Just in it

 I am just in it, and it is a constant pain in the very core of who I am.  My heart is heavy, I literally feel the weight inside my own chest and breathing feels like a chore.  It hurts and I am alone.  It hurts that I have to deal with these things.  When I put them all together it just gets overwhelming. So many people, so many rapes, so much hurt so many times over and over and over. Today the weight of that is unimaginable. This is my life.  All the people that were supposed to protect me and keep me safe never did. I am not sure how to explain it really other than things feel like they happened yesterday.  It's like I am under water, and the world is moving on and I am struggling to catch up. Everything around me is in slow motion.  There are so many things to say and so much help is needed but the words just won't come.  I know that I am a 48 year old woman and that all of these things happened such a long time ago, but today.  Today, it seems like they all want to be on the front page of the newspaper that is my life.  I get bursts of energy and end up in tears. Mostly, I sit and try to get lost in something anything other than the things that are going on in my own mind.  I know those things all happened so long ago, and I struggle when they feel so astonishingly close. 

I was talking about it today, I keep seeing 11:11 everywhere and that is supposed to mean that you are moving in the right direction.  It's like keep doing all the things because they are good and you are going to be ok.  I want to believe that.  Tonight when Mariska said it's 11:11, I didn't even get excited.  The anxiety and sadness right now is massive.  I want to curl up in a ball and pretend that all is well with the world. I think it's one of those times where, I need a break, I need a breather. I need to be understood.  I need to scream and curse.  I so desperately want to leave it all there in the past, but it just keeps following me.  I know this is just a layer,  a place where I have never been with 13 year old but goodness,  I am being encircled in things that no person should have to experience in a single lifetime.  I can't seem to find my way out of the circle. 

I heart your heart. 

I want to scream at the World

 

I am not going to lie I have been struggling since the end of the conference.  There is this high, like wow I said all the things that I have been holding in for so long. I had a voice, and I was heard, there is a freedom in that.  Then there is the other side of the coin when it hits you, it knocks the breath out of you.  When you realize just how big that things were, you want to scream and yell and tell everyone to stop just for a time to help you catch up.  When you realize that the things that have happened in your life are really big and once you let them out there is no way to shrink them back into a pretty little box.  Once they are out there nothing left but to face them.  When things are small in a nice and neat box it is easy to make excuses and for things to just be normal. Like having to throw away your bloody underwear from the night before. Like having to hold his cross, like climbing on your own bed. Like being unable to say the words that were done.  So you use the word that seems less harsh and then realize that it is just as bad. But at least you didn't have to say the words right?  NO WRONG!!!  A co-spouse how awful is that.   Being a co-spouse at 5 meant just all the awfulness, that the word could possibly hold. Everything that a wife would do I was expected to do and know what I was doing and how I was doing it.  That is devastating really.    There are places in my brain where I know just how terrible that things were.  There are other areas that still hold on to the fact that I was the one who did something gross and disgusting.  I was a that little slut, its a small piece but there are times its still there loud and clear.  I think these last two weeks there is that realization, that things were really just that bad. I kind of feel like I have just been sitting in it.  Like holy fuck, I survived the unimaginable and here I am still. I think each time that I say things out loud they hit differently.  This conference was really big for me, and things hit really hard.  I would do it again in a second, no question.  I have to think that each time I hit a spot like this I am healing more, and realizing more than before, and heading towards my happily ever after.  

This is just another layer to the things I never got.  To the hard things that I experienced that were just seen as a normal part of daily living for me.  There was nothing normal in the way that I grew up.  There was nothing normal or right in the things that I had to experience.  There was not an ounce of fault for that little 5-year-old girl.  And as hard as it is to admit, even that 13-year-old that wanted so much to belong she didn't want those things to happen.  She didn't ask to be gang raped and she never deserved the lack of care that she got.  She should have been held and cared for.  I guess when you are realizing these things it hits a little harder when you have thought the opposite for so long. 

There is a part of me that just can't get out of it right now.  Things are on repeat and I can not believe the things that I just took care of.  That I just knew what was expected and what I had to do.  That is heartbreaking right now.  There are things I can't even put words to because it's just too painful. Maybe it's ok to just sit with these things for a time.  The unimaginable that was my little life.  My heart hurts.  

I heart your heart. 

Black Enough

 

Oh the things that crush my heart.  August 22 is coming up, and I feel it.  It feels heavier this year and I am not sure why .  Maybe just because I am taking my time to feel.  August 22 is a day that hurts that I hate and also a day that I would do all over again.  I would do it again for my children and I wish it was different for me.  Mariska was showing me some books that she got and one of them was titled black enough.  Black enough, somehow that title is like a knife through my heart.  I noticed even on her thumbs up emoji its not a white thumbs up its black.  And every time she uses it,  I shrink a little.  I see those titles and those little things and think am I not enough ?  I know that being black is a part of them , somewhere in my brain I know that but in my heart, its a different story. It is a devastating part because I can't help them understand I can't give them answers I can not fix it for them.  Every year I hate that this is such a big deal for me.  It's not about them at all. They are the reason I breathe.  The are the reason that I am still here. August 22 is a day about me.  The time before they were here, when a man had no intention of going shopping.  A man who placed a pillow on my face took what he wanted and left admiring his car.  That is what August 22 is for me and I have to find some kind of peace in that.  I have to someway be able to let it go and have this day not be so horrific.  

