Holy Cow! Writing a novel is hard work. My thumbs are so tired, I can barely get them to push the silly space bar at the right time. And though I am 500 words shy of my goal, I have typed over 6000 words this month on my novel. I have read chapters of the bible, not for inspiration, but for research. I have looked up dead bolt diagrams, and researched schizophrenia.
Writing is such a funny thing. I can only write for about an hour at a time, then I have to switch gears for a while before I can continue. I guess my max for writing in a day is about 4 hours. Maybe I'll get better. The story seems to be going pretty well. It's kind of fun weaving a tale, giving just enough to keep a reader reading, but not so much as to give away the whole thing. We'll see how I feel about the whole thing at Thanksgiving. I'm glad it's just a story. I would hate to be the heroin in this story, or her sister. This is freaky stuff, schizophrenia.
Zach tried to call last night, but didn't get through. I have been trying to call him, but I think his phone battery died. He should be coming home this weekend. They better let him call me from their phone soon, or heads are going to roll; oh yes, shit will hit that cosmic fan. And I will stand to one side.
Monday should be fun. The new girl starts. She doesn't know that she has to be me. She can't be, of course, but she'll want to give it her best shot. 48 days 'till quit day comes. Yes, I am counting them, no, it doesn't help, usually. But I do it anyway.
I am so tired right now. I am going to sign off. I just wanted to sign on for a minute and log in what has been up. Nanowrimo. That's whats up. clrcl is writing 10,000 words this month. The writing marathon. Surely I will be able to continue with training for the running marathon next year too. Then figure out some equivelent of a marathon for climbing. Oh, yeah, then there will be the finals marathon.
I didn't get to say that when I went to see the advisor at the college, she was impressed I guess. As I was leaving she was trying to get me all fired up for a women's prison study that will focus on sexual abuse. And I'm going to go for the BS (Bachelor of Science, and Bullshit!) :) and not the BA. She said there would be more research, which I really like the sound of. I love research. I'm wierd. and tired.
Goodnight.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Ripples
What do I miss most? Sleep! Real, deep, dead sleep. The kind where you go to bed at 9:30 pm and don’t wake up until 9:30 am. I used to be able to sleep like that. Now I feel blessed on a weekend when I might sleep 9 whole hours. This week I would be thrilled with just a few. This is how it usually begins, the depression. But this time I am really going to work on it.
I will only have school 3 days a week when I get there. So that leave 4 to sleep right? I intend to make good use of it. And who knows, maybe I can fit in a quaint little part-time job. Or not.
My ex is trying to mess with my little world. He thinks Zach aught to move to Boise and work with him. I don’t really know where Zach will end up on this, as I am not much of clairvoyant (darn it!). So I guess I will just flow with it for now and deal with it when/if the time comes. Exes suck. How dare he make waves in my little pond.
So I kinda like this writing thing. I wish I had more time for it. This one is a narrative. I suppose if I really wanted to, I could go back into the narrative and add dialog and more details. But, I think 746 words is enough for a blog entry. Besides, it was just for fun. I do need to work on dialog and descriptive writing, so I will definitely try to make that happen soon.
I will only have school 3 days a week when I get there. So that leave 4 to sleep right? I intend to make good use of it. And who knows, maybe I can fit in a quaint little part-time job. Or not.
My ex is trying to mess with my little world. He thinks Zach aught to move to Boise and work with him. I don’t really know where Zach will end up on this, as I am not much of clairvoyant (darn it!). So I guess I will just flow with it for now and deal with it when/if the time comes. Exes suck. How dare he make waves in my little pond.
So I kinda like this writing thing. I wish I had more time for it. This one is a narrative. I suppose if I really wanted to, I could go back into the narrative and add dialog and more details. But, I think 746 words is enough for a blog entry. Besides, it was just for fun. I do need to work on dialog and descriptive writing, so I will definitely try to make that happen soon.
It Goes That Way
It goes that way sometimes. Just when you think you’ve got the world by the tail and your last problem licked, life swoops in and kicks you right smack in the nose. You hold your face for those first several moments, trying to push back the pain, then you probe your nose for signs of blood and breakage. Once the worst of the throbbing subsides, you open your eyes and search for the source of the blow. If you’re very lucky, it was just a freak accident. But if you Susan, you’d better duck.
It started at lunch. It all seemed so innocent and harmless, and once she had cleaned her burrito topped with mounds of lettuce, tomatoes, sour cream, guacamole and salsa up off the floor, she optimistically moved on with her day. Her pants and shoes were delightfully spiced, but that would not dampen her mood.
She should have ducked.
She didn’t, though. She got into her car and began her drive back to work. She navigated through traffic with grace and poise, anticipating and adapting with ease. For two whole miles she negotiated lane changes and turns, never missing a beat. The guy in the truck behind her wasn’t blessed with her grace. He smashed into the rear of her cute little car, demolishing it in an instant.
She visited the nearest emergency room for a few tests and x-rays. They fitted her with the most obnoxious looking neck brace she had ever seen. She filled out forms, answered multitudes of tedious and redundant questions, and promised to hand over her first born child should the bill turn delinquent. They kept her there for two hours. She wasn’t about to let this get her down, however. She called a cab to take her to work.
She didn’t even flinch.
When she got there she was just 1 hour and 45 minutes late. Which apparently was more than enough time to fill her position with another person. She would have packed her stuff, but someone had already done it for her and placed it quite firmly in her bruised arms.
She was too shocked to even say anything. Instead, she decided to go home. She longed to be wrapped in he fiancé’s safe warm arms. She had spent her last dollar on the cab ride to work, but that didn‘t faze her. She didn’t mind riding the bus.
She didn’t even see it coming.
She crammed herself amongst the other riders, lugging her box with all her treasures. Most of the others didn’t even look at her, making her wonder if she were invisible. The guy with the mustache and fine perfume reassured her that she was most visible. He stared at her, but she refused to be intimidated. She stared back. The contest was on. Neither of them so much as blinked for what seemed an eternity. Her opponent cracked a smile, revealing grey shards of what once was surely a pleasant smile.
Finally, Susan looked away. Not because she was defeated by her challenger, but because someone behind her vomited over her shoulder, down her chest, and into her box of treasures. It didn’t resemble the vomit scene in the Exorcist at all. Oh, no, this made that scene look like a pleasant stroll through a rose garden. It was becoming quite difficult to keep up her spirits, but she was determined. She exited the bus at her stop.
She walked right into it.
Well, she was actually limping when she finally reached to door of her 12th floor apartment. She juggled the smelly soggy box and her purse, and finally got the key into the lock. She turned it, opened the door and nearly fell into the apartment. She set her box down and sat in her favorite chair. Of course, it collapsed.
She was about to give in and start crying when she heard her fiancé in the bedroom. She desperately needed nurturing from the most giving and caring man she had ever known. Not to mention handsome! Hair as black as coal, eyes as blue as the sky, a mouth that begged to be kissed, abs you could do laundry on, a butt so tight… yes, lets just say he was hot. So was the girl he was romping with in Susan’s bed!
She chased out the little floozy, and threw out the jack ass. She threw a vase at him as he went out the door.
He ducked.
It started at lunch. It all seemed so innocent and harmless, and once she had cleaned her burrito topped with mounds of lettuce, tomatoes, sour cream, guacamole and salsa up off the floor, she optimistically moved on with her day. Her pants and shoes were delightfully spiced, but that would not dampen her mood.
She should have ducked.
She didn’t, though. She got into her car and began her drive back to work. She navigated through traffic with grace and poise, anticipating and adapting with ease. For two whole miles she negotiated lane changes and turns, never missing a beat. The guy in the truck behind her wasn’t blessed with her grace. He smashed into the rear of her cute little car, demolishing it in an instant.
She visited the nearest emergency room for a few tests and x-rays. They fitted her with the most obnoxious looking neck brace she had ever seen. She filled out forms, answered multitudes of tedious and redundant questions, and promised to hand over her first born child should the bill turn delinquent. They kept her there for two hours. She wasn’t about to let this get her down, however. She called a cab to take her to work.
She didn’t even flinch.
When she got there she was just 1 hour and 45 minutes late. Which apparently was more than enough time to fill her position with another person. She would have packed her stuff, but someone had already done it for her and placed it quite firmly in her bruised arms.
She was too shocked to even say anything. Instead, she decided to go home. She longed to be wrapped in he fiancé’s safe warm arms. She had spent her last dollar on the cab ride to work, but that didn‘t faze her. She didn’t mind riding the bus.
She didn’t even see it coming.
She crammed herself amongst the other riders, lugging her box with all her treasures. Most of the others didn’t even look at her, making her wonder if she were invisible. The guy with the mustache and fine perfume reassured her that she was most visible. He stared at her, but she refused to be intimidated. She stared back. The contest was on. Neither of them so much as blinked for what seemed an eternity. Her opponent cracked a smile, revealing grey shards of what once was surely a pleasant smile.
Finally, Susan looked away. Not because she was defeated by her challenger, but because someone behind her vomited over her shoulder, down her chest, and into her box of treasures. It didn’t resemble the vomit scene in the Exorcist at all. Oh, no, this made that scene look like a pleasant stroll through a rose garden. It was becoming quite difficult to keep up her spirits, but she was determined. She exited the bus at her stop.
She walked right into it.
Well, she was actually limping when she finally reached to door of her 12th floor apartment. She juggled the smelly soggy box and her purse, and finally got the key into the lock. She turned it, opened the door and nearly fell into the apartment. She set her box down and sat in her favorite chair. Of course, it collapsed.
She was about to give in and start crying when she heard her fiancé in the bedroom. She desperately needed nurturing from the most giving and caring man she had ever known. Not to mention handsome! Hair as black as coal, eyes as blue as the sky, a mouth that begged to be kissed, abs you could do laundry on, a butt so tight… yes, lets just say he was hot. So was the girl he was romping with in Susan’s bed!
She chased out the little floozy, and threw out the jack ass. She threw a vase at him as he went out the door.
He ducked.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Here we go!
Mr. V. came to our classroom and oogled over the Twisted Bear logo I created. He looked at me - I guess to put an exclamation on that point. He looked at Mrs. W. and asked her "she is going back to school isn't she?" My heart skipped a beat. I told him I hadn't said anything to her about it yet! I looked at him to plead his silence.
The she said "She needs to!" She continued the conversation with him as though she really felt I was wasting my life where I was. So, once he left, and she and I were alone, I told her. That means I can write it here now.
I am going back to school. I have applied and have been accepted, will receive enough financial assistance, and will begin classes in January. So, that's it. I am quitting my job of 13 years on December 20 to embark on this journey. I am so excited!
Mostly. Sometimes I get a huge attack of anxiety when I think of the gravity of what I am about to do. There are no guarantees that I will achieve the desired outcome, even if I get my BS (which I will!). That anxiety always turns and runs when I remind it that the only guarantee I have right now is that I will never fully be me if I don't at least try.
Now, I must successfully navigate through these next several weeks. I'm not good and biding my time when I finally see the course of action. Even if it means NOT getting to go on a cruise around Hawaii. But this is no cruise, and I must stay this course in order to get to where I need to be. God give me strength!
I realized something else today. I can't fix my washing machine. CRAP!
Another thing I learned today is that I can make brownies from scratch better, in not much more time, and without dirtying any more dishes, than if I had made them from a box. Now, that can be a good thing, unless you know me. If you knew me, you would say "what about that 'after' picture?"
Something I learned in October that I wish I hadn't, is that you can't really trust anyone. A co-worker of mine cheered me on while I was making this decision to move on. She kept telling me that if I left, she would quit too. I never thought she needed to quit, but it was the whole I've really got your back thing. Now it appears that she may have had something else in mind. I work an 8 hour day, she works a 7 hour day. If I quit, she will get the 8 hours, so that would mean more money. If it is true that she was thinking that, the joke will be on her. There is no more money for working the 8 hours because uncle sam gets it all. Oh, well.
