The thing about drowning

 I have been more than a little frustrated lately and I have been trying to find the right words to explain what I am feeling things that are going on. I feel like life isn't very kind right now, and I am so sad.  Life is hard right now, like really hard and I am beyond struggling.  I would even say I am close to drowning. So I think that I finally have a picture in my head about what it feels like.  This isn't a poor me, I promise it's just the way that things seem to go for me. There is no break, there is no rest.  There is not a single moment when someone says, I have got this you rest.  For this life there is no reprieve, no soft place to no moment when this life isn't heavy. I do everything, because that is just what Ido that is what I know how to do really.  Most of the time, I can ignore and not worry that I am mostly alone in this world; it just is the way that it is.  Then there are times, I wish that I didn't just keep going keeping everything together all the time. 

Here is the picture. Close your eyes and imagine this is my life and my experience in this life.

You look out into the ocean.  There are two identical people.  They are way out in the deep, so far away.  They are just in the water it's a beautiful day.  Then all of the sudden it isn't.  They both begin flailing their arms, bobbing under the water. They are in a fight for life.  Most people just keep going on with their own lives and are too busy to even notice what is happening.  Then there are a few people that notice something isn't right, but they are too busy to lend a hand.  There are a few people that notice but they think these people are waving so they wave and keep going on with their own life.  Then there are a few people that come in closer and see if they can help. The two people flailing in the water think that help is coming, and for a few moments there is hope. The difference is even those that come closer always think that I am just waiving.  And as always, the other person is thrown a life preserver and I am left with a wave.  

I am not sure that this makes sense to anyone else really but that is what it is like for me.  I think sometimes when I am flailing, I think OMG why no one is helping me, why is no one making sure that I am. And I see another person is less distress less anguish and they are given life support.  I don't understand.  I know that I always keep going.  I know that is what I do but I need a life preserver, I need a lifeboat.  I need someone to notice that I am indeed not waving but drowning. 

Drowning seems to be a theme for me lately.  I feel like I am drowning in this life.  

I heart your heart.

I am jealous

 It has been a rough Morning.  I hate things dealing with my car, it makes me nervous.  I don't have a clue what I am doing or know anything about it.  And of course, there is the money.  You never know how expensive that it is going to be, and where am I supposed to get this money.  Well, anything with my car I always lean on a good friend Mary and her Husband Jimmy.  He worked at a Mazda dealership and was always there if I needed anything with my car.  He charged me so much less than if I had to take it to the dealership and I was so very grateful.  Well they moved away and still they are offering their help.  I always message them and make sure that what I am being told is correct, and blah blah and they are literally some of the kindest people I know.  

So today I took my car in for an oil change.  And the news comes back there is about 2600 worth of work that needs to be done on my car. I am overwhelmed trying to figure out where that money is going to come from, when it needs to get done how urgent is it.  I mean this is my only vehicle you know. So, of course it's my car, and the first person I reach out to is Mary and Jimmy. In true Otterbine fashion she is like yea send me email and I will have Jimmy look it. And she starts to tell me that they are on their way to help their daughter, who just got a job as a teacher set up her classroom.  They said that they were bringing her a whole van load of things.  I could just feel her excitement through the message.  And in all that she said that she would show Jimmy the list of repairs tonight.  But if she forgot to remind her.  And the tears started.  Because I was Jealous.  I was jealous, that their daughter truly has some of the best parents that I have ever known.  

I was crying because I know that Jimmy will look over what needs to be done and be honest in what repairs I need to make.  I was jealous that they were going to have an amazing weekend with their daughter, helping her with her class.  I was jealous of the parents that they are and that I never had that.  And literally hours later I am still crying.  

When things go wrong when there are big things that I don't know what to do, there is just me there isn't help there isn't like someone that I can automatically go to and sometimes that just hurts.  I can do everything on my own, I have never had a person a father or mother that I could just go to for help and sometimes that just hurts.  Sometimes I let myself imagine, what that must be like and today the tears just wouldn't stop. 

Mary is something amazing.  I met her when her son was maybe 3, I was a Nanny at the time and the kids were the same age. I was always in awe of her.  The mom that she was how attentive that she was.  I can remember one day; her son was playing, and he pinched his hand on the toy box.  We were talking at the table, and you heard the scream.  I can remember watching her and she just held him, telling him that it was ok.  That she was there that it really must have hurt to have that happen.  She let him have his tears, she acknowledged him, and I think everything in those few moments is everything that a parent should be. I never ever forgot that interaction.  I can remember watching her and thinking, WOW .....she didn't tell him to stop crying, that there was nothing to cry about.  Like she heard him, she listened and comforted him.  I will forever remember that.  

