Sunday, April 7, 2019

Making Meaning


I try more than hard to make sense out of the things that have happened to me.  I want to understand I want to see a clear picture,  I want to understand why so much in one life over and over.  I want a tree to be a tree, I want people to stay I want people to be genuine and care for my heart. I don't want to be afraid, I don't want to sleep with  the lights on.  I want people to hear me, hear what I am saying. I need people to understand me; my heart why I am the way that I am.  I want people to acknowledge those hard days for me and that be ok.  Those anniversaries that hurt, Aug 22, Valentines, the spring weather at times I want people to acknowledge those things and just say that they are thinking of me. I want to make a difference for people. I never want anyone to have to feel the feelings that I have always felt.  I want to be a part, I want to belong somewhere.  I want to be comfortable in my own skin.  I want to be held when I cry and sat with when I don't even have the words or can't find them.  I want to feel safe in the world, I want to know that I can keep myself safe now.  I want to know that I am not the awful that has happened I want someone to see the me that is under the pain and the hurt and the sad.   I want people to acknowledge my heart and be careful.  Because I an not your normal person I have been hurt in ways that you will never understand.  I have been shattered and torn and somehow managed to live through it all and I want someone to see that and laugh with me cry with me and be extra gentle.  Because I can't and won't be hurt anymore.  If you do not have good intentions and can't be gentle and genuine and kind and caring then walk away.  Don't pretend that you care and then walk all over my heart.  Don't hold my hand tell me I am brave then leave me alone in grief.  Don't stay if it's not forever, don't get near me if you don't mean the things that you say.  I need to find a way to not have the things that have happened to me be so separate. I see it all so clear the little details, the colors, the hands, their eyes, my body feels the things that have happened and I can't even explain how that happens,  feeling numb and

 yet I can smile and do the things I need to do.  I want the me now to match. I want my inside and outside to match.  I want to be OK when things get rough. I want to be OK when I remember, when I can't make the pictures go away.I want to be OK when yet another person leaves me behind because I am too much of the things they can't and won't understand.

This afternoon I watched The Accussed, I watched it and I felt it in my bones.  I have been there the terror and my heart feels heavy.  I don't want my heart to know the hurt that it knows.   And in the end there was meaning she fought, with all that she had and she won.  She won; that look at the end of the trial it was for something , there was not I did this for nothing,  There was I did this and can sleep, I did this and I made it.  I am OK I am still alive and there are great things for me to accomplish. I have had small moments like that, but I want the peaceful kind, the kind that is a weight lifted, the kind that I don't feel like I am carrying it all on my own.  I want to know that someone gets it and are ok when I am not OK.  That those times I am not good at all,  they just hug a little tighter say hello a few more times and just let me know that they care.

The things that have happened are so much my life,  I don't know anything before and I don't think people understand that at all. I am building from a foundation that was nothing solid and everything evil.  That alone,  is big, its huge and doesn't just go away. I want the things that have happened to have a special place; to be acknowledged. I need to know that I am so much more than those things, I want to believe that but I honestly don't.  Making meaning  has a lot to do with the abuse and the pain but its what makes me me, that makes the meaning and  where I have been; the things I have lived through, but where I am going.  For me making meaning means that there has to be a peaceful place somewhere for all that has happened to be acknowledged and heard and yet I will still be me and somehow will still be lovable.  Making meaning means that all the things that happened are a part of me, an important part of me, but the me that I have chosen to become is just as important.

I heart your heart.

Can I just pretend that this is forever ? Please

So many things so many thoughts.

  I am just going to pretend this is forever. This place is forever.

I am going to have my very own spot.

 with my very own person every Tuesday.

This feels more than amazing.  I am more than grateful.

I have a place.  A safe place. 

I heart your heart.

