Anniversaries

Anniversaries are a normal part of life right? There are some that are happy and some that sad and still others that just are. Some anniversaries are ok to talk about, good to talk about, and a good thing for people to be able to share.  But me, anniversaries are not ok for me, no one is there no one wants to hear, so I withdraw and hold my heart and wait for the day to be over. And I try to do different things on those days, I keep busy, I try try try not to think but its there and the difference between me and you is that you can share yours but I can not.

So this Valentines, I am not a big fan on this day. I will try to make it special for Vincent and Mariska. I will smile pretend its another day like any other day, but there is an ache in my heart. This day was the school Valentine dance and the first time that Don showed up on my front door step and pushed his way in. And what do I do with that, I can't share it with others, there will be no one telling me that they are sorry, there will be no letting me be sad. No one making sure that I am ok. Like so much nothing will be different, I will smile enjoy my children and my heart will pretend to be fine, only its not. I am trying to be more honest with how I feel and honestly, I am not very good at knowing what it is that I feel. There are so many things to write to feel to get out of my head and I honestly don't know what to do with them. What does a person like me do? I want to share but how ?!? I want to be present and honest, and real but how? When my anniversaries are many and not of the good kind? What does a person do? You stay to yourself pretend that all is well, and wait for another new day to come.  THAT is what I have to do.

I will push the memories away, I will make things special for the kids and smile, be grateful that I have them. I will make things a big deal for them, and seeing them happy is good for my heart. I don't want to be the downer for this day of love, I just would like to be acknowledged, to be seen and I am not.

People get flowers and cards on tough anniversaries, just letting them know that they are not alone, me, there is silence….my anniversaries are not the same mine don't matter, mine are not acknowledged other than silence, the kind that is deafening and that silence is loud and clear.

It's getting harder; the kids asked "why don't you like a lot of days?", and my heart breaks I am not hiding things well enough.  Once an anniversary was acknowledged, and it was so special, and I am grateful, and I was seen.  I won't take your whole day, I won't be a pest.  I just need people to take a few seconds and ask if I am ok, maybe say a little prayer for me, anything is worth a try.  My anniversaries hurt just as much, and are that much harder because they exist and everyone ignores, even when they know. 

I heart your heart    

Broken Heart Syndrome

Oh my goodness, this is more than hard. I can't explain how I see the things that have happened in my life. I see them in 3-D color like they happened yesterday, that's how I see them even today. But I don't feel them, I don't feel a lot of the time actually, its more of a constant terrible ache.  People ask well what do you feel; And I truly don't know.  I fear that feeling will devastate me. There have been times when I have truly felt the things that happened and it felt better, it felt real, I was being honest with myself. I have come such a long way, and then I started building walls, trying to survive. I start to withdraw and go into my head. I clean and fix and hope that it will make it feel better. I often feel like the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz. There are pieces of me over there, and pieces of me over there and still more over there too far to reach. And that is exactly how I feel. I see the pictures of my past, and they are cut off from my heart and I am scared. I am scared to see them, scared to feel them scared that I may never put the pieces back together.

So I found this saying the other day:

You either walk inside your story and Own it
OR
You stand outside your story and hustle for your worthiness
 
And I hate to say that is exactly where I am. I am scared to death, that I am not more than the things that have happened to me. I don't want to accept and own that those things once were my life. Those things happened, and I did survive them and by some crazy something in this life I am still breathing, and have accomplished things that I never thought were possible. I am scared and sad and on guard all the time and I am completely exhausted. I will not last much longer with the rate that I am going. It's serious, because the stress is affecting my heart. I feel the tightness, its not all the time, it comes and goes but when it comes its scary and I am terrified that one day its just going to be too much. I am ALWAYS fine, Everything is always good but REALLY it's not, I am not. 

I ordered a few PTSD books trying to figure out some of the things that I do. Thinking that maybe some of the answers that I am looking for will be on those pages, of coarse it helps things make sense, but I find no answers. I want to understand why I work so hard and still see the pictures. Why I can't peacefully take a shower. Why I can't gently peacefully fall asleep  Why I wake up and am frozen; I literally can't move from the fear. And in one of the books there is something called Broken Heart Syndrome. it’s a real thing, a real live thing and I can almost guarantee that is what I have. My heart is broken over what has happened and how things have been. I need people, I need someone to hold my hand and tell me that everything is going to be ok   I am not giving up, but I am tired of fighting.