I've decided that if I'm ever going to write a novel, I need to practice. So today I will post one of those practices. I wonder about copyrights. If I put these here am I saying, "go ahead! It's yours for the taking!"? Wow, do I really think I might actually write something someone would want to steal? Well, I guess I'm hoping I will.
The she said "She needs to!" She continued the conversation with him as though she really felt I was wasting my life where I was. So, once he left, and she and I were alone, I told her. That means I can write it here now.
I am going back to school. I have applied and have been accepted, will receive enough financial assistance, and will begin classes in January. So, that's it. I am quitting my job of 13 years on December 20 to embark on this journey. I am so excited!
Mostly. Sometimes I get a huge attack of anxiety when I think of the gravity of what I am about to do. There are no guarantees that I will achieve the desired outcome, even if I get my BS (which I will!). That anxiety always turns and runs when I remind it that the only guarantee I have right now is that I will never fully be me if I don't at least try.
Now, I must successfully navigate through these next several weeks. I'm not good and biding my time when I finally see the course of action. Even if it means NOT getting to go on a cruise around Hawaii. But this is no cruise, and I must stay this course in order to get to where I need to be. God give me strength!
I realized something else today. I can't fix my washing machine. CRAP!
Another thing I learned today is that I can make brownies from scratch better, in not much more time, and without dirtying any more dishes, than if I had made them from a box. Now, that can be a good thing, unless you know me. If you knew me, you would say "what about that 'after' picture?"
Something I learned in October that I wish I hadn't, is that you can't really trust anyone. A co-worker of mine cheered me on while I was making this decision to move on. She kept telling me that if I left, she would quit too. I never thought she needed to quit, but it was the whole I've really got your back thing. Now it appears that she may have had something else in mind. I work an 8 hour day, she works a 7 hour day. If I quit, she will get the 8 hours, so that would mean more money. If it is true that she was thinking that, the joke will be on her. There is no more money for working the 8 hours because uncle sam gets it all. Oh, well.
I've decided that if I'm ever going to write a novel, I need to practice. So today I will post one of those practices. I wonder about copyrights. If I put these here am I saying, "go ahead! It's yours for the taking!"? Wow, do I really think I might actually write something someone would want to steal? Well, I guess I'm hoping I will.
Saying Goodbye
The golden rays of morning rushed through the bedroom curtains illuminating the room and kissing her cheek. The warmth of that kiss sent waves of gratitude to her heart. Slowly stirring, she in drew a deep breath of the sweet springtime air, and a smile crept across her face. Her eyes opened to greet such a wonderful day. She rolled onto her back and looked toward the door, still hazy from sleep, and listened for the sounds of breakfast.
Suddenly the warmth of life left her body as though she’d been caught in the great cold vacuum of space. A heavy frozen emptiness occupied her chest. She gasped for air and tears exploded from her eyes. No breakfast would come today.
She pulled her legs up to her chest and grabbed her toes, squeezing them and twisting them in anguish. Today she would say goodbye. She would say goodbye to laughter, she would say goodbye to hope. Never again would she feel joy or love. Never again would the sounds of breakfast wake her from her sleep.
The thought of having to face all of those people today began to creep into her consciousness. How could she bear to look at any of them, let alone speak to them and accept their condolences? A vision of that perfect angelic face, forever asleep inside that cold shiny box flooded her vision. “Wake up!“ she had pleaded. “Please don’t leave me. Don’t you know my life means nothing without you?“
She had prayed that this was just a wicked nightmare that she would wake from. But, in her heart, she knew she would have to accept this truth. Yes, today she would say goodbye. Oh, why did this dreadful day have to begin?
Suddenly the warmth of life left her body as though she’d been caught in the great cold vacuum of space. A heavy frozen emptiness occupied her chest. She gasped for air and tears exploded from her eyes. No breakfast would come today.
She pulled her legs up to her chest and grabbed her toes, squeezing them and twisting them in anguish. Today she would say goodbye. She would say goodbye to laughter, she would say goodbye to hope. Never again would she feel joy or love. Never again would the sounds of breakfast wake her from her sleep.
The thought of having to face all of those people today began to creep into her consciousness. How could she bear to look at any of them, let alone speak to them and accept their condolences? A vision of that perfect angelic face, forever asleep inside that cold shiny box flooded her vision. “Wake up!“ she had pleaded. “Please don’t leave me. Don’t you know my life means nothing without you?“
She had prayed that this was just a wicked nightmare that she would wake from. But, in her heart, she knew she would have to accept this truth. Yes, today she would say goodbye. Oh, why did this dreadful day have to begin?
Monday, October 16, 2006
Mediocrity
What is one of the things about your job that frustrates you the most? That is a question an interviewer might ask when you are going after that better job. The thing that frustrates me the most in my job is mediocrity. Working for that paycheck, or that pension, or those hours, or the power, and never for what’s right.
Every day I go to work in an environment that is riddled with mediocrity. Teachers who are there because they love the hours, summers off, and tenure. The coworkers I fear most are the ones who love the power their position gives them. Very few are there to teach the next generation what they need to know to succeed in life. Our children are graduating from high school knowing how to pass tests and little else.
Teachers in Special Ed. are no better than the rest. I would argue that some may even be worse. It is much too easy to abuse a child with profound mental disabilities because they CAN’T tell. It is so easy to write meaningless contracts that do nothing more than serve the interest of the school that is supposed to serve. Parents are easily badgered into compliance with the will of the school. The students never reach their full potential. How can they when classrooms are inflated by returning seniors just for the sake of numbers, forsaking a quality education?
I see the same complacency when I look to the community for services. A psych-social rehabilitation specialist needs only have a bachelors degree in a human services field. Here, people are encouraged to complete the Human Resource Training and Development program so that they can get 32 credits for 5 years work experience in order to become PSRs. What does corporate training have to do with helping a person control their behavior in order to fit into society? By the looks of the people who have done it, not much. It is the blind leading the blind.
We live in a society that is so driven by money that we have lost our ability to see what really matters in life. People go to work and go through the motions day in and day out. They go just to pick up a paycheck. How sad they are, the ones who cannot see their own hearts, the ones who do not know their own authenticity. They are so lost, and in being lost, they cannot do more than mediocre work in their lives.
Am I being too harsh? Ask someone with autism who has come up against people who get paid to help them, but fall horribly short. Ask the college student who is drowning because he doesn’t have the skills necessary to think through a problem. Ask the professionals who actually are doing the job for intrinsic motivators. Any one who has gone the extra mile to do a great job knows how frustrating it is to have to fight against the mediocracy of the people they have had to work against.
I stand high above the croud on my giant soap box and shout out to the world "I hate your mediocrity!"
Every day I go to work in an environment that is riddled with mediocrity. Teachers who are there because they love the hours, summers off, and tenure. The coworkers I fear most are the ones who love the power their position gives them. Very few are there to teach the next generation what they need to know to succeed in life. Our children are graduating from high school knowing how to pass tests and little else.
Teachers in Special Ed. are no better than the rest. I would argue that some may even be worse. It is much too easy to abuse a child with profound mental disabilities because they CAN’T tell. It is so easy to write meaningless contracts that do nothing more than serve the interest of the school that is supposed to serve. Parents are easily badgered into compliance with the will of the school. The students never reach their full potential. How can they when classrooms are inflated by returning seniors just for the sake of numbers, forsaking a quality education?
I see the same complacency when I look to the community for services. A psych-social rehabilitation specialist needs only have a bachelors degree in a human services field. Here, people are encouraged to complete the Human Resource Training and Development program so that they can get 32 credits for 5 years work experience in order to become PSRs. What does corporate training have to do with helping a person control their behavior in order to fit into society? By the looks of the people who have done it, not much. It is the blind leading the blind.
We live in a society that is so driven by money that we have lost our ability to see what really matters in life. People go to work and go through the motions day in and day out. They go just to pick up a paycheck. How sad they are, the ones who cannot see their own hearts, the ones who do not know their own authenticity. They are so lost, and in being lost, they cannot do more than mediocre work in their lives.
Am I being too harsh? Ask someone with autism who has come up against people who get paid to help them, but fall horribly short. Ask the college student who is drowning because he doesn’t have the skills necessary to think through a problem. Ask the professionals who actually are doing the job for intrinsic motivators. Any one who has gone the extra mile to do a great job knows how frustrating it is to have to fight against the mediocracy of the people they have had to work against.
I stand high above the croud on my giant soap box and shout out to the world "I hate your mediocrity!"
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Uncle Hank
What I remember most is his love for Halloween. I was actually a little afraid of him when he came to the door. He didn’t dress up, but he was the crankiest old man on the block. “Why are you knocking on my door?” he would scream. Aunt Lois was always on his heals to invite us in and offer us enough treats to fill our bags. They gave us popcorn balls, candy corn, chocolate assortments that far exceeded our hopes and a welcome so warm we always knew we were loved.
When I grew up and had kids of my own, Uncle Hank and Aunt Lois were always our favorite place to stop. He still demanded to know what we wanted, knocking at his door at such a late hour, but as an adult, I was able to understand that he was having more fun than anyone else. Even as an adult, I had a hard time not feeling as though all of their efforts were just for me, to make me feel wanted. I wonder how many people out there felt the same way?
Halloween will never be the same again. Uncle Hank died Tuesday, and was laid to rest Friday. He received a 21 gun solute from the Veterans Association. He had joined the navy when he was 16 (he got some woman to falsify his paperwork) and because of something he experienced serving the navy, he spent the last 34 years of his life disabled with brain tumors and such. Aunt Lois was by his side, taking care of him the entire time.
No one really knows how the death of her husband will effect her. At his funeral, she actually looked relieved and strong. I hope that’s how she carries on. I hope she has some idea as to how she will fill the time now.
She looked at me and asked in amazement “isn’t it wonderful that we have so many friends?” Of course there were a lot of people there who loved her. Aunt Lois didn’t have a nasty bone in her body. Everyone who knew her loved her. Of course she has a lot of friends. She would have a lot of friends. She will not find herself alone now.
Uncle Hank and Aunt Lois were two of the people that helped me survive my childhood. I never felt judged, just loved. I think Aunt Lois is the embodiment of unconditional love and acceptance. They also had a major impact on my autistic son. He always had a place to go to feel ok. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t feel genuinely welcomed.
Uncle Hank is gone now, and I think the best way to honor him, is to find a way to pay forward all of the love I got each and every time I visited. And to take care of Aunt Lois and make sure she has anything she needs to be happy, anything I can do will be done.
When I grew up and had kids of my own, Uncle Hank and Aunt Lois were always our favorite place to stop. He still demanded to know what we wanted, knocking at his door at such a late hour, but as an adult, I was able to understand that he was having more fun than anyone else. Even as an adult, I had a hard time not feeling as though all of their efforts were just for me, to make me feel wanted. I wonder how many people out there felt the same way?
Halloween will never be the same again. Uncle Hank died Tuesday, and was laid to rest Friday. He received a 21 gun solute from the Veterans Association. He had joined the navy when he was 16 (he got some woman to falsify his paperwork) and because of something he experienced serving the navy, he spent the last 34 years of his life disabled with brain tumors and such. Aunt Lois was by his side, taking care of him the entire time.
No one really knows how the death of her husband will effect her. At his funeral, she actually looked relieved and strong. I hope that’s how she carries on. I hope she has some idea as to how she will fill the time now.
She looked at me and asked in amazement “isn’t it wonderful that we have so many friends?” Of course there were a lot of people there who loved her. Aunt Lois didn’t have a nasty bone in her body. Everyone who knew her loved her. Of course she has a lot of friends. She would have a lot of friends. She will not find herself alone now.