Little Callahan is grateful Mark







Sunday, March 3, 2019

The Nightmares you can't get out of


The nightmares have been brutal.  I have them a lot and most of the time I wake up and things are ok just another night in my life.  Then there are other times when they are so vivid so real so sad that even after I wake up they are still there still going on and those are the days that it is rough to keep going.  Since starting back in counseling, the nightmares are picking up again the bad kind. The ones that I can't get out of the ones where bad things happen and no one cares and people look on like everything is fine.  The problem nothing is fine and it breaks my heart. The other night it was a dream that my parents were getting back together.  It was this huge apartment maybe even a house , there were two floors.  Lots of people were there everyone was waiting for someone to arrive.  People were coming and going . Of coarse I was the one watching everything going on trying to figure it all out. Then my father walks in.  I go right up to him screaming at him and hitting him really hard telling him how much that I hate him.  He cries like a baby and tells everyone how h hasn't done anything wrong.  Of coarse everyone feels sorry for him. Oh poor bob.   I am more than disgusted and am worried about the animals so I do something trying to make sure that they are all safe.  I tell asshole to leave them alone that they are all fine, I know he will only hurt them. He sneers he is so awful and everyone things he is so great.  I am sitting at a table caring for all the little kids , there is lots of crying and arguing from all the adults around. I am trying to create a bubble around the kids to make them safe and happy.  It seems that there is evil all around and I am more than aware.  I see him again he pats my mom and says its time for everyone to go and get stuffed and that evil laugh and his beatty eyes my mom smiles and doesn't say a word......I am screaming on the inside because its more than obvious that no one can hear me or even cares........and I wake up in this panic just like the night that I couldn't stop crying.  I knew so many things that I shouldn't.  I knew what it meant to get stuffed and it broke my heart to me that meant my mother was going to get hurt too.  He had lots of little phrases like that .  They all broke my heart, I knew as far back as I can remember exactly what they all meant.

Another night just as bad.  It's this huge creepy dark house.  There are people everywhere and I just keep trying to clean up make sure that everything is in order.  I try to ignore everything that if I can just fix things enough everything will be OK.   People keep telling me you have to talk about it, you have to talk about it over and over and in my heart I know that it won't make a difference but everyone I see tells me too. Over and over and all I want to do is clean up the mess and make everything pretty , put everything back in its place.  Finally there is someone that starts screaming at me to talk about it and I stop everything and I stare at them.  We are standing out by the pool everyone is dressed so nice,  the moon is out and I with out a work. Take all my clothes off , every black and blue blaring every scratch ever scar more than visible. My body is covered from head to toe. and I jump with my arms up in the air for everyone to see the gross and disgusting, everyone can see each and every hand print of those that have hurt me Everyone can see what my body looks like from the hands of others. I fall into the water, all those that told me to speak now staring with their jaws on the ground but as I fall into the water they continue their conversations, they drink their drinks and I sink to the bottom not one person reaching out not one person asking not one person even caring after all they were the ones that so badly wanted me to talk. Because at that point there are no words,  there are no words left to describe the things that this body has been through.  Its heart breaking, not only is this a nightmare but its whats inside.  I could show people the bruises the sadness the pain and it wouldn't make a difference so why bother and I Smile. It's better to smile then to face the bruises sometimes.

I heart your heart 

NO one ever asked about me, I figured it didn't matter

Its kind of crazy.  In starting this process again its amazing that people didn't ask about me about my heart.  People talked about me, people talked around me but no one was are you OK, what happened to you , what did they do; there wasn't any of that and that came with such a shame because I have believed that all those things that happened made me less than made me gross and disgusting because if there were things that should not have happened then it would have been OK to talk about.  The things that happened to me are not OK to talk about. The things that have happened make me less than make me unlovable, make me so very different.   I was in my 20's before anyone asked if I was OK.  That was Det. Plemmons after I pressed charges, and he before asking anything else asked if I was OK.  And I literally didn't understand the question.  Was I OK ? I mean of coarse I am OK I am fine I just have to do this and keep Angela safe.  Those words are you OK mean the world and take so little time.  Even now people don't ask. People that know me people that have known me for a long time and I am done and giving up on them. I understand that others have their own lives, but it takes 2 seconds to make sure that others are OK.  I don't want them to ask anymore it doesn't matter I would rather do things myself than someone be less than genuine.  I am tired of reaching out, making sure others are OK when my heart is breaking and no one gives a shit.  Too sad to cry so she smiled. YES.YES.YES.  And no one cares to know the difference.

