Sleep is hard to come by

 

I am at that point where a good restful sleep is something I desperately need. The constant dreaming and nightmares are so violent. Their hands everywhere.  Having a feeling that I can't even explain. For the past week I have been waking up between 2 and 3 am in these crazy situations.  Some of them are the same feelings as things that have happened, other things are completely random, other times I am just in fear of my life, and no one seems to want to help.  Any and all of them create a night of exhaustion.  So, when others are resting and restoring, I am still fighting.  A person would think after all this time and work that I have done, that a peaceful night sleep wouldn't be too much to ask, apparently it is.  I am tired, I am really really tired right now.  Being this kind of tired never makes for anything to be easy. I want Spunky to feel like a part of me like little Callahan. She is closer than she has ever been and feels so other.  I don't want her to be other anymore. I want to be strong and be able to acknowledge the things that have happened and not feel like I was the one who had done something, so awful.  There are so many things and so many pieces.  

I wonder if there will come a day when sleep comes, and nightmares won't be so strong and violent. I wonder if there will come a day when Spunky is truly able to find a place of peace.  I worry about her all the time. I worry that she is too hurt, I worry that there are some things a person just can't get over. I want so much for her and believe that she deserves the world after what she has been through. I want there to be a space for her in the world where how she experiences things can be accepted.  I do believe that she is always going to see the world differently, her soul has been affected in ways that I am not sure there are words for.  I know that she will reach a place of healing, but in that, there is a sadness that just is. A kind of sadness that is weighty and ever-present.  I think maybe there will be a quiet sadness that just is for her. 

I fight that sadness, all the time.  Last week, there was this realization that; little spunky isn't trying to be difficult or being a brat.  She is just trying to breathe and live in a world that had been more than cruel to her.  I hope that in it all, I can give her the kindnesses that she needs, even in my impatience. I so need her in the here and now with me. I have worked so hard and I need her here. I don't think that she lives in that so dark place, but it's always very close and still feels more than real to her. I think she knows that there are good things, she knows, that there are better things out there and not everyone is like the people who have hurt her, but still there is a tremendous fear. I hope that in time, she will have the strength to come and sit beside me and we can face the dark together. She is in the building resting on the couch that is progress, but not enough.  She holds pieces I hold pieces, and I hope that together we can put all of the pieces that we have together.   We need to face the dark, without fear of being blamed or shamed. Neither one of us has been in this position and there is no rule book. I have to believe that I have the strength to do and to say the things that need to be said so we can heal together.  I think for this part, we need to be more together than apart.  We are closer than we have ever been, and I am terrified and just have to believe that together we can do anything.
I think the things that Spunky has to face seem so insurmountable sometimes.  I wonder if the kind of healing that I imagine is something that is even possible.  I kind of feel like we dance around all the things scared of what might come up.  In so many ways we are still scared of the world, and that fear keeps us where we are.  Whether it is her outside the door, or me and thoughts of doubt and feeling unworthy all the time. I am scared to say the words sometimes, how will they even sound coming out of my mouth.  Is it fair for someone to hear those things. I know that what I say is ok, but the fear of them coming out of my own mouth and acknowledging the weight of them are things I am not sure that I am ready for.  I can say the words, in writing, I can talk about them in some ways.  Yet in others, all the words scare me and sometimes it feels like I won't survive them.  I worry that I won't survive the weight of the things that have happened. I worry that speaking of them will bring some kind of heaviness that will be unbearable. 

I found this saying and it fits.  I am not a coffin for pain to be buried in, I need to put it somewhere else. I think of the song Alive by Pearl jam and sometimes I think Spunky forgets that there is a life to live. I think that under all of her questions, doubting and trying to figure things out she forgets that she is still living, still breathing and still has a lot of life left to live. I want her to believe that what happened wasn't the end of the world.  When she gets off that couch open her eyes, and be with me, that we can and will do whatever is necessary for her to be free. For her to truly be, just a girl in this great big world who has the whole world in front of her. I hope for that Someday. Someday. 

                                                                            Alive : Pearl Jam 
 

I heart your heart. 

I knew him by his Hands

 

My thoughts are all over the place.  But my hands have finally stopped trembling. I feel like today was a kind of full circle moment for me, and my heart feels full and strong. I just got home from Meeting with Chief Goodson, and there were tears all the way home.  I think just one of those unbelievable moments, when you are finally able to see just how far that you come.  

