decision, and I hate myself for it. I remember the look on his face. He did it, but there was no participant, just a body on the floor. He got what he came for, kicking me and using the restroom on me on his way out. That was not a child. A child doesn't make those kinds of choices. That was something other than , truly gross and disgusting but surely not a child.

So many things I place on my own shoulders, my , responses, responsibilities. Things that children,  little girls don't know I knew them. I knew them and acted on them. I fear that my grip on my part, is a death grip, if I don't  hold on as if my life depends on it; I fear the breaking, the falling apart at the seems because maybe just maybe I was a child. Maybe just maybe I was a little girl that deserved everything, safe and kind. Maybe just maybe that little girl was worth so much more than she was given in this world

I heart your heart.

The Summer I wasn't coming home

 

That Summer was culmination of so many things that had happened that year.  I was dying inside and nothing really mattered.  I was 13 and didn't want to live anymore.  Just 13 so young with so many things on my shoulders.  I didn't have a plan to die, and jumping over the balcony seemed like a long shot, but I knew that I was done. I couldn't be hurt anymore, I didn't want to be ignored and blamed.  Looking back there there were so many things that kept me alive that week in Florida and I did go home.  

It had been a hellish year,  Don showed up ,I was shocked to see him at my door. He was no longer the nice guy that I met on that church weekend.  He was another evil doer in my so short life.  He made his way in and I was raped by him for the first time.  As everything in my life, you just keep moving I mean these are the things that happen to me, these are the things that I am good for.  I think what made it worse was that I kind of had a crush on him he smelled good, I thought he was cute.  I danced with him and kissed him that weekend.  I never imagined he would show up and do what he did. But that was my life, that was just what happens to me.  I never said a word to anyone. 

A few months later my parents were gone, they were doing a healing weekend at church; I was left home alone all weekend.  I knew it was going to be a long weekend but I was used to being left alone when they did these weekends.  I would listen to my music and watch TV.  I lived in my own world, and at least if no one was around I was safe.  So I was up early and got in the shower.  I had my boom box loud and was singing, but my music was shut off.  I looked and Don was standing there in the bathroom he had shut my music off.  I froze, I was terrified, there was a part of me that didn't understand why he was in the bathroom.  He had this smirk, and he got in the shower.  I still see it like an outsider. I was outside the shower watching, terrified.  He turned the water so hot, and pushed me against the cold shower wall and raped me,  that was the first of many that day.  He just got out of the shower and turned off the water when he was done.  I was left laying on the shower floor.  I think I was waiting to make sure that he was gone, I reached for a towel to find that he was still in the bathroom.  There are pieces of memory, him laughing he had no intention of leaving any time soon.  There were more rapes and he took me out of the bathroom and threw me on my parents bed.  That water bed the same bed that my father would abuse me on.  He did things that I didn't know could happen that were so shameful and embarrassing. I wasn't sure I was going to make it through this day.  Things often turned to black, I was couldn't even comprehend all that was happening to me.  And I remember him sitting in my parents chair, and talking to someone on the phone saying that I was a fighter and to come on over.  I was so in and out, I am not sure I understood , I just would hope that after every rape this was going to be the last one and he would leave. But him and his friends didn't leave until late that night.  It was as close to death I have ever been and still had breadth in my body .  That is a place that is unimaginable. 

I came to and there were 4 more men in the room. I didn't have a chance.  

I sit here and still don't believe I survived, death would have been a better option. I sit here remembering and I see it like it was yesterday, yet I am so very far away. So all day into the night they all took turns, one of them was at least human and helped when he could.  He wasn't as mean as the others and took care of me when he got the chance. I think Andy was the reason I survived, at least when things were the most violent he would make them stop. He saw me as a human and that made the difference.  So that is how the day went.  There were times I tried to get away, even making it down the hall but I was helpless against the 5 of them. Physically there was nothing left, emotionally I wasn't even there anymore.  I held on to the hope once again that if I can make it through one more rape they will all be done and leave.  I held on and finally late into the night they all left, the last one Don spitting on me before he left. I was nothing. 

I was a shell of a human, completely humiliated and barely breathing.  I was a fixer, the clean up specialist and I did what I had to do and I went to bed, knowing that my parents would be home from their church meeting. I never said a word.  I was a mess, I remember that even the sheets hurt my skin. Every inch was in the most unbelievable pain.  I just said I didn't feel good and stayed in bed for a few days.  I think there are pieces that have no words and this is one.  This is just what happens to me.  

A short time later, once again my parents were gone, there was a knock on the door.  I should have known better.  I opened the door it was don.  I was still physically injured from the gang rape and I saw him and started to cry.  I knew what we was going to do, he as always had that smirk on his face. I undid my pants and laid down right there in the entry way.  I knew what he was going to do and I knew that there was no fight left.  I went far away, he got what he wanted.  I am not sure how to say this really but this was an easy rape, He didn't know what to do I didn't fight I didn't do anything, I just laid there.  I guess it was as easy as it could be he raped me and left.  The guilt I felt was unbelievable, that I didn't fight, I didn't yell I didn't say a word I just gave him access and that will always break my heart. 