I HEART YOUR HEART 

Saturday, February 23, 2019

I can't even

I am angry beyond words and I don't see any relief in sight.  I hate dew rags and the black attitude that he has and his view that he is something other than white. I am his mom he is everything because of me and no one else and it feels like the ultimate betrayal.  How do I deal with this how do I cope how do those around me understand when there is no way that they can. And she makes a comment well why why does it bother you so much, it bothers me so much because my children are me. It bothers me so much because I was raped, because I told him no and he didn't listen. It bothers me because I only wanted to be normal and go shopping.  That is why it bothers me and no one knows that part no one cares to know or to ask and it breaks my heart.  I do everything to stay strong to keep it all together and this this is a slap in the face.  They are mine they are everything and he wants to become a part of something that hurt me terribly and I don't understand. I don't get why he would want to be a part of that when he knows that he didn't listen and was not kind and yet that is what he wants to connect with I DO NOT UNDERSTAND and it more than hurts my heart.  Even the other might at the dinner table Mariska was putting on Make up and he made a comment that it was for white people.....my heart broke and I said you are white and and there was more conversation but I went somewhere else.  I feel like this is becoming bigger than I ever imagined and I don't have a clue what to do.  How could he want to be like something that was so hurtful. Why would he want to connect with that part when he knows how unkind he was.....I want to understand I want to do the right thing but this breaks my heart his attitude the things that he thinks are funny.  Sure part of that is the 14 year old boy the other part I just don't know but I know that I don't like what I see.  It scares me I want him to be a good guy to make good choices and do the right thing.  This breaks my heart I am more than sorry for the things that happened I am sorry that there isn't a roll model around I am more than sorry that I couldn't stop him, that I couldn't make things different.

 I am beyond any feeling and more than numb I want to scream at how unfair this is. That this is something that we both have to deal with I am more than sorry and don't know what to do.  This is more than awful.  This is the worst part even more than the rape because at least for that part I just went away until he was done. As soon as the pillow fell on my face I was no longer there, but in a corner far away  safely waiting for it all to be over. The part that hurts more than anything its that its not so much about me its about how they are affected. It kills me, it more than hurts. Does he not care does he not understand ? 

Sunday, February 10, 2019

Looking back : Moments I knew : How this hurts


Its funny starting to see a new counselor someone who is kind and listens its amazing the things that come up in your mind, when you feel like you are free to talk about them.  It's been a long time since some of those things have come up.  And I started thinking about the moments that I started to feel certain things and whose voice that it is in my head.  I am not sure that there is anything to get a person ready for this pain. I have been there and thought it was over. Not sure I am ready to go back there, but I know my heart hurts.  My heart really hurts and these things aren't OK. I never should have had to do these things alone. Was I not worth more than how I was treated ?  All these voices told me showed me that I was nothing ......I was not worth their time and care



There is the first time I ever remember anything actually happening.   I don't think it was the first but I think it was the first I can put words to.  Each and every night having to go to bed in his bed.  My mom always stayed up. I don't understand why.  I have so many questions.  I can remember laying there always waiting for his body to jump then I knew that he was asleep and I could leave.  Well, he reached his hand to my chest under his shirt and I Froze. I tried to make it make sense, I kept feeling the railing of the water bed trying to make sure this was real and happening wanting it to be a nightmare but it was happening. It was happening to me. I was only 5.   All I kept thinking was well its OK he just thinks that I am my mom.  Why was that even my first thought ? Why at 5 would I have any idea 

The night that I fell asleep in his bed.  Again I  waited for that jump and would ever so quietly go to my own bed.  This night for whatever reason, I fell asleep only to wake up to my own father straddling my neck. So many thoughts, floating away, the room going black I didn't want to be there. He was angry, I was crying, I couldn't breathe, his knees sinking in the waterbed.  I was so afraid and he pushed me out of bed.  I gathered myself and remember watching my mom from around the corner, wanting her to notice wanting her to ask, but he came up behind me spanked me and told me to get to bed.  I remember standing there wanting help, wanting a hug, wanting to be safe and knowing none of those things were meant for me.   