I think that I had a gut feeling when he showed up at the door.  He smelled of smoke and I hate that, I was so willing to look past that. When he was so late, there were so many red flags and I was not able to see them. When he wanted a tour of the house, when we ended up in my room.  When he laid on my bed, and I was sorry that he broke his sunglasses.  He didn't even care said that he could get another pair. I don't remember getting on the bed but I remember being there.  I know I had clothes on but next thing I remember I obviously didn't.  And How do I not remember such important things.  My body felt nothing, I was somewhere far away in a darkness that only rape can take you there.  It's a place of knowing yet feeling nothing.  A place that is silent but distant whispers are there.  Your body isn't in this place it's in the light with what is happening, but you don't feel a thing.  Maybe it's just your spirit that goes to this place to survive, to be ok.  At least in this place there isn't the violence that is experienced in the light of your room on your bed, with the pillow over your face.  

I can remember him getting off the bed and coming back to my body.  There are moments of confusion, there is an ache and you think NO NO not again.  Then you realize that you have no bottoms on,  he gets off the bed and you struggle to find your clothes. There in the same moment of time is a knowing of what happened to you, and thinking maybe not this time.  Because in your heart there is the feeling that this is what you are good for.  Just clean up.  I can remember makeup on my face and trying to pull myself together. I threw a shirt on and he was in a hurry. His thoughts were on his shiny BMW. My thoughts were still but we were supposed to go shopping.  We were supposed to go shopping.  I was supposed to be normal for one single afternoon. In the next moments there are two women the one who wanted to be normal and the one who knew and was all too aware of what happened on that bed.  If it was just sex, if I was just a slut, that intense shame and sadness wouldn't have been there.  That unknowing and having to be somewhere else away from my body would not be there if I wanted that to happen.  I did not want that to happen.  I did not want him to do that.  What I did want was, a normal afternoon,  laughing, shopping and just being normal. I held my shirt together and cried as he left. I locked the door, cleaned and straightened my bed. I checked the lock again and cried until there were no tears left. I am so sad for the woman that was there on that bed. I am so sad for the women that had to go away.  Now is the time the she is me and I am her.  Those things happened and no matter how I look at it; it was violent, it was unspeakable, it was nothing that I ever wanted. I am so sorry.  I am so very sorry.  

I heart your heart. 

Found This

 

I am kind of at a loss for words. I am angry and sad and then again even angrier.  I found this post on my father's wife Facebook.  It made me sick to my stomach and I threw up my dinner.  Oh sure he loves me and misses me everyday.  REALLY ?  Please tell his children he thinks of them all the time.  Really what are the things that you think about ?  Because here is what I think about ? I do not love you and I have never missed you. 

Did you ever love me at all ? EVER?

Did you love me when you raped me at 5 in my own bed with
the yellow comforter.  

Did you love me when you pushed me out of your bed and told me not to get sick.  

Did you love me when I couldn't breathe and you didn't stop. 

Did you love me when I couldn't stop crying because of what you had done

Did you love me when I had to hold your cross so it didn't make any noise 

Did you love me every single time that you raped my body 

Did you love me every time that I had to make you happy

Did you love me when I was older and crawled on my own bed to make you happy because that was what I was good for

Did you love me then,  did you miss me when you couldn't touch my little body anymore! You not only physically hurt my body but you broke my heart and mind.  You hurt me in ways that a person can never understand!   Did you fucking love me then ?  Still the Victim poor Bob.  His children don't talk to him boohoo poor guy!   Fuck you, I hate you.

I am not sure what to think but my head feels like it is going to explode, my heart is racing. I think I could run a marathon or two just trying to escape from the anguish that I feel inside right now.  There is a part of me that would love to respond to the message.  I want to let them all know the kind of man that he is and let them all know in detail the things that he did to me. Then look me in the face and tell me what a wonderful man of god that he is.  Once i saw the post I continued to look on her page and post after post was about god and prayer and I again got sick.  There is a part of me that wants to respond, so that they do know where I am and that gives me an in to find out when the bastard dies.  I don't care if I had to walk there, I would want to see his body lifeless and no longer breathing.  I look forward to that day, I really look forward to that day.  I would stand there and poke your dead lifeless body making sure that it was true,  then I would scream. I would cry, than I would dance like I have never danced before.  When you are no longer taking up space on the planet, I know that I will breathe easier.  

So please I hope you think of me every single day, and that you are sad. I hope that someday when you are dead I will meet these people that feel bad for you that your children want nothing to do with you. I will meet them and I will tell them the truth.  I will tell them the hell that you put me through.  And I will leave feeling lighter than I have ever felt.  I will leave knowing that you are no longer taking up space on this planet.  I hate you, I hate everything you stand for and someday, someday I will attend your funeral and tell all these people exactly what you are !  I will be the one walking out with my head held high because you didn't ruin me, and all I can hope is that you will be ib a place that is much farther than six feet under. 

I heart your heart. 