They are the parents that every little one deserves in life.  Today I was jealous, that I could see and feel what that must be like and today more than ever I wished that I could have had that. 

I will forever and always be grateful to Mary and Jimmy.  I will forever and always be so glad to get to experience and see firsthand what amazing parents look like.  

Tired of Being ok

 I am more than tired of being OK but really what else is there to be ?  I hear stories of these people who totally break down,  can't do a thing.  Can't take care of themselves and those around them.  Stories of moms that have to go away like leave their life and and I am not sure that I understand that.  Because for me there really is no other way to be. No matter what you just keep going.  If I need a break, if I am not ok too bad keep going because those ae things that have to get done.  This is also a bad thing because everyone always thinks that you are fine. Well you are functioning you are doing everything that needs to get done. They don't even ask if you are ok, because that is just what you do.  

I am not ok here I am drowning.

 

 I am drowning in the process of trying to heal,  I am drowning in being a single mom to twin 18 year old's.  I am drowning being a teacher and owning a home and doing everything all on my own.  So yes.  I am very tired of being ok. I am tired of never being able to stop, and having to do absolutely everything on my own.  

People don't see so much, they don't see the hysterical crying hitting yourself because you don't know what to do with the emotions that you are feeling.  They don't see the tears that fall when a song comes on on your way to work.  They don't hear the screams in your car, because you have to let out so much that is stuck inside.  The sleepless nights, the long days all the work that is never done.  

There are things in this life I would do all over again,  but the drowning the pretending to be OK al the time.  The just keep going mind set , I am not sure how long I can keep going like I am something has got to give.  I had one good dream the other night and it was like a miracle.  That should not be the extraordinary in a day that keep you going. 

Just keep going is what I have don since I was a child that isn't going to go away, but I need some help, a respite from all the things that are inside that make me feel like I am getting further and further behind, and sinking faster and faster. 

I think another part of this is times when I think that I am thrashing, when I feel like people should see the things that are going on.....they don't see the things that I am feeling they see the calm waters and have no clue that I am barely keeping my head above water. 

I can remember seeing something once that has stuck with me for a long time.  I can be in the center of the ocean flailing, bobbing under the water and people would just think I am waving.  I am not waiving,  I need a life vest, Because I am going under.  I am not ok. 

I heart your heart

All I ever wanted

This morning I actually had a dream that I didn't want to wake up from.  I was so cared for and everyone that was in it was more than gentle with me.  I was an adult but felt like I was getting the things that I needed as a little girl.  I was totally removed from my family and with a different family.   There was a mom and a dad and a few other girls.  It was kind of like a re-do for some situations and how things should have been.  The feelings were so warm, and it felt like I for once wasn't on my own.  I want to hold on to this dream forever.  There was almost this battle between the little girl wanting to be cared for and the adult who was confused because she always had to do everything.  It just felt like a series of different scenarios and in each one I was met with kindness, gentleness and protection.  There are parts of the dream that I would give anything to hold onto, things I never got to experience.  I was safe with the father, and I knew that he wasn't going to hurt me.  He was not ok with the things that were done to me, and he wanted to make my heart feel safe and secure.  He wanted to protect me and keep me safe from any harm.  The mom was so attentive, when there was a mess, I was not left alone to clean things on my own.  There was reassurance and support.  There were feelings of doubt but as the dream went on there were soft tears that somehow, I was finally ok.  Somehow, they were going to help me heal.  I knew that they couldn't change the things that happened to me, but they were there to bear the burden and let me know that I wasn't so awful.  Most of the dream was more about feelings than anything, but there were two different situations that stuck out. 

