I can't fix her

 

I can't fix her I can only mend her. I do think of her as broken, and I think that there are pieces of her that will never be recovered. I truly believe there will always be some oozy, open wounds that are just untouchable.  I am not sure how to change that. I feel that little Callahan wasn't broken, again there was an innocence. It's like there was always some kind of lifeline for that little girl. Like she was able to feel, I knew that when I saw her, she was sad, she was looking for a connection, she was so afraid of everything.  There was this innocent girl wanting someone to love her. She was always the one who wished and wanted someone to swoop in and make her feel better.  She was cautious always making sure that they were safe.  She wanted that, she was never in total darkness, she always had something to hold onto. 

 It's so different for sweet 13-year-old. She doesn't feel anything, anything at all. Parts and pieces of her very being were destroyed beyond recognition. I have been really cold for weeks now, and I was asked if she was cold?  And I thought and realized, no she isn't cold. She isn't cold because she can't feel a thing right now. She doesn't feel anything.  I want to leave her a soft blanket, just as a safety as an offering so she knows that she will never feel that kind of cold again.  I see her there 5 doors down and I know that she is there.  But she is lifetimes away.  You are frozen in time, and I want you here with me, I want you to see the good things and the good people. She is the gross and disgusting, she is the one who was there and survived.  She is stuck there somehow, I think there is a hope but sometimes she forgets because the pictures overwhelm her. I have done this before; I should know how to do this but it's so much more complicated. 

I want to fix you.  I want to make it all go away. More than anything I wish that I could take the pictures away.  I wish that I could stop you from feeling their hands and hearing their words.  I just want more than anything for you to feel loved and cared for.  You are so far away, and so disconnected.   I want more for you.  I want to make the pain go away, I want to give you some peace, but you have to be willing to walk with me.  I know some days 5 doors down seems like lifetimes away but as mark always says we are closer than we think.  You had to pretend them, pretend that you were fine that you weren't hurt.  We don't have to pretend today.  It's ok that we aren't ok.  It's ok that our heart feels broken and that shards sometimes piece our heart that is barely beating.  I am going to keep saying it until I believe it, we are more than what has happened, and we don't have to pretend anymore.  We might break a little we might break a lot but we are not in this alone this time.  You will never be alone again.  That is one thing that I can promise.  We have to do this together, because there are good things waiting for us we just have to be willing to try. 

I heart your heart. 

I Ate Chips

 

I keep asking the question how in the world did that sweet 13-year-old girl survive.  How did she wake up every morning and go to school and take care of all the things that were asked of her.  Today on the way home, I know what she did.  She ate chips. And somewhere in the madness she held onto hope.   Something so simple.  She ate chips to survive, and She hoped that someday there was something better out there.  On the way home from Mark's I had to stop the car and I got sick because there are just so many things on my plate and I am at a point where there isn't much left of me.  This morning I yelled at Mariska because she didn't throw her Pepsi cans away.  I said the F bomb as soon as I walked outside this morning because Vincent backed my car into the driveway. Neither of those things is ok.  Right now there isn't even enough of me for my family because I am trying to give all of me to work.  I am exhausted and I am not sure that I am going to make it.  Every single day it feels like a scab is being ripped off of my skin and I am full of memories and flashbacks and still giving it 200 % at my job.  I come home and I want to crawl in a hole. I have been interview like crazy, I just need to find a home,  where I can teach and have a classroom and love going to work.  I want to go to a place where I feel like I am doing good.  I want to be a t a place that doesn't bring memories and flashbacks.  