     

 

I will be glad when I don't cringe

 

I will be glad when i don't cringe at the things that happened to me.  When I can, say the words and not want to crawl in a hole.  When I say the words and not want to die of shame. When I can say the words and not come up with a million excuses of why those words shouldn't be used because they are so terrible.  I still wear that shame; I wear it every day.  I don't want to say the words they sound so ugly I try to say it gentler like somehow that makes a difference.  It does not the damage is the same but to the ears that are listening, I try to make it easier.  I want to be proud that I survived those things not embarrassed. I am embarrassed to say those words, the things that were taken the things that were done to my body.  I cannot believe that today all day the tears have come fast and furious.  

There were a few women, that I spoke with at the conference that talked about the somatic symptoms, and I was like YES YES, I totally understand.  A piece that I don't talk about because how do you really?  There have been times that it has gotten so bad I went to the Dr and was told that I needed to see a psychiatrist.  To me he said you're crazy. So once again you just learn to live with things that hurt. I fear even talking about it because I fear being told that I am crazy and being blown off.  

I don't even really know how to talk about things sometimes, the things that I feel in my bones.  The abuse that has happened that I don't have any words for.  The things that happened to me that left a little body in pain.  I went so far away, yet there are times I can feel that pain.  I can sometimes physically feel the rapes in my body.  These men that were hurting me, and I was so little.  My body just wasn't made for the things, that I was expected to do.  As I got older it was less of an issue but still it is there.  During the gang rape when it was many of them at a time, there are moments and dreams where I still feel that pain.  It's just so awful to talk about and to understand.  Today as a woman how do those things still sometimes feel like they are happening to me? I know that they are not. Yet, in my brain, I feel the pain. I feel them literally hurting me. This is hard, this is something that I don't even know how to talk about.  I feel it a lot. Feeling these things makes living in my own skin more than difficult.  So, breathing and those things to get you in the present are terrifying for me.  Being in my own skin is dangerous and I can still feel those things.  I guess these would be things like body memories, right? There are moments when I feel like it's happening.  I feel like my body is being raped and I will do anything to make it go away. I sit here and the feeling in my bones, in my body is serious and I know nothing is happening, I know that I am fine and yet I feel the most terrible things.  I don't know how to understand this, I don't know how to even talk about this.  Talking about it there is a different realization that even though you went away even though you don't remember specifics, your body still remembers.  

I think of being in the Van with Albert.  As he was raping me in that van, I didn't physically feel the pain until I was walking away from the van.  I remember my legs being shaky, and my body hurting so much.  I was staring at the trees, watching that beautiful sky.  Physically I was not feeling what was happening to me in the moment. But there are times that I remember, and I do feel.  I remember and feel all the things that I could not at the time.  That is something terrifying.  And people wonder why I don't want to be in my own skin.  This is exactly why. 

I heart your heart.

Such a deep sad

 

Sometimes there is just such a deep sad that is felt to the very core of my being.  When realizing that there was no one ever that has loved me unconditionally.  There are not people that just love me unconditionally for me, because of who I am.  I do have a few people in my life now that I do believe love me for me, and I am grateful for them.  That still doesn't take the pain of not having anyone growing up.  It does not take the pain of having no family. There are no family get togethers, no holiday parties, all of the special things when a person thinks of families, I don't have those.  I have never had someone there for me no matter what. I have been let down so much.  Sometimes all those things together are just more than heavy, and it makes me sad.  

Cleaning out more of my upstairs living room,  the things that I am finding are so hurtful.  My mother was never kind, never able to take responsibility for anything.  In all of the written prayers and writing there was nothing for me. No feelings of kindness, no feelings of love and care. There were no prayers for me and my broken soul.  That is hard to understand. 

I had the most amazing experience speaking at the conference and I think sometimes there is this feeling that I can speak and somehow everything will be well with the world. There is this high and people are taking what I say, and  making a difference. In my brain somewhere; Somehow that will make the pain disappear for me. It doesn't but there is that thought.  There is such a relief in speaking, in being heard and at the same time trying to explain it all in short time is challenging.  There is just so much. I have been looking at everything eyes wide open, and I need to go back to one thing at a time.  I need to take it piece by piece and continue to heal. My entire history in my face is overwhelming sometimes.  The conference helps me heal and makes me remember that little by little step by step is what has gotten me here.  There are still pieces that burn my very being and I need to face them.  I still have to name things; I still have to learn to believe I am full of worth even in the most awful.  

Road to Resiliency 2023

 I just got home from doing my first ever conference.  I am kind of at a loss for words.  I mean there are so many things that I want to say but the words are all flying around trying to find a spot to explain what these last two days have been like for me. I can say that I am different, I can say that I have changed. Without a doubt I can say that I am on the right path. I am sitting here and I want to go back. I want to talk to them all again there are still so many things that I want to say, that I want to convey. I felt so loved, so heard and even more cared for. Those were things that I didn't often get in my life and was given those things by a group of people I had never met . In a single afternoon, I was heard. That is powerful.  I will never ever forget these last two days. 