Uncle Hank and Aunt Lois were two of the people that helped me survive my childhood. I never felt judged, just loved. I think Aunt Lois is the embodiment of unconditional love and acceptance. They also had a major impact on my autistic son. He always had a place to go to feel ok. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t feel genuinely welcomed.
Uncle Hank is gone now, and I think the best way to honor him, is to find a way to pay forward all of the love I got each and every time I visited. And to take care of Aunt Lois and make sure she has anything she needs to be happy, anything I can do will be done.
Monday, October 09, 2006
Happy 1st Birthday Dear Universe!
Has it really been a whole year? Has it only been one year? It’s true, my blog is one year old today. It has seen me through some hard spiritual growth, and has charted the paths I have taken. I’m glad I chose to chart this past year, and I plan to write even more of the next year.
My goal for last year was to explore my spirituality. I was exploring some of the new age spiritual ideals in an effort to feel less alone. I still feel alone, but I guess everyone does to some extent. I didn’t find any answers in that particular exploration, and I am glad I stepped off that path.
I don’t know how I know it, but I do know I have purpose and that truth surrounds us. I know that I am being guided in the directions I need to travel. I may step off the main path from time to time, but I always learn a little more about myself when I do. Nothing has been wasted, nothing is an accident. I will never stop exploring my spirituality, I just don’t think I need to question it the way I did last summer.
This next year will find me living my own life for the first time. I had started this journey 15 years ago, and stopped 12 years ago to take care of my children. They no longer depend on me the way they once did, so now I will continue with my education.
Oh how sweet the thought of completing my education! I have an AA in psychology, and, at one time, had considered the possibility of becoming a special education teacher, but have recently decided against it. Instead, I will continue with the psychology. My first goal is to get my bachelors and do some psycho-social rehab work. In just two years, I will double my hourly wage, and will still have the option to work toward my masters, then doctorate in psychology.
There are so many different options to choose from with this degree. I can continue to work with the profoundly disable people I currently work with, I can work with autistic children, I can work with mildly disabled people and people who have personality disorders. But something has been kicking around in my head for a while. I think it would be so much fun and so fulfilling to work with troubled teens. I love the outdoors, and adventure sports. I have an extensive knowledge about what it is like to be a troubled teen. I know what child abuse feels like and how it manifests itself into maladaptive behaviors. I have some experience with alcohol and drug addiction. I would love to find a place where I could put all together to help kids find their own worth.
Well, of course that won’t happen in this next year, but I will be taking classes that will help me toward that end. I plan to attend ISU, and have done enough research to know that they have an awesome outdoor program. Couple that with the psychology classes (how do I choose which ones I won’t take?) and the option of getting IBI certified and I’ll have it made. So many doors will open up for me.
Going back to school is going to be an absolute blast! I am so excited about this. Do you know how slowly the seconds tick by when you finally decide what you want to do, but did it a few months too late, or too early? If I had made this decision during the summer, I would already be doing this exciting learning! Now I must wait for the right time. I’m not much into waiting, but I can do this time. It’s kind of like being in prison, waiting out the last few months of your sentence. At least it’s not a life sentence!
Ok, what else for this year. Yes, I will train for the City of Trees marathon. I can’t actually compete in it by the second birthday of my blog, because it takes place in November. But I will train for it with the intent to compete, and compete well. That’s right, my goal is 3½ hours.
Oh, and since I will be taking rock climbing classes, I am setting a goal to be able to at least top rope 5.12s consistently. With really cool moves. Which means I will have to have an awesome strength to weight ratio. But I’ll be running, and biking, and climbing. So of course, I’ll be awesome.
I’ll have to do before and after pictures. Wouldn’t that be cool? So I guess another goal I have for this year is to lose some fat and gain some muscle, arms, legs, abs, butt and brain muscles.
Sounds like a good year already.
Another goal is to write twice as much in this blog it’s second year as I wrote in it’s first year. Which would be 200 posts. Not a real hard goal to meet.
I also plan to do more with my art. Of course, that just means I will do something at all with my art. I will finish the four paintings I have already started. I will start and finish three more paintings that I have promised to do for other people. I guess I better take some art classes at ISU while I’m at it. Did I just hear another door open?
I absolutely REFUSE to make housekeeping a goal. I fully expect that my house will be at least as dirty a year from now (if not more so) than it is right now. (you don’t really want to know, so there will be no before and after pictures of that.)
I absolutely REFUSE to find a significant other. I will not even try until my new wings are fitted and tested. Once I am the person I know I can be, I will then have the ability to attract the right guy for me. I’ll be just fine until then.
In the spring I will get my novel off the ground. I’ll get a laptop for school, then I will have no excuses. It should be fun. It will be enlightening. It will be toll free. (hey that’s what the caller ID says right now, ok?)
Oh, and I will get over this over-achieving cold in record time, because I am actually going to use a few days of my 2 months of sick leave! I haven’t actually done that in the 12+ years at the school district. It’s taken a while, but I do learn eventually. Sick leave is there to use when you are sick. No, you don’t have to be in the hospital to be considered sick.
So, I’m off to take my nite-time cold and flue medicine, and I will pass out for 12 straight hours and wake up well. Hopefully feeling well.
Isn’t life great?
My goal for last year was to explore my spirituality. I was exploring some of the new age spiritual ideals in an effort to feel less alone. I still feel alone, but I guess everyone does to some extent. I didn’t find any answers in that particular exploration, and I am glad I stepped off that path.
I don’t know how I know it, but I do know I have purpose and that truth surrounds us. I know that I am being guided in the directions I need to travel. I may step off the main path from time to time, but I always learn a little more about myself when I do. Nothing has been wasted, nothing is an accident. I will never stop exploring my spirituality, I just don’t think I need to question it the way I did last summer.
This next year will find me living my own life for the first time. I had started this journey 15 years ago, and stopped 12 years ago to take care of my children. They no longer depend on me the way they once did, so now I will continue with my education.
Oh how sweet the thought of completing my education! I have an AA in psychology, and, at one time, had considered the possibility of becoming a special education teacher, but have recently decided against it. Instead, I will continue with the psychology. My first goal is to get my bachelors and do some psycho-social rehab work. In just two years, I will double my hourly wage, and will still have the option to work toward my masters, then doctorate in psychology.
There are so many different options to choose from with this degree. I can continue to work with the profoundly disable people I currently work with, I can work with autistic children, I can work with mildly disabled people and people who have personality disorders. But something has been kicking around in my head for a while. I think it would be so much fun and so fulfilling to work with troubled teens. I love the outdoors, and adventure sports. I have an extensive knowledge about what it is like to be a troubled teen. I know what child abuse feels like and how it manifests itself into maladaptive behaviors. I have some experience with alcohol and drug addiction. I would love to find a place where I could put all together to help kids find their own worth.
Well, of course that won’t happen in this next year, but I will be taking classes that will help me toward that end. I plan to attend ISU, and have done enough research to know that they have an awesome outdoor program. Couple that with the psychology classes (how do I choose which ones I won’t take?) and the option of getting IBI certified and I’ll have it made. So many doors will open up for me.
Going back to school is going to be an absolute blast! I am so excited about this. Do you know how slowly the seconds tick by when you finally decide what you want to do, but did it a few months too late, or too early? If I had made this decision during the summer, I would already be doing this exciting learning! Now I must wait for the right time. I’m not much into waiting, but I can do this time. It’s kind of like being in prison, waiting out the last few months of your sentence. At least it’s not a life sentence!
Ok, what else for this year. Yes, I will train for the City of Trees marathon. I can’t actually compete in it by the second birthday of my blog, because it takes place in November. But I will train for it with the intent to compete, and compete well. That’s right, my goal is 3½ hours.
Oh, and since I will be taking rock climbing classes, I am setting a goal to be able to at least top rope 5.12s consistently. With really cool moves. Which means I will have to have an awesome strength to weight ratio. But I’ll be running, and biking, and climbing. So of course, I’ll be awesome.
I’ll have to do before and after pictures. Wouldn’t that be cool? So I guess another goal I have for this year is to lose some fat and gain some muscle, arms, legs, abs, butt and brain muscles.
Sounds like a good year already.
Another goal is to write twice as much in this blog it’s second year as I wrote in it’s first year. Which would be 200 posts. Not a real hard goal to meet.
I also plan to do more with my art. Of course, that just means I will do something at all with my art. I will finish the four paintings I have already started. I will start and finish three more paintings that I have promised to do for other people. I guess I better take some art classes at ISU while I’m at it. Did I just hear another door open?
I absolutely REFUSE to make housekeeping a goal. I fully expect that my house will be at least as dirty a year from now (if not more so) than it is right now. (you don’t really want to know, so there will be no before and after pictures of that.)
I absolutely REFUSE to find a significant other. I will not even try until my new wings are fitted and tested. Once I am the person I know I can be, I will then have the ability to attract the right guy for me. I’ll be just fine until then.
In the spring I will get my novel off the ground. I’ll get a laptop for school, then I will have no excuses. It should be fun. It will be enlightening. It will be toll free. (hey that’s what the caller ID says right now, ok?)
Oh, and I will get over this over-achieving cold in record time, because I am actually going to use a few days of my 2 months of sick leave! I haven’t actually done that in the 12+ years at the school district. It’s taken a while, but I do learn eventually. Sick leave is there to use when you are sick. No, you don’t have to be in the hospital to be considered sick.
So, I’m off to take my nite-time cold and flue medicine, and I will pass out for 12 straight hours and wake up well. Hopefully feeling well.
Isn’t life great?
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Update
So I've been putting off the self matters critical choices work because I'm in the middle of making a critical choice! That's right, and it's a biggie! And when it finally came to me, I knew it was right! I have felt so good since I realized where my path is to head, I haven't felt this good in such a long time! I don't know who actually reads this blog, so I am going to wait for the next three months to pass before publishing my decision. I will explain why then too.
Some of my choices I can talk about. I've decided to get back into my great running shape again! It's been a little painful at times, but it will definitely be worth it! I am starting to remember what it felt like to be strong and unstoppable.
And the good news doesn't stop there! I might actually have some new climbing partners! That's right! I actually got to go climbing this weekend, and I had so much fun! I really did miss climbing, and the people I climbed with were actually kind and courteous. Well, for now anyway - Dale was nice in the beginning too.
So my arms are sore, and my ankles are angry, but my heart is joyful. The emptiness has been filled and hope has found me again. Finding my purpose, what could be better?
Some of my choices I can talk about. I've decided to get back into my great running shape again! It's been a little painful at times, but it will definitely be worth it! I am starting to remember what it felt like to be strong and unstoppable.
And the good news doesn't stop there! I might actually have some new climbing partners! That's right! I actually got to go climbing this weekend, and I had so much fun! I really did miss climbing, and the people I climbed with were actually kind and courteous. Well, for now anyway - Dale was nice in the beginning too.
So my arms are sore, and my ankles are angry, but my heart is joyful. The emptiness has been filled and hope has found me again. Finding my purpose, what could be better?
Sunday, September 03, 2006
100th Post!
Wow! I can't believe I have actually made 100 posts already. It has almost been a year, and I have spent the day reading my 100 posts and changing the look of my blog. A bit of a theme emerged in my reading. There must be 5-6 posts where I give a great deal of lip service to actually getting out there and living my life! I still haven't got to that place yet.
I posted a blog where I complained my job was no longer fulfilling me and that I was cruely pushing this anger onto and innocent. It turns out, she is not the innocent. In fact, not only is she not an innocent, she is actually quite abusive, not just to me but to many. Just another insight I gained from my break-up with Dale.
I have managed to cast off minutia this year, and while that has left more time to live, I have yet to decide how that should be done. I wrote about what not to do during this time, yet I almost got myself stuck in a relationship that would have imprisoned me anyway. So I started the work in the Self Matters book that has been laying around for a while. I hope to have the courage soon to get out there and live my life.