I was barely living, my heart was broken my body was black and blue for a long time, physically I wasn't ok.  Emotionally I wasn't ok. The nightmares were unthinkable, school was impossible I failed 4 classes that grading period, I was called to the counselor 's office. They asked if my parents were together, I said yes and they told me to work harder on my grades.  I started getting sick , this is where things get blurry.  Things seem to be in the most pieces during this time; I was going to have a baby. I was pregnant.  I was going to be a mom and make sure that my baby was going to be safe and I was going to love that baby how I always wanted to be loved.  That seemed to be a light for me and nothing else mattered.  I still hate that I lived in this fairy tale world where we were going to live happily ever after , I was 13 years old, living under the same roof as another monster !! 

There are so many smaller parts and pieces people that didn't do their job. People that didn't notice.  I was left to figure things out.  One moment that sticks out is feeling her move.  Those little kicks, its just magnificent , feeling that little life was all that mattered. The thought about how she was conceived wasn't a thought but I wished her father was Andy at least he was human, as least he wasn't evil.  Then just like that things went terrible.  I started cramping and was bleeding really bad, I called Calvin.  Again my memory fails I remember him carrying me, and then I remember the emergency room.  I remember everything feeling as if it were in slow motion and everything was white white.  The Dr. came over to me, and he put his hand on my leg and said I am sorry you have lost her.  I remember crying like I never have and begging him that it wasn't true, that I was fine. I begged him to tell me beautiful Bella was ok. There were a few people standing around, I don't know who they were.  I remember being carried by Calvin and that one Dr. 

A part of me died. I don't know what happened next, I don't know what was done.  I don't really know anything.  And I kept dying nothing else mattered anymore.  I didn't care about anything.  And still I had to keep going to school, keep smiling keep going to youth group as the liar, that just wanted attention. There was no care for my heart and soul; my little broken body.

There was nothing left to live for. My heart was broken and I lived in this world that no one understood, my life was full of things I couldn't even talk about.   A few months later my grandmother wanted to take me to Daytona Beach. This was my chance to go away and never come back.  I didn't know how, but I was done. I didn't have any kind of plan, but this trip was a way for me to make all the hurting stop. This trip was the out that I needed in this life.  My heart was literally broken, and there was no one to hear or to share it with.  I was literally dying inside.  Sorry for this  rant, I guess all of that were the reasons I didn't want to come home. I always feel so guilty talking about this time, sometimes there is this incredible need to get it out and I feel incredibly guilty.  Sometimes it wants to burst out, because I just can't carry that awful gross and disgusting that I feel. This was the reason I didn't want to come home, because what I was carrying was far to heavy for such a little girl. I didn't want to hurt anymore, I didn't want to be sad, I wanted the ache in my heart to just stop.  I needed time to catch my breathe, I needed someone to care and for once see me.  The animals saw me,  and I made it .  I caught my breathe and made it that Summer.

So I went to Florida with a wanting and came home with some passion and a second chance.

The first morning there I woke up to the sound of the ocean, and seeing dolphins in the distance.  I think it was the first time I felt something other than devastation.  I can remember thinking that I could just jump off the balcony but being on the 20 something floor, that was not an option.  And after that first morning, the tears began to flow and I am quite sure they lasted most of the trip.  The second morning I woke up to this pelican on my balcony.  I was a little shocked, but me being the person I am started a conversation with the bird, and he didn't fly away he was a comfort actually.  And I talked and talked to him and cried.  It was such a release, and he may have been just a bird but I felt listened to for the first time in a long time.  He heard the horrors of  that year, and stayed. The next morning, he came back and each morning after.  I believe that bird saved me that Summer.  He just listened, sat there the waves crashing below us . I was more than grateful for that pelican, there was a connection that I am not sure I will ever understand.  One of those days we went to Sea World.  I hate even writing that,  I would never ever go there but that day, I felt alive again and I hadn't felt that way in some time. We did a behind the scenes tour.  And of coarse they save the orca's for last.  And there she was right there,  they instructed everyone to stay behind the line but she was right there!!  So I stepped over and so gently I placed my hand on her nose,  there was a connection if even for a few seconds,  I must sound crazy, I felt more alive and that being alive mattered.  Of coarse staff jumped in and told me to step back I didn't care and she kept eye contact as tears rolled down my face.  I had gone to Florida to never come home, but what I got there gave me a sliver of hope in the world around me.  It was that lone whale, and that huge pelican that saved me , I truly believe that.  There was no taking back all that occurred over the last year; but with all that was lost there was that little hope that little wish that things would be ok. I had to go back to my freshman year of high school.  Things were never easy, but I came to rely on whales to get me through and somehow I survived. Whales were everything, their family structure how they took care of each other became almost an obsession, that made me believe in something again when I had lost everything. Whales are still a comfort and cover so many places in my home. Pelicans still make my heart smile as I remember that bird sitting with me listening to my story and never leaving . So yes it was always animals.  After being treated less than human, and hurt so viscously  it was the animals that saved me.  It was always the animals.  

I Heart your Heart

My eyes are raining ; The dark tunnel to 5

 Yes me again. I feel like its been a very long time since I have been able to write. I am hoping that this week, there will be some time for me and I can write and feel and get the feelings that have been smiled through out and on a page.  There are times I talk about this sad, that is a sadder than sad feeling and really I don't have a clue what to do with it.  It's difficult because I can't pin point it, I can not say this is exactly why I am sad its an overwhelming encompassing kind of sad that takes over. 

