Grieving and Celebrating

 

I've been feeling the day coming for some time, and it's really heavy this year. Tomorrow is the day. 22 years ago, I got pregnant with my children, my greatest joy and everything that I never knew I needed. I find myself more than angry, feeling so affected, upset, and sad that I feel anything at all on this day. I feel like Amelia adds a certain sweetness, and I still wonder how I can be heartbroken. Without this day, there would be no Amelia. I am in a place where I am so unbelievably hurt at what I went through and incredibly grateful that I got to be a mom and now a grandmother. The struggle between the grief part and the celebration is something that I struggle to balance. I feel guilty that there is any sadness at all because, in the grand scheme of things, I would do it all over again to have my children and get to be their mom. 

The sadness I feel is incredibly intense. The kind that stops a person in their tracks, like you are supposed to be somewhere but just can't. The kind of sad that sucks the air out of the room, and you're frozen in all the things you remember or don't remember and can't change. When I think about that day, I realize I just wanted to be normal, to belong, and to mean something to someone.  Goodness, I was so excited getting ready, and I get so frustrated with myself that I was excited. There had to be a part of me that knew something wasn't right, but I couldn't see past my excitement of being normal.  He included me, and I was going to do something normal, which felt really good. I feel awful that I get so sad, because really, I just went away.  There came a point where I knew what was going to happen to me, and it was like this switch. I didn't feel a thing. He wasn't violent, yet I write that and think, how hard is it to rape a girl who knows what is coming and flies away to a place that is safe and far away. The last thing that I remember was that green pillow. In my head, I created this story that made things less awful. Somehow it fell directly on my face. There was a time that made sense.  I'm really sure he put it there; he knew exactly what he was doing. A pillow doesn't just fall on a person's face. I just needed him not to be a monster, and if it was my fault, then I was to blame.  I didn't catch any of the signs, and I wanted to be normal for even a short time. 

I am struggling to wrap my head around the fact that he raped me, but I felt nothing and remember so little. In my mind, I know what he did, I got pregnant, but for there to be a blank space is utterly confusing. I have no clue how he took my clothes off, and how his came off. There were no bruises, no fighting, no pleas.  I kept saying, "We are supposed to go shopping," but he seemed to forget we had plans for lunch and that I was going to help him get what he needed for his trip.  How can I be so sad about something that didn't hurt? How can I be so sad about something that I didn't feel and don't remember?  I shouldn't be sad; I have my beautiful children. 

I do wish that there were easy answers. I wish there was something, anything, that could bring my heart some peace. I wish that there were another mom like me to talk to. With all the grief and heartache about what happened to me, there are a few things that I know for sure. 

I know that I am so very grateful to be Vincent and Mariska's mom. I love them more than I have words for. I am so thankful for each and every minute that I have with them, and I would not change a thing for them to be mine. I know that someday questions will come, and I hope that we can talk about them together. My experience, their experience, and our experience together. I know that Amelia has brought our little family together in ways that I never imagined.  Someday she may have questions, and that is ok too. The three of us have come a long way, and I look forward to all the amazing things ahead. 

My Vincent and Mariska, you will forever and always be the air in my lungs. You amaze me all the time with your care, your strength of character, and your heart. I hope that I make you proud, and that someday you can understand why I did some of the things that I did. Someday, I hope you will understand the significance of this day, August 22. I love you I love you I love you.

My Ms.Amelia, I love you so BIG. You have brought a light into our family that I don't have the right words for. I love every moment with you and look forward to so many firsts. You, sweet girl, are a first-generation Callahan who will know a good, kind, loving dad who will protect you with his whole heart. You have so many people who love you, and I hope someday you can understand where your poppy has come from, and all that I hope for you in this big world. Because of you, your mom, and your dad, my heart is bursting at the seams.

Oh my family, I heart your heart with all that I am. 

Psychedelics and Court Rooms

 

I presented at a trauma conference, and one of the sessions was about psychedelics. And I don't think that I ever felt so free in my entire life. I have never truly spoken about my own experience, maybe mentioned it casually, but not in totality.  I have never expressed what my experience with psychedelics was like, and what a freeing experience that it was for me. This is a much-needed intervention, and for the first time in my life, I am going to share my experience and the feelings that I was able to feel for the very first time. I wasn't afraid of anything, and that is something that trauma survivors rarely get, and I think maybe yes, it's about time that I did talk about it. So here we go. 