I have posted my art, an addition I am really excited about. It's all starting to get archived now, though, so I am posting it here so It wont get lost. My Eye is one that shows up on my profile, but I dedided to include it here anyway. It is one of my most favorite of my drawings. I posted my two oil paintings; Summer Eagles, and Oil Grapes. I have several charcoals I liked; My Alien?, Bouquet, The Wolf, Charcoal Shells, My Hand, and Pumpkin. I even have some pastels to share; Fallen Vessel, and Pastel Shells. Then I took some pictures this summer that I am fond of; Sunrise at Castle Rock, Pine Buds, Pretty Evergreen, The Ent, Pretty Flowers, Pretty Purple Pine Buds on Cache Peak, and Cache Peak.
I usually think that a lot of my journaling posts are generally dull, but there are some posts that are more prose. My favorites are: Hide-and-Seek, a composition about finding meaning in myself; January, the coldest and most difficult month of the year for me; Depression, a familiar place for me; and, Grief, the ache of breaking up with "the one".
Not everything in my blog is that depressing. I do have some fun! Cosmic Fan was a post I wrote when I was very happy. I had so much fun writing it, and I think that comes through to the reader. I was suprised to see I only had five soap box pieces Autism: Does treatment change the individual? Knotts Berry Funk Politically Correct Synchronicity The Bachelor. Usually I am more opinionated than that, at least that's what I'm told! My history is out there for everyone to see now. Self matters writing exposes me nearly completely! And there's more to come with that too! Oh yipee, I can hardly wait!
It has been a bit of a roller coaster ride for me. This blog's one year anniversary is comming up, so I will be writing a list of goals and guidelines that I do intend to heed during the next year. I suppose in the end, it's all good.
I posted a blog where I complained my job was no longer fulfilling me and that I was cruely pushing this anger onto and innocent. It turns out, she is not the innocent. In fact, not only is she not an innocent, she is actually quite abusive, not just to me but to many. Just another insight I gained from my break-up with Dale.
I have managed to cast off minutia this year, and while that has left more time to live, I have yet to decide how that should be done. I wrote about what not to do during this time, yet I almost got myself stuck in a relationship that would have imprisoned me anyway. So I started the work in the Self Matters book that has been laying around for a while. I hope to have the courage soon to get out there and live my life.
I have posted my art, an addition I am really excited about. It's all starting to get archived now, though, so I am posting it here so It wont get lost. My Eye is one that shows up on my profile, but I dedided to include it here anyway. It is one of my most favorite of my drawings. I posted my two oil paintings; Summer Eagles, and Oil Grapes. I have several charcoals I liked; My Alien?, Bouquet, The Wolf, Charcoal Shells, My Hand, and Pumpkin. I even have some pastels to share; Fallen Vessel, and Pastel Shells. Then I took some pictures this summer that I am fond of; Sunrise at Castle Rock, Pine Buds, Pretty Evergreen, The Ent, Pretty Flowers, Pretty Purple Pine Buds on Cache Peak, and Cache Peak.
I usually think that a lot of my journaling posts are generally dull, but there are some posts that are more prose. My favorites are: Hide-and-Seek, a composition about finding meaning in myself; January, the coldest and most difficult month of the year for me; Depression, a familiar place for me; and, Grief, the ache of breaking up with "the one".
Not everything in my blog is that depressing. I do have some fun! Cosmic Fan was a post I wrote when I was very happy. I had so much fun writing it, and I think that comes through to the reader. I was suprised to see I only had five soap box pieces Autism: Does treatment change the individual? Knotts Berry Funk Politically Correct Synchronicity The Bachelor. Usually I am more opinionated than that, at least that's what I'm told! My history is out there for everyone to see now. Self matters writing exposes me nearly completely! And there's more to come with that too! Oh yipee, I can hardly wait!
It has been a bit of a roller coaster ride for me. This blog's one year anniversary is comming up, so I will be writing a list of goals and guidelines that I do intend to heed during the next year. I suppose in the end, it's all good.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
All Dried Up
So, this is all that's left in the fall. Upstream, the irrigators have taken "their" share of the water. While it's true that the Magic Valley wouldn't be what it is today without the canal system, it sure puts a sad face on one of the most beautiful places in the world. It looks a lot like I feel.
The water that flows is but a reminder of what was.
The water that falls is a hope of what might come.
The water no longer wets and softens what is hard.
It is hot and dry now. The sun's visits get shorter each day, and each day the sun travels farther south.
Soon, the snows will fall and freeze the water to the rock. But while there is yet enough sun to move, the water, what there is left, will flow freely. The water that was stolen has nourished yet another year's worth of crops, and soon the dirt that supported them will rest.
These waters have claimed three young lives this summer, leaving so many to mourn. Yet, many more were thrilled by their immense power. Some day I will leave this place, and I will miss these waters. Will they miss me?
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Defining Moments, The Final Cut
So, here they are. The moments that have defined who I am are:
Oh, Is that why you….?
I will count two traumatic events as one, as I never think of one without the other. Being forced to eat out of the garbage, and having my nose rubbed in my urine both had the same meaning. In both cases I was reacting to physiological stimuli in what most people would consider a “normal” manner (throwing away food when full, saying ouch when hurt). In both instances my mother proved there was no action she would not take to control my every move. I was not to think or feel without consulting her first. I also learned that she only did these things because she loved me and just didn’t understand why I would do what I did - because she became so nice to me after I threw up/started bleeding.
2. Before and after: It is impossible to know exactly what I was before these moments. I knew I was powerless against my mother, and I was afraid of her. I suppose after that powerlessness was intensified by the knowledge that she would do anything to make sure I never had any power. I learned that I was too stupid to make my own decisions. I learned fighting her in any way was futile and wrong. My job was to comply with her every demand, and if I didn‘t, I deserved to be punished in any way she saw fit.
3. As a result of this moment I stopped making decisions for myself, I stopped thinking for myself, and I stopped feeling for myself. I was too afraid to move without someone telling me how. Fear still grips my life and effects too many of my decisions.
4. This defining moment distorted my authentic self. Being so paralyzed by fear to even think for myself goes completely against any authenticity a person has a right to. So much of my life has been wasted by this fear. This fear has been so great that I really never knew I even had an authentic self until I was well into my 30s.
5. I do believe my interpretation of this event is accurate. There is no way I deserved to be treated the way she treated me. It wasn’t the first or last time she took control away from me. I don’t know when it started, and she would like for it to never end.
6. As far as keeping or rejecting this in regard to my concept of self, nothing would make me happier than to reject it. I would give almost anything to lose this fear. Obviously, I want to uncover the authentic self that this incident along with others, have hidden.
“Kiss her!”
Being accosted on the playground by older boys, along with being molested by my grandfather, led to my believing my female body gave me worth. It definitely had a huge effect on how I would perceive myself in relation to the opposite sex. It effected how I saw my own sexuality and what purpose it was meant to serve. I still have confused feelings about my sexuality.
2. Before and after: I was just a little girl with no real value. I hated being held down so that a disgusting boy could kiss me. But because of this incident, along with being molested by my grandfather, I learned that my body had value. My sexuality was important to other people.
3. As a result of this moment I have had a very confused idea about what sexuality is for. It is almost impossible for me to guess when a guy likes me or my sexuality. And I definitely see me and my sexuality as separate entities, sex being the more powerful.
4. This defining moment distorted my authentic self. I think if I were authentic, I would know how to integrate my sexuality into the rest of me. I would not use it to try to feel valid.
6. As far as keeping or rejecting this in regard to my concept of self, obviously, I need to reject it. I think until I do I will never feel like I am truly connected to any other person. I know I have value outside of my sexuality, in my head I know that. In my heart I doubt it.
Ruthanne
Ruthanne will always deserve a special place in my heart. I didn’t know why she hated me, or why Shari liked me. I really do think now that this is where I learned that I had no control over who liked me, or hated me. I was at the mercy of everyone in my life. I had absolutely no power, what so ever. And there is very little mercy in this life for me.
2. Before and after: Before Ruthanne came into my life, I knew I was not liked, but I felt there was some history to it, like at least they had a reason. But once Ruthanne blew through I never knew why I was disliked. I felt like a walking target for anyone wanted to bash me.
3. The long term residual effects of that defining moment are feelings of insecurity, powerlessness and complete valueless-ness. Ruthanne became the voice for all of the people who picked on me, and the people I didn’t know could easily be another Ruthanne. So I was afraid that I would never be liked, or valued.
4. This defining moment distorted my authentic self because I internalized it and let it be about my worth and not Ruthanne’s attitude. She was being a big bully that year. She didn’t even know me, how could she like or not like me? And her opinion of me should never have been my opinion of me. I decided I had no value and was not likeable. Not everyone is Ruthanne, some people do like me, and they think I have value.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? At the time I thought it was about me. As an adult I can look at the situation and know that Ruthanne was having a really bad year and saw me as the most convenient person to take it out on. Her hatred toward me was not about me. She had no reason to hate me, and I shouldn’t have taken it so personally.
6. I should definitely reject this with regard to my self concept because it is not an accurate statement of who I am. I should not base my self worth on what anyone else thinks of me. I should live the best life I can, be who I really am, and be proud of all that I have accomplished. Ruthannes will always be there, but I have to stop letting them affect what I think of myself.
Kidnapped
Lyle finally made his move. In a desperate attempt to protect Kim, he kidnapped us to Arco. I was starting to feel safe, then all of a sudden they pull the rug out from under me. Even though he professed to trying to make me safe, he was hurting me deeply, and making me feel, once again, powerless to have any control over my life.
2. Before and after: Before this happened there was just a handful of people I believed would never do anything to hurt me. After, he had hurt me, just as badly as my mother had. It was like getting the rug pulled out from under me.
3. The long term residual effects included the inability to really trust anyone anymore. It is very hard for me to have any trust in anyone now. I don’t believe anyone ever sees my interests first for any reason.
4. This defining moment distorted and clarified my authentic self. It is quite true that there are very few people out there who are genuinely more concerned with my interests than their own. As a matter of fact, I can only think of a couple of people who did. I don’t think anyone can really be completely counted on, but I may take it too far at times.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? I do know that Lyle really did have our best interest at heart, but he chose to do the one thing that would hurt the most. Instead of teaching us to have that personal power so that we would have better tools to live by, he took that power away from us, and I only came away from it more hurt.
6. I should accept/reject this with regard to my self concept because; This one is hard because I don’t really know. I think it helps to keep me safe to not trust people, but it also keeps me isolated. I would like to trust unconditionally, but even I continue to let me down time and again.
Being invisible was safe.
Jr. High school was a totally new experience. I had spent so many years being ostracized and tormented by my peers that I had come to know it as an integral part of my life. As I walked through the halls of that jr. high school, however, I found a solace - a welcomed reprieve. I was no longer the most despised among the mass. I was completely invisible. I walked through the halls, unnoticed, untouched, unseen. It was a wonderful experience. I was at peace. I was happy. I even made a couple of friends.
2. Before and after: Before I was always afraid that I would be accosted either verbally or physically by my peers. After, I felt safe from them. When they didn’t see me, they didn’t hurt me.
3. The long term residual effects include packing on weight, losing it and become scared of other people's reactions to me, then putting it back on. I tend not to take the lead unless I am certain I am safe from ridicule. I am scared so much of the time of being disliked, that I seriously lack the courage to be me.
4. This defining moment distorted my authentic self because it reinforced the notion that I had no value. I wasn’t even valued enough to be picked on anymore. I learned it was easier to hide than to face the world. Even now I tend to hide when I feel I have less than an acceptable foot to put forward.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? Sure, I was safe, but I wasn’t alive, and I wasn’t me. I was going along to get along, which is how the authentic self is slowly destroyed.