I am heartbroken, by the life that has been mine, I feel less than, I feel inferior, worthless. That is what I feel 95% of the time. And it hurts oh it hurts so so much. Maybe I am scared of the things that I can do if this wasn't holding me back; maybe that scares me just as much as the things that have already happened.

There is a part of me that thinks I will be a failure either way. I feel like a failure because I hold on to the past so desperately, wanting to understand wanting to make it my fault and take responsibility for it all; and I still feel it all so deeply in my soul. I work so hard trying to process everything and understand.  Another part says ok stand up let go of all those evil things that have happened, it sounds so simple only it is not. And what is left? Oh yea an almost 40 year old living under someone elses' roof on food stamps, who doesn't even have a real constant job. Either way is there really a way for me to win ?

I just don't know, but I have broken heart syndrome and I just don't know what to do. I am working so hard and in the process people leave, I mean really who wants to stay around, I completely understand. I don't have people check up on me, I don't get asked for tea I don't really talk to anyone that isn't in the profession of listening.   What does a person do when they are the only people that can even at least hear your story and not cringe. That can still look you in the face and not think Oh MY God!  What does a person do ?  Its rare if I get a real true hug; the kind where I relax and if even for a few seconds all tension fades away, I need more hugs to know that I matter.

I think probably the best friend that I have ever had is far away and says that he doesn't see the things that have happened, he doesn't see the things I have lived through and I don't understand that.   Because that’s how I still see me. And there lies the problem I see me as that Victim, doing nothing letting things happen and I HATE that. I feel like I live life in between the awful of the past and the greatness of the future, I am scared to go back an scared to move forward.

I am fighting and I am tired, my heart is weary and worried.

 

I heart your heart

 

Please help take care of mine 

Things I know from a picture

Its funny the other day I was going through an old book that I had made with letters and cards from different people over the years and I found a group of pictures. Pictures that all tell a story, that all are  pieces of my story. 

There are the first two that say a lot. It was July fourth of 1975. I was a little over three months old. I knew when I was that young that he was not a nice man, the one where I am screaming, my father is holding me. I knew, I knew in my bones that things were not going to be good for me. And the other I am with my mom, I seem calm and content. If I could speak I would tell her to please leave that things are only going to get worse for me, that my innocence would be taken, that he would take things from me, that should never have been taken. She can take care of herself but me I am just a little one and there is no where for me to go, please keep me safe. I wish I knew what she was thinking in this picture, what did she think of me, what was going through her mind as she held me, I was so little so fragile. She she let me scream him holding me, or did she rescue me and make everything ok. These two pictures have always stood out to me, What I got from one and what I truly wanted from the other. It is sad really. This is exactly how things started out, and they say a picture can capture a thousand words, this does and thousands more.

This was my cat. I don't remember her name, I think it was Maxine, but I am not sure. Well she had a habit of getting on the dinner table. So this night things didn't go well for her. My father picked her up off the table and threw her down the hall. Cats are made to land on their feet ! Do you realize just how hard that he would have had to throw her for her leg to be broken; Really really hard. I don't remember much more I knew that she was hurt and I remember us taking her to the Vet, and I remember her coming home like this. With that huge cast. Animals were always special to me, I talked to them and they listened. I can remember being sorry, telling her that I was sorry. I would lay with her for hours, making sure she was ok, and petting and petting her.

This Wow this was Yan Idle in Germany. This one makes me smile, makes me think that maybe someday, I may find a good guy for me.  I am sure you could say that I had a crush, ok a HUGE crush. He was handsome, had an accent he always smelled good and was always more than kind to me, what else could a person ask for. I felt alive that summer in Germany, and he made me smile. He won me a little banana stuffed animal at  carnival that I can tell you; I still have . He made me feel special.  At that same outdoor carnival,  there was an exhibit. It was like the Omni theater only you were standing up.  I was enjoying every second, I ca say I was lost in the moment and ended up loosing my balance and fell towards him.  I froze. But he smiled  and said it was ok, he didn't bite and gave me his arm to hold onto. I held on  he held on and I was safe.  I was terrified, my life was crazy, but that time for those minutes I felt safe. He made me smile. How he looked at me; like everything was ok, it was a first for me and I will never forget. Oh I hope that he is well.  It was the first kindness for me in a very long time, he made my heart happy.  And still seeing this picture my heart remembers and thinks maybe someday , and I can' stop smiling.