Everything looks so different; the police station has grown so much. where I went in all those years ago is now surrounded by fencing.  I had to go in the other side, different door, different everything.  I stood outside of the door, for a few minutes, taking it all in, remembering the girl that I was all those years ago, wanting to keep Angela safe and being willing to do anything I had to do to make sure that happened. It was so clear in my mind, remembering each step that I took. I am pretty sure all those years ago I stopped at the door as well, thinking there is no turning back, I have to keep her safe.  Today I stood there my hands shaking like a leaf, I was just as afraid, all the emotions, all the feelings from that time came rushing back.  I walked in the entrance which is also the court entrance and people were waiting, I walked up to the Window asking to speak with Chief Goodson, she went and got him right away.  I stood there, thinking about the response I got back 20 years ago. And just how different that things were standing there today. Chief Goodson was just as kind as I imagined, he genuinely looked glad to see me.  He said come on back and took me into his office, there was a Mahi Mahi picture on the wall, of course I notice all of those small things.  There were pictures of a family, that warmed my heart. I thought how lucky they must be. He told me a story about him solving a cold murder case, that Det.Plemons had started.  He was proud, and said what a great person that Det, Plemons was. My heart smiled, because I knew that he was one of the good guys and everything that I needed back then; and still has a presence in my todays.  I hope that I didn't babble, there were so many thoughts and things to say. I wanted to share how awful the experience was that night I made my statement, but somehow that wasn't important. The entire time, the past on replay, and the realization at just how different things were today.  I told him the story of how he asked if I was ok the day after I had pressed charges.  Over anything and everything I was a person, and I told the chief what that meant.  I don't think I said all that I wanted to, but at the same time it didn't matter anymore. 

I left that police station years ago not having a clue what was in front of me.   I can remember getting in my car and the Song Hands by Jewel was playing.  I sobbed into my own hands, knowing that I was doing the right thing and being terrified at what I had just done.  I can remember thinking what have I done; telling family secrets is something so unimaginable then imagine telling them to police looking for some kind of justice, and safety for another little girl.  

I hear the words But they are not yours, they are my own and I am never broken. For me that was a reminder that my father was not going to win and I was surely not going to allow him to hurt another little girl. I am sure that I listened to that song over and over and over.  Looking for some kind of peace in what I had just done. There was no way for me to ever have an idea of what was in store for me. In those moments, I had yet to meet one of the most important people ever, who would care for my heart.

Leaving today, there were pictures of the entire police force through the years lined up on the wall.  And as we walked by, I asked "is Det.Plemons in these".  Chief Goodson went through each picture pointing him out. He took every second I needed, never once did I feel rushed.  I could feel the tears, and just put my hand on my heart; there was my Person.  I know what he looks like, but the thing is that when I met him, I knew him by his hands.  I was too ashamed, to look at him.  As I was questioned, in just the kindest way, I grew to know his hands.  I could not bare to talk about the things that had happened to me and look him in the eye. I felt so gross and disgusting, so much less of a human. I felt like I was the one who had done something terribly wrong. So, as we spoke, I studied and learned his hands. He asked me a question, though I don't remember what it was.  But my answer was that what my father was doing was ok, because he just thought I was my mom. I truly believed that, into my twenties when I pressed charges. I believed that with all that I am.  So gently he responded, "don't you think he knew the difference between the body of a 5-year-old and the body of a woman?"  I looked at him, and my entire world stopped.  That thought had never crossed my mind.  His words, he believed in me and understood the need to keep my father's stepdaughter safe.  Not one other person in the entire process understood my need to protect her. Even years later, I can remember seeing him in Wal-Mart after I had my own children, and I recognized him by his hands.  I was frozen, it was like there he is. I never said anything I didn't want to be a pest and didn't even know if he remembered me.  So, standing in the hall and having him pointed out, and being able to see his picture and be grateful was a different kind of appreciation. That I was able to look at him, finally knowing that I wasn't the one who did anything wrong. I don't have words for what that meant.  It's hard to explain.  Being able to see his pictures there was this moment, like oh there you are.  I don't know it's something that I will forever carry.  

There was a part of me that wasn't ready to leave, but then I knew that I was.  Chief Goodson was the bridge allowing me to thank one of the best people I have ever known.  Because of him, I get to share just how far that I have come. He even said that he would probably fed ex the letter to make sure that he got it and would sign for it.  Somehow, he also had an understanding of just how important this was to me.  He didn't even have to answer my email, yet he did. Those little things for someone like me mean the world.  I will always be beyond grateful.   I asked if I could have a hug on the way out and got an "of coarse" without a thought.  I was so glad to have the chance to deliver Det.plemons letter, and so glad for that full circle meeting, that made all the difference. I was able to walk out of that place station knowing, that there are many people who make a different choice and never report.  I walked out of that police station today, feeling seen and heard, and I felt so strong.  What a journey. 

It was still raining as I made my way back to my car.  Just everything was right and felt so perfect. I felt like after all this time I had done the right thing.  Pressing charges was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I would do it again in second to make sure that Angela was safe. All those years ago and today it was the smallest things that made the biggest difference.  I cried walking back to my car, leaving in such a different place than I had in the past.  And I turned my car on and this song was playing : 

                                                                   Freya Ridings "Perfect"

Such a different place to be.  I am no longer that scared girl that first walked into that police station. I am strong and will continue fighting for other survivors sharing my story.  I have to make a difference in the world.  It feels amazing to add another good guy, on my journey.  It gives me hope that when other survivors report they will be met with the kindness I have received. One of my favorite sayings, Kindness changes everything.   Yes. That. 

I heart your heart. 