This week has not been what I had planned, there were oh so many frustrating moments and moments that I feel I could not do anything about. Moments I wanted to curl up in a ball; moments I wanted someone to tell me that everything was going to be ok and just for a moment or two I want to believe it.  I just need to get out of this sad and I am not sure how exactly to do that.  I know writing my journals but there doesn't seem time for that , or enough privacy . It seems that each and every detail of my past is weighing on my soul lately , its a soul sad right now.  Something so deep and so heavy I don't know how to reach out to let some of it go.  The heaviness of so many things past, that run through my mind, and my body. Sometimes its scary because literally my skin hurts, and I feel things no person should have to feel.  It's a burden that I am not sure I can get away from, that is more than heartbreaking.

A few weeks ago I was asked if there was a time that I felt empty or dead inside.  That was a loaded question, that I didn't expect.  That is a feeling that I don't want to admit to, even acknowledge. How can a person feel that when there are so many good things.  But there are a lot of times when empty is totally there.  I think that there is a part of me that is as close to death as a person can be and still actually be breathing.  I think that is where the blackness is, that is where that deepest sad has grown roots.  That is where that deepest sad is, that place that can't be loved can't be important or cherished.  That place of darkness is so empty.  Its a soul ache that never stops, there is a knowing that there are pieces of my life, in my head that seem more than untouchable.  Its that knife wound that remove the sword and the pain is still there, even the thought is like being stabbed all over again .  They say you've already survived, but this darkness makes you feel like you won't, and there is worse to come.  

    

I don't remember much before 5, I have pictures.  Oh yes there are pictures. I never remember a time when I wasn't afraid of him. I never remember a time when I felt loved just because.  That empty and dead feeling is so deep because as much as all those little things like the tadpoles, and the little bird in the water and the clouds and the trees in the breeze, those things were awesome and amazing but I knew that another disastrously terrible moment was never far behind.  I hate so much all the things that I do remember, and its terrifying that one of the first feelings you remember is resignation ;  this is just what happens to me.  I never remember anything different, it was always there before love before acceptance before any thought of being special there was just a resignation of the terrible awful unimaginable things that happened.  There is pieces of this puzzle that started out so dark there was never rainbows, and unicorns those were the things for worthy girls, those are the things for girls that are pretty , those are things for good girls; NOT FOR ME .  I was made to keep quiet and just do what I was told no matter the cost. I had to do what each person wanted whenever they wanted.  There was , is a feeling sometimes that I was born to be used hurt and left.  I was born to meet my fathers every need. Even the things I can't bare to remember they have all left a very empty almost dead place, that I worry will never lessen. A place where that deepest sadness comes so very close to giving up, that place where hopelessness settles in.  I fear that place; I never ever want to give up and there are pieces that totally want to. I just so need love and care and gentleness and its a fight between wanting them and knowing they are not meant for you, I am to hard to love.    

I don't know you, but I am truly grateful

 I do not know your name or who you are but I am grateful.  I will never know who called you, will never see your face but I am thankful.  You see my entire life people looked the other way, ignored and pretended that they didn't see me or the things going on in my life. I have been told this story of falling out a window through out my life and just 2 days go you, you were mentioned and it made all the difference, because even when I was 4 someone noticed that I wasn't ok and called for reinforcements.  Someone noticed that something was off, and did something, someone did something. All those years ago in an emergency room in Boston, someone saw me and wanted to make sure that I was ok.  That is breathtaking. That is lifechanging. 

Today I am 45 and my entire life I was told the story about falling out a window.  I was 4 it was a second story window, and I was looking at the ladybugs, and just fell out.  I have never questioned one detail, one thing that I was told. Some woman took us to the Hospital, they said the bushes broke my fall, my head was bleeding.  I have been told it was a miracle that God was there, I don't believe that but it was part of the the story.  It kind of always ended there.  I have a picture in my head of the house the window, even the ladybugs but not sure if that was even what it looked like, I see it clearly. I was only 4. How much can a four year old truly remember.

While decorating the Christmas tree a few days ago , an ornament was found and my mother started talking. Oh the one who brought us to the hospital gave you this ornament.  Half listening, half ignoring I don't want to hear the story again. But she continues, I made a comment that my father probably pushed me out, being sarcastic, wanting the talking to stop.  She got defensive stood up for my father like he was some kind of magnificent standup man.  I shrank inside, the tears started, that feeling of insignificance crept in like a tsunami .  I just desperately want someone on my side, someone to acknowledge just the kind of man that he was. Someone to acknowledge how I had to experience the world growing up.  

So she continues the story this time, with things I have never heard.  She mentions that CPS was called, and more excuses and words that don't make sense. CPS was called for me?  Enough concern was shown and one of the Dr's must have called them right ?  Do you know what that means for me ?  A girl who was looked over and ignored much of her childhood ?  That means that all those years ago someone did something,  all those years ago with out knowing anything, without knowing the hell that I lived someone noticed and said something.  Someone cared enough to do the right thing. Even though nothing came of it,  questions were asked someone saw me.  For that I will forever be grateful. 

Here is my thank you to them. 