I can remember being in middle school, and there were these like rip off Doritos but with way more flavor.   I can even remember the rectangle container that they were in.  I was hiding beside the chair I just needed a moment away, a moment to myself a moment when no one was hurting me, and I enjoyed every bite.  Then our foreign exchange student came and sat by me, I offered to share, and he said no I would rather have an apple.  I remember feeling so small because those chips were my safety those chips are what helped me through the day. Those chips made me forget the monster that was my father, and the men who were always attracted to me. I shrank in my own skin and put the lid on.  He could never have known all the things that were going on, but that was my only happy in a world so full of violence.  So when i ask that question, how did she do it ?, She hid and ate chips trying to be normal, trying to forget the life that she had to live. She smiled and pretended that everything was fine even though there were storms of unimaginable proportions inside her heart that not a single person will ever understand. 

I heart your heart. 

Impacts of Trauma

Sometimes things just hit, and you realize that there are things that others just cannot understand. When you grow up in trauma, have experienced trauma you see and experience life very different. I like to call it trauma goggles. I view everything through trauma goggles, and I have beat myself up for it for a long time. This school year could not be a better example. Someone was advocating for me and was told well she is a special education teacher, like somehow that was an excuse to be hit, kicked, jumped on, slapped in the face. I was a bit shocked, in the response it was ok that those things were happening. It was ok because I was a Special Education Teacher. No, those things are never ok. I get hit and its memories of hurt and abuse. I get hit and for me I am brought back to terrible things. I am struck with objects and I flinch and I am reminded of things growing up. The biggest one was a few weeks ago; an object being thrown that hit my neck and there was a flashback of the gun on my neck and the panic attack that ensued was brutal. I think anyone, no matter what field that you are in needs to remember, that there are some really bad things that happen to people, and some of those things have lasting impacts. We are not less then, we are no less of an employee we just see and experience things different. A hit for you and a hit for me means 2 different things. Thrown objects for you and me are 2 very different experiences. We talk about trauma sensitive topics, and I am learning that I think we have forgotten that piece in the workplace. It makes me more than sad.  I don't want special attention, I don't want things to be a big deal. I don't expect everyone to walk on eggshells and act like I am going to break. What I would like is an understanding, that when those things happen it it is a reminder of things that they could never understand.  And they just need to be kind and know that how they experience things and I how I experience them are two things that are not even on the same planet. 

23 more days.  Here's to hoping that I can make it.  

I heart your heart. 

Its more than the memories

 I feel it in my bones. I still feel their hands and hear their words. My body hurts and there is no reason today, but I can't get away from the physicalness of it. All this time later and I can't comprehend the things I am feeling. I can remember being so afraid to go into the back of the house that I would not even use the bathroom because I was that afraid.  I feel like there are just so many pieces of this puzzle that I am trying to sort out, and I am oh so tired.  I have the pictures running in my head with every thought. I feel the things that they did in my every cell.  I hear their words and sometimes freeze thinking I hear them laugh.  I even smell them sometimes; I will pass a certain cologne and I am 13 all over again.  For the last two weeks its felt like I have a bladder infection I DO NOT, yet that's what I feel.  Sometimes things hurt so bad I think I should go to the DR then I think seriously Callahan last time you did that the DR basically said you were crazy and told you to see a psychiatrist.  I am sure not doing that again. I am not crazy, it's just that my bones remember.  I have been working really really hard with sweet 13-year-old and since then I can't get warm.  It's almost 80 and I am sitting here with 2 sweaters on, I remember every second of the coldness the shivering the exposure and there was no covering me up no safety.  When the house is quiet and the kids are at work, I sit on the couch not believing the things that I have survived, knowing that I did and wondering how in the hell that it happened.  How did I hide, how did I wake up in the morning, how did I  just keep moving on when all I wanted to do was make it all go away. How did a smile ever show on my face.  How did my heart continue to beat.  I don't have an answer for those things, but I know that there was something deep inside, there was something that was untouchable, something that held on and wanted better no matter what.  I will be glad when I don't want to understand the how's and why's of how I survived.  I will be glad when I can stand in the light and just be glad that I did. I will be glad not to flinch , not to think I hear their laugh and for my body to finally be free of their hands.  This piece is just so much more than the memories and the pictures.  More than I can even comprehend. 