6. I should reject this with regard to my self concept because I not only have a right to my authentic self, I have an obligation to be my authentic self. We are all here for our own very special reasons. I am denying the universe the pleasure of me when I hide me in fear.
How does 15 year old jailbait compete with a 32 year old easy lay?
Damian was my first serious crush, but she just had to have him. To get me out of the way she threatened to legally take care of any relationship I might have with him. It would have been a completely valid argument if she meant to protect me, but she didn’t. Damian was the first, but not the last guy she felt compelled to compete with me for. The world is full of guys who are looking to have sex with young girls who are willing. Usually, those same guys love the idea of the mother/daughter conquest. And I was ripe for spinning out of control.
2. Before and after: Before I knew that my sex had power over men. After, I learned that I could use my sex to hurt women too. And I did use it to hurt other women, not just, but especially my mother.
3. The long term residual effects are my warped sense of how sex makes a relationship work. It is especially common for me to assume that I am simply being used just for sex by men, and equally common for me to compete for the sexual attraction of men who are liked by women I feel de-value me.
4. This defining moment distorted my authentic self - God I hope it’s distorted. People say that sex is a tool that brings intimacy to a relationship. I realize that to some extent that is true. But I still can’t help but see it as a very sharp sword.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? That’s a hard one. My mother was very sick, and competing with your daughter for the boys she wants is sick. I don’t think the lesson was valid because even though she hurt me, two wrongs don’t make a right. She wronged me, but so did I.
6. I should reject this with regard to my self concept because I know in my head that using sex for anything but bringing intimacy to a relationship is self destructive. I’m tired of destroying myself over and over.
Suicidal thoughts.
After being beaten with a broom by my mother, and seeing the shocked look of the people I worked for, I considered suicide. I chose to survive, however, and promised myself not to let anyone hit me again. It was the first time I ever really saw any end to the abuse. It was the first time the concept of having any control over my own life entered my mind.
2. Before and after: Before I really felt there was no hope, that I was stuck in that situation forever. After, I had hope. I think that may have been the first time I saw something in me that was really me; my hope.
3. The long term residual effects: I have thought of suicide often, but I know that I won’t do it as long as I can feel even the most trivial amount of hope. I gave myself purpose then, and I know I can do it again.
4. This defining moment clarified my authentic self. Once I could see myself as being separate from what my mother told me to be, I knew I could maybe have a self. I don’t know if I have seen all of that authentic self, but I am looking, I know it is there somewhere.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? My interpretation of that moment and the events that preceded and followed it are accurate. Well, I did interpret the looks on the faces of the people at work incorrectly. They didn’t think I deserved it, quite the opposite. They just didn’t know what to do or say. But I did know for sure no one had the right to hurt me, that I didn’t deserve to be hit, and that mother would not have my blessing if she did it again.
6. I should accept this with regard to my self concept because it was the first time I actually felt like I could stand up for myself. It was the first time I knew I should count on myself. It was the first time I knew there was a self. In almost every way, it was the most profound moment of my life. My life.
Tappy: sent to make me see my mother in me.
One day I was moving from the couch to the bed. When I got there, I found that my 6 month old Doberman puppy had pooped on my bed. I lost it. I grabbed her and started to beat her while she lay on the floor beneath me. I had a sort of out of body experience at that moment. I was looking down on me beating that poor puppy, and I saw my mother. I was about to have a baby, and I was my mother. I stopped and got up off the dog who ran to another room. I felt sick to my stomach. I knew right then that I had to change. I couldn’t be my mother. I wouldn’t be my mother. I wouldn’t.
2. Before and after: Before I thought it would be easy not to treat my children the way my mother did, that it wouldn't be a problem at all. After, I saw my mother in my rage and knew I was wrong. I knew I would have to work hard at not being angry enough to be her.
3. The long term residual effects I have spent hours reading and borrowing strength from people I didn’t even know, but it was worth it, because I never have hurt another being they she hurt me.
4. This defining moment clarified my authentic self by showing me that I had an awful rage inside me, and that I needed to control it.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? It was so accurate. Seeing myself like that was a huge eye opener. I was the abuser, but I knew deep inside I would learn to beat it.
6. I should accept this with regard to my self concept because it brought me to a place where I could get angry without losing control. Now instead of hitting, I cry. Which is better.
Flashbacks
Megan was four, just about the same age I was when my mother did those horrible things to me. I was living in my childhood home, and would walk around a corner and have flashbacks, full pain, smell, everything flashbacks. The scene would play out completely leaving me feeling as worthless and powerless as I felt then. But this time I had Megan, and I would sit and rock her until the little girl in me felt better. I kept telling her (the little girl in me) over and over that she didn’t do anything to deserve that, she was totally innocent and sweet, and only a monster would treat a beautiful child like her that way. And I would cry for hours.
2. Before and after: before having the flashbacks, I did feel guilt, like I had done something to deserve the abuse. After, I knew better. I was an innocent little girl who was being tortured by a psychotic mother.
3. The long term residual effects have been to put the blame where it belongs. It might take a little while, but I always hold accountable the persons who are mean to me. It’s hard to do, but I do know I am not to blame for other’s rages.
4. This defining moment clarified my authentic self by taking the guilt of the innocent child inside me and giving it to the woman who hurt me. I learned that I wasn’t has horrible as I thought.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? My interpretation was accurate. It was a very healing thing to see a childhood abuser with the privilege of having adult eyes. As an adult it was so easy to see that I was without guilt.
6. I should accept this with regard to my self concept because it makes me stronger. I know when I am wrong and I am not afraid to apologize profusely for those wrongs. But this event shows me that I am not always the one who is wrong. Sometimes, someone else deserves to take accountability, and in order to find my authentic self, I need to remember that deep down I am always trying to do what is right.
Protecting my children from my mother, and My Life for a house - a great trade
My mother lied to me about how she disciplined Megan. When I found out about the lie at a family function, I was furious. Something was starting to happen inside me at that moment. Maybe I couldn’t protect myself from that monster, but I would protect my kids from her.
We went to see her at the ranch. I told her I couldn’t take anymore of her abuse, and that I certainly wasn‘t ok with her spanking Megan for any reason. I told her she could have her house back, but in return I wanted my life back - without her in it. As we drove home, I felt the most intense feeling of relief and freedom. I have never regretted making that decision, not even for a moment.
2. Before and after: Before I took my life back I was basically unable to stand up to my mother. I was still afraid of her and let her do most of my thinking. After, I did stand up to her. I still feel fear towards her, but now that she is not allowed to be in my life to continue the emotional and mental abuse. I stood up for my kids, now I know I have the tools to stand up for myself.
3. The long term residual effects: I am stronger. I still have a long way to go, but I know that I can advocate for myself and others when push comes to shove. I just need to feel the push before it becomes the shove!
4. This defining moment clarified my authentic self. I actually came a step closer! Now that she isn’t around to beat me down, I can see the better parts of me.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? My interpretation was accurate. I need to take control for my kids and I did. Now I need to make that happen for me.
6. I should accept this with regard to my self concept because it is a step closer. My authentic self was dying day by day. Now I am getting stronger day by day. It doesn’t always feel that way, but I know it is true.
“A” student
I signed up for classes at the local college, and declared psychology as my major. A couple of weeks into classes, my psychology teacher asked us how many of us were there for intrinsic reasons. I raised my hand. He looked around the class and said, “only two of my A students?” I was shocked. No one had ever accused me of being an A student before. I really liked that label. I liked it so much that I vowed to make it true. And I did. It’s strange how one comment made for an entirely different reason can make such a huge difference in a persons self concept!
2. Before and after: Before I believed I was stupid, after all, everyone said so! After, I believed I was just as smart as most people, because I said so.
3. The long term residual effects: I have come to love learning, and I can objectively listen to what someone is saying and decide for myself if it makes sense or not. Unless they are telling me that something about me is inadequate, then I believe blindly!
4. This defining moment clarified my authentic self by showing me that I am capable of having good rational thoughts.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? Absolutely! I was a straight A student for 2 semesters, and remained on the Deans list up till now. My college gpa is 3.87! Obviously, I have what it takes to be smart enough to think for myself.
6. I should accept this with regard to my self concept because it gives me the power and freedom to think for myself, which has to happen if I ever want to find my authentic self. It is very reassuring to know that I have as much intelligence and sometimes more, than the people who would like to make my life choices for me. This takes the power out of the hands of the people who want me to behave the way that makes their lives easier, whether it is in my best interest or not.
My first purpose outside my kids
Most of the students in the class seemed fun to me, but there was a boy there who was blind, didn’t talk, sat in his wheelchair all day and had seizures often. I was terrified of him. On day I stood in the classroom looking at this little boy, yes he was tiny, when I thought, "why are you scared of him?" So, I asked the aid who worked with him if I could take over. She was more than happy to let me. During the next nine months, this boy would teach me the real meaning of unconditional love and acceptance. It was then that I really started to see God for what He is, and not for what everyone said he was. It was magical, and every time I sit down with a person who is profoundly disabled, I feel that kind of unconditional love. For the first time I actually had hope that I would be ok.
2. Before and after: Before this job, I was lost spiritually. I firmly believed that God had to be as described in the bible, which was a little too much like my mother. After, I came to understand unconditional love and acceptance. There is not feeling in the world like knowing I have as much value and validity as anyone else here in existence. I know how to give that kind of unconditional love and acceptance, just not necessarily how to get it.
3. The long term residual effects: I have spent countless hours working on my own ability to accept and love other people. I can honestly say that I unconditionally love my mother, and that I accept her unconditionally. Understanding how it works makes any guilt others try to pile on me for not allowing her in the lives of my children or myself completely dissipate. Loving and accepting unconditionally means not needing to control, heal, or save anyone else. Nor does it mean letting everyone in to abuse me, as that would not be unconditionally accepting.
4. This defining moment clarified my authentic self because I finally realized that I might really have an important authentic self. It was a part of me worth trying to discover. I am still trying to develop and solidify that concept towards myself. That is the way to being able to have the courage to be me.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? My interpretation is accurate. Everyday I am with such wonderful and unconditional beings it is reinforced. They are happy, they are trusting and they are content.
6. I should accept this with regard to my self concept because it gives me a reason to keep living, no matter how bad things might get, I still feel I owe it to God and to me to give this life a real chance.
And here we are today
I met Dale. As I wrote in my blog, I wanted to believe this was “it”. I wanted to be in this relationship forever. I systematically pushed myself to the back and ignored that voice inside until I nearly exploded. He is an alcoholic and was completely unaccepting of me. He thought there were plenty of things wrong with me and apparently I didn‘t disagree with him. I wasn’t fast enough, I wasn’t thin enough, I was too emotional, and not nearly enough like Kendra. When he couldn’t accept my kids, I figured it was more him than me, maybe that’s why it didn’t kill me.
He’s an alcoholic. Just like so many other people in my life have been. I don’t really know how much of that to take personally. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m making the decision to take this book and actually do the work to find and fix what’s wrong.
2. Before and after: Before I thought I was just about there, I thought I was strong enough to be me no matter what. After, I realized that I still have a lot of work to do. Actually reading and doing the work in this book is just the beginning to doing this hard work. Before I can fix what’s wrong, I have to identify it. Before I can heal it, I have to own it.
3. The long term residual effects are yet to be seen.
4. This defining moment clarified my authentic self because I was able to see that I was still not completely healed or authentic.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? It likely is. I do believe I was loved, but only as well as an addict can love. I do believe I was loved, but only as much as a person can be loved who is afraid to be herself.
6. I should accept this with regard to my self concept because I want to heal. I want to know why I keep putting myself in situations where I completely abandon my authentic self. Even though I know no one else will ever be able to love and accept me if I don’t, I still refuse to stand strong for who I am. Maybe this is a catalyst for finding out who I am, once and for all.