This is one from my high school graduation. Everyone was crying that they were going to miss people, that it was all over and then there was me, I was more than relieved. But this one is less about me and more about the picture on the wall. That was the picture that was in my room growing up. Crazy that he picture never went away, and ended up in the dining room.  That is the picture that I often hid in ; in my mind, when things were too scary when things got to violent and I had to get away. I would count the trees, the fence posts, the little flowers, the daffodils, the buildings in the background, the children that were hiding behind the rocks. I would pick what rock I would want to hide behind.  This was the picture that I memorized night after night as I was raped in my own bed. I wondered what it would be like if I could just join them, just be somewhere else in the world, anywhere else other than in my own room, where such terrible things happened. I have not seen that picture in years though I remember it piece by piece, I am grateful for that picture. It was in my parents wedding actually, and I think was done by one of the nuns. If only this picture could talk, oh the things that it would say, and it breaks my heart.

 

 

This was my uncle Dennis, my fathers younger brother. Somehow we reconnected and I ended up going there, t Boston. First for a trip in the summer then back for Christmas. It was the Christmas of 1999, because I can remember everyone thinking that the world was going to end in the year 2000, WOW well it didn't. That summer, my first morning there, we were sitting in the kitchen table and he asked if my father had ever done anything to me, I couldn't breathe, no one knew, only he did. My father had also abused him as a child. A conversation that no two people should ever have to have. There we were having THAT conversation. I wasn't the only one.  But  He didn't have the same desire to keep others safe. I can remember when we found out that Bob was getting remarried and she had a daughter and the brothers laughed and joked, well that’s one more for him to poke. They thought it was funny,   I did not think it was funny, I ended up going upstairs crying my eyes out, why couldn't they understand this was important, we couldn't let anyone else be hurt like we were!!  To them I was overreacting, to me rape is never a joke, never funny. That was my last trip there.  When the DA called him asking if he would testify for my case, his words "If you make me come there, I will make him look like a fucking saint on the stand". I think that was the beginning of the end. Why didn't he want to help, keep her safe get justice I didn't understand, so I moved on and kept fighting. For a time, I was grateful to have him, even for that short time.

Then there is the picture of Angela. This was the first picture that I ever saw of her, sitting there in the busy courtroom so much craziness going on around me. I knew Sam and Cheryl was there with me. We were sitting on the benches and I saw Dianne walk in and I looked over at Cheryl and I said that’s her, I think that’s her and she saw Sam and then they walked towards me, and my stomach dropped I was right it was her. She sat down next to me, and I am sure we talked for a few minutes but I don't remember what was said and she asked if I wanted to see a picture and I said yes, and she unzipped her purse and pulled this little picture out, now Angela had a face, this was the little girl that I was fighting for, that I so desperately wanted to keep safe. And I looked at it, and held on ever so tight holding it close to my heart and crying. I showed Cheryl and said that’s her, that’s her. It was more than amazing, she was everything perfect and innocent. I finally had a face and a picture, that is who I was fighting for.

Pictures of my journey, kind of more than amazing. kind of sad. Every picture tells a story.

Just a collection of pictures, they say so much.

I heart your heart.

 

 

 

Coming Full Circle : Fragile yet Full

It seems as though some things may start to come full circle for me. And I can tell you I am scared I am terrified and I feel more than lucky that I am going to get to share my story. That I am going to make a difference that my story is going to mean something. I want more than anything for people to understand, for people to listen and do things differently. I have been looking back through all the court papers this week and the information regarding my case and how I was "just a witness". The papers that say he was convicted of "Assault" the same as adult men getting into a fight, and it made me angry. It was so much more, it was my innocence that was taken. I was doing it all back then to keep a little girl safe. A little girl that I didn't even know. I just saw that little pink bike on that cold rainy day and I had to do something. I had to keep her safe, I had to protect her, because of what I knew. And because of that today I am finally going to stand up for me and I have to say that is more terrifying than what I did all those years ago standing up for a little girl who is now almost 18.