I heart your heart

Her eyes are open

 

She has lived a life that you can not imagine 

the things that she has seen 

the things that she has done 

the things that were put on her shoulders that were never hers to carry 

She carried it all and kept breathing 

Kept smiling even pretending that she was fine

she survived things that should have killed her; but did not

She has been bruised broken and battered 

To save her heart she shut out the world

She has lived in a world of darkness

 out of fear, out of desperation 

out of sheer preservation

She just closed her eyes and shrank from the world

She couldn't handle any more evil

she believed in the words she heard around her

She was a liar, she wanted attention,  she was a slut 

Yes she was a slut, she had been having sex since she was 5

She was done with the world.

She stayed as far away from people as she could. 

Everyone knew she couldn't take any more pain.

Still they kept piling it on ignoring her every need

So silent she has been her entire life

She used to be so very far away,

 untouchable and terrified of everything. 

She lives in survival mode,

 people hurt her A LL.....THE....TIME

She has been in a hell that is unimaginable

That is what she knows. That is how she lived.

BUT........

Slowly ever so slowly she is coming back to life

She is beginning to trust me and even Mark. 

She is even in the same room, that is somewhat a miracle

She is far but she is in the light

She is scared but hopeful

She is terrified but no longer wants to be alone

She is brave she is so strong and

together we will do this

She is waiting with open eyes

We have to 

Because we were meant for so much more than

 we were ever given. 

Creed : Wash away those years 

I heart your heart.

I Am Right In the Middle Of The Terror

 

I have not been in this place in a long time.  I feel like i am in the middle of a Tornado of everything 13 year-old is spinning and churning and all I want to do is hide away.  It's in my brain as clear as I see the keys on the computer.  It's in my brain like the movie that you just watched on TV.  It's all there on repeat and I don't know what to do.  I want to crawl in a hole, hide in my closet or some kind of steel bunker where the memories and pictures are unable to reach me.  I am so cold and so achy; it was 35 years ago, and I feel like it just happened.  I have the biggest headache and I don't want to go anywhere it's on replay  in every fiber of my being and I don't have clear words to tell you what that is like. 

I am cleaning and fixing and cleaning some more and it isn't getting any better. I feel the anxiety over stupid little things.  When one small thing isn't in place, I feel like a volcano on the verge of an explosion.  My heart is weary, and just needs a soft place to fall.

Work is terrible,  the most triggered that I have been in a long time.  My little guy makes blocks of guns and makes sure that you know he is aiming for you.  He throws things at you, and says things like I am going to kick you, I am going to hurt you with no regard for anyone at all.  I cry daily and there is little if any support. My things are getting ruined and broken and I don't even know what to do anymore.  There are rude comments from others, and its exhausting.  

There are reminders and memories everywhere, and I still keep going keep working keep doing all the things that I have to do all the while my heart feels like its being drowned.  So many things are parallel to the things that have happened, and my brain can't even do all of the things that need to get done.  I am at a loss. I want to be safe, I want to feel comfortable in my own skin.  I am tired of being so afraid, and on edge. I am tired of my brain that believes, all those past things are still something to be terrified of.  I am so afraid, so tired and so very sad.  Someday this has to get better, someday I mean now because I really need a breather. 

I heart your heart. 