7. Reviewing these defining moments as a whole, the bottom-line effect on my concept of self, having live through them is: I don’t have faith in myself or others. I believe people when they tell me I am stupid, fat, ugly, not valid and not valued. I even tell myself these things every time I fail to achieve even the most inconsequential of goals. I believe people when they don’t like me, I have internalized their remarks as truths about me. I have been too afraid to make the really hard decisions in life that would bring me to my authentic self. I have vowed not to let anyone hit me and get away with it, yet I have been hit since, and did nothing about it. I have vowed to never make decisions based on fear, yet I remain so paralyzed with fear that I have not been able to find my own purpose in life. I am too afraid to find myself, for fear I really won’t like me either. I lack the courage to claim power over my own life.
I have made gains, which is very good. It shows me I can go forward. It shows me I can improve and grow. It even offers encouragement that I should improve and grow. It tells me I am obliged to try.
And so life was full of pain and abuse. But that is over now. I lived through it then, and it cannot kill me now. And so life is what I choose to make it. I can make choices that will lead me to my authentic self. No, I can’t control the future, no one can. But I can definitely choose what the rest of my history will be.
Oh, Is that why you….?
I will count two traumatic events as one, as I never think of one without the other. Being forced to eat out of the garbage, and having my nose rubbed in my urine both had the same meaning. In both cases I was reacting to physiological stimuli in what most people would consider a “normal” manner (throwing away food when full, saying ouch when hurt). In both instances my mother proved there was no action she would not take to control my every move. I was not to think or feel without consulting her first. I also learned that she only did these things because she loved me and just didn’t understand why I would do what I did - because she became so nice to me after I threw up/started bleeding.
2. Before and after: It is impossible to know exactly what I was before these moments. I knew I was powerless against my mother, and I was afraid of her. I suppose after that powerlessness was intensified by the knowledge that she would do anything to make sure I never had any power. I learned that I was too stupid to make my own decisions. I learned fighting her in any way was futile and wrong. My job was to comply with her every demand, and if I didn‘t, I deserved to be punished in any way she saw fit.
3. As a result of this moment I stopped making decisions for myself, I stopped thinking for myself, and I stopped feeling for myself. I was too afraid to move without someone telling me how. Fear still grips my life and effects too many of my decisions.
4. This defining moment distorted my authentic self. Being so paralyzed by fear to even think for myself goes completely against any authenticity a person has a right to. So much of my life has been wasted by this fear. This fear has been so great that I really never knew I even had an authentic self until I was well into my 30s.
5. I do believe my interpretation of this event is accurate. There is no way I deserved to be treated the way she treated me. It wasn’t the first or last time she took control away from me. I don’t know when it started, and she would like for it to never end.
6. As far as keeping or rejecting this in regard to my concept of self, nothing would make me happier than to reject it. I would give almost anything to lose this fear. Obviously, I want to uncover the authentic self that this incident along with others, have hidden.
“Kiss her!”
Being accosted on the playground by older boys, along with being molested by my grandfather, led to my believing my female body gave me worth. It definitely had a huge effect on how I would perceive myself in relation to the opposite sex. It effected how I saw my own sexuality and what purpose it was meant to serve. I still have confused feelings about my sexuality.
2. Before and after: I was just a little girl with no real value. I hated being held down so that a disgusting boy could kiss me. But because of this incident, along with being molested by my grandfather, I learned that my body had value. My sexuality was important to other people.
3. As a result of this moment I have had a very confused idea about what sexuality is for. It is almost impossible for me to guess when a guy likes me or my sexuality. And I definitely see me and my sexuality as separate entities, sex being the more powerful.
4. This defining moment distorted my authentic self. I think if I were authentic, I would know how to integrate my sexuality into the rest of me. I would not use it to try to feel valid.
6. As far as keeping or rejecting this in regard to my concept of self, obviously, I need to reject it. I think until I do I will never feel like I am truly connected to any other person. I know I have value outside of my sexuality, in my head I know that. In my heart I doubt it.
Ruthanne
Ruthanne will always deserve a special place in my heart. I didn’t know why she hated me, or why Shari liked me. I really do think now that this is where I learned that I had no control over who liked me, or hated me. I was at the mercy of everyone in my life. I had absolutely no power, what so ever. And there is very little mercy in this life for me.
2. Before and after: Before Ruthanne came into my life, I knew I was not liked, but I felt there was some history to it, like at least they had a reason. But once Ruthanne blew through I never knew why I was disliked. I felt like a walking target for anyone wanted to bash me.
3. The long term residual effects of that defining moment are feelings of insecurity, powerlessness and complete valueless-ness. Ruthanne became the voice for all of the people who picked on me, and the people I didn’t know could easily be another Ruthanne. So I was afraid that I would never be liked, or valued.
4. This defining moment distorted my authentic self because I internalized it and let it be about my worth and not Ruthanne’s attitude. She was being a big bully that year. She didn’t even know me, how could she like or not like me? And her opinion of me should never have been my opinion of me. I decided I had no value and was not likeable. Not everyone is Ruthanne, some people do like me, and they think I have value.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? At the time I thought it was about me. As an adult I can look at the situation and know that Ruthanne was having a really bad year and saw me as the most convenient person to take it out on. Her hatred toward me was not about me. She had no reason to hate me, and I shouldn’t have taken it so personally.
6. I should definitely reject this with regard to my self concept because it is not an accurate statement of who I am. I should not base my self worth on what anyone else thinks of me. I should live the best life I can, be who I really am, and be proud of all that I have accomplished. Ruthannes will always be there, but I have to stop letting them affect what I think of myself.
Kidnapped
Lyle finally made his move. In a desperate attempt to protect Kim, he kidnapped us to Arco. I was starting to feel safe, then all of a sudden they pull the rug out from under me. Even though he professed to trying to make me safe, he was hurting me deeply, and making me feel, once again, powerless to have any control over my life.
2. Before and after: Before this happened there was just a handful of people I believed would never do anything to hurt me. After, he had hurt me, just as badly as my mother had. It was like getting the rug pulled out from under me.
3. The long term residual effects included the inability to really trust anyone anymore. It is very hard for me to have any trust in anyone now. I don’t believe anyone ever sees my interests first for any reason.
4. This defining moment distorted and clarified my authentic self. It is quite true that there are very few people out there who are genuinely more concerned with my interests than their own. As a matter of fact, I can only think of a couple of people who did. I don’t think anyone can really be completely counted on, but I may take it too far at times.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? I do know that Lyle really did have our best interest at heart, but he chose to do the one thing that would hurt the most. Instead of teaching us to have that personal power so that we would have better tools to live by, he took that power away from us, and I only came away from it more hurt.
6. I should accept/reject this with regard to my self concept because; This one is hard because I don’t really know. I think it helps to keep me safe to not trust people, but it also keeps me isolated. I would like to trust unconditionally, but even I continue to let me down time and again.
Being invisible was safe.
Jr. High school was a totally new experience. I had spent so many years being ostracized and tormented by my peers that I had come to know it as an integral part of my life. As I walked through the halls of that jr. high school, however, I found a solace - a welcomed reprieve. I was no longer the most despised among the mass. I was completely invisible. I walked through the halls, unnoticed, untouched, unseen. It was a wonderful experience. I was at peace. I was happy. I even made a couple of friends.
2. Before and after: Before I was always afraid that I would be accosted either verbally or physically by my peers. After, I felt safe from them. When they didn’t see me, they didn’t hurt me.
3. The long term residual effects include packing on weight, losing it and become scared of other people's reactions to me, then putting it back on. I tend not to take the lead unless I am certain I am safe from ridicule. I am scared so much of the time of being disliked, that I seriously lack the courage to be me.
4. This defining moment distorted my authentic self because it reinforced the notion that I had no value. I wasn’t even valued enough to be picked on anymore. I learned it was easier to hide than to face the world. Even now I tend to hide when I feel I have less than an acceptable foot to put forward.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? Sure, I was safe, but I wasn’t alive, and I wasn’t me. I was going along to get along, which is how the authentic self is slowly destroyed.
6. I should reject this with regard to my self concept because I not only have a right to my authentic self, I have an obligation to be my authentic self. We are all here for our own very special reasons. I am denying the universe the pleasure of me when I hide me in fear.
How does 15 year old jailbait compete with a 32 year old easy lay?
Damian was my first serious crush, but she just had to have him. To get me out of the way she threatened to legally take care of any relationship I might have with him. It would have been a completely valid argument if she meant to protect me, but she didn’t. Damian was the first, but not the last guy she felt compelled to compete with me for. The world is full of guys who are looking to have sex with young girls who are willing. Usually, those same guys love the idea of the mother/daughter conquest. And I was ripe for spinning out of control.
2. Before and after: Before I knew that my sex had power over men. After, I learned that I could use my sex to hurt women too. And I did use it to hurt other women, not just, but especially my mother.
3. The long term residual effects are my warped sense of how sex makes a relationship work. It is especially common for me to assume that I am simply being used just for sex by men, and equally common for me to compete for the sexual attraction of men who are liked by women I feel de-value me.
4. This defining moment distorted my authentic self - God I hope it’s distorted. People say that sex is a tool that brings intimacy to a relationship. I realize that to some extent that is true. But I still can’t help but see it as a very sharp sword.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? That’s a hard one. My mother was very sick, and competing with your daughter for the boys she wants is sick. I don’t think the lesson was valid because even though she hurt me, two wrongs don’t make a right. She wronged me, but so did I.
6. I should reject this with regard to my self concept because I know in my head that using sex for anything but bringing intimacy to a relationship is self destructive. I’m tired of destroying myself over and over.
Suicidal thoughts.
After being beaten with a broom by my mother, and seeing the shocked look of the people I worked for, I considered suicide. I chose to survive, however, and promised myself not to let anyone hit me again. It was the first time I ever really saw any end to the abuse. It was the first time the concept of having any control over my own life entered my mind.
2. Before and after: Before I really felt there was no hope, that I was stuck in that situation forever. After, I had hope. I think that may have been the first time I saw something in me that was really me; my hope.
3. The long term residual effects: I have thought of suicide often, but I know that I won’t do it as long as I can feel even the most trivial amount of hope. I gave myself purpose then, and I know I can do it again.
4. This defining moment clarified my authentic self. Once I could see myself as being separate from what my mother told me to be, I knew I could maybe have a self. I don’t know if I have seen all of that authentic self, but I am looking, I know it is there somewhere.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? My interpretation of that moment and the events that preceded and followed it are accurate. Well, I did interpret the looks on the faces of the people at work incorrectly. They didn’t think I deserved it, quite the opposite. They just didn’t know what to do or say. But I did know for sure no one had the right to hurt me, that I didn’t deserve to be hit, and that mother would not have my blessing if she did it again.
6. I should accept this with regard to my self concept because it was the first time I actually felt like I could stand up for myself. It was the first time I knew I should count on myself. It was the first time I knew there was a self. In almost every way, it was the most profound moment of my life. My life.
Tappy: sent to make me see my mother in me.
One day I was moving from the couch to the bed. When I got there, I found that my 6 month old Doberman puppy had pooped on my bed. I lost it. I grabbed her and started to beat her while she lay on the floor beneath me. I had a sort of out of body experience at that moment. I was looking down on me beating that poor puppy, and I saw my mother. I was about to have a baby, and I was my mother. I stopped and got up off the dog who ran to another room. I felt sick to my stomach. I knew right then that I had to change. I couldn’t be my mother. I wouldn’t be my mother. I wouldn’t.
2. Before and after: Before I thought it would be easy not to treat my children the way my mother did, that it wouldn't be a problem at all. After, I saw my mother in my rage and knew I was wrong. I knew I would have to work hard at not being angry enough to be her.
3. The long term residual effects I have spent hours reading and borrowing strength from people I didn’t even know, but it was worth it, because I never have hurt another being they she hurt me.