I was afraid all those years ago but there was a purpose, there was a drive in my heart to make things better for her at any cost including any cost to my own heart and soul. I was on automatic doing all the things that every DA and attorney and detective needed from me. I suffered in the process but I didn't care, I was doing the right thing. I didn't matter. People keep saying how courageous that I was and how selfless I was but to me, there was no other option. I am not braver not more courageous I just knew it was the right thing to do. But today as I prepare to in all meaning of the words go public with my story this is for me, this is to have a voice for me and that is the hardest thing in the world.

I can scream from the mountain tops for others; for little Angela for oh so many things but for my heart for me to stand up for me because its my story and it should not have happened and my father took things that were not his to take that is who I have to fight for today and that is the biggest battle that I am ever going to have to face. Fighting for myself. I am finally going to have to stand up for me. I can't tell you how terrifying that is.

It's funny this week I have realized that even eye contact is really hard for me I am still more than embarrassed and ashamed of the things that have been done, the things that I have lived through. And it really makes me sad. I do not hold my head up high and say yes that happened. I look down and I don't use real words and I am not proud of myself for making it through I am not proud that I survived and that has really got to change. I am more than ashamed that my story is what is it, and yet that is something that I can do nothing about; it happened, it was awful it changed me in ways that I can't explain and don't have words for. But I am still here; my crazy fragile tender heart is still beating.

I have been through hell and oh my goodness, somehow someway I am still breathing, I have two amazing kids and I finished college against every possible odd imaginable, and that is huge! Sometimes I will just stop and take everything in around me. The air, the trees, the birds, the sky, the people, the sounds I stop and just take it all in. By all means I should not even be alive and I AM. I am alive. I have made it and its time that I find my voice; it's easy for me to be a voice for others, but a voice for myself?!?

Do I deserve to have a voice for me, because I am just as worthy as those that I stand up for? That is a rough one, and I fight with the answer. Someday I want to be able to say with out any hesitation at all YES, I am worth just as much, even on days when I don't feel that at all, I need to know that its there that I just might not be able to see it at the moment, but its there.

It is kind of like one of my favorite sayings from Peace is every step by Thich Nhat Hanh.

I have lost my smile

But don't worry

The dandelion has it.

And I think that is where I have been most of my life, I knew that it was there and that someday I would get it back, I just didn't know when. If I was able to give that smile to others, to make them feel as though they mattered that they were important, then somehow that would be all the peace that I needed. At least if we know that it's there and something is holding it for us then there is hope. That has been my hope my entire life. And I think maybe this is my time, finding a voice not just for others but for myself. This is going to be the peace that I have been looking for every where but within my own heart.

　

So the next steps of my journey are going to be new and challenging and sometimes heartbreaking. My fragile heart needs space, needs kindness and lots of love and understanding. I am strong but yes still fragile. Not the kind of fragile where you walk on egg shells, but the fragile, that I need a hug, that I need you to understand, that I need you to ask if I am ok . Lately its funny I fear dealing with certain things, talking about things that I am going to fall apart that no one is ever going to be able to put the pieces back together again, but if I can survive the things that I have I am sure that I can come through this and really truly be ok, really truly be whole. In the end, I am going to find that piece of peace that was in my heart all along.

I heart you heart.

Stitches in the ceiling

Each rape that has occurred in my life has been just another stitch in the ceiling. I couldn't face what was happening to me, and very early I learned to check out, to float to the ceiling and go away in my head until they were done and got what they wanted. And to be honest ,I kind of still live there. There have been a lot of stitches, and those are the stitches that I have to cut and come back to the land of the living. I am not present I am not here a lot of the time, I live there, on the ceiling watching life from afar trying not to get too close to those things that hurt my heart. I see the pictures in my head of the past most of the time, but I see them far away, and I know its me but it just hurts so much so I keep them very far away. And the problem is, they are always there, coming back as nightmares and flashbacks and I just don't want to live like that anymore. As much as its going to hurt, I am sure its going to open new doors.