To you who noticed,

Today I heard of you for the first time and it made my heart full.  You see I was just a sad lonely little girl who showed up in the emergency room because I had fallen out of a two story window.  My little life was full of violence and danger, that you knew nothing about.  I was never seen and always overlooked,  I was quiet and observant. I noticed everything.  I loved animals and just wanted someone to care, someone to see me.  I can not tell you what happened that day that I fell out of the window, I have heard I was looking at ladybugs.  Now as an adult and a mom there are so many questions, that I just don't have an answer for.  I can not tell you, where my father was or my mother for that matter. I think I remember the window and the street but then again I was only 4. I would not be surprised if I was looking at ladybugs, I was jealous because they had wings to fly away and go wherever they wanted.  I guess none of that matters.  I was told the story of falling out of the window, and not once was CPS mentioned until just a few days ago and I think my heart grew, the tears flowed and I was grateful.  You see I was in my early twenties before I was seen, and heard and acknowledged.  I had always asked the question why didn't anyone say anything do anything, notice anything and to hear that a DR. did have questions and called CPS to check things out that means someone cared. That means that you were the first, that someone cared that someone saw me and wanted to make sure that I was ok. I am sure that I didn't have the words to tell you hat was happening in my little life.  I am sure that the answers and excuses that were given to your questions were innocently answered.  I know that nothing occurred out of your concern.  Today as a 45 year old women knowing that someone gave a damn, is everything amazing and I am truly truly grateful.  Knowing that an adult in my life did their job, did the things that they were supposed too means more to me than I could ever express in words. The gratefulness that I have for you is now quietly rolling down my face .  You were the first, you were the one that did the right thing. You knowing nothing of my little life, at least asked questions, and noticed.  I wish I could just hug your neck and ask you all the questions that I have, why were you called what did I say what did you think ?  So many questions I would have for you, but mostly I would hold on and cry because what you did all those many many years ago has an impact to this very day and from the very bottom of my sad heart I am beyond grateful.  You made a difference then and will continue to make a difference for me.  No one can ever take away the fact that regardless of what anyone did or didn't do you saw me, you were there to make sure I was ok and that is something that will forever be a part of me.  You saw me,  you saw me in a world where I truly thought I was forgotten, worthless and a bother.  I will forever hold you close, oh so close, my only hope is that somehow this will go out in the world and you feel even a small amount of my gratitude, appreciation and thankfulness as a little whisper, maybe even a little lady bug that makes you stop and take a breathe and notice how amazing that small moments can be. Grateful Grateful, Grateful .  I heart your heart. 

Endure

 I don't know what it is and why lately I do not feel ok.  Sure there is a part that is physical waiting for referrals and Dr's to do what they are supposed to. Something is not ok, and I feel like its something that has to be quietly dealt with. That is one piece of this heart and mind, but there is another huge piece that seems to be forgotten. Everyone assumes that a person is fine.  They smile and are a contributing member of society, yet when they are alone the demons take over and eat at the core of who they are.  I do not have a thick skin and it seems lately so many things are getting in and I can assure you I am not ok. There are not people on my side, people that have my back regardless.  Even the ones I live with, they sway and go with decisions that serve them best, ignoring all the rest.   

One of my sweet students says time and time again every single day; I am so happy Ms.Callahan are you happy, I hold my heart, smile and say yes I am happy as it feels like another little sword another little crack in my heart because I want nothing more than to feel that sweetness that innocence and I just don't.  There are absolutely times I feel happy, when all is well with the world. I long for  that inner happy, that is the part that I do not have.  The part where I am happy in my own skin because I am me.

There are moments that I have it, at least a sliver of it, enjoying the breeze, teaching, my kids, but they are fleeting.  There is a sadness that is so deep and so tender that never ever goes away and that is what I need to get ahold of and figure out and make it something different. Something softer, less painful and not all encompassing. I am that willow tree: punch me rape me beat me I always keep moving, smiling and breathing .  Make me feel less than, speak down to me, tell me that was great but.....and I smile take it all in, like I need any more reasons to add to my list of why I am such an unworthy human . 

I endure it all always, I don't ask why, I don't want someone to fix me. I just want kindness , kind words, patience, understanding and gentleness, I need gentle. I am not sure there is enough gentle in the world for what I need, that is terrifying.  I am exhausted, and looking for the light at the end of the tunnel. 

I heart your heart. 

Please world send gentle understanding kindness my way

Sitting in Courage

 I was asked what sitting in courage would look like to me and these two pictures were the things that just made sense to me. I do not see myself as courageous, I just do the things that need to be done.  I will face the beast , I will risk everything to make those hard choices in life.  The truth is I am a huge chicken really, I am scared every second of every day with every breathe that I take.  I am scared that all that I fight for will slip away with no warning and just be gone, like sand slipping through my fingers. I worry that the things that I am fighting for are things not meant for me and I am fighting for nothing.   Things, people leave in my life, there are not things that stay more than a season. There are not things that stay for the pain and the sad.  There are not people in my everyday to hold my heart as I fight the fight of my life.   I feel like there are so many big huge things ahead that are so much bigger than me.  I want to tame them, make them small and insignificant. I want to win over these things that are larger than life, but everyday I wonder if its possible.  I want to be bigger than the things that I face.  I want to be brave, and fierce but I feel in this moment that the things that I face are gargantuan and add that to all the other things that are on my plate and I am overwhelmed.  