Everything and Nothing

 I am not sure where to start.  My heart is crushed. It hurts when your own children disregard your feelings and your heart. He assumes things that he knows nothing about. He says things that he has no right saying to me. In so many ways he treats me like my mother and that is a knife through my heart. I love him so very much, and how he treats me isn't ok. The questioning, the disregard for how I think and feel is more than hurtful. It was just one of those rough days, nothing seemed to go right. There were lots of tears, my heart ached for what I am not sure is meant to be. It seems so inconsequential really. I put an order in to be delivered, more than half of the items were never delivered. I had to spend over an hour getting it taken care of. Something that should have been so simple. Vincent starts well why didn't you go to the store, why didn't you do this and that. With such an attitude, like I am so much less than him. That is a constant, but today already having a rough day I didn't need his questioning my choices. So I just went outside and cried. 

Later, I took Mariska to the gym and came home folding the laundry. He asked where Mariska was, I said the gym and told him which one. He went upstairs in and out. Then he says why are you mad she is at the gyn. I said what? I am not mad I'm doing laundry. Then he mumbles and keeps walking. On his way back up to his room he starts badgering me if I would go to that gym. He was so condescending. He was like well there aren't many people there at night, would I go. I said I didn't know but he wouldn't let it go. Then mumbling up the stairs he was saying something about if Mariska could do it so could I. More tears, I will never be the mom that Vincent wants. Just so judgmental about who I am and the things I choose to do. 

The sad seemed relentless spilling into today.  It just would not go away. I wanted to scream at the world to stop, I want to catch up in life instead of always lagging behind. Mariska and I were supposed to go out shopping and I just couldn't. The tears are right there at the drop of a pin, because of everything and nothing. I really shouldn't be sad grad school started, my bills are all paid. I have a job and my amazing house. In it all I am alone and the weight of that right now is enormous.

Mariska is on this gym thing. Which is great. I worry.  I worry because there are a lot of terrible things that could happen and she is clueless. I know she needs to get out in the world, I worry. I worry entirely too much, I don't know how not to. I asked her to go in the morning, there was some excuse. I know that I won't sleep until she gets home. I am exhausted!! Something new to work through. I am Terrified of something happening to her.  I just have to step back. I have to let go let them find their own way. Maybe it's growing pains. I don't know. I am not going to cater to them, I guess they are moving on and so must I. I haven't come first ever really. Maybe it's time. I have put !myself to the side, maybe it's just my time. They are finding their way. So I also have to find my own way. Children growing up is more than hard. I want of keep them so safe. We may live in a little town but things happen even in little towns. Growing pains are hard and hurt my heart. 

I heart your heart

When you find things and are alone

 

My heart is wide open right now.  I was cleaning out a box of papers, and I found so many things related to my court case, the trial.  Pictures of the cat with the broken leg.  There are the pictures from when I was 4 months old.  So many pictures.  There were the emails from Det. Plemmons and from the Police when he was in Nixa.  So much and the tears just keep streaming. I want to tell Det.Plemons all that I have done and how I still talk about him to this day. I need to write him a letter telling him that I am ok and the difference that he made for me.  I feel like there are so many things to catch him up on. I would give almost anything to sit with him on a bench with some hot tea and just share my heart.  There is a gratefulness in my heart finding some things then at the same time there is such a sad. 

There is such a sad because there is no one to sit with me and hear my heart going through all the things. It would be so much better, if my heart could just accept that sense of lonely. I somehow just have to get over the fact that I am alone, and people are not around that can share in my sad.  I think that lonely is the worst feeling, there are so many things inside that I want to share.  There are so many things to be said and shared and experienced and yet it's just me.  And I don't know what a person does in this kind of aloneness. I know that I can't be the only one who feels like this.  But what does a person do?  I don't have a clue and it's something that there really aren't any answers for. I just don't have everyday people.  I don't and I wish that the longing for that would just vanish just disappear because it really hurts my heart.  I am tired of the tears falling into my pillow.  tears being wiped by my shirt, then having to pretend that everything is fine.  I feel like I am working so hard on healing, I have come so far.  Still I am alone. I am sure this desk and keyboard is my witness to the tears, that could fill an ocean. I have been told there is nothing wrong with me, but I wonder.  If there isn't something terrible in me, why am I on my own ALL THE TIME. Why can't I find that just right match.  I am the common thread, and I am alone. I feel like there is something wrong, or I wouldn't be alone. 

Tuesday I am meeting with the Chief of Police where I pressed charges, and I want to share how it was and talk about how it went, what was said and how I feel.  But I will come home.  Probably write a blog trying to explore my feelings, then get Mariska at work and go to bed. Not a single person will be there for the joy, for my comfort, for my heart and that is what I long for more than anything.  I don't even mean a relationship just a dear friend that I can share my world with. How to find dear friends, that are everyday.  I need that and want it so much, and yet I am turning 50 next year and thing it's one of those things not meant for me. I am just sad, so sad.  There is an ache for something that I don't know if it is ever meant for me.  

I heart your heart  

Some pictures and words that I am grateful for