So I have realized and am working on the fact that I am terrified to come down and face the world, face the things that have happened . I am scared to be a part, scared that I will be judged, scared that I will feel all the weight of the hell I have survived. And I know a lot of people are not going to understand, and think I am crazy and you would be right. Maybe I seem a little crazy, but you have not lived my life, and there is no way for you to understand. Its amazing the things that your mind does to keep you safe. For me things were so crazy, floating on the ceiling was the best option; that is what I had to do. I see the pictures and can sometimes write them down or talk about them in the third person. But I have to learn that there were oh so many feelings that go with those pictures and staying on the ceiling ignoring them is not doing me any good. I have to acknowledge the pictures, as me, feel the things I couldn't feel and know that I am ok. I have already survived the worst, I am still living still breathing. Those things are not happening anymore, I am strong and I have to make that my new everyday.

Last week I hurt my wrists again in the shower, because in my brain the shower is dangerous, bad terrible unthinkable things happen and I can still after all this time feel Don's hands. In my head I know he is not in the shower, I am safe , I am not the Victim that I was but that tells you how easy it is for my head to remember what has happened, my head Is still fighting. My head is still fighting a battle that is long over. That is what I have to fight, that is no longer my story anymore. It happened it was hellish it scarred me, but at the same time. Somehow someway I survived. I didn't die when honestly I could have, even should have. BUT I DID NOT. There has to be a reason, that I made it that I am fighting my way back to life. There has t be a reason for this life that I have lived.
　

Through this process there have been realizations that have literally taken my breath away. I can remember sitting with my detective and him talking to me asking questions. And I was talking about the first time that I remember my father doing anything. And I always said in my head ,I just kept thinking that it was ok, because he just thought I was my mother . Its ok he is touching me, he just thinks that I am my mom. When he realizes its me he will stop. Then Det Plemmons says, don't you think he knew the difference between the body of a five year old and the body of a woman ? And the world stopped, I was in my early twenties that thought had never crossed my mind, he knew what he was doing ? HE KNEW it was me ??? Absolutely a knife though my heart, I never thought of that, never. As devastating as the thought is, in time it sank in and it’s a realization that stings, but at the same time I was ready to hear it. It may have been a baby step, that you don’t think is a big deal but it was a step that I needed to acknowledge and I will never ever forget that moment. And looking at my detective, trying to get my head around the fact that he knew it was me. These are the moments that I live all the time.

Another moment came years later. The nightmares were incredible and all the time, just violent, and my father was always lurking around every corner, I was always laying in bed and I always knew that he was waiting for his time to come down the hall and make his way to my room. I couldn't sleep thinking of the fact that I had to be prepared he was coming down the hall and he was going to hurt me take what he wanted and I had to be ready, well as ready as a five year old could be. And he said, But Sherri he isn't coming down the hall anymore. And I think my heart stopped. And he was more than kind, and said it again, that isn't happening anymore, he is not coming down the hall. A moment that stops everything…..that is where my head went every single night….trying to keep myself safe being prepared, being ready for what was going to come ……But I wasn't that scared little girl anymore, in my head I was waiting for a threat that was long gone. My life was like that for so long, and things were so rough for such a long period of time my head learned to live there and I have to learn a different way to think. I have to be able to see that today I am safe and sound and Yes my father knew exactly what he was doing. But I am also not that scared little girl I am not that tough little girl trying to carry the weight of the world. Things have been said at just the right time, exactly when I needed to hear them. And there are many things for me to learn. There are many things that I still have to accept but I have to be willing to hear them at the same time. Along this winding healing journey of mine there have been things that stand out and I get angry that I don't realize things sooner, or notice things before but I just haven't been ready. My ears are open and my heart is ready. It's time.

As I begin to jump in again and prepare to come off the ceiling and truly live life, I am terrified, I am more than afraid. I know that is more than hard , I know this is going to hurt like hell and it sure won't be pretty. I know that it is not going to be easy, not going to be fast but I also know that it is necessary. I am missing out on life living on the ceiling and yes I can assure you its safer, it’s been a lot of things but at what cost to me ? The cost is far to great, for my heart for my mind for my soul. It's time, time to change the things that no longer serve a purpose for me. It's time.