It was just as my case was going to trial. We finally got a date, and it was set. I had spent close to two years talking to attorneys and detectives, trying to keep his stepdaughter safe. It was never a question of pressing charges on my father because I knew that I had to keep her safe. My only choice was pressing charges; there was nothing else.  I was not going to let any other little girl suffer under the hands of my father. Doing it all on my own, I was exhausted. In the end, I just wanted the case over. I never imagined how hard the entire process would be on me; I just knew that it was the right thing to do.  

A few weeks before court, the entire family was asked to come to the Da's office. I am not sure what they were trying to prove, or what their intentions were, but I was made to feel small and insignificant.  They had my brother, Mother, and me all sitting in the same room.  And she asked me a few questions about the abuse. My family is sitting right there in the room.   She was asking me about the oral sex that I had to give my father. I felt like I was shrinking, and neither of them was in the room. I answered their questions, and don't really remember much else. But I left feeling like I was the one who had done something wrong. There was no care or concern, just a girl forced to recount the evil things that had been done to her.  There were trips to the advocacy center, where I had to read my statement and answer more questions. I felt like there was no care; I felt like a bother. I felt like I got in the way, and they didn't understand my need to do this and keep Angela safe.

Then there was the trip to the courthouse. I was terrified; everything seemed so much bigger when I was that afraid. I needed some care and concern at the time, and none was given. The DA walked me into the courtroom, where we would be, and showed me where I would sit and where he would be. She showed me a small, closet-like room where I would sit when I couldn't be part of things. I can remember the panic; my heart was racing, my legs felt like rubber, and I couldn't say a single word. I know that she was talking, but I don't remember her words. She was talking at me not including me. I wanted to take the room in to be prepared, but felt rushed and unseen. We left that courtroom, and she saw other attorneys, who were more important, and she said the exit was that way, and I was left on my own.  I don't remember any words of encouragement or that things would be ok, I didn't feel like a person at all. I can remember my mind swirling with a million different questions, walking faster and faster past all the police, attorneys, and criminals. I couldn't get out of that building fast enough. No one bothered to ask how I was or what I was feeling. I am pretty sure I got sick once I got to my car, and the tears started on the way home. The entire world was going to know the things that I had to do for my father, and I felt like I was the one who had done something so terribly wrong. 

So I was asked to go to a rave with a co-worker.  Without a single second thought, without caring about a thing, I said yes. I wanted something normal, something that didn't have to do with the court system, court houses, DAs, or police. I was a bit nervous. I was a good kid, and drugs were never something that I ever entertained. I just needed some relief, something to not have to think about what was ahead of me.  I even joked that I would be the one to get arrested, and he would go free.  They gave it to me, and I thought, "This isn't going to do a thing; I will feel nothing."

I was witness to all of those around me, having their own experience, and yet I felt like an outsider. They kept asking how I was, knowing it was my first time.  I would shrug, saying that I was fine, and they would smile, telling me to give it time. Then in a single second, I leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. The absolute rush that came over me. It was like the world lifted, and I had never felt so light. I sat there for who knows how long, feeling like there was not a care in the world. For the first time ever, I wasn't afraid of the people around me.  I didn't really care what anyone thought. I was free, I was there in the moment, fully present. It was the incredible sense of calm that I have ever experienced.  I eventually got up and was able to walk around. I can remember seeing a group of people smoking, but they were all unable to find their mouths, and I thought how strange it was. For me, my experience was one where I felt normal. The fear that I woke up with and went to bed with was gone. I felt so much lighter. I was able to be in an environment where people were just people and not monsters. I had such a feeling of freedom. I can literally remember thinking, "This is what it must feel like to be normal".  Every sense was so heightened, and I took it all in. No overwhelm, no dread, no panic. For the first time ever, I was experiencing the world with a calmness that I didn't realize ever existed.  I listen to music and feel everything, and this was even more intense. I can still hear the music in my head Children by Robert Miles in true trance fashion, and I was there in the middle of it all, listening to the music, dancing without a care in the world.  I made my way to the DJ, and I was just present, feeling each beat to my core, and I wasn't a victim in those moments, just a girl dancing, enjoying the music. 