I want to be strong, I want to face the monsters with kindness and gentleness ; gently push them to the side and tell them their time is done. I want to be so strong and beat them, eave them in some lovely dust.  I am just very very tired.  I look at these pictures and that is how I wish I saw the things that are in front of me, instead of this looming overwhelming black hole, but to be completely honest I do not.  They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and I don't believe that. I am not stronger, I am bruised and hurt and will do almost anything to get to the place where I feel free, where my heart doesn't feel so fragile.  I know the things that I have survived, and I hope with every cell in my body that this next step will be easier than I think and more freeing than I could ever imagine. There is a part of me that holds on to hope yet there is another part that is screaming for me to give up.  I know that I never give up, I will never let them win.  But their incessant screaming wares on a persons soul. 

Maybe it is courage that I am sitting in. But either way I feel same . If I believe it or not that changes nothing.  My heart is still heavy, with a soul wanting to speak but unable to find the words needed to break free. The only reason that I am holding on to these shards of hope that things are going to be different, that things are going to be better, is some unimaginable strength that I don't understand. Some day my heart will rest, knowing I have done all there is to do. Someday sleep with come, with no vividness of the things I have survived.  My dreams will be of babies laughing and animals swimming free and happy.  I can close my eyes and see it, imagine that it would be like finally finding that soft place to fall and really truly feeling that nothing in the world would ever take it away.  Yes that someday, but its not today and so I keep fighting.  Fighting for the world that I long for , a place where my heart can genuinely rest. Just rest then I can sit in the courage that I have always had.  

When others have the words in your heart, I am grateful

 Other words because I don't have the right ones. These are all others words, they just spoke to my heart. It's just so sad. 

Mirror

She’s screaming, so loud

I can hear her now.

She’s biting that stuffed koala bear,

To muffle and drown out the sounds.

Her tiny body; penetrated.

Every ounce of her enraged,

By all of this terror,

Powerlessness, and shame.

So much has changed

Inside of her over the years.

But when I hear her screaming,

It still reduces me to tears.

I want to reach out,

And grab hold of her,

And love her;

Pull her safely into my arms.

I want to rescue and restore her.

She fought so hard,

But she couldn’t save herself.

And the pain transformed her

Into somebody else.

She spent her life surviving;

Never understanding

How to live.

She knew no way of thriving;

She had nothing left to give.

And when these nightmares

Swiftly come,

There’s no place left

For me to run.

It’s just me

And my nightmares,

And all of this pain.

The feelings and memories

I cannot erase.

I cannot avoid them;

Each moment, vividly clearer.

No more starving it away,

Or purging it out;

No more turning it all on myself,

In the mirror.

So here I sit,

On my bedroom floor;

Just as I did,

All those decades before.

I am sitting once again,

In front of this piece of glass;

Holding onto different questions,

Than the ones I used to ask.

I used to sit in this very position;

Arms hugging my knees so tight.

And I would tell myself:

“You will make it; you will make it;

Just take a deep breath.

You will survive it again tonight.”

But little girls

Shouldn’t carry such things.

They shouldn’t have to worry,

About anything.

I sat in front of that bedroom mirror,

Afraid, and without a safe home.

And it didn’t matter which house I was in,

Because I always felt alone.

It was just me and my secrets,

And my ability to keep them hidden,

And this innate obsession

With protecting everyone from them.

I did what I thought I needed to do,

But I had no idea

What would happen to me;

After years and years,

Of not facing that abuse.

I’ve worked so hard

To recover from this;

To move beyond the weight of it.

But when I am triggered,

And these nightmares come,

I’m still so afraid,

And there’s nowhere left to run.

And so here I sit,

In front of my mirror.

Arms hugging knees,

With visions grow clearer.

And I stare at myself;

At this woman’s, frame and shape;

At all of her scars,

That cannot be erased.

Frantically searching,

For that scared little girl.

I can still hear her,

But I can’t seem to find her,

No matter how hard I try.

But as I slow down

And I take a deep breath,

I look up and there she is,

With those piercing

Dark brown eyes.

Behind those eyes,

Is where she’ll always be;

For she doesn’t see the world

Like me.

She wasn’t very happy.

And I have to stop

Expecting her to be.

She is allowed

To cry out,

When she is triggered.

She is allowed to break down,

When these memories come.

It is not my job

To silence her pain.

It’s my job

To make her feel safe, and loved.

And somehow,

That has to be enough.

All I can give her,

Is the love

She deserved to have.

I’ve had to learn

To be her guardian;

To be the mother

She never had.

So here we sit, together;

Her big piercing eyes,

Inside my woman’s frame.

And I remind her

That she’s safe,

And that things

Are vastly different;

Even though

In this moment,

They still feel the same.

I breathe in deeply

And I let it out slowly,

As I press my forehead

Against the glass.

And we sit here together,

Exhausted and weathered;

As we wait for these feelings,

To pass.

She needed someone to come. She needed someone to pick her up and tell her she was loved; that it wasn’t her fault; that she’d rise above the ashes she’d become, because of what he’s done. But it’s not that bad; yeah I keep telling myself that.”

“Nothing can fully erase this damage; this havoc you’ve brought to my heart. But I swear on my life I will mend it enough, that I’m no longer afraid of the dark

Powerful words from Anthony Hopkins:

''Let go of people who aren't ready to love you yet! This is the hardest thing you'll have to do in your life and it will also be the most important thing: stop giving your love to those who aren't ready to love you yet.