I never got the expected things

 I never ever got the normal things in life. I never experienced, being daddy's little girl.  I never had a boyfriend, never any fun dates and tender kisses. I never got to go prom dress shopping, and dance because I could; those were the things of fairytales that I knew were never meant for me.  There was never a wedding, never a real belonging anywhere.  I was the girl who was different who saw the world through eyes of terror and believed that I was everything less than all of those around me.  I sit here today on this perfect day, its cloudy, but warm, the birds are singing songs that bounce off the leaves, another Easter .  I am alone, there are no invitations to family dinners or egg hunts.  Once again and as always it is me.  People have families and their people; I don't fit into their boxes.  I don't fit anywhere. You know there is that saying about choosing your family, or something like that.  Well, everyone has their own families that I am just not a part of. I have a few really good friends, I do but they have their own families, and that is something I am not; a part of the family.  Vincent gets off work soon, and Mariska gets off later.  I will make a dinner and we will eat, but there is no sharing of ourselves. I will put on a happy face and makes things special, but for now the tears are streaming.  I live a lonely life and maybe just maybe that is how it is meant to be. I want to share the things happening, I put in a transfer at work, I have my grad school interview, there are things in me that are meant to be shared, there are things that I want to share about my heart, my life the things that I want to accomplish but there is no one to listen. I want to share the things that I think and the way that I work inside, but I can't.

I found a picture of my father on Facebook, and I think is he happy, does he think about the things that he has done.  He is surrounded by people other's daughters and sons and I am the one that is alone.  That feels more like I am the one punished as he goes on to live his life.  There seems something very unfair in that.  I did find his address a tiny little run-down place where he now lives in Missouri, and there was a part of me that felt bad for him.  Me feeling bad for him am I even a thought?  is he sorry?  Probably not.  I live in this big, beautiful house that is all mine and there is a sadness is ever present. The tears are coming more often and I am trying to stay strong, but sometimes I just can't do it. 

I heart your heart. 

Everything Hurts

 

There are times I am just overwhelmed.  Overwhelmed with the things on my plate today.  Overwhelmed by the things that I have lived through, I am overwhelmed that its Easter weekend and my birthday next week, and I hate my birthday more than you can imagine. I am overwhelmed with all the things, and I am alone.  Today was the first day ever that I cried in the baby section.  A friend that I used to work with is having a baby and her shower is tomorrow, and I just stood there looking at all the little baby things and started crying.  She would be 35, and there is no telling how different that my life would be.  I miss her more than you can imagine, and sometimes it just really hurts. I don't have her little footprint or blanket. I have nothing. Today everything hurts.   It's a little bit of everything and still nothing at all. 

Today I found out that one of my favorites, won't be able to make my teacher of the year celebration.  Once again it will be just the kids and I.  I wish someone could be there just for me.  And I am sure it is just this overwhelming day, but its a reminder that i don't have a person.  I don't want to do it in the first place, there is too much attention to much being out in front and people just don't understand that. I want it over more than anything.

It's Easter weekend,  so many people know its just me there will be no invitations, there will be no invites, there will be nothing.  The kids will be working and I will be home alone.  I am kind of done of doing things alone.  

I put in a transfer at work and now have to share my resume and find another school that I hope will be a good fit for me.  But goodness change is more than hard, and I feel like there are so many things changing all the time for me and its hard.  And I am exhausted. 

I am trying to lean into sweet 13-year -old and its the hardest thing I have ever done. I think that there are a lot of realizations and a lot of things that I am trying to piece together and each piece I find stings a little more, and cuts even deeper.   After my meltdown this morning in the store I have been on the verge of tears all day.  

There is little sleep and when I do, the nightmares are awful.  I just want to sleep peaceful maybe a few times a week.  I really wish that MDMA therapy, was something that was an option I feel like that would somehow help me through, the 13-year old me that lives in a state of terror all the time.  I think I have it bad with the memories, I feel like she lives there, I don't think she is in the dark anymore, but she lives that dark every minute of every day.  

I am really trying to change the things that are going on in my head but really, I seem to be the common denominator, and I am all alone.  I need someone, I need someone that I can call my own that is there for me on all my days even ones like this when I just want to be safe and sound.  

I got an email about my interview for the master's program.  Once again, I cried when I got it.  April 24th at 8:15. I think am I ready? Am I smart enough? I feel so stupid all the time. I really want this, and I am terrified.  I am terrified that they are going to tell me no.  I'm terrified that they are also going to reject me, and I am not sure that I am ready for that. Maybe this thing that I want so badly just isn't right for me.