The second day was for some reason much harder than the first.  The second day, I was so nervous, that I was shaking before it started, and was honestly scared that I would pass out.  My amazing friend Beth was there, Vanessa was there.  Everything was perfect inside there were more nerves and fears.  As Mark began to speak, I felt my cold clammy hands, and that fainting feeling.  I was having these conversations in my head, like you can't pass out then 911 is called and its this big deal. BLAH BLAH like come on get it together!  They will never want you to speak again!  I was thinking about how I was standing trying not to lock my knees, and still I was trying to figure out a plan; how to make it to the closest chair in case I felt myself going down.  Probably for the first 30 minutes, those were the things that were going through my mind and my body.  I didn't want to grab the chairs in front of me, they were not very sturdy and I am sure if I fell the chair would be right behind me. I thought ok there is one of the low chairs, I can grab that and sit down.  My mind was spinning.  I do not have a clue how I remained standing, as I began to speak the feelings lessened and all was well.  I can tell you, it was a very very close call. In true Callahan fashion no matter what is going on, I always remain standing, against every odd in the world.

I want to do more. Just this conference wasn't enough for me. 

  The only difference, the only thing I would change about my experience is letting the good sink in.  I will be glad when I can sit in the brave and the good things. I will be glad when those things can seep into every fiber of my being, and I believe them. So many people stopped me outside of my talk and said the kindest things. I want to accept those things and let them seep into the places where there is so much sad.  I need to let those things seep into my bones and replace so much of what was there. 

Last night was this strange feeling, the last two days were so incredibly amazing and yet that sad.  I know that things have changed and there is more understanding today, things are different from 20 years ago but there is a sad in the things that I didn't get.  There is this incredibly sad sense in the air, that I went home alone. All I wanted to do is lay on the couch and have someone tell me that everything will be ok. I think sometimes when I talk about all the things together, I think I realize sometimes how big that things were and even today, I want to crawl in a hole.  It's that feeling that I want to scream at the world to stop until I feel better.  I want to yell from every rooftop, tell every story until I don't feel the pain anymore.  Mariska was amazing when I picked her up from work, she bought me flowers, and a basket full of all the things that I love.  I was so grateful, it was so very thoughtful.  In the quiet moments last night, there is just this intense uneasy feeling, such sorrow that I can't explain it just yet.  I started writing yesterday and couldn't get all my thoughts out, then today, I cannot stop the tears.  I am so proud of myself for standing up and having a voice and there is also a despair that I feel in my bones.   It's not even just for me, for the women that I met, for the stories that I heard.  I could have held some of the women I met for a long time. I could feel their pain, and that is something I am not sure that I have felt before. I think I kind of have terminal aloneness and to feel so connected to others that cared, that wanted to understand, even some that had experienced things like me, was everything perfect and everything sad.  The poem everything is beautiful but I am so sad; yes, that fits perfect.  These women that showed up for me that listened and some that I had so much in common with.  I think there is such a sad that so many women know, and have experienced the things I spoke about. 

I am trying to be kind to myself and give myself a break today, but it is hard. I think of the things I didn't say, the things, the things that were important that I missed.  You know life doesn't stop, even when I want to scream for it to do just that. I am trying to figure out all the feelings, I am trying to feel or at least name what I feel and I can't today. The tears just keep coming.  All day I have either slept or cried. 

I think that I have been on automatic mode, trying to get everything ready for the conference and all the things I have been pushing to the side, are still there waiting to be looked at, seen and felt. I know that I am doing the right thing, speaking even as hard as it is, feels so amazing. There is a different part of me that feels more alive than it ever has, there is a spark like wow this is what I need to do. I do believe this is what I need to do but I can't forget myself.  Things are changing for me.  Grad school starts, working on a new campus, having a new team and trying to be the best mom and take care of a household.  I want more than anything, to help others, but I can't forget myself.  So many things to process and figure out.  I even said before the presentation yesterday, I don't want to go back to school, I want to do more of this.  I know that I am heading in the right direction, I am doing the right things sometimes I just want a small glimpse into the future to see the peace that I so wish for.  I want to see the place when all of my hard work, and tears and struggle have all paid off and I find my happily ever after.  It will come, because I want it to. 10 years ago, even 2 years ago this would never have been in my wildest dreams.  I have come so far, and I think that sometimes I forget that.  Rome wasn't built in a day, Just breathe Callahan, good things are coming I promise. 

I heart your heart. 

Sold Out

 

So the conference is sold out.  I am kind of blown away, terrified and want to run.  While at the same time I am excited and looking forward to meeting others that care as much as I do. I am excited to share with people who want to do things different.  Who want to learn and help others. It's a good thing that the need to want better for others is so much bigger than my fear.  I am terrified, that I won't have the right words, that I won't make sense and sound stupid.  The fear is so big and so strong. The fear of others having to feel the things that I have is terrifying and so worth the risk.  

I am sitting here and not really sure what to do with myself.  I have sat scrolling through Facebook over and over, the same stories passing me by. I have checked each and every email account more than once, and still there is nothing new.  I am still here with butterflies in my stomach, and a headache that won't quit.  I just want to make a difference.  I want to be strong and brave and to say the right words.  I want to touch people and have my story want them to do things different and better for others.  I wish that there was someone to just sit and hear my fears and concerns,  I wish that there was someone to just simply hear me. I wish that I could have someone sit on my couch and watch mindless TV and let me talk about all of my cares and concerns and worries.  I am just going to keep scrolling and checking email looking for something that I don't even know what it is.  