The moment I knew that I was on my own at 5. I could always stop crying, clean up the mess and keep myself together this night was different. He had come in my room hurt me and left. I couldn't stop crying and woke up the entire house.  My mom came in my room trying to console me, but my little body hurt to much I was too far gone.  I sobbed tearing my tissue into tinier and tinier pieces until there was almost nothing left and I ended up waking up my father.  I can see him coming in my room yelling at my mom, He wanted her to go back to bed with him. I was floating somewhere in the room watching it all, wanting to be anywhere but there.  He left my room storming to the living room, he was more than angry.  Soon she followed.  She was there but couldn't make me feel any better, She followed him to the living room.  I was worried about her and I don't know how long it was but I went to the living room to check  and his leg was over the side of that brown recliner, he had headphones on and she was kneeling in front of him.   I struggled to understand. Why he was hurting her too. I knew there was nothing that I could do and at that moment peering around that wall I knew that there was no one to save me,  I knew that I was on my own.

The moment I was told by one of the youth group leaders how different that things were going to be, and they didn't have a clue. Yea it was Tuesday night Youth group night and Calvin told me that I couldn't be hurt anymore and had to tell someone what had been happening to me.  I decided that I wanted to tell Joan the youth group leader first thinking maybe I would be supported, maybe she would make me feel safe.  So Calvin brought Joan in and told her I was raped.  She gave me this cold half hug and asked if we should get a pregnancy test.  I felt nothing, once again I wasn't even there. There was no what happened who were they are you OK ? Are you hurt ?  Joan left the room and Calvin came back in and I held on to him and cried I was worried about all their questions all the everything.  They took my father for a drive and told him, they said he was a mess and tried to get out of the car. I am sure he was afraid his secret was going to come out if he didn't set it all up to begin with, I will never know. They brought my mom in the room and told her.  I felt nothing. I was watching, not really there I remember the sweater that I was wearing white with tiny dots of all different colors I was so very cold.  I was more than alone. I wished that I never said a word to anyone.  Joan's husband took me home and sat me on the couch and told me how different that things were going to be. There as all this talking around me; about me but no one was asking about me.  I was more alone people knowing, than I was on my own before.  There as no support no care . Just accusations, and unkind words, who would want to do that to her she was the chubby unpopular kid .....It spread around the church  I was lying I just wanted attention.  Once again so on my own. I was only 13. Rape was my life.


The moment  that I really felt listened to. It was the first time in my life that I truly felt heard not the best moment and a time when as a doctor he should have done things different but as a person, he did the right thing. I felt heard and felt that someone cared enough to listen.  It was the day after my parents were told about the gang rape.  It was terrible awful and I wish they never knew . I was blamed treated terribly and not one person did anything that they were supposed to. No one asked about me and I was dying inside.  I woke up that next morning and both my parents were standing beside my bed.  I think I was a bit confused this was my life, this was just what happened to me.  I heard the phone calls asking for rape crisis centers and talking to the police.  I was numb in a body of black bruises. And the appointment with Dr.Culpepper was made.  I was more than terrified.  I sat silent in the car.  The world that was my normal, rape after rape had been turned upside down.  My mom went back and talked to him first. Then I was called back.  I always loved him he always took great care of me.  He was always kind always gentle. He came in and sat down.  He asked how I was, of coarse I was fine. He talked to me and not at me. He said what happened was terrible what happened wasn't OK and wasn't my fault.  He told me that I couldn't keep everything all bottled up.  I was in and out of floating, wanting to be somewhere else. He asked if he could do an exam.  I started crying and said no, I just can't have anyone else touch me. Every cell in my body still hurt it was only Wednesday and it had happened that Saturday.  I am not sure what I was expecting. He put his hand on me and told me that he understood.  He told me that it was OK, he understood and he didn't do an exam.  I was terrified, relived and at the same time it would have changed so many things for him to see what had been done. What I looked liked.  I was grateful.  He listened to me and heard me.   