I am just not ok right now, I am breathing doing all the things that are necessary. I smile but all I really want to do is cry.  I am great at faking things, but I wonder how long that a person can keep this pace.  I feel more than needy, and there is a part of me that would love to quit, because sometimes there just isn't any fight left. 

I heart your heart.

She doesn't have words

 

She doesn't have words. That is a huge realization. because as long as i can remember i have been fighting for her words.  I want her to be able to speak, I want her to be able to say the things that only she can.  I have wanted her to speak to prove that those things happened so people would believe her.  But goodness she literally doesn't have any.  She was 13 and there were no words to describe the things that happened to her.  She didn't understand all that was happening, all that was done.  Of course there was a knowing, but things were so violent, things were so evil that she was unable to comprehend so much of what went on.  I think to the beginning of my healing, and I used to just call it all gross and disgusting.  Like of course i did because we were unable to give words to the hell that we survived.  I used that for a long time, because even i was unable to speak any words even close to the things that had happened to me.  I have spoken more about sweet 13-year-old in the last few weeks than I ever have.  I do not hate her anymore; I love her, and I love that she was strong enough to keep me alive. 

I struggle with the things that I can't answer.  The questions that are asked, things that I should know that i have no memory or recollection of at all.  I cannot tell you how hard that is.  Somewhere in my head if I could just answer those questions and explain everything then I would be believed, I would be valued and And I think that maybe she is the key to that and maybe in time. Mark asks how I knew that I was pregnant and i think surely i had to take a test right? I mean missed periods; I can remember Calvin asking me questions.  And those questions made me think he got a test, but I don't know.  I just don't know. There are so many questions, the who what where that are blank.  If it was anyone, I think it would be Calvin, he is the only one that gave a shit about me at all. I don't know a single thing for sure.  There are so few things about that time that I can remember.  The guilt that I feel about that is huge, I should know what happened to me and my body but no matter how hard I try there are pieces that I don't have.  Being pregnant with Bella gave me Hope. I lived in a fairy tale world that everything was going to be perfect.  I can remember having Calvin feel her move, and being so excited that I was going to be a mom.  I knew i was pregnant because of what happened to me,  but there was a separation that I am not sure that I can explain.  When you have always wanted to be a mom, she was the only thing that mattered.  So to survive I focused on her, and almost nothing else. There are so many things that just don't make sense, and I can't explain them.  When I was losing her, I remember that there was so much blood, and the pain that I was in was so intense.  I knew that something was very wrong.  I remember the bright red on my clothes, and Calvin picking me up. I can remember seeing my head, falling back. But I was watching it all not even there and present. The next thing that I remember was the doctor, petting my knee and telling me that I lost her.  I remember telling him no that I was fine, I remember crying, I remember arguing with him and screaming, begging him to tell me she was fine. Those are the only moments that i remember.  The only ones and all the other pieces are held in 13-year-old Callahan or some place so deep and dark that I will never ever reach them.  Later as an Adult I can remember talking to Dr Flowers and I asked her about it, I told her the things i remembered, she said it sounded like probably around 20 weeks, but that was just  with the few things that I remembered.  They would have had to have done a procedure, I don't know or remember anything. I even looked it up online it depends, it's a miscarriage before 20 weeks, after that is a still born. Some moms deliver their babies when they are that far along.  What happened to me ?  What was done? Why was nothing ever acknowledged!!!  My parents would have had to sign consent I don't remember and never remember them being there. I remember people standing around, they were just people, blank faces I don't know who they were.  There are things that would have had to happen and yet I can't tell you.  I would have needed medical care and yet I CAN NOT tell you, and that kills me.  There is a part of me that says see , she is lying and just wants attention.  How does a person not remember things that are that big.  