Kind of funny, it kind of feels like I am standing on the edge of a cliff.  Things could go really well or I will bomb and look like an idiot.  There are so many things that I am feeling and yet I can't seem to get out of my own way.  I am terrified that I am going to fail.  I am terrified, that I am going to fail.  I am terrified, that I won't make sense, and be a waste of people's time.  I want to be strong and confident and say the things that are in my heart that matter. I can not change a thing that has happened to me,  I can change it, make it any different.  I don't have a magic want or special pill to make it all go away.  But I can speak loud and clear and make sure that I am heard and that others don't have to go through the things that I have.  I hope that others are able to get the support, and care that is so needed and more than deserved. 

Time will tell.  I hope I can chill and stop pacing, scrolling and checking and just be.  

I heart your heart. 

UNTITLED

 

Yes. I live in a crime scene of a body that has been decimated.  And people want me to just get over it. They want me to stop hurting and forget but that isn't an option. I can't just forget; I can't just move on.  I am healing, busting my ass to figure out the life that is mine.  Even in the healing there is no forgetting and just moving on it is the hardest work that a person will ever do. There are times that touch haunts me to my core.  There are times that the nightmares replay as exactly as the thing that happened.  I can't begin to explain what that is like.  Imagine driving on the highway living life and on the other side in the opposite direction are the things that haunt you. The things that have stolen your dignity and worth. Right there alongside you with every breath even every new memory are the things of your worst nightmares.  And there are so many layers.  Just when you think wow, I am on the other side I made it through; just like that there is another deeper level, and you are back in a pit of black madness that is terrifying.  There are times that I am strong that I can help others that I can verbalize the things that are in my heart and mind. Then there are times when this crime scene of a body keeps me awake and keeps the memory alive like it was yesterday.  I am stuck between these two places.  I am needy, I am sad, I am devastated by the things that happened to me.  And I just want to be loved exactly where I am. Often the pain is so extraordinary there are times I am unable to cry.  When you cry there is an admittance of how much you were hurt and that is a hard thing to acknowledge. I try to be so strong and often feel so weak.  So many people failed me greatly; to the worst extent possible and I was left alone and suffering at 5, at 13 at 28.  So don't fucking tell me to forgive or move on or forget because I am trying with all that I am to live this life.  I am trying to repair all that was taken and destroyed trying to rebuild all the things that I never got.  I have to learn an entire lifetime of things that were supposed to be. So don't fucking tell me about your god that I should believe in that never did a damn thing for me.  Don't you dare sit in front of me ignore my words then tell me Well I wish that you knew my heart kind of happy.  Your heart happy and mine are two different things.  I am ok with that, and I wish that you were too.  My heart happy is kindness, my heart happy is having a safe place and a forever. My heart happy is believing in the trees, the whales, the birds and the wind on my face.  The clouds rolling by and a distant thunder. Those are the things that are real that kept me alive on my days when I was most alone. My heart happy is being loved for exactly who I am exactly where I am in all the ugliness, that I feel inside. If that God that works for you is everything that you need, I am happy for you.  For me I was a little girl at 5 years old, holding her rapists hand saying her prayers to that GOD you believe in to die because I couldn't be raped another night by that monster of a man.  So please do not talk to me about god and choice.  I knew at 5 years old that I was completely on my own and there was no one that was going to be there for me ever. I knew that feeling at 5 years old.  

I heart your heart

  

She hated me . I also hate her.

 

So it's been a year and a half since she passed away.  I still do not miss her, and I am not sad that she is gone.  Today Mariska and I went into the upstairs living room to do some more clearing out. Making things pretty making them mine, clearing the clutter and the junk. I was not expecting to find such evil words, such disregard for who I was as a person. I feel like all the times she got close it was to stab me in the back and prove something, to fit how she viewed me. I can tell you that I am heartbroken.  I can tell you, that I hate her.  I can tell you that she was never the mom that I needed, and her needs were above everything else.  The things that she wrote about me, the things that bothered her there was not a single shred of care or concern for me.  The words that she wrote cut like a knife and I am amazed that even being dead her written words felt like daggers.  Her words were heavy with how awful terrible that I was, and she couldn't understand why I couldn't be happy for her.  She was as self-centered as my father.  She was as much of a monster as he was, different but in many ways the same.  If she could say the things, she said out loud, then yes, the things that she wrote were just as terrible, just as dismissive.  I am finding out that even in the moments she pretended to like me, she really didn't I just was serving some kind of service for her.  She even went to see Jason! I am guessing more than once by her writing.  I will ask when I see him, there was nothing that was private.  She feared I would spill all the family secrets and made me out to be crazy.  I don't think he was getting the full story. She didn't want me to heal, she didn't want me to be my own person. She never understood me or where I was.  She never understood my fight for Angela, my need to keep her safe ever ever. 

The things that she complained about, never once were my thoughts and feelings considered.  There was no mention of pressing charges, on my father because her husband was fucking her daughter, but that's ok at least he wasn't in her bed. No mention of Albert or Bella or any of the things that happened to me.  I was just a problem, a secret that she wanted to keep. She complained after I got back from testifying for Angela. Even right off the plane not once did she ask about me about testifying nothing. In the years after I was being a mom to my twins and going to school and she was complaining about me.  She was complaining about Vincent sleeping with her, and how she needed time for herself.  I never asked her to do that. NEVER. All the complaints about Vincent and Mariska and yet there were no questions about the father about what happened. She really didn't care; I was just a slut, pregnant and got in the way. I was going to have babies that looked like little monkey's according to her.  Fuck her, how dare she say that to me.  If she said that to my face, I cannot imagine the things, that she must have said when I wasn't around. Finally, the tears are coming, and I cannot even begin to tell you the hate that I have for her.  I hate that she was my mom, I hate that I kept trying year after year to make her love me, like if I just did enough, she would love me care for me.  No, nothing I did was ever enough, ever right or the way that she wanted it.  There was not an ounce of remorse or regret about the things that I was going through.  Everything was about her.