I didn't see the people I was with for the rest of the night.  The great thing is, I wasn't even looking for them; I was safe in my own skin. No thoughts of anything that had ever happened to me. Just there, free, thinking I never want this feeling to end. There were a few moments, and I ended up sitting in a chair, and a few of my brother's friends saw me. They were tripping hard, and I said hi. They were a bit confused to see me there, and were actually pretty funny. I will forever be grateful for that night. On the way home, everyone was under the influence, and I find it hard to believe that we made it home safely.  I had my head lying on the window, watching the street light go by, my thoughts drifting to what a little girl must feel when she doesn't have a care in the world. We made it back to his house and watched some trance music that created different screen images.  Such an open freedom, it was now early morning, I could see the sunrise, and I felt the effects wearing off.  The sadness began to fill my heart, my shoulders once again tightened, and I could feel the fear creeping in, worried about what others were thinking, worried about all the things that I had no control over. I eventually made it back home and to my own bed. I was sad; I wanted the experience to last longer. There was a sadness to experiencing something I didn't have.  I have held on to that experience my entire life. I am grateful that for that time, I had an understanding of what it must be like not to be afraid, and to be glad to be alive. That night at the Ridglea Theatre was everything and more than I ever expected. I didn't get arrested, and my father was given a plea.  

I hope that in the future, I can use something like this as therapy to help with the most challenging parts of my story, and that in the process, it can help reduce the intensity, allowing me to truly heal. I have not done it since; the memories of that night have stayed with me, and I am grateful to know that feeling normal, not being afraid, is possible. I felt like just another girl in the world, and that is a feeling I will never forget. Maybe someday I can have that, a sense of true freedom that is all mine just because I am a girl living her best life.  

I heart your heart. 

I need a Bob Trevino

 I just watched the Movie:  Bob Trevino liked it, and I am kind of a mess. I would love to have a Bob Trevino in my life. Someone who sees me, who hears me, and goes out of his way to make sure that I am taken care of. I need someone to be a fill-in dad for me, to understand what I didn't have, and maybe fill in those gaps.  Someone who cared, someone who wanted me to succeed, who was there to help, who was there to teach me all the things that I never learned. A person to hold my heart when it feels like the world is against me.

There have been times when I thought I found that person, but it just never worked out for me; I am just too needy. Everyone has their own families, but I have just always been the girl who doesn't have one. I thought I was close to having someone like that when I went camping with a family, but I was sadly mistaken, and it crushed me. One of those moments when something you have wanted seems so close, and then that moment you realize that that thing isn't meant for you at all. 

The kids and I were putting up our tent in the dark.  I had never truly been camping and had no idea what I was doing. I was so tired and really struggling. I didn't have the right equipment, and everyone around me did. It was so dark that the ground was uneven, and we were starving. We managed to get the tent set up and were trying to get the air mattress in the tent. I was laughing, but only because it was better than crying. But not a single person there came over and offered any kind of help. They were all sitting down in their chairs around the fire, laughing, enjoying themselves as we struggled on our own. I tried to make light of it, make it all fun and games for Vincent and Mariska, but I was heartbroken. I do remember how we laughed, but I was heartbroken. They didn't have a clue; all that I was feeling, I was just going to make it an experience for them. How does a person see someone struggling like that and not offer some help, or even a way to try to make it work? How does someone not say, "Are you okay?" Do you need any help?  No, they were all just onlookers, and I was left out of place, wishing that I had never gone on that stupid trip. I can remember looking over at everyone, already done setting up, and seeing the person who I thought was my person, my Bob Trevino, and not a single hand was lent, not a single word was spoken.  They saw the struggle and did nothing. I wish it didn't take me so long to realize that they were my people, but I was never theirs. There is an ache there that doesn't go away, because I gave them access to so much of my heart. 

I watch this movie and think about how amazing it would be to have someone help with household repairs, answer life questions when I'm clueless, make me laugh when I am sad, or hold my hand when I am afraid. Someone to offer life advice when I have a big decision to make. Someone to share with, someone to care. Someone to stay and make a difference. Someone to celebrate with, and hold me when I cry.

This movie was gut-wrenching for sure. I will always be looking for a person like that for me. I know I will be ok, I know that I have people who care and believe in me, but this is something different. I want someone who is mine. I know I keep going because I always did, and always will. I just want my very own go-to person, where I am included and a part of their life. I just want that so badly; even at 50 years old, it's what I want most of all. Maybe someday. So I keep looking, keep hoping. But I am also aware that I may never get it, so I will watch movies like this and be grateful that others have their Bob Trevino to make their lives a little brighter and less lonely. 

I heart your heart. 

Conference 2025

 

I still find it pretty unbelievable each and every time that I prepare to speak.  I have worked so hard to develop my voice that when I get to use it to make a difference, I think my heart does a little dance. I am always grateful for the opportunity, and each time I present, I hope to become better and better, making a difference for other survivors like me. 