Today it is such a struggle, because there are pieces that I wish I could answer that I wish I knew that I understood. I am working so very hard right now, and for this I could work forever and ever and I am not sure there would be any more pieces of this for me. This is heartbreaking for that sweet innocent 13-year-old girl.  For me I want to have a clear picture, I want it to make sense, not what others did but what happened to me.    

I feel like her entire 13th year is playing in my head all the time, trying to figure things out and there are no answers, no solutions just a heartache that is so deep. Don is in my brain all the time.  Showers are extremely difficult, brushing my teeth is almost impossible, I just want to curl up and try to get warm. 

I was thinking back looking for anything to give me answers and i remember when i had to have my surgery for Endometriosis. I remember the guy coming to talk to me and him looking over my chart and saying something about a miscarriage. I looked at my mom, she looked like a deer in headlights, and me I said no , and looked at my mom he got the point, and gave me the medicine and wheeled me back for surgery.  But that look on her face, it was like she wasn't surprised, it was a look like how you know that.  The entire interaction was more than strange.  I remember crying as they wheeled me into the operating room, I think my heart was broken.  

I think back to all of these things and of course she has been in hiding, she is terrified and has no idea of what words to use because none of them could even possibly come close to the things that she had to endure.  Of coarse she doesn't have words, of course you don't sweet girl and that is not a bad thing. I am catching up and coming to understand, you don't have those words and maybe just maybe that is going to have to be ok. 

I heart your heart. 

Scars in the daylight

 

This was a line in a song, and I heard it, thought about it and realized this is what I want for my life.  I listened to it again and again.  Yes, scars are made for the daylight. I am not saying I am going to blare what has happened to me every chance that I get.  I am not saying that I am going to talk about it all the time.  I am saying that I am tired of hiding. I am saying that a lot has happened in my life to get me to this place and I won't be small for people to suit their feelings.  There are things that I have to say, there are experiences that i have had that just might be a light for others. When I hear scars in the daylight, I am saying I am not keeping the things that have happened to me in the shadows, they will be shared in the light. Scars are meant to be seen and cherished. Scars are meant to be treated with trust and kindness. Scars are meant to be gently handled and seen as a strength not a weakness.  Scars are meant to see the light, and revel in all the things that got them there. Scars need to be celebrated, no matter the scar or the number of years that it took to be a scar and no longer a gaping wound.  

In the world that we live in certain scars are not meant to be shared or viewed and a lot of people think that they should be locked away hidden in the dark.  Too often in my life my scars were shoved to the side and not seen as important as others.   My entire life people have wanted me to lock the things away that have happened to me.  No one wants to see the marks on my heart.  No one wants to stick around for the moments that still ooze and are often ugly. No one wants to talk about the things that make me ME. The things that have happened in my life are things that are going to affect me forever, it's just a fact and if that bothers you then please show yourself away.  

I am saying that it is time to heal, it is time for me to shine the light on the things that are most heavy in my world.  I think of that line: The world is full of suffering, but the world is also full of overcoming it. That is exactly where I am.  It's really kind of funny my friend list is getting smaller and smaller, if you don't add kindness and aren't genuine then I am out.  I am the same person all the time, I am crazy Callahan sometimes funny, sometimes quiet always hardworking and always true.  I am just me and I will not be small for people who are fake, people who have chosen sides.  I will not change who I am or fake it until I can pretend to be something else.  That isn't me it never has been and never will.  

I think that this next stage is going to be shining a lot of light on all the things that people wanted to pretend didn't happen.  This next stage is going to be one where I listen to my own heart and the things that I need and want. I am learning that I don't care what others want me to hide. I don't care about others, I have to listen and do what is right for me, and that means showing all of my scars no matter how awful they might be in the daylight.  

I heart your heart. 