One of the last straws, was when the kids were in elementary school, I was subbing trying to finish school.  She was cold and was moving furniture, blocking the path to get through spaces. It was around the time of her weight loss surgery, and I was scum of the earth, I mean I read her appeal, it was disgusting.  She wanted the surgery to prove to her severely obese daughter that it could be done. Fuck you. Her words and actions once again were as far apart as they could possibly be.  She said we needed to talk.  I went and dropped the kids off at school. The dread when I pulled into the driveway, I was drowning in pain and sadness, and she felt nothing for me. I can remember sitting on the couch and her sitting beside me, I was crying that hard cry, when your entire body trembles. I was really talking to her about what I had going on, how I was struggling. I was literally telling her that I was drowning. She sat there shrugging her shoulders, arms crossed no emotion for me whatso ever.  She could have cared less.  I was done talking, just stopped i was pouring out my heart and there was nothing.  She would have cared more for anything other than me. She went to touch me, and I told her to stop, told her no, that was the last thing I needed.  And it was a week later that I was moving out.  The scene on the couch was really the beginning of the end.  It was my last semester of student teaching; I had made it that far and still I was the one she hated.  She even complained, when I asked for help with Gas. Not sure what she wanted me to do.  This was also about the same time that she was going to the store, and I asked her if she could, buy toilet paper and she said no and walked away. Even when she was nice, there was always an ulterior motive.  Now I think back to the times when I thought she was there and being supportive, I bet that it is safe to say, she wasn't acting out of the goodness of her heart. This wasn't some kind of tough love, I was busting my ass being a mom and trying to finish my degree. I wanted more for my children and for myself and could never understand that. 

In everything that she wrote telling how terrible I was during this time my brother was a druggie and in and out of prison and safe P programs more than once.  I sold my furniture so we could visit him, so he would have some money on his books.  Yet I was the problem. In all of the things that I saw written, it was all the great things he had done for her. He was the favorite he was a boy and boys were always the favorite. She talked about how he came for her tummy tuck and helped and did everything right.  oh yea.  I was nothing.  I took the kids and turned them against her, no she did that all by herself. 

I am heartbroken about the things that she wrote about me and my children.  I am not sure that she ever loved me.  I would like to believe that maybe there was a time, maybe once but I am not sure. I am going back in that room tomorrow and throwing all that I can away.  I don't want reminders of the hurt that she caused.  I don't want reminders of her. Her lack her care, warmth, understanding. In all of her writing there was nothing about being sorry, about not being there.  Even in the aftermath of is gut wrenching. Pressing charges and being so distant and trying to figure everything out there was nothing for me not a shred of anything that I needed. There will always be a piece of my heart that is broken.  She couldn't understand me and where I was and didn't want to learn. She never wanted to understand what happened to me that made me the person that I was. I just got in the way.  I created too many problems and was not willing to be quiet and do the easy thing.  My entire life I always chose the hard thing.  Always always and she never understood that.  It's crazy she always said how favored that Mariska was.  No, I was being a mom to two very different children. She never understood that.  She made sure my children knew who was most important, boys and made it known.  There was even a card that Mariska wrote and said I know you don't like me very much, but I love you.  That is the atmosphere of favorites and secrets that I grew up in. I wasn't going to have anything close to that with my children and that drove her crazy and she took it out on Mariska. I hope that someday that Vincent can understand the things that went on and know that she was the enemy not me.  Someday I hope he will understand. 

I am grateful that she is no longer here, I am grateful that I am able to start rebuilding with Vincent, but I shouldn't have to. The damage that she did is unimaginable, and I will spend my lifetime rebuilding what she destroyed. I continue to care for Mariska and her tender heart. She was treated so unkind, and once again she just wanted to be loved. I am grateful to be making things mine and moving on.  I would not be where I am if she was still around.  She could never understand, where I am and where I want to go.  She was a secret keeper, and I was everything opposite.  She hated the person that I was, the person that I am and all the things that I stood for.  Today I hate her with all that I am, every single bone in my body. It may last a few days or a few months, maybe even years; I don't know yet.  I do know that I am further than I have ever been and am doing things to create meaning in all the things that have happened to me that she could never acknowledge.  She hated that I was willing to face all the hard things and work on them instead of keeping secrets.  I was the cycle breaker, and she knew it, and she hated me for that same reason.  She knew I wasn't willing to stay and do things the same.  I wanted so badly for her to love me all of me unconditionally and she was completely incapable.  When I was little when I was older and even as an adult, she still didn't have it in her to do the right thing and be my mom. Not once did she ever apologize and listen to my heart. Not once not ever and I wanted that more than anything.

 

I heart your heart. 