This year was different; I almost canceled. I was closer than I ever thought I would.  There were so many things going on, and I wasn't sure that I would have an impact. I received an email about me crying, which threw me off for a few days, maybe a week or two. I responded and didn't hear anything back.  I had a feeling that I had done something wrong, and my tears were a problem. I thought, "But this is me."  I feel everything so deeply, it doesn't mean that I am weak or not ok.  It means that I was affected. So there was that, which made it really difficult to overcome. But in my heart, this is what I long for: to speak to make a difference. So I marched on.  I was nervous but confident. I spread all the artwork on the tables and had everything set up.  I was ready. I am getting more confident; I am who I am.  Some people will like how I present, it will make them think. It will not be for others, and that is ok. 

There was a most amazing lady named Levetta that sat next to me for the keynote. She has left a mark, that I will carry forever. She had a spirit that I didn't know I needed. She was everything kind, encouraging and such a breath of fresh air. She has been in the field a long time and still loves it.  Her words and how she spoke, she loves helping and caring. She was such a bright light for me. How she spoke about the field, was a mirror for just how much that i love this journey I am on to becoming a counselor. She encouraged my big dreams. She had this spirit that is hard to put words to but makes you feel comfortable right away.  I have to believe it is no accident that I got to meet her, and I hope with all that I am that I can keep in touch, and remind her all that she meant. Even my picture for the conference is different, I am laughing and it's more me than any picture ever.  She saw me and noticed, she said oh no it's perfect, it's so you.  She made my heart smile, it kind of felt like she saw me and celebrated that I was different. oh, I heart her heart.   

I was a little worried; the room seemed to have many empty seats, but as time got closer, the room began to fill.  And fill and fill until there was standing room only, with a few people sitting on the floor. I worry that I focused too much on the slides, and the stress before the presentation affected me, taking some time to let go. I was aware that I spoke too fast, so I would slow down and then speed up again. I think my point was still heard, and my message was delivered. Just need more practice. I need to learn to stop letting what others think get in my way. 

People came up to me afterwards, hugs were offered, and I was thanked for my story.  One guy who was sitting in the front said that he was worried he was going to say the wrong thing.  It made me smile that he was worried; I was confident that he would be everything kind and gentle.  There was a presence he didn't want to acknowledge, fearing he might say the wrong thing and cause more harm. I thanked him and said that he would be amazing.  I knew in that moment that he had taken my words to heart and would be more mindful and do things differently. It's those interactions that I do this for.  To make others think. I remember the clapping at the end, and yet I felt very far away. There were a few moments when everything went on automatic. I wanted to be so present, and sometimes that just isn't an option. 

I have realized that there is a particular kind of sacredness in dealing with trauma that has to be respected. As soon as it was over, it was like everyone was moving on. There needs to be a kind of sacredness when dealing with trauma and people's stories.  I am trying to figure out what it means to me and how I can make it happen. It's essential.  There is a sacredness to the story, to the tears, to the pauses for breath. All things that wouldn't be possible without survival. I don't know, it's a lot to think about, but something so very important that I feel in my bones. Like, you need to hold space and really think about what I said. You can't just keep moving; you have to let it in.  More about that later. 

There were many fabulous sessions that I got to attend. I am really looking forward to learning more about sandtray therapy. There was a session about psychedelics, and another on Psychodrama. 

Sometimes I am caught in the middle, not yet a therapist, and still healing. I find myself in a place between merely surviving and truly thriving. There are so many things that I want to convey as a survivor and as a therapist. It's a balancing act.

I got home and Mariska had gotten me flowers, she was fully present, excited for me listening to my experience. She looked at the conference schedule with me, she asked where I was, she was excited for me and it felt really good. She had an amazing dinner, and was just everything I needed that night. 

I look forward to all that is ahead. Exploring more, discovering my place in the world of trauma, and learning how to teach others and help them understand. There is a great need for people to understand our hearts and where we are coming from. I will be presenting in December on the impact of Family Violence.  Lots of Law Enforcement, Medical, and teachers, along with a new audience, new perspective for sure. I start seeing clients in a few weeks, and I'm excited about it. This time next year, I will be taking my exams and becoming an LPC-Associate, which is really exciting.  Good things ahead as  I continue healing. I know there are so many more things to write, but goodness, my brain is tired. Summer school grad classes, presenting, and teaching Summer school.  There's only one day left of summer before I am back in class. All good things ahead, with so much to look forward to. I would love to hear from those who were there and see if anything I said stuck with them or made a difference. 

I heart your heart,