4. This defining moment clarified my authentic self by showing me that I had an awful rage inside me, and that I needed to control it.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? It was so accurate. Seeing myself like that was a huge eye opener. I was the abuser, but I knew deep inside I would learn to beat it.
6. I should accept this with regard to my self concept because it brought me to a place where I could get angry without losing control. Now instead of hitting, I cry. Which is better.
Flashbacks
Megan was four, just about the same age I was when my mother did those horrible things to me. I was living in my childhood home, and would walk around a corner and have flashbacks, full pain, smell, everything flashbacks. The scene would play out completely leaving me feeling as worthless and powerless as I felt then. But this time I had Megan, and I would sit and rock her until the little girl in me felt better. I kept telling her (the little girl in me) over and over that she didn’t do anything to deserve that, she was totally innocent and sweet, and only a monster would treat a beautiful child like her that way. And I would cry for hours.
2. Before and after: before having the flashbacks, I did feel guilt, like I had done something to deserve the abuse. After, I knew better. I was an innocent little girl who was being tortured by a psychotic mother.
3. The long term residual effects have been to put the blame where it belongs. It might take a little while, but I always hold accountable the persons who are mean to me. It’s hard to do, but I do know I am not to blame for other’s rages.
4. This defining moment clarified my authentic self by taking the guilt of the innocent child inside me and giving it to the woman who hurt me. I learned that I wasn’t has horrible as I thought.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? My interpretation was accurate. It was a very healing thing to see a childhood abuser with the privilege of having adult eyes. As an adult it was so easy to see that I was without guilt.
6. I should accept this with regard to my self concept because it makes me stronger. I know when I am wrong and I am not afraid to apologize profusely for those wrongs. But this event shows me that I am not always the one who is wrong. Sometimes, someone else deserves to take accountability, and in order to find my authentic self, I need to remember that deep down I am always trying to do what is right.
Protecting my children from my mother, and My Life for a house - a great trade
My mother lied to me about how she disciplined Megan. When I found out about the lie at a family function, I was furious. Something was starting to happen inside me at that moment. Maybe I couldn’t protect myself from that monster, but I would protect my kids from her.
We went to see her at the ranch. I told her I couldn’t take anymore of her abuse, and that I certainly wasn‘t ok with her spanking Megan for any reason. I told her she could have her house back, but in return I wanted my life back - without her in it. As we drove home, I felt the most intense feeling of relief and freedom. I have never regretted making that decision, not even for a moment.
2. Before and after: Before I took my life back I was basically unable to stand up to my mother. I was still afraid of her and let her do most of my thinking. After, I did stand up to her. I still feel fear towards her, but now that she is not allowed to be in my life to continue the emotional and mental abuse. I stood up for my kids, now I know I have the tools to stand up for myself.
3. The long term residual effects: I am stronger. I still have a long way to go, but I know that I can advocate for myself and others when push comes to shove. I just need to feel the push before it becomes the shove!
4. This defining moment clarified my authentic self. I actually came a step closer! Now that she isn’t around to beat me down, I can see the better parts of me.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? My interpretation was accurate. I need to take control for my kids and I did. Now I need to make that happen for me.
6. I should accept this with regard to my self concept because it is a step closer. My authentic self was dying day by day. Now I am getting stronger day by day. It doesn’t always feel that way, but I know it is true.
“A” student
I signed up for classes at the local college, and declared psychology as my major. A couple of weeks into classes, my psychology teacher asked us how many of us were there for intrinsic reasons. I raised my hand. He looked around the class and said, “only two of my A students?” I was shocked. No one had ever accused me of being an A student before. I really liked that label. I liked it so much that I vowed to make it true. And I did. It’s strange how one comment made for an entirely different reason can make such a huge difference in a persons self concept!
2. Before and after: Before I believed I was stupid, after all, everyone said so! After, I believed I was just as smart as most people, because I said so.
3. The long term residual effects: I have come to love learning, and I can objectively listen to what someone is saying and decide for myself if it makes sense or not. Unless they are telling me that something about me is inadequate, then I believe blindly!
4. This defining moment clarified my authentic self by showing me that I am capable of having good rational thoughts.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? Absolutely! I was a straight A student for 2 semesters, and remained on the Deans list up till now. My college gpa is 3.87! Obviously, I have what it takes to be smart enough to think for myself.
6. I should accept this with regard to my self concept because it gives me the power and freedom to think for myself, which has to happen if I ever want to find my authentic self. It is very reassuring to know that I have as much intelligence and sometimes more, than the people who would like to make my life choices for me. This takes the power out of the hands of the people who want me to behave the way that makes their lives easier, whether it is in my best interest or not.
My first purpose outside my kids
Most of the students in the class seemed fun to me, but there was a boy there who was blind, didn’t talk, sat in his wheelchair all day and had seizures often. I was terrified of him. On day I stood in the classroom looking at this little boy, yes he was tiny, when I thought, "why are you scared of him?" So, I asked the aid who worked with him if I could take over. She was more than happy to let me. During the next nine months, this boy would teach me the real meaning of unconditional love and acceptance. It was then that I really started to see God for what He is, and not for what everyone said he was. It was magical, and every time I sit down with a person who is profoundly disabled, I feel that kind of unconditional love. For the first time I actually had hope that I would be ok.
2. Before and after: Before this job, I was lost spiritually. I firmly believed that God had to be as described in the bible, which was a little too much like my mother. After, I came to understand unconditional love and acceptance. There is not feeling in the world like knowing I have as much value and validity as anyone else here in existence. I know how to give that kind of unconditional love and acceptance, just not necessarily how to get it.
3. The long term residual effects: I have spent countless hours working on my own ability to accept and love other people. I can honestly say that I unconditionally love my mother, and that I accept her unconditionally. Understanding how it works makes any guilt others try to pile on me for not allowing her in the lives of my children or myself completely dissipate. Loving and accepting unconditionally means not needing to control, heal, or save anyone else. Nor does it mean letting everyone in to abuse me, as that would not be unconditionally accepting.
4. This defining moment clarified my authentic self because I finally realized that I might really have an important authentic self. It was a part of me worth trying to discover. I am still trying to develop and solidify that concept towards myself. That is the way to being able to have the courage to be me.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? My interpretation is accurate. Everyday I am with such wonderful and unconditional beings it is reinforced. They are happy, they are trusting and they are content.
6. I should accept this with regard to my self concept because it gives me a reason to keep living, no matter how bad things might get, I still feel I owe it to God and to me to give this life a real chance.
And here we are today
I met Dale. As I wrote in my blog, I wanted to believe this was “it”. I wanted to be in this relationship forever. I systematically pushed myself to the back and ignored that voice inside until I nearly exploded. He is an alcoholic and was completely unaccepting of me. He thought there were plenty of things wrong with me and apparently I didn‘t disagree with him. I wasn’t fast enough, I wasn’t thin enough, I was too emotional, and not nearly enough like Kendra. When he couldn’t accept my kids, I figured it was more him than me, maybe that’s why it didn’t kill me.
He’s an alcoholic. Just like so many other people in my life have been. I don’t really know how much of that to take personally. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m making the decision to take this book and actually do the work to find and fix what’s wrong.
2. Before and after: Before I thought I was just about there, I thought I was strong enough to be me no matter what. After, I realized that I still have a lot of work to do. Actually reading and doing the work in this book is just the beginning to doing this hard work. Before I can fix what’s wrong, I have to identify it. Before I can heal it, I have to own it.
3. The long term residual effects are yet to be seen.
4. This defining moment clarified my authentic self because I was able to see that I was still not completely healed or authentic.
5. Was my interpretation accurate? It likely is. I do believe I was loved, but only as well as an addict can love. I do believe I was loved, but only as much as a person can be loved who is afraid to be herself.
6. I should accept this with regard to my self concept because I want to heal. I want to know why I keep putting myself in situations where I completely abandon my authentic self. Even though I know no one else will ever be able to love and accept me if I don’t, I still refuse to stand strong for who I am. Maybe this is a catalyst for finding out who I am, once and for all.
7. Reviewing these defining moments as a whole, the bottom-line effect on my concept of self, having live through them is: I don’t have faith in myself or others. I believe people when they tell me I am stupid, fat, ugly, not valid and not valued. I even tell myself these things every time I fail to achieve even the most inconsequential of goals. I believe people when they don’t like me, I have internalized their remarks as truths about me. I have been too afraid to make the really hard decisions in life that would bring me to my authentic self. I have vowed not to let anyone hit me and get away with it, yet I have been hit since, and did nothing about it. I have vowed to never make decisions based on fear, yet I remain so paralyzed with fear that I have not been able to find my own purpose in life. I am too afraid to find myself, for fear I really won’t like me either. I lack the courage to claim power over my own life.
I have made gains, which is very good. It shows me I can go forward. It shows me I can improve and grow. It even offers encouragement that I should improve and grow. It tells me I am obliged to try.
And so life was full of pain and abuse. But that is over now. I lived through it then, and it cannot kill me now. And so life is what I choose to make it. I can make choices that will lead me to my authentic self. No, I can’t control the future, no one can. But I can definitely choose what the rest of my history will be.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Defining Moments 39-42
I managed to gain all that weight back during those years. I really didn’t know where I stood from one minute to the next. I was single again, and terrified of trying to find someone new. It was so much easier to eat myself happy. I reached a whopping 230 pounds before I realized what I was doing. I was used to going into public and not being noticed. But one day I walked into a busy store and was completely invisible. I honestly believe that no one could see me. No one looked at me, no one heard me, no one tried to help me. I was completely unnoticeable.
So, I watch Oprah a lot and realized (after watching a Dr. Phil episode) that I was fat not because I loved food, but because I felt so safe being invisible. I bought the book and read it to the point where I am right now. I managed to understand where the safety came from. Of course, when I went to junior high I was invisible. No one saw me and no one picked on me. I was safe and happy for the first time I could remember.
I started hiking that summer (2002) and by the end of the year I had lost 95 pounds. I looked great. But my friends at work, though they said they were happy and proud of me, turned on me. It was so heartbreaking.
I even signed up on match.com and started doing a lot of dating. But nothing lasted, and the guys were certainly not willing to tell me why. What was so wrong with me that they didn’t want to keep me?
I stuck with the running for few years and kept all the weight off. I even trained for and competed in a marathon. The marathon killed my sciatic nerve bundles and I wasn’t able to run so much. And for some reason that I have not figured out yet, I have gained back 30 pounds. Not enough to be considered fat, but certainly not enough to be noticed.
For the past couple of years I hadn’t dated. I held a torch for my son’s counselor for a while, but I finally came to the conclusion that either he wasn’t interested, or he didn’t have what I would need to be happy with him.
Because of a fellow blogger, I signed up on match.com. I immediately started getting responses, and within a couple of weeks, I met Dale. As I wrote in this blog, I wanted to believe this was “it”. I wanted to be in this relationship forever. I systematically pushed myself to the back and ignored that voice inside until I nearly exploded. He is an alcoholic and was completely unaccepting of me. He thought there were plenty of things wrong with me and apparently I didn‘t disagree with him. I wasn’t fast enough, I wasn’t thin enough, I was too emotional, and not nearly enough like Kendra. When he couldn’t accept my kids, I figured it was more him than me, maybe that’s why it didn’t kill me.
He’s an alcoholic. Just like so many other people in my life have been. I don’t really know how much of that to take personally. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m making the decision to take this book and actually do the work to find and fix what’s wrong.
There it is. Obviously, this isn’t everything about me, just the things that I really feel impacted the person I am today. I’m going to have to choose 10 moments out of 42 years as my defining moments. The moments that skewed my perception of who and what I am, what my value is to me and others. This was so hard for me to do. I hope it wasn’t as hard to read.
Please, God, let me find my purpose through this process. I need to find me so that I can be me, and fulfill my spiritual contract. I want to know what love is.