The first one was a time when my father had left, it was an exceptionally rough night.  I was bleeding and scared.  There seemed to be a lot and I was panicking.  I did what I always do, cleaned up get rid of any evidence and went back to bed.  I can remember waking up in the morning and something red had spilled in the bathroom.  It literally looked like blood and I was terrified that someone was going to find out what happened to me the night before.  In the dream I woke up to take a shower and I saw all the blood all over the bathroom floor and panic set in. I was embarrassed that I didn't do my job didn't hide what had happened to me and yet the mom came in and was reassuring, she was going to clean the mess she didn't think any less of me, she was concerned and was helping me.  The dad was ever so gentle.  There was such a feeling of caring.  He held me in a hug that makes everything ok.  A hug that makes everything better and he wasn't letting go.  He was reassuring that I was going to be ok, that I didn't do anything wrong.  In the dream he gently kissed my forehead and said how sorry that he was, that those things weren't supposed to happen.  So gentle with such kindness.  I wanted to stay in that moment forever.  I was so cared for.   I was being taken care of; I didn't have to clean the mess.  But there was also no Shame because for once it wasn't my fault.  It wasn't my fault that I was hurt, and bleeding and it wasn't my fault that I couldn't clean up everything.  And I didn't want to wake up if things were ever really like that for me, if that being taking care of was the norm, I cannot even imagine how very different that my life would be.  Being able to live and be who you are knowing that whatever happened to you; you would still be so loved and that nothing would ever make them love you less. That is huge. 

I didn't even have to ask for the things that I needed because it was just done. They just did it.  I was walking around this house safe and supported.  I was so used to having to walking on eggshells and around every corner they were reminding me that I didn't have to. 

I really didn't want to wake up.  I didn't have to hide.  The shame and embarrassment were gone.  Somehow what happened to me was just as terrible, but I wasn't terrible the thing that happened to me was.  Made me sad that I have this dream just a dream as a 47 year old woman, when that is all I ever wanted as a little girl. All I ever wanted was to feel important, to be cared for and so loved even when the unimaginable happened.  

If I was that loved as a little girl, then the things that went on as I got older never would have happened.  I can't help but think about my father's part in what happened to me as a teenager.  

Because if he ever truly loved me, he would not have hurt me but would have made sure that no one else ever did.  Instead, it's like he set me up to be hurt over and over to take the blame off him.  I may never know what that safe dad feeling is but, in that dream, I felt it with all that I am, and I hope that I can always hold a piece of that. 

I heart your heart. 

Sadness of a Saturday

 I have been up a long time just working on school stuff getting ready for the upcoming year.  My favorite playlist is on you tube.  Songs that mean the most and the tears just start.  That hard cry, that shakes your core The kind that are because of everything and nothing all at the same time.  There is so many things to be happy about and yet the tears keep flowing.  The tears that come with no rhyme or reason.  The tears that fall with no sound but the force of the mightiest waterfall.  That kind of cry.  I am tired of doing this life mostly alone.  I do have a few really good friends and for that I am more than grateful. But I don't have a person that is all mine, that is there all the time just because I need them. People have their own families. I need that and I want that.  Every song seems to be a reminder of times when I was left, and I fear that those feelings and experiences will forever be a part of me.  I am left with memories that I am not sure what to do with.  I am struggling to breathe and find where I belong in this world.  This morning I am trying to focus on my heartbeat, the thing most necessary for life.  I struggle, I am struggling in every sense of the word. I am trying to move forward and desperately trying to deal with the past. I don't want to see the things that are holding me back but I don't know how not too.  So many overwhelming feelings, crashing into me and I am more than afraid. 

I heart your heart

When you can't find sleep

 

It is now past 4 am and sleep still hasn't come.  My mind is spinning, my heart is racing and my thoughts fast and furious.  I have all these feelings and memories that want my attention, that need to be heard.  I have cried scrolling through my phone these hours, so many stories of sadness.  I have smiled at parents taking lie detector tests with their teens.  I have been angry listening to the courts talk about a pregnant ten year old girl and rape; like she has asked for any of this.  There were stories of love and hate and desperation.  I have scrolled through them all thinking soon sleep will come.  Soon it will be my turn to close my eyes and if even for a short time things will be well with the world.   That doesn't work for me,  I can't find sleep. Because even when my eyes are closed, I am fighting , fighting. I finally get up because what is the point of laying in bed anymore.  I put my head phones on and there she is,  I hear my heart. Brilliant, deep and strong That so sad little girl who can't find sleep.  She is afraid of everything, and there is no comfort.  I felt my heart and I put my hand on my chest, I wish that so many things were different for her.  I wish that there were easy answers I wish that we didn't look forward to that time Wednesday when for a time we feel heard.  I wish that there wasn't a need to heal from things that should have been acknowledged such a long time ago.  I am looking for answers some sense of peace.  Pictures and memories that are screaming for attention and I do so wish they had an off button. That sweet girl replaying moments when she wished she could have changed the outcome.  Truth is there is nothing that could have been done. She fights, she fights all the time wondering how she can live a life that is full and happy with the things that have happened to her. She can not see past those five men and the things that they did to her. She wonders if anyone can ever love her.  Can anyone ever hold her heart and love her , can she not be seen as used goods, not as a victim but as a woman strong and brave.  She believes that lonely is a way of life for her, she believes still that somehow all that happened was her fault.  She feels like a terrible human, less than human really, she takes up to much space, to much time. She needs so much love and support.  