Stop hard conversations with people who don't want to change.

Stop showing up for people who are indifferent to your presence.

Stop loving people who aren't ready to love you.

I know your instincts do everything to win the good mercy of everyone around you, but it's also the impulse that will steal your time, energy and mental, physical and spiritual health.

When you start manifesting yourself in your life, completely, with joy, interest and commitment, not everyone will be ready to find you in this place of pure sincerity.

That doesn't mean that you have to change who you are. That means you have to stop loving people who don't want to love you yet.

When you are excluded, subtly offended, forgotten or easily ignored by people you give time to, you don't do yourself any favour by allowing them your energy and your life.

The truth is that you're not for everyone...

And that not everyone is for you...

That makes this world so special, when you find the few people you have friendship, love or a true relationship with...

You will know how valuable that is...

Because you have experienced what isn't...

But the more time you spend trying to make you loved by someone who cant...

The more time you waste depriving the same connection...

There are billions of people on this planet, and many of them will end up with you, on their level, with their vibration, from where they stand...

But...

The smaller you stay, involved in the privacy of people who use you as a pillow, background option, a therapist and a strategy for their emotional healing...

More time you stay out of the community you wish for.

If you stop showing up, you might be less wanted...

If you stop trying, the relationship might stop...

If you stop texting, your phone stays dark for days and weeks...

Maybe if you stop loving someone, the love between you will dissolve...

That doesn't mean you ruined a relationship!

That means all this relationship had was the energy that only you and you hire to keep it in the air.

It's not love.

That's attachment.

That's wanting to give a chance to those who don't want it!

The most valuable and most important thing you have in your life is your energy.

Its not just your time because it's limited...

It's your energy!

What you give every day is what will become more and more in your life.

It's the ones you give time and energy that will define your existence.

When you realize this, you start to understand why you are so impatient when you spend your time with people that don't suit you, and in activities, places, situations that don't suit you.

You're starting to realize that the most important thing you can do for your life, for yourself and for everyone you know, protect your energy stronger than anything.

Turn your life into a safe sanctuary where only '' compatible '' people with you are allowed.

You are not responsible for saving people.

You are not responsible to convince them to be saved.

It's not your job to exist for people and give them your life, little by little, moment after the moment!

Because if you feel bad or if you feel obliged; you are the root of all of this by your insisting, afraid they promise you the favors you won't give them...

It's your only fact to realize that you are the loved one of your destiny and to accept the love you think you deserve.

Decide you deserve a true friendship.

Wait then... just a minute...

And look how everything is starting to change..."

Anthony Hopkins

I write about things that stole my wings, and pinned me down against my will. You broke me and changed me as you kept me in chains, and the thought of it still makes me ill.”

“I wake up, sometimes still unable to breathe. Hands shaking, as sheer panic takes over me. I try to walk steady, on these razor sharp feet. They’ve been cut up and bloodied, from years of defeat. But you won’t take me down. You won’t silence me. My heart beats now, for those who cradle and hold it, and for this fierce warrior, who’s skin is draped around it. You don’t own this heart inside me. It is mine, and mine alone, to its very core. You made me think hope was lost, but I found it; oh how I dug so deep down to reclaim it, and I am not your prisoner anymore.”

“Sweetheart, you are in pain. Relax. Take a breath. Let's pay attention to what is happening. Then we'll figure out what to do.”

Sylvia Boorstein

Happiness Is an Inside Job: Practicing for a Joyful Life

A huge thank you to Aundi Kolber, who introduced me to these words this morning. If you don’t know Aundi’s work (Her amazing book is entitled Try Softer: A Fresh Approach to Move Us out of Anxiety, Stress, and Survival Mode--and into a Life of Connection and Joy) you should. In any case, this quote she posted on Instagram stopped me in my tracks.

Many times when I’m seeking healing, I whirl and careen around trying to fix myself and my circumstances. In those moments, what I always need to do is to come to a place of stillness and to pay attention.

The quote she posted by the author Sylvia Boorstein is about self compassion. That makes such sense to me. I think loving someone else is simply paying attention. Noticing. Seeing. So, of course, the same is true of self-love. 

Notice what is going on in your body, mind, and spirit today. A big part of getting to where you want to be is honoring where you are at in this moment.

“And this is what it looks like, to walk through life after surviving trauma. Even though the events may be over, you still feel like you’re blindfolded; unable to see. You’re so afraid, to open your eyes. Your hands still feel like they’re tied up in knots, and you’re still all mixed up inside.”

“Hey there Little, it’s me; big. There are some things that you should know. I owe you my life. You’re the reason we survived. You are with me, wherever I go. Never again will I silence your voice, that still lingers deep inside. You my Little, are the bravest hero.”

“There’s an invisible wall, between me and my dreams. And if it’s the last thing I do, I will shatter this thing.”

"Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining."

Anne Lamott

You should have killed me, you selfish bastard. I would have been better off dead. Now I fight to exist; hands clenched in tight fists, as these demons just dance in my head.”

“They tell me it happened a long time ago. They tell me by now, I should be free. They tell me it’s my job to save my own soul; that I alone, hold the key. But they don’t understand the power he holds; these horrific flashbacks and memories. Not once have they ever stopped and asked themselves why, or what it must have been like, to be me.”