The moment I couldn't save my tadpoles.  I think this is one that hurts the most, it always has.  The tears come harder and faster.  I couldn't save them. Albert had raped me in the back of the van.  He was done and walked away, My little wobbly legs were left to get dressed.  I was so hurt but I just wanted to get back to my bucket of little tadpoles. I was almost to the picnic table he knocked the bucket over and started stepping on them with his big black boots.  I tried so hard to pick them up but My little fingers couldn't pick them up fast enough. He leaned over as he stepped on them and told me that next time I wouldn't fight.  And all I could think was how sorry I was that I couldn't save those little tadpoles.

The moment I believed it was OK , he just thought it was my mom.  It was after I had pressed charges and Det. Plemmons had called me in to the station to speak with me and go over my statement. There were so many questions asked.  I was talking and talking and his words, don't you think he knew the difference between the body or a woman and the body of a five year old ?  I was in shock, no that thought had never crossed my mind. Somehow it was OK because he just thought that I was my mom. I was in my twenties and that is what I truly believed until he said that. 


The moment that I saw Ron walking by the window . I once again have no idea how or why I was there with Albert.  He was in his early 20's my mom used to watch his brothers.  The first time he ever did anything was at my own front door, I ran inside crying and there was not one reaction and things got worse from there. We were sitting on bean bags in the living room playing PAC man on the TV.  His mom walked in looking for something she said oh hi Sherri and left, like everything was so normal.  I had to have known what was going to happen, maybe I was already gone.  As usual he hurt me,  I shut off this is just what happens.  but my friend Ron lived next door and as I watched out the window I saw Ron walking by.  There were so many screams inside my head, and not one word came out of my mouth. I wanted him to see me  to make him stop to run and tell someone .  I do not know if he saw what was happening but I know that I saw him.  I wanted him to save me.  We were just kids maybe 6 or 7 what was he going to do .......



SAVE ME.........





So many moments, so much hurt and so much on my own. My heart literally is achy. I feel it in my bones. my body feels heavy and I want to curl in a ball. I want to float above it all pretend it never happened.  Pretend I was that carefree girl dancing being little with out a care in the world.  How do you survive this ?  Was it as bad as I remember ?  The things no one noticed. As I get older , I see things so clear. I don't know how I have gotten where I am. Mark said that there must have been a few significant people that I just can't see them yet. I liked that, it wasn't that there weren't any its just that I can't see them yet  That was more than a nice thought.  I look forward to the day when I can see them. I want to know who helped me get here after all this hell.  My heart is more than heavy and oh so tired.  I have other hearts to care for and my own weighs a ton.


I heart your heart.

Saturday, February 2, 2019

It's been a long time



I have always been told reach out for help you can not do things on your own.  And I think its kind of funny because when I have done that ask for what I have needed it has usually not gone very well.  I can think of so many times that I have reached out asked for help only to be hurt even more.  So for a long time I just stop asking.  I can make lists and lists of people I have asked to help and the reactions that I got and I always think oh my goodness what in the world is wrong with me.  You know the last time that I reached out to James and I get back about the amount of time that he has spent on me, he didn't hear my heart at all and that the last time that I sent him an email.  That is not ok when he knows how I worry about being a bother and a pest and that is exactly what is thrown in my face.   I was crushed, because he knows me so much better than that. I was being honest, I didn't want anything about church I wanted my heart heard.  That interaction changed things.  The last counselor that I saw that said to me well it sucks to be you ?  WHAT,  but I was asking for help not complaining , I never went back, I was crushed.  Through out my life it seems that I have asked for help and either I was told oh your so strong you are fine, or others have seen my asking for help as weakness or a burden or any number of other things and I am left to do things on my own.  This has been my entire life,  all the long 43 years years of my life.  So I do things mostly alone.  I do everything in my being not to need and not to ask because the let down the rejection the look of disgust hurts so very much.  And I shut down... fine.......I will just deal with things myself.........once again.