The memories plague her, the blades on the fan spinning so fast; repeating their names this will be the last time then they will leave only they never did. The cold of the gun, the warm of the linoleum floor thinking this all can't be happening. The sun on her face,  in such madness such evil, the sun was felt and for a moment there wasn't any hurt.  The sting of the rope. A body so damaged. The push and pull one after the other.  Their words, their laughing all like knives. I am not sure that what she is doing is even surviving. in order to survive you have to breathe. But breathing hurts. Moments sneak up on her and snap her back, those men. that time.  Alone and not a single soul that gave a damn.  She doesn't know if there will be a time that she doesn't remember so vividly the smallest of details that seem so insignificant,  but are holding such a huge space.  The fringe on the pillows, making everything neat,  she could barely walk and yet made sure everything was in place. The sound of the water bed, the water hitting the shower.  The detail on the that Curtis Mathis TV. I was hurt so badly, I paid the price for weeks and not one person cared. She was not embraced and told the things she wanted to hear most that it wasn't her fault. No one was sorry  No one gave a dam about a girl gang raped because she just wanted attention.  She replays scene after scene, every single scenario wanting to will things make them anything other than the things she remembers; she would give anything to take away the black moments in her story. 

I see my hands typing the words and can see her so little hands trying to fight all those men , trying to make them understand that she doesn't want these things.  She tries to make them believe that if they just leave, she won't tell anyone, they can just go away and it will be like they never happened.  They laugh at her,  her pleas, her begging.  They are there to shame and humiliate. She isn't a human.  They are there to kill  the light in a little girl already used beyond her years. She wanted desperately to be pretty, to laugh, to be carefree all things she would never have.  I am fighting , she is fighting but I hope the fight that is left is enough.  I know I won't let them win, but am I fighting a loosing battle ? I have cried oceans of tears and I am sure there is plenty more.  The terror in those memories is unbearable.  I must not let them win, but I am so afraid.  My heart and soul is oh so tired. 

I heart your heart.

I was just a girl

 I feel the need to write because I don't know what else to do. There is this anxious feeling that I am in trouble. There are feelings that I am not sure what to do with.  There are very big feeling spinning around and I feel like I have done something terribly wrong.  I feel like the cat that ate the canary.  I am trying to find my words for things because I haven't had any for so long. I have been more open and not keeping things back but in doing that I also have this feeling like OMG what have you done Callahan.  Can't you just shut up.  I want to be open; I want to be able to talk about the things that have hurt me so deeply but these last few weeks doing that feel like I should take them all back and keep them inside where maybe they belong.  I am not sure, It kind of feels like when I pressed charges and decided it was the right thing to do, I had to keep Angela safe.  I felt like i had done something terrible opening that can of worms.  Today that is exactly what I feel. Like I am opening parts of me that have been buried for a very very long time.  I know it's a good thing but right now it feels like a lot. I need to be that little kid curled up in the corner rocking wanting things to get better, wanting the truth to be different.  Desperately wanting and wishing that someone had done their job when I was 13 so I didn't have to do this now.  I think there is a lot of Anger at all the people that failed.  Not one person or professional did their job.  I can make a list of all the people that disregarded me for one reason or the other. I was not cared for.  My heart was not protected and the people that were around me made everything worse by their words, actions and inactions.  I told them and they left me like a fish out of water, floundering alone gasping for air.  I was left to drown as a thirteen-year-old girl.  All my life I have felt like she was so adult so old.  She took care of everything did everything herself.  That was truly only because she had too, because she knew that there was no one that was going to stick up for her.  She was not an adult, she was not a woman she was a young 13-year-old girl that was dying inside and not a single fucking person saw that and did anything to help.  They were there giving their opinions and pointing fingers at a child and refusing to help. 