 

 

I am sure that this is going to be rough, but no one ever said living life stitched to the ceiling was easy, Right ?!? So here's to the next leg of my journey, lets hope my heart will make it, I am quite terrified. But also quite Hopeful.

I heart your heart

I need More

I can say that I have started at least 10 or more blog posts and  then I just don't have the right words.  I need so much patience, kindness and understanding right now and I can't explain the things in my head.  I need to be noticed and ackonowledged.

So I need more moments that heal my heart. I need these kind of moments right now.

Being walked to my car to make sure that I am safe.

Being told that I am worth it.

Being told that they are glad that I am there.

Someone holding my hand when my heart is more than sad.

Someone acknowledging a most awful day and taking me out.

Someone kindly saying they are sorry.

Someone watching a movie so close to my heart.

Someone sending an email just to make sure that I am ok.

I need a hug, the kind that makes everything ok if only for a few seconds.

I am not ok and I need to be noticed.

I need to know that I matter, that I am worth your time.

You may ask if I am ok and automatically I say that I am, I don't mean to, its just that I am supossed to be.  I will say that I am fine, I am not fine, right now.

Even a dog sitting at my feet, when I don't have the words but plenty of tears.

That gentle touch just letting me know that you are there.

I need more of all these kind of moments.


I am more than sorry to be so needy, more than sorry I am not the fun friend, more than sorry I can't talk about fun days in high school. Sorry I just listen and smile. I have nothing to add, just not fine.  I have a lot going on and I know that you do too, please please try to understand where I am.  I am trying to heal and for me that is really really difficult, and really terrifying and I am doing the best that I can, with what I have. 

I heart your heart.

When they mean more

There are times in life when some people just mean more to you than you do to them. And I don't understand it, but I don't have to to know that it hurts. It has kind of been like that most of my life, I have found some people that become so very important and just like that, they are out of your life, with no rhyme or reason. And I can tell you it gets really hard when you give your all and things are said that cut like a knife. And its not meant to intentionally crush you but still it is said; and its just a blatant reminder that you are the only family that you have. And when words like "it's just family" are spoken for a birthday dinner it cuts like a knife. I try to fight back the tears, I try not to let it bother me but it does; it so does. And I am reminded of my place; someplace else but not in their "family"

And I know that I am not the only person with out family, what does a person like me do ? I do not think that there are any easy answers, or any answers at all. I have not really felt like I had a family very often. I have thought that I did, but within time realized I was sadly mistaken, and I am the one left worse than I was before. I have felt as close to a family, but I also know that they have their own families. So again what does that mean for people like me with no family of their own ? I want to know, because I want to have people in my family that with out question every holiday and birthday, and major life event are going to be there. I can be that family for my kids, our small little family. What about me ? Growing up family was basically just for looks we played the part in public but when we were home all the monsters came out. When I pressed charges on my father, you would think family would be there and be supportive, but that didn't happen either. At so many different times you would think that things would come together and that just never happened, EVER in my life. I don't know what to do with that.

I know it is just me and the kids I KNOW KNOW KNOW that, but when it gets pointed out, it just feels completely awful. And I am sure I am more than a little sensitive just coming off the holidays. You know its rough when someone does text and tells you Happy New Year and it makes you cry. And I want more of that. I know that those are the people that matter, those are the people that you matter too, and still they have their own families and I can't be a bother or a pest, just so very hard.

I have to be everything to the kids and there isn't much left for me, there is no refill when I am spent. no one to hold me when I cry for the hundredth nightmare of the month. No one to hold my hand tell me I am doing a good job and making the right decisions. It is just frustrating, because there is me and me is all there is, 95% of the time. And what does a person do?? I am sure these feelings will pass, I know I am super sensitive right now, but that doesn't make it any easier. I can't be everything to everyone, there just isn't anything left for me. Makes me sad. Makes me want things to be so very different for Vincent and Mariska. Oh I hope Family will be a good thing for them, I hope they will hear family and think of our family the three of us, even if there isn't a someone for me.

Oh I heart your heart. Just to be wanted, too much to ask. And I still keep going.