“Round and round in a circle it spins; this never ending trauma. She faces her triggers the best that she can. It’s her survival; but you call it drama. You shouldn’t mock a strength that you could never understand, or a path that you haven’t walked. He stole her voice; she had no choice, so please don’t silence her, when she finally talks.”

I hate being a girl

 There are so many things running through my heart.  I hate being a girl. I hate having a body that doesn't fight back, that doesn't fee safe.  In my lifetime girls had terrible jobs to do,  and the things that are expected are things that are too heavy for any man woman or child to bear on their own.  I feel like my mind is exploding with thoughts and the only thing that comes are tears.  I had to go to the Dr today, and I  hated every second. I only went for my children.  The nurse was nice, she was kind.  That was a great thing.  The Dr was very young, it felt like he was going through a list in his head of all the things he was supposed to ask, and tell me.  So I have to have a mammogram, and go to the gynecologist, the things that my nightmares are made of.  I am supposed to purposefully go.....that is hard to wrap my head around.  I hate being a girl I hate the Dr's we have to see, and I hate having a chest I would gladly give away, get rid of them; hang them up for good if that was even a possibility.  The only time that I liked being a girl was being pregnant, making sure that I did everything right for my sweet babies. Feeling them move, hearing those little hearts, that was a good time as a girl when nothing else mattered. I am scared as a girl but also know that being a boy can be just as scary I would imagine. Somehow that doesn't make me feel better.  Being a girl is a burden that I can not change that I can not get away from; that I can not escape.  I can tell you there are too many times that I would give almost anything not to be in my girl body, and not have had to endure all that my body did. Even sometimes to this  very day, I feel things in my bones that I have no control over.  I can do everything in my power but the memories and pictures play and there is no escape. There is no peace.  This is the skin I was born in and what has happened happened and there is no going back no making things clean , no making things less painful or traumatic.  It's just the life that I was given. I hate the attention and focus. I hated it even more when I was skinny.  When Men would make comments, like I was asking for attention; I was not and never did I want attention ever, ever ,ever.  I hate Dr's and having to be aware of the skin that I am in . I hate being a girl and having a chest, I hate being a girl and being so vulnerable all the time.  I don't understand why being a girl gave people the right to take what they want and not even think about the consequences. I hate being a girl and having things taken before they were even realized as a gift.  So I am sad, sad that I can't enjoy being a woman, that I can not stand proud in my own skin and be amazed at the body I am in . Instead I live ashamed of my own skin, the things that I feel  and the things that can be so carelessly taken at any fucking moment. Sometimes being a girl, is heartbreaking, today is that day.  

I heart your heart.   

Things I don't believe I will ever have

 There are things in this world that I don't believe that I will ever have.  There are things in this world that I see differently that make me something a little worse, a little more pesky and a burden that is often to heavy for anyone to stay.  I often hold my breathe thinking that if I say the things in my head out loud that I will never have, then somehow it will lessen the blow and I won't want those things so much.. Lessen the sadness, lessen the wanting and need for that thing and then maybe I won't need it.  I can tell you that doesn't work.

It's so hard to explain. There just are things in this world that are not meant for me.  There are things I will never know, never experience never know what its like.  I will never get married, never have a child out of love.  I will never marry, never have someone all my own that loves my heart with each and every tear and bruise. There are things that I will miss out on because I see things different, because I experience the world different.  I am hopeful to find my happy place where I am content, and at least able to take a deep breathe, but there are things I am going to miss out on. Things that there may always be a longing for but an understanding that it's ok. 

I long for that place, when the acceptance kicks in, and I am ok with where I am and where my life has led me. 

I heart your heart .

I've had enough , even my sad is sad

Standing on a line a very thin line and there is so much pain inside.  I am sadder than sad and I feel it in my bones. Normal little things are very big things and its exhausting.  I finally have a DR appointment and I am terrified. I hope that he is kind, that he is able to hear and that he truly listens.  I hate things hurting and being in pain, I hate noticing and feeling the things that are going on in my own kin. Its like there are a million hands all over me, and I just can't get away.  Hands are not just hands . Hands are something that hurt and can do so much damage. Hands are evil and do terrible things.  Lately I feel oh so many hands and my heart is scared and overwhelmed. I know things are not happening, but my head and my heart are not on the same page.  I feel their hands in my nightmares and feel their hands when I am awake. I know this is just a time, but its a terrible one and I am struggling. I am going under. I am not ok. 

I heart your heart 

 

Courage is a shapeshifter

                                                             Courage is a shapeshifter

I do not like the word really , it doesn't fit 

I think strong, brave, beautiful confident 

because the words that have been spoken have all but made me believe that I am not

I am everything pesky, burdensome and needy 

Some days I think I find a piece of my courage that is, I think I do

And for that time, I feel like I am on top of the world, 

but it doesn't last and even the smallest thing feels like I am a nothing lost in the blackness of the ocean.

but those things are not meant for me 

The being loved and cared for

cherished and admired are things for other girls

girls that aren't shameful and dirty

Girls that ........that aren't all the things I am

People have said I have courage, and I want to believe that

To me courage would be 

loosing the fear, the hate and disgust of being in my own skin

Courage would be being proud of the eclectic, weird, other than person that I am

I am not courageous, I am scared every singe day, I feel too much 

I wake up sometimes dreading my next breathe

I have always been a persons plan B 

A persons person when there was something that was needed. 