I get angry at myself for the things that I don't remember; the things that I can't figure out and don't have answers for.  I can tell you that I tried hard to find help.  I tried more than hard to let people know that I was not ok and that I couldn't do everything on my own and I was left.  Not one adult did their job to take care of me.  Not a dr not a counselor not a teacher. Not a single person stepped up for me.  I know that at that time there were things that people didn't understand, there were not specific rules to keep someone like me safe.  At the same time, there should not have to be rules and procedures; someone should have taken care of me because it was the right thing to do. Because I was only a thirteen-year-old girl. When I think back there were times, I was screaming for someone to help me and everyone's first reaction was to deny, accuse me of lying and pretend that everything was fine.  Nothing in my life was fine, that girl was dying right before their eyes.  That girl in front of them went to Florida not expecting to come home because she was hurting that much.  That girl had to connect with a pelican, and whales to feel like she had a reason to even breathe.  That is serious and that is a problem.  

That girl had to dig deep and yet she always found things to keep her going.  She notices the smallest flower, the birds singing. She noticed the little ones that needed an extra hug. She noticed everything around her all the time.  She noticed the days with no clouds and the days the clouds made pictures.  Those were the things that gave her the air she needed to be where she is today. Those are the things that gave her breath and life.  Someday I would love to be in a room with all of those people who let me down who ignored pointed fingers and blamed me. I want to be on a stage with all those that believed me and cared for my heart standing behind me and I want to tell them how their actions or lack of action has affected me to this day. I want to acknowledge those that have stood by me and let me speak let me be real and let me cry.  Those that have said I am so sorry I would have done things different.  I would have loved that little girl. I am so tired of believing their words that were like daggers in my soul.  I am tired of believing that this little girl had things all figured out.  I am tired of others inactions that made me suffer.  I was a little girl.  I deserved better.  I needed to be held, I need to cry, and I needed someone to keep me safe and all of those things were things that I should have had.  I cannot go back; I cannot make things any different no matter how hard that I try.  Today all I can do is keep talking until the words don't come.  Keep believing that someday with all my hard work, I won't be so sad anymore.  Someday I will feel like a whole person, broken in places but still whole.  Someday someday.  

I heart your heart

It's time to come home

 Yes, it is time to come home.   You are just a girl not a little girl but a very young girl who has had to carry far more than any adult woman could handle alone.  You are not yet a woman, and none of this is yours to carry all by yourself.  No more secrets No more hiding.  No more utter aloneness. The kind that you feel in the pit of who you are; the kind that is so deep it suffocates you. No more freezing under the weight of all the things that you never got to say. No more freezing under the whispers of those that blamed you. I know just how hard that this is going to be. I know that you struggle every single day, that you feel like you are so much less than everyone that you meet.  I know that you hate taking a shower and when you take a bath; things start spinning and go black. I know the pep talk that you have to give yourself before you brush your teeth. I know that most mornings you wake up and your body aches as if you were hurt yesterday. I know that you still feel their hands sometimes and I can promise you there are kind hugs that don't hurt with no ulterior motives.   I know the panic when you are out and you smell a similar, cologne and your entire body freezes. I know all those things.  And all of those things happen because of what was done to you.  You are fighting more than hard to understand; there still are so many things I don't understand but we have help.  To get the help you have to be out of the dark. There is no peace for you where you are.  You are fighting a battle that you should never have to face alone.  I don't know if I am enough, but I am trying, and I will never give up.  Just move out of that dark place keep reaching and let me love you let someone help you understand.  There are pieces of me that only you have and pieces of you that only I have. 

 

Please Come Home. I need you.

         I heart your heart. 

It only hurts when I breathe

 

This is more than hard for me to be able to explain.  I feel crazy, I feel like a burden because these are times, I feel so incredibly needy. I know that I don't have the words, but I need someone to listen as I try to find them. There are times that I want to speak, but I can't find the words because they have never been there. It just happened and I suffered in silence.  All the rapes didn't matter and neither did I.  When I was thirteen there are pieces of me that stopped breathing.  What happened to me is unimaginable and my world just stopped.  Pieces of me kept going because that is how life works, but for that thirteen-year-old girl she never moved forward.  She became that 13-year-old stuck in that time trying to figure out, the how's and why's of the things that had happened to her.  Her job was trying to figure out, why she was so terrible awful that no one wanted to keep her safe. Her job was to clean up and keep smiling. She was left with the questions in her head is this what I am good for?    She stayed stuck there, every nasty word that was said sticking in her heart like a sword.  She absorbed all the nasty comments, all the finger pointing and blame.  So, she kept smiling, kept cleaning up and kept moving forward.  And that thirteen-year-old girl all alone never caught up in life.  The things that happened to her were like a trap and she has never been able to get away.  She stayed trying to fight those demons all on her own.