Me 5 men and a Gun

 

This is a piece of my story that lays mostly hidden from the world, often from even myself.  I keep it there because it's terrifying.  I keep it there because when I let it out, my entire body goes back to that time, and the entire world stops.  There is not an ounce of oxygen to breathe, and it feels like my insides are what would be the aftermath of an Ef 5 tornado. Total destruction, and there is nothing left standing including myself. I want nothing to do with the thoughts in my head, the violence, the hurt the pain the suffering is too much for a single person to carry.  I think that somewhere in my mind there are just things that should not be talked about and this is one of those things.  It's soul crushing really that a person could do the things that were done to a young girl.  I don't understand how that is even a thought in someone's mind really, I don't understand where those thoughts came from.  

I don't remember the gun at the beginning of the day at all.  I feel like it was much later in the day when there wasn't much left of me that I first saw the gun. I can remember thinking, Oh my god they are going to kill me, and my brain couldn't comprehend the how's and the why's of the moment. First it was to try and think of an escape.  Second was the mess that they created.  Eventually I didn't care, I just wanted them to kill me. I thought of my parents coming home finding me naked and that was devastating.  I thought of the mess that would be left behind and that wasn't ok. There was even a thought of being grateful because I couldn't imagine having to face another human ever after what they had done to me that day.  I was already destroyed as a person there was no need to bring a gun into the situation. It was like they were trying to get a reaction because, because I was pretty far gone.  I can say that I was mostly far far away.  I do remember them waving it around and laughing.  They were so loud and obnoxious.  I just wanted them to hurry and do whatever they were going to do.  There were more turns, they would lay it beside me. Some at my face some holding me down some hurting me. Men were everywhere, there was no escape, and everything hurt. I was all too aware of where the gun was.  Then Don turned me on my stomach, and I remember feeling the gun on my neck.  I closed my eyes thinking this was the last moment of my life.  He called me names, told me I had to tell him that I wanted him, that I liked it; All while he held the gun at my neck and raped me. I remember the cold; I remember him pushing it in my skin. There was so much going on, I was trying to do what he said and begging him to stop and waiting for him to pull the trigger so it would all be over.  More turns more being very far away.  Their cackling and laughing, cheering each other on. I wanted to be anywhere but there.  I didn't understand all that was happening and just wanted it all over.  He turned me over on my back again and he used the gun on me, he raped me with the gun.  The pain was unbelievable, I sobbed. It's terrible but I imagined my insides all over, bits and parts of me everywhere. I wasn't even a person to them. I wasn't human I was just something to hurt and humiliate.  I think it was after that; that they all took their turns with me in my brother's room.  It was getting later in the day, there was less light, I couldn't understand what they were waiting for.  After some time, I didn't even have any more thoughts.  I was so hurt, there were marks all over me and I didn't know what else that there was for them to do to me.  There was a lot of blackness that day and pieces that I can't put together.  Some things are so very vivid, and others are just darkness. I was grateful for the dark, grateful for the things that I don't remember.  There is enough that I have to deal with.  There are things I can never unsee, never unexperience.  There are parts of that day I was just an observer, in a safe place far away where I couldn't feel the humiliation or pain. 

I sit here and hours have passed I have written deleted and written again.  There is no way to give a clear picture of all the things that happened that day.  Things were lost that I can never get back.  There are pictures in my head that I am sure will still haunt me sometimes.  I remember and I can't believe that I am still alive, I cannot believe that she survived this day and the monsters that they were.  There is a lot to work through. Even writing this I can't get warm and its 75 degrees outside. There is a lot to work through. It still all terrifies me, I wake up from nightmares and it feels as real as it did all those years ago.  I have to do this one little piece at a time.  It weighs on me and I carry it daily.  I can't imagine how light and free I will feel when i can finally stop trying to figure things out and just lay it down.  I know that there will be no answers for some of my questions.  I have to focus on the girl that I was and the terror that I felt.  I have a headache as big as mount St. Helens and I just want to get warm.  I see all the pictures and feel nothing, that in itself is more than frustrating.  Someday I will be ok, and this too will be in smaller pieces that I can manage.  But right now its bigger than I can comprehend, and it hurts my heart.  She was just a little girl and she didn't have a chance that day.  5 men me and a gun.