When I fit some need that they had 

and out of desperation and wanting to be wanted I fill their need and am left when something better comes along

There are numerous betters , like millions and billions of betters 

and I am left. 

My courage is that quiet in the morning when I feel the heavy of the day before my feet hit the floor

My courage is thinking of others, never wanting them to know the things I have felt. 

I am the courage to help others as I lay drowning

Even as my lungs are filling with water, I will reach out to help who ever might be in need

Courage is knowing that I am drowning and still trying to wave for help knowing that others will just 

wave 

Courage is the tears that I cry in the shower because they are an inconvenience

I always always keep going and I wonder what the day will look like when I can sit in courage 

When I can politely say yes I have courage and yes I am hurting and yes I will always make sure that you are safe and sound 

I want to sit and wrap myself in the courage that others talk about me having ,

I want to feel that type of courage in my bones 

Someday I will find it, someday I will be courageous, I will.

Just imagine being a court reporter in my head

 

Oh the conversations in my head.  The things that others have said that cut like a knife. The things that people have said that were cruel, and thoughtless.  I have had a lot of those kinds of things said directly to me, other times I have gotten them second hand, either way they are painful. The kinds of things that stick with you, that burn a hole in your heart .  I hear them, I listen and I take it all in. So really being a court reporter in my head is more of a one sided conversation. I just take their words, saying nothing, letting them sink into every fiber of my being. I have great comebacks, and ways to let them know that their words are not ok, but they never make their way past my lips.  I am not sure why really.  Maybe because when you are bombarded by terrible awful, you do what you have to do and just keep moving.  When you know that people just don't listen, you just don't speak and you learn to live in your head hoping maybe someday there will come a time for your time. Why do I just keep my thoughts to myself, why I let others evil words sting like a bee and I leave the stinger because its easier . Its easier keeping the truth in and not saying a word than speaking your truth and not being heard.  I think there is a part of me that worries that they might be right.  That I am the things that they have said. That I should be different, be better, be less needy and more likeable. I worry all the time that their words are true.  I play and replay so many conversations in my head, wondering if I am that unworthy.  I worry that I am dwelling, that I am holding on and that people will see me coming and run.  Everyone knows the thought of being that person makes my skin crawl.  I have been the brunt of jokes and had others laugh in my face.  I have been made fun of and ridiculed for the things that I hold most dear.  I have had words spoken that I am sure they wouldn't  want spoken to their daughter.  I have been treated as indifferent as a piece of furniture in the room. Insignificant in every possible way. Tears streaming, heart on my sleeve and nothing for that girl sharing all that she has in her soul.  People have said things that they know nothing about, accusations that no one would ever do that to me, accusations that I just want attention....Please what should it be surely it can't be both .....So what is it am I lying or just craving attention or hey maybe both.  How dare a man from the church say that I should have kept my legs closed, and how dare my mother repeat those words that he said to me, was she trying to break my heart ?  Not once did anyone ask of the situation, ask me if I was ok.  So many things.  In a counseling session and talking about being at the end of my rope caring for my children trying to complete school, and so cold and callous the words I made my bed now lie in it. Still searching and yet another counselor, when I shared how I was so struggling I was compared to an alcoholic and told it sucks to be you.  I have sat in counselors offices and been screamed at and belittled and no one took my side and stood up for me.  I have been in a counseling session and asked how many men raped me, I answered 5 and not another question was asked.  Maybe they didn't understand the answer Maybe they didn't care to hear either way there is no reaction no care and concern for my life of a mere 13 years.  And come to think of it, there was not a response from my parents either. I was just a little girl who came close to death trying to figure out what had happened and how to keep breathing with no adult help at all. They came  close to killing me, those 5 and I was on my own. So many times my world went black that day because it was something unimaginable and yet no one askes questions, no one cares what I went through, what I survived; its all about them. Not one person asked about what happened to me. My entire life I felt like I was a burden, a bother a pest.  I was always in the way Always making things difficult and complicated.  I was not worth anyone's time,  care or worry.  Even when I spoke not one adult showed any care for my little heart. Not doctors, no teacher, counselors or my very own parents.  I knew growing up in my house I was meant to smile and keep secrets.  Deal with the pain of a million lifetimes and oh yes please be a normal human.  I have never fit in anyone's box of what they thought I should be, I have had an edge and never followed the same path, and so I became, more of an outcast, a loner, the sad girl who could only watch from afar, never allowed to join.  We all know something so gross and disgusting can never be a real part of any group. You may for a time, but truly, your not a part and I always knew it.  When others views about church and religion can't make it all better, I made to feel like a waste of time and I just don't believe in god enough, I don't have enough faith or pray enough. I can't even how hard I used to pray not to wake up in the morning to survive another day, how is that for praying!  I am blamed and made to feel like yet another thing is wrong with me.  So many things wrong with me, a liar, a pest, an attention monger,  you name it!  So you see I learned really fast to smile, have those conversations quietly in my head because no one can hear the things that need to be said. No one can hear the things that weigh on my heart, that weigh me down, that tear at every fiber of my being each and every day. They can't hear because to them I am not worth it, I am not important or needed. I challenge everyone's views of what I should have done, how I survived and either there was too much or not enough emotion. In the end I suffered greatly because its always been just me and the conversations I hold in my head.   

I heart your heart