So, I am here in 2022, 34 years after that time.  I am doing all the adult things necessary of me.  I am a mom and a teacher; a friend and I also feel like the walking wounded.  I live this life, but I don't have all the parts of me.  I fight for them, but I am not sure that others can understand where I have been or why things have been so hard.  I am working to heal that 13-year-old girl, but she carries things that you could not even comprehend.  I say that because she lived them and even, she doesn't understand. I lived them and still put it all on the 13-year-old, because I am not sure that I can handle all the things that she did. 

They don't just stay with her because she is me and I am her.  I know that might sound crazy but it's one of the only things that make sense.  Things were so awful so crazy hurtful that I kind of went away, because I had to in order to survive.  I had to go away because it was that awful.  I had to go away because I would not have survived if I didn't.  So, putting everything on her, somehow let me move forward but today I need that 13-year girl to be a part of me, I need to honor her and move forward in my own life.  The problem with that, is that I am so afraid.  

Even the other day, I was talking about that time, and I am already paying the price.  My body physically hurts.  I feel it in my bones. My body remembers everything. Every sense is on high alert.  I feel their hands, I can smell them, I hear them I see the smallest details of the rooms. Sometimes I wonder if the 5 0f those men are alive, or dead. Do they have families are they fathers? Do they think about the things that they did to me?    Would I even know them today?  I am not sure that I would really, I do hope they are dead, I hope that they have lived horrible lives, and that they have suffered.  I hope that they were all miserable. Except for Andy.  He was the kind one he was the one who treated me like a human, more human than the other four.  He was the one who looked at me.  He looked at me early in the morning on my parents' bed, when they first got there.  He wasn't involved on that bed.  He was in the doorway, but he saw me.  He looked me right in the eyes.   I can remember feeling so ashamed and embarrassed. I was there all four of them surrounding me but writing this he was just standing there......Maybe he was shocked maybe he was repulsed 

.....I don't understand maybe he was just as scared as she was. He didn't stop them early in the morning that day. Maybe he cared a little too late.  I have always said that I wished he was Bella's father. But that would also mean that Andy raped me that day.  I guess somewhere in my mind it was just a normal rape he wasn't evil.  And I am sitting here trying to wrap my head around my own thinking.  Somehow everything was ok, just a normal rape in a day full of so many. That is terrifying really.    No wonder I feel so insane, I am trying to make sense out of a day that there is no sense in.  Hundreds of times I was hurt that day, turn after turn.  Andy was not like the others, and he may have raped me, but he wasn't in it to hurt me; make me less than human.  He was the one who saved me later in the day when they took me into my brothers' room.  Somehow, they all decided they needed some privacy.  So, each one came in taking their turn doing whatever they wanted, when Andy came in, I was at a breaking point really.  I wanted him to kill me, I wanted him to just make me stop breathing.  I screamed and found a fight like nothing else. He calmed me down and said that he wasn't going to hurt me, he covered my body, he wiped my face and for a few minutes in that day he took care of me.  I felt like a person, that someone cared. I feel far away from my own body how does a person survive this.  I was far away, not even in my own body anymore. There is so much shame, how does she live with what was done to her.  I see my body as a thirteen-year-old and I am disgusted by what they did .  So we have lived two very different lives her and I.  I did all the things that a person is supposed to do and she stayed there fighting demons that were never hers to fight.  My heart is broken.  This is why I am stuck here; I don't know how to live with this. The things that have happened, what those men did.  They were so awful that I went away, my entire world went black, and that 13-year-old lived through that.  

That is why I am fighting so hard today, wanting to keep her out of that dark place, but it is terrifying for me.  The things that I have to realize.  These things are a part of me and not some little girl far away. So yes, every breathe that I take in dealing with this hurts. It hurts more than I would ever want to admit.  So, when I was talking about this yesterday, and that I needed to teach her to breathe, that is more than hard. She just stops breathing sometimes; thinking that if she does the hurt will go away.  For me teaching her to breathe is a way to connect with her, but I am not sure that I am ready to feel and see and think about those things that she experienced.  I wish that I had the right words to explain how terrifying that this is.  When she breathes, when I can connect and focus on my own breathing it seems to come back and it's not her back there in that body it is me.  

What if this is just too much?  All this time later I am fighting demons that someone should have helped slay many many years ago.  That is a very different kind of painful. I know that I want to connect with her and help her come into the here and now with me.  I know that I don't want to leave her there during that time, there are strong doubts that I am not strong enough, I worry if I am enough. When every breathe that I take, I feel like I breathe the air of that so young girl and once again the whole world stops.  Connecting with her, teaching her to breathe brings her closer than ever and that makes my heart so very heavy.  This is one of those things in life that isn't fair.  I should not have to be doing this today at 46, when someone anyone should have helped that poor girl back then when she was 13.  My heart is literally breaking all over again. 