I heart your heart.  

SAAM 2023

 

This is always on my heart when April first comes around. And there is always the thoughts do I even mention it, are people going to care.  Am I going to sound like a broken record.  This year there is a pull, because I have a right to use my voice.  Because this year things seem different, I presented to interns.  I going to be a speaker at a trauma conference in July.  I am going to grad school. I am still healing and still hopeful. I was once told that all I posted about was whales, kids, abuse and advocacy.  I was crushed, for a time i let that be the voice in my head.  Today I look back and think, I am sorry that the things that are most important to me upset what you "THINK" I should share. I post about the things that are most important to me, and Sexual Assault Awareness Month is something that will forever and always be something that is important to me.  I know it's hard, its often uncomfortable. The fact remains that sexual assault happens more often than you could imagine.  It affects those that you are close to, that you work with, people that you pass on the street.  We are your mothers, fathers, friends, and teachers.

There was a day when I believed that if I just worked hard enough, if I just ignored and pretended that I wasn't affected in anyway by the things that have happened to me, then maybe Just maybe my past would somehow magically disappear.  Well turning 48 this month, I can tell you the past doesn't just go away.  And there are still days that it hurts my heart like it happened yesterday.  I work really hard every single day to continue to heal my own heart and soul.  There has always been a part of me that shared because I never want anyone to have to experience the same things that I have.  I have always wanted to make sure that others had the things that I never got. Support, love and kindness. I never got the support and caring that I needed, so I make sure that I give that to others so that they are able to start their own healing journey. 

I first shared part of my story when I was a part of the documentary, OFF THE RECORD.  I felt more loved and supported than I have ever felt in my life.  Those people are forever's.  They saw me, they listened to me those are things that many survivors don't get.  Recently I shared my story with a group of interns, and I felt like for the first time in a very long time I was able to leave that experience with my head held high. One of the participants came up to me afterwards and said that she would carry me with her always as she helps her clients.  That. That is why I share. That is my why,   For once I was proud of myself for surviving, I have worked so hard to get there. This summer I am going to be part of a trauma conference with professionals in each field; Medical, educational, counselors, law enforcement, church officials!  I am going to share my story and the impact that each field had on my life good and bad. That is huge there are so many things that I want to say to each and every one of them.  This is going to be a way to stand proud in all the things that have happened to me with the hope that in some way it will help others. 

I think for some survivors of trauma, they want to heal and just move on.  For some they want to pretend that nothing ever happened and just live their life. Some will suffer in silence because they are so very afraid.  For others they have to use their story.  For some they have this intense desire to make their story mean something in order to help others.  That would be me.  I cannot change my story or make it any different. I will never forget; it has made me the woman I am today.  It still hurts, and there are days it still makes me cry.  I am one of those people that my story will always be something that I want to talk about to help others heal.  I will always share my story so that no one has to suffer in silence.  My story is a part of who I am and I won't hide that part of me away to make others comfortable. I am continuing and learning about my own healing all the time and I hope in that I will be able to help others.  

This year, this month, I am on a new journey, standing in the things that have happened to me owning them yet not letting them control me. I share to bring an awareness that its possible to do things different.  Sexual Assault is not something that should be hidden and ignored.  It should be talked about and validated.  We celebrate so many other types of survivors, yet sexual assault survivors are taught to suffer in silence. I will not let that happen.    So, if anyone even reads this, I hope that it makes you think.  I hope that maybe it opens your mind, heart and eyes. I hope that you have some realizations, and it makes you think.  I hope that you become more aware and know the power that you have to help those around you.  

Here is to a month of Change, a month of awareness and a month to celebrate those that know just how devastating that this crime can be. 

I heart your heart.