I never got to talk about it

 I am learning that there were a lot more things that should have happened in my life that never did.  I was left to fend for myself and hope for the best.  I was expected to figure things out and life to go on as usual. But you see there was nothing usual about my life.  There was not a single thing about my life,  that was as it should have been. I am getting ready for the conference with Mark two weeks from tomorrow and realizing that I never got to talk about it.  I never got to talk about the things that happened to me.  I never got to let it all out and be free.  I never got to ask the questions about why because no one ever asked me what happened.  When I was thirteen everyone just wanted me to sweep everything under the carpet and just move on. Everyone wanted me to be silent and keep smiling. People could not handle the things that happened to me and they made it loud and clear that I was at fault.  I was a slut and I had asked for all of those things. When I pressed charges, there were the detective questing me but no one asked about what happened to me.  It's different when you are legally trying to hold someone accountable and when someone cares about you and asks what happened.  Those are just two totally different things.  I can remember being in the pool with my mom after I pressed charges and she asked if I wanted to know about her abuse.  NO, NO I do not want to hear about your abuse because I am drowning in my own and you don't even care.

Looking back I don't know if someone did ask questions if I would be able to answer them.  But I do know that at least someone cared enough to ask. At least I would have known that I mattered enough for someone to help me carry the burden.  Even if I couldn't answer their questions; at least there was someone that cared even a little about me to ask how I was. 

I think of being 13,  I was dismissed and made to feel like I was a burden, I was a bother and a girl that just wanted attention. I was yelled and, screamed at and after a few days it was life as usual.  Only for me; I was drowning inside, my spirit was dying.  I was suffocating in all the things that happened to me and no one cared to ask what happened or if I was ok. After 2 days not another word was spoken about what had happened .   Everyone talked at me but not to me.  Everyone talked around me , and gave all of their opinions but no one saw me. No one ever saw the scared girl, afraid of her own shadow. Everyone was quite ready with what they thought I should be thinking and feeling.  This had happened to me since I was, in ways this was different and in other ways it was exactly the same. 

From the moment that I told,  I regretted it.  At least if people don't know then there is nothing that they can do.  But when people do know and still choose to do nothing, that is the worst feeling in the world. That is the loneliest feeling that a person could ever feel. The moment after I told,  well I didn't tell actually.  I couldn't get the words out of my mouth,  but Calvin told the youth group leader.  Instead of giving me a hug and telling me that it was ok that she was sorry. Instead of being concerned about me, she said should we get a pregnancy test?  I think that I was shocked at her words, somehow her words were not fitting the situation.  I was confused, there was still that innocent part that had no idea why that would be her first reaction.  In the next two days by the reactions that I saw around me, actions spoke much louder than words.  I meant nothing.  I was a liar who was just looking for attention.  I heard all the things that that were said, and the shame was unimaginable. I wasn't showing enough emotion, I was the chubby unpopular kid who would want to do that to me. Your right I am the fat kid who would rape me ? In those two days after people knew, Not once did anyone say they were sorry not once was anyone there and present other than for themselves. Everybody was in damage control. I was left alone in my trauma, in the gross and disgusting to figure it out alone.

I wanted and needed someone to care enough to know what happened to me.  I was 13 years old and didn't even understand all the things that they did to me. I was just a girl. I needed to be asked the hard questions so I could understand the things that I had been through. I had no idea that  I needed someone to hold me and make me feel safe.  I needed someone to care, I needed someone to listen and those were just not the things that I got.   I became even more of an outsider.  I got the stares, I was talked about, I felt all the pointed fingers and I was the one who was made to feel like I had done something terribly wrong. 

All my life talking about the things that were done to me was something I didn't see as an option, because if those that were closest to me didn't think that I was important enough to take care of; then why should anyone else care ? I will just keep it all inside .  There were a few times that I wrote things out,  a version that put things nicely.  I am sure that there was a time when it was shared but I was never met with understanding and compassion.  I was met with disgust and judgment, no one believed this could happen in our little community. And even if it did, you sure didn't talk about it. 

Today when I try to talk about the things that happened to me; I really don't know how.  What words do I use; I don't want to be disgusting. I am always afraid to be seen as that girl who just wants people to feel sorry for her. How do I even start to explain the memories in my head.  Sometimes I wonder if things are really a big deal because everything was always my fault.  I think I fear talking about it because I am still here still breathing is it really as bad as I remember it.  Sometimes I think, no it wasn't that bad because no one noticed and then there are times I think it was even worse than you can imagine. I just took care of everything  there was no other choice.  No one was signing up to hold my hand and tell me that I wasn't the awful terrible slut that I believed myself to be. I want to get it out because I am tired of believing that I am less than.  My heart hurts that I feel like less of a person because of the things that have happened to me. My entire being often feels like a waste of space, and that is a feeling that I want to conquer.  I want to be more than what has happened to me.  I want to stand in my bruised skin and be able to say yep, this scar is here, yep that scar is there but I am here.  I have always been here I just haven't always been able to find myself. And no one ever cared to look for me. 

I heart your heart 

Words that shouldn't be for me

 Unimaginable words

there are words that don't belong together or shouldn't belong to me 

but they do they do belong to me and I would give almost anything so they didn't

words that make a person disgusting

Words that are repulsive to my very being 

Words that as words sting, and as actions destroy.

Repulsive, destructive and unimaginable

When you are 5 these are the words  

co-spouse yes at 5. In every single way

Always kissing, his tongue in my mouth. I hated that. He was disgusting.