I heart your heart.  

Roe vs Wade

 

There are so many thoughts and feelings here.  An issue that I never thought really pertained to me but in fact does in so many ways.  I have been so affected this week with everyone on one side or the other. There are way to many people talking about things that they don't have experience with. I have been angry because each side is unable or unwilling to see the other side.  This is an issue that does matter to me.  One because I am a woman.  One because, I could have made the choice to have an abortion when I was raped and got pregnant and did not. Another is because knowing what I know now, I would not ever take that choice from another woman. Finally, because I want my daughter to have that choice if she was ever faced with what no woman should ever have to face alone.  I have been quiet I have been listening, but my insides are screaming.  

Here are examples of two different situations , two different outcomes. Each one was the right decision for that person. She made the right one for her. I made the right one for me. We both deserve that right.

When I was in my early twenties, a girl that I worked with was going for an abortion.  She was going to go alone and I could not let that happen. Even if you don't agree with what someone is doing your still have kindness and compassion for them. 

I took the day off of work and I took Mandy for her appointment. We left super early in the morning, and we made our way to the Dallas clinic. We just talked on the way there, easy conversation for an extremely heavy day. My every thought was on that little baby, hers was that she wasn't ready.

We were escorted into the building there were a few protestors.  You could see people leering outside with their personal agendas, judgements and signs. I didn't agree with what she was doing but she also knew that she wasn't ready to be a mom and her boyfriend was less than supportive. I knew it wasn't for me but I was going to support her.  Once we got inside there were different barriers to pass before you were in the actual waiting room.  It was a so sad place, with women and mothers there going on as if this was just another normal day.  There were really young girls, like really young and that broke my heart.  They were holding grocery bags of pads, and looked terrified.  I am guessing this wasn't their first time there.  I watched everything.  Everything.  There was some movie on about a Volcano, and I was amazed that a part of me believed that the world should stop and honor these women and girls and their babies if even for a short time but nothing was different.  These patients walked in with a little growing life and left with only their own.  

It was a strange place to be.  I wanted to give them all a hug, care for their heart find out their story and make sure that their heart was ok.  Anything other than a movie about a Volcano and people trying to escape.  

We sat there, Mandy and I.  They called her name, and she went back for the ultrasound.  She came out with tears in her eyes she said it was really hard to look.  I gave her a hug and we were quiet.  Many women and girls were called back some with great emotion some with little.  The ending was the same.  They finally called her back and I have to say that time seemed to stand still. I wanted to tell her that she could do this.  She could move in with me and I would help her.  But this is much bigger than that.  So she went back.  I sat there, waiting, and I was so very sad.  I wanted nothing more than to be a mom.  I was also thinking of Bella and thought of how opposite that the entire situation was.  Another choice could have been made, but I held her in my womb as long as I could loving every single second even given the circumstances;  While my friend was doing exactly the opposite making the choice not to carry this little life.  She was groggy as she came out and they wheeled her to the car.  I was worried about her comfort. She seemed content, she said that she was crampy but nothing really bad.  She was glad that it was over and glad that she went. We drove home mostly silent.  I can remember thinking there were three of us when I picked her up and dropping her back home there was only two.  I went home more than sad.

When I was 13 I was gang raped and got pregnant.  I told no one.  I lived in this fairy tale world that I was going to be this amazing mom and keep her safe.  I could have had an abortion.  If I had told someone that choice might have been made for me.  But I lost baby Bella at around 20 weeks. I did almost everything on my own,  Carrying that sweet girl was no different. That girl that I was then if she was cared for should have had the chance to have an abortion.  That is not what I would have wanted, but I believe it is a right.  You have no right to tell me what should and shouldn't happen with my body. If I was my daughter, I believe I may have considered abortion knowing the future to be had for her and that baby and the things the would have to face.

When I was 29 I had traveled back and forth to Boston to testify in my step sisters case.  The third time I went was when I finally took the stand,  and testified for her. I had no idea the toll that it would take on me.  I was a mess.  I was tired of attorney's and retelling my story so many times.  I was not doing well. I just wanted to be a normal girl,  doing normal things.  I wanted to date, have friends and enjoy life for once. Those were not the cards that I was dealt.  I was in a yahoo chat room and met a guy names Charles.  He was kind, made me smile, he was flirty.  He was going to be going to Afghanistan for his job with Raytheon and needed to go shopping.  I am not sure if he invited me or if I invited myself but I was going to help him get the things that he needed, have some lunch and come back home. I was so excited, this felt like the most normal thing I had done in a very long time.  He got to my house and had other plans. 