Then there are times when my heart gets a little heavier when the world feels like its gaining a ton a second and I worry that I won't be able to carry it all anymore. I want to ask for help I need to and then I think wait is it going to hurt again is it worth it, can my heart take it and I think I have to try again.  What can they tell me no and I once again reach out RISKING EVERYTHING... and sometimes sometimes your heart is caught and cared for.  Just like that just because. 

Last weekend I went to trade learning days at work.  I went to a class the Trauma Informed Teacher.  I seriously almost didn't go, I was worn down, I wanted to be non existent in my bed.  But I also know that it would be really good and that Stacey was going.  SO I got ready brushed my hair and made it there.  I saw a few coworkers in the lobby they were complaining and blah blag I said wel have fun I am going to find my class. 

And down that hall I found my class and walked in and was warmly greeted.  I was glad that I was there, there was a kindness, there was small conversation.  I was nervous, worried that I don't know enough that I am not smart enough.  He was open and warm he even sat down and ate breakfast at the next table as we talked what I did my job how I loved it. His job what he did ..it was nice he was listening and heard me. Others started to enter he greeted each one with a genuineness, he was glad we were there. There was a passion in what he was doing.  I was more than glad I pulled myself out of bed to be there.  I felt like I belonged there, and that is a great feeling. When he looked at you , he saw you.  I was impressed there were so many things that day that I was impressed with.  In the first few minutes it was like what happened mattered and was important and my heart was open and listening. HE said its less about why and more about "What happened to you" oh my goodness.  There were so many awesome things, a caring an understanding everyone mattered in that room we were acknowledged.  Oh its always the little things that mean the world.  I held my heart together then he started to share some quotes from little's that were seen and heard and there were a few that he felt with his whole heart and that is why those children were able to heal to be safe and sound.  And for me the tears started and I thought I wonder if he would see me ?!?!

I let the day sink in, my brain was a little overloaded, thinking about how I could help my friends how could I make things better for them.  And then Monday came and I sent him an email to school thinking him , sharing how impact-full that it was and how it made a difference and I without hesitation told him about my speak your silence grant and asked if that was something he would be willing to do.  And with out thinking I hit send.  What was the worst that could happen he could tell me no. My heart was beating so fast, and then the reply.


Sherri,

Thank you so much for your very kind words. I really enjoyed visiting with you and only wish there had been more time.

I am honored that you would think to ask about the possibility of using the grant you mentioned for further counseling. I would love to find out how to make this happen for you. Please feel free to share whatever information I need in order to set this up.

You story touches me. More than that, your story tells me of your personal resolve and resilience. You have accomplished much!

Thank you for taking the time to share a part of your story. Thank you for your courage.

Please let me know what we must do next and I will do my part.

You take care.

Respectfully,

Mark Hundley




Seriously, he was going to do his part and make it happen for me.  I open this email and cried.  I sent a few others and the tears kept coming. I called speak your silence to tel them and he had already called them.  Someone was going above and beyond for me, for no other reason than because I asked.  And 4 days later everything is all set up with speak your silence and I get to see him on Wednesday evening.  I am more than excited for this opportunity and hope to heal even more of this heart of mine.  His words he's love to find out how to make this happen for me.  My heart I am truly grateful and beyond words that this man who was so kind and saw people is wiling to go on this next part of the journey with me.  I asked and he reached out, what more could I ask for.    Once again I reached out only there was nothing but kindness there and my heart my heart is smiling.

I heart your heart.