Sex all the time, you learn what is expected

You know how his body works

His parts in my mouth, in my body

used goods

full of fault

too tiny body , so much blood

don't you dare get sick, or complain of the pain

Slut, problem, bother

next time you won't fight

 so many things I just knew with-out any words necessary.  Maybe that is the scariest part.

When I was 13 these are the words

gang rape 

pregnancy because of rape

a train 

3 men at a time, everywhere everywhere. 

5 men please let me die

chanting chanting laughing all around 

maybe this turn will be the last, please be the last

I am dying

Just pull the trigger, kill me already

useless, full of fault 

unpopular, unattractive and slutish

No one would want to do that to you

I am just an entity unto myself (whatever the fuck that means)

When I was 28 still more words and I soaked them all in 

I just wanted to be normal

No, please stop

but we are supposed to go shopping. 

but we are supposed to go shopping. 

but we are supposed to go shopping. 

but we are supposed to go shopping. 

A pillow on my face and I'm far far away. 

Positive pregnancy test. Crying with my dog.  Yea mom I think its the flu. 

None of these words should be for me.  These things should not be at all. 

 Unimaginable words

there are words that don't belong together and shouldn't belong to me 

but they do they do belong to me and I would give almost anything so they didn't

words that make a person disgusting

Words that are repulsive to my very being 

Words that as words sting, and as actions destroy.

Repulsive, destructive and unimaginable

I have always made excuses

 I am realizing that I have made excuses for the people that have hurt me my entire life.  Before I even knew that I was making excuses I was making them.  All the way back to being 5 years old,  even that little! I was in my little mind,  making excuses for adults bad behavior and blaming myself.  So many things were happening before I even had any memories.  The first time  I remember my father ever touching me,  well that's ok he just thinks I am my mother.  No five year old should have that thought.  That thought doesn't just pop into a 5 year old's head.  Well its ok that he is doing these things to me because he thinks I am my mom.  When I was 13,  well I danced with him of coarse he would come and violate me over and over and over.  I kissed him I was a tease I flirted of coarse it is my fault. I mean I must have left the door unlocked,  I wouldn't think that my parents were the first ones out the door, and should have locked the door behind them.  Even later,  well the pillow fell on my face and I just went away.  WHAT ?  A pillow doesn't just fall directly over a person's face and they go away.  All my life,  every second, I was the one to blame, I was the one that caused these things to happen to me.  

It wasn't until detective Plemmons asked the question " don't you think he knew the body of a 5 year old an an adult woman?"  That thought had never ever crossed my mind.   I think in that moment the whole world stopped.  What ?  I couldn't process the words.  You mean he knew the difference and still hurt me ? You mean he knew it was me the entire time ? There are no words for how that made me feel. There are no words when you  realize that in your 20's. With my father there was a never a thought to get help, to tell someone.  There was never a time when I didn't know what to do and what was expected.  That doesn't happen once and a little girl just knows.  I already knew at 5.  I can remember talking with Mark, and I realized that a pillow just doesn't fall on a persons face.  I heard the words and the moment played, and I could not believe that it was a purposeful act,  he knew what he was doing.  I would have gone away regardless, because that is what I did.  But he did that on purpose, he knew exactly what he was doing. 

Excuses have always been my go to.  Everything that happened was my fault.  I am learning the more that I process, fewer and fewer things were actually my fault. There were so few things that I had any control over at all. There is such a deep sad in that. So many people let me down.  There is also a freedom in that.  There is healing in that, because there are things that I can do today are totally in my control. Today I am not keeping these excuses.  Some days I struggle because it's so engrained that so much was my fault.  I continue to work on it and won't stop until we are all dancing free just like little Callahan. 

I heart your heart 

Full Circle

 

I think that this presentation in July is going to mean more than I could ever possibly imagine.  Presenting in a few weeks is going to be a full circle moment. As a girl in my late teens, I was going to school doing all the things, but I was terrified every day.  I went to Collin College, attending every class terrified that I might see one of my rapists.  I was a wreck and I kept doing all the things that I was supposed to do. I told no one and just lived with it.  These were just the things that happened to me.  No wonder school was so hard for me, I was always terrified and in fight mode al the time.  I only saw them a few times, but that fear was a constant. And I told no one; this was my life.  I was a scared girl without a voice who just wanted better in life.  looking back today, I am more than amazed that I kept going and never gave up.  There was a drive that I wanted more, I wanted to be free, I wanted to be safe. 

Today I am no longer that scared kid.  Today I have a voice and walking into that conference center, I am a different person.  Today I have a voice and I am going to use to help others understand. The terror that I felt each time on campus was stifling, I dreaded the end of class, walking to my car in the dark.  I can remember often asking classmates or waiting until someone else walked outside so I didn't have to be in the parking lot alone. Yet, I did do it all on my own, there was no support no encouragement, this was just my life. 

Such a contrast my life all that time ago and the person that I am today. I was barely surviving,  today I am fighting to survive and make things different.  I am not that scared kid anymore.  It's hard to believe that  just did it all,  I am more than amazed that I kept everything up.  So very different.  I am glad its in a different building,  but the same campus.  I am sure I am going to be nervous.  I also know that I have worked more than hard to get here, and I am no longer hiding and scared for my life. 

I heart your heart 

Because pictures are so very important