Two weeks later, the morning sickness started and I found out that I was pregnant.  The night that I took the test,  I can remember crying laying on the floor with my dog.  I had no idea what I was going to do, but I was going to be a mom.  From that point on nothing else mattered.  I was going to be a mom. My counselor at the time asked about an abortion.  And I am sure I gave him a look, that was not even in my mind,  that was not an option for me.  And I carried my sweet babies and they were born happy and healthy.  How they were conceived was as far away as something can get, my children were all that mattered.  It was more than hard being a single mom and things were said and done that no woman should ever have to deal with.  At the Health and Human Service office when they were a few weeks old,  the case worker threw a pen at me across the table and left the room when I didn't have information about the father to give her.  When she walked in tears were streaming down my face, I had done all the right things caring for my babies and was treated with such disrespect.  I can remember taking my sweet Mariska to the car and nursing her, I did nothing to deserve that treatment  And for the next 5 years every six months when I had to renew food stamps,  I was asked the same questions and treated with such disdain.  When those appointments came up I was so anxious because you never knew the level of awful that you might get on the other end of the line. 

There was the crisis pregnancy center that gave  me a bible and dirty, stained clothes telling me that I should be grateful.  I can remember crying sitting on my bed, my brand new precious babies.  I told my mom crying,  I don't want to be ungrateful but this isn't ok; I could not put those clothes on my children.  Don't give me a bible and dirty clothes and think all is well with the world.  They would give you diapers when you went there and I said it was twins and they basically said it was too bad. We needed a second high chair, we were given one with black mold on it , and were told we could jut wash it off.  That is how a single mother gets treated.  I wasn't looking for any kind of medal but to treated as a human, to be treated with kindness would have made the difference. 

There was the pastor that my mom talked to. He used to always go to her line hen she worked as a teller for the bank.  She always talked about me and her grandchildren.  And one day,  while talking about the struggle of a single mom he said well she should have kept her legs closed.  He didn't know my story,  my mother didn't know my story.  My mother came home and told me what he said and it was like a knife through my heart.  How fucking dare you. 

This is how a single mother gets treated far more often than you realize. 

I was a fighter and I made sure they got what they needed, I continued with school. I did all the right things.  As a single mother with Bi-racial twins I was treated as a second class citizen. 

I can remember when they were in third or fourth grade and one of the teachers asked about their father.  I had a few moments of insane courage and said that I was assaulted and it was just the three of us.  Her first words were wow,  many women would want to get an abortion.  I think I was always shocked because for me that wasn't an option.  I told her no, that these were my babies and my reason for everything. I just remember the shock on her face,  and that I chose to have them and be their mom was foreign to her.

For me abortion was never an option and never would be. I would make the same choice again, keeping my babies and loving them just as I have. 

I do believe that each little life is more than important regardless of the circumstances.  Because of what I went through and how I was treated I would also not take abortion away from a woman who was raped and found herself pregnant.  That is a choice that is too heavy to carry. 

I believe that a woman has the right to her own body.  I believe that abortion is not a choice for me, but I won't be responsible for taking that away from other women.  I feel like so much of this falls on the women's shoulders and it is a weight too heavy to carry alone.  As a nation we are quick to say no that life is important....and yet treat them with great disrespect once they are born. 

I am a women and this is a tragedy.  I am the perfect example.  I chose to be a mom and have my children and the struggles that I faced are unimaginable.  Now imagine the number of women whose choice is taken and whether they are ready to be a mom or not,  that is their only choice ?  Who will take care of those children ? Who will care for those moms ? 

No there is no easy answer, there is no right or wrong in Abortion. Each and every situation woman and pregnancy is different. 

I know this is long and I more than hope it makes sense.  Everyone keeps talking about rape and pregnancy and having the right, or allowing an abortion in that circumstance.  I just want people to open their minds and hearts. Because the things that you believe are not the same as the women next to you or the woman across the country.  We have to stop with  the judgement, and finger pointing. They want to take away the right but are unprepared for the consequences of that.  I hate that I am a prime example that we are going to see a lot more of, when we force women to keep pregnancies that they are fully unprepared to bare. I made the right choice for me and we have to allow all women to make the right choice for them. 

I heart your heart