So, I watch Oprah a lot and realized (after watching a Dr. Phil episode) that I was fat not because I loved food, but because I felt so safe being invisible. I bought the book and read it to the point where I am right now. I managed to understand where the safety came from. Of course, when I went to junior high I was invisible. No one saw me and no one picked on me. I was safe and happy for the first time I could remember.
I started hiking that summer (2002) and by the end of the year I had lost 95 pounds. I looked great. But my friends at work, though they said they were happy and proud of me, turned on me. It was so heartbreaking.
I even signed up on match.com and started doing a lot of dating. But nothing lasted, and the guys were certainly not willing to tell me why. What was so wrong with me that they didn’t want to keep me?
I stuck with the running for few years and kept all the weight off. I even trained for and competed in a marathon. The marathon killed my sciatic nerve bundles and I wasn’t able to run so much. And for some reason that I have not figured out yet, I have gained back 30 pounds. Not enough to be considered fat, but certainly not enough to be noticed.
For the past couple of years I hadn’t dated. I held a torch for my son’s counselor for a while, but I finally came to the conclusion that either he wasn’t interested, or he didn’t have what I would need to be happy with him.
Because of a fellow blogger, I signed up on match.com. I immediately started getting responses, and within a couple of weeks, I met Dale. As I wrote in this blog, I wanted to believe this was “it”. I wanted to be in this relationship forever. I systematically pushed myself to the back and ignored that voice inside until I nearly exploded. He is an alcoholic and was completely unaccepting of me. He thought there were plenty of things wrong with me and apparently I didn‘t disagree with him. I wasn’t fast enough, I wasn’t thin enough, I was too emotional, and not nearly enough like Kendra. When he couldn’t accept my kids, I figured it was more him than me, maybe that’s why it didn’t kill me.
He’s an alcoholic. Just like so many other people in my life have been. I don’t really know how much of that to take personally. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m making the decision to take this book and actually do the work to find and fix what’s wrong.
There it is. Obviously, this isn’t everything about me, just the things that I really feel impacted the person I am today. I’m going to have to choose 10 moments out of 42 years as my defining moments. The moments that skewed my perception of who and what I am, what my value is to me and others. This was so hard for me to do. I hope it wasn’t as hard to read.
Please, God, let me find my purpose through this process. I need to find me so that I can be me, and fulfill my spiritual contract. I want to know what love is.
Defining Moments 21-38
The trauma of being raped lingered. I slept with a lot of men to regain control and power. Of course, it didn’t work, but at least I was trying. I was fighting back and moving on. I turned 21 and moved to Boise with a friend. We were going to make new lives for ourselves, and that’s what we did. We partied a lot, and worked a little. One day she came home from work, and found me laying on the couch with my bloody arm elevated. She freaked! She thought I had been attacked again. In a way, she was right.
I was riding my bike that morning, discovering all the secrets of Boise. I was in a bike lane in front of some little grocery store near Broadway Ave. There was a car at the parking lot exit with a little old lady behind the wheel. I slowed down, but she appeared to be looking right at me, so I continued. Once I got in front of her, she hit the gas and knocked me down. I was irritated immediately, and sure I would get road burn. Once I was on the ground, I thought I’d just get up, but it became clear rather quickly that she had no intention of stopping. In no time at all, I was under the car, my left arm was actually under the left front tire, and I was staring at the tire as it approached my head. I guess my guardian angel was there with me that day, because a woman working across the street saw what was happening and was running toward the car screaming and waving her arms. The car stopped, I yanked my arm out from under the tire, and I never moved more quickly than I did that day, crawling out from under the car. Once again, I survived. Why? Isn’t 3rd time a charm?
Ok, so that wasn’t even close the a defining moment. Just a story that I actually like to tell. My arm was all scraped up, but no broken bones, if you can believe it. My bike was totaled, they said they had to lift her car up to get it out, and I got a new one. And a couple of thousand dollars to boot. So, I survived again. But surviving isn’t special, it’s instinctive. It’s an instinct that nearly always trumps the desire to die. Surviving isn’t courageous, living is. But sometimes survival is all you have courage enough to do. And I was about to need more.
I had been in Boise for just a few months when I met Lex. We were a perfect match, messed up and partying hard. In June, I moved in with him. On the 4th of July, I got pregnant, and, though I didn’t know it then, that child would turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. I wasn’t married, and didn’t know whether my relationship with Lex would move in that direction. The only think I knew was that I was having and keeping this baby.
Pregnancy was not kind to me. I gained 100 pounds during my pregnancy, to the horror of my mother who had worked so hard to keep me anorexically thin my whole life. I still regret letting her back into my life at that time. She was a member of the audience I had during my very difficult labor. I was extremely emotional, and easily enraged.
One day I was moving from the couch to the bed. When I got there, I found that my 6 month old Doberman puppy and pooped on my bed. I lost it. I grabbed her and started to beat her while she lay on the floor beneath me. I had a sort of out of body experience at that moment. I was looking down on me beating that poor puppy, and I saw my mother. I was about to have a baby, and I was my mother. I stopped and got up off the dog who ran to another room. I felt sick to my stomach. I knew right then that I had to change. I couldn’t be my mother. I wouldn’t be my mother. I wouldn’t.
I don’t know if I ever made it up to the puppy. She grew up to be a really sweet dog. We couldn’t keep her, though. She need room to run, so I gave her away. I didn’t give my rage away, though. I have had to work hard not to lose control like that again. It can be so hard sometimes. I learned it was ok to just walk away and cool down. Today I don’t lose control like that. I still get angry, but I can control myself better. It’s ok to get mad, feelings aren’t bad, what we do with those feelings can be. It’s a process.
I knew Megan long before she came into the world. I knew she would have long blonde hair, lots of friends, love do dance, and brighten the lives of all who knew her. But I was caught completely off guard by the feelings I had for her when I first held her in my arms. She was so tiny and helpless and beautiful. I didn’t know a person could feel love like that. It is such a cliché, I know, but it is steeped I truth. I remember thinking I must have lost my mind, this was too much joy, surely I didn’t deserve this wonderful gift. I couldn’t be separated from her, I was terrified of losing her. Even though I felt that kind of love for her, I still would become angry with her when she cried, or tantrumed. Yes, I walked away. I never hit her or harmed her. Thank God!
Lex and I did get married before Megan was born, and by the time we moved back to Twin we were already having problems. When Zach was born, Lex was working as a cook at a truck stop for very low wages. His self esteem was very low.
I was very sick throughout my pregnancy with Zach, and when he was born, we both had to stay in the hospital. He had pneumonia, so he stayed for a week. I had a wicked kidney infection an stayed for three days. When I came home, Megan refused to speak to me for two full weeks. My mother pounced on that. She saw it as a way to worm her way between Megan and me. It didn’t work, of course, but I never doubted that my mother played a major roll in the problem - all she wanted was to take Megan away from me. When Zach came home, Megan did eventually fall in love with him.
My brother and his first wife had a baby who was six months old at that time. She had an extremely rare condition that took her life. That was such a traumatic time for me. I couldn’t understand why such a sweet baby would be taken away from my brother who never did anything as bad as the things I did regularly in my teens. I became terrified that I was destined to lose Megan as well. I always had nightmares about Megan dying. The loss of my niece certainly didn’t help matters any.
Not quite a year after that, Lex did get a good paying job. We moving into a bigger house, and though we were still renting, things started to go better for us as a couple. The pediatricians kept diagnosing Zach with ear infections and on two occasions they put him on a maintenance antibiotic that caused him to develop seriously high fevers. The last time it happened I took him off and low and behold, he got better. He was behind a little developmentally, and could repeat commercials exactly, and spent a lot of time running in circles.
I had a tubal ligation and lost a whole bunch of weight. I was looking pretty good by the end of the summer, and my mother introduced me to Sophia. Sophia and I became quite close. My mother ended up doing something to make Sophia mad, and she became my biggest ally in breaking from my mother.
My mother was seeing a really nice guy at that time, and had decided to move in with him. She told Lex and me that she would sell us her house - the same house I grew up in. I had no idea what kind of effect living in that house again would have on me. I had never actually had forgotten the things that had happened during my childhood, I just didn’t dwell on them much.
Megan was four by then, just about the same age I was when those horrible things were done to me. I had hung a picture of my sister and me taken at that time on the wall where I could see it while I rocked Megan. I would walk around a corner and have flashbacks, full pain, smell, everything flashbacks. The scene would play out completely leaving me feeling as worthless and powerless as I felt then. But this time I had Megan, and I would sit and rock her until the little girl in me felt better. I kept telling her (the little girl in me) over and over that she didn’t do anything to deserve that, she was totally innocent and sweet, and only a monster would treat a beautiful child like her that way. And I would cry for hours.
It really helped, and I started to see myself in a different light. I started to see my mother in a different light. I hated her so much then. How could she do those things to me, and still look me in the eye and tell me she loves me? How could she continue to treat me with such disregard and still insinuate herself into my life and the life of my little girl?
I wasn’t terribly savvy or smart enough to realize how little regard she actually had for me, though. One fall, I went on a one week hunting trip with Lex and left both Megan and Zach with her. Mom’s boyfriend was there, and I was gullible enough to believe that she knew better that to lay a hand on my children. When we got back, she told me Megan was mad at her because she yelled at Megan for peeing outside - at the ranch. I thought mom was being rather irrational about Megan’s behavior, but I did believe her when she said she just yelled.
That changed at a baby shower being thrown for my brother’s second son. Mother was discussing discipline with my brother’s mother-in-law when she decided to tell about the time she spanked Megan. Yes, she spanked Megan that day. I was furious. Something was starting to happen inside me at that moment. Maybe I couldn’t protect myself from that monster, but I would protect my kids from her.
Her boyfriend died unexpectedly a few days after that. I put everything aside to help her through it. She started talking about how she had made a mistake selling her house to Lex and me, and reminding me that there was no contract. She abused me emotionally over the next few months. It was getting worse and worse, and I was getting more and more fed up. I finally made a decision to put an end to it. I told Lex what I was going to do, that it was the only thing to do.
We went to see her at the ranch. I told her I couldn’t take anymore of her abuse, and that I certainly wasn‘t ok with her spanking Megan for any reason. I told her she could have her house back, but in return I wanted my life back - without her in it. I don’t think she really got it at that time. She was combative and belligerent, and as I walked out the door I told Megan to say good bye to her grandma, because it would be the last time she would see her. A look of shock passed over my mother’s face, and I walked away. As we drove home, I felt the most intense feeling of relief and freedom. I have never regretted making that decision, not even for a moment.
Funny thing happened, I quit having nightmares about Megan dying. I’ve only had one since, and that was when my dad told me he was going to take Megan to see her grandma. I talked him out of it. It wasn’t hard, I just told him he had to spend a few months being my mom’s friend before dragging Megan into that situation. I think he actually gave that a shot, too. I knew she would convince him to protect Megan from her, even if I couldn’t.
Lex convinced me to take some classes at CSI that fall. After doing so poorly in high school, I wasn’t convinced I would have any success, but I decided to give it a shot. I signed up for a full load, and declared psychology as my major. A couple of weeks into classes, my psychology teacher asked us how many of us were there for intrinsic reasons. I raised my hand. He looked around the class and said, “only two of my A students?” I was shocked. No one had ever accused me of being an A student before. I really liked that label. I liked it so much that I vowed to make it true. And I did. It’s strange how one comment made for an entirely different reason can make such a huge difference in a persons self concept!
Another thing that took me by surprise was the way everyone accepted me as valid and valued. I was also getting a lot of attention from some of the young boys who were attending the college. I had no idea why they were so accepting, but I loved it. It was so nice not to be hated by classmates. I was riding high! I was on the Principals list the first 3 semesters and on the deans list after that. I’ll never forget my first B. I could hear my mother saying, “see! You really are stupid after all!” And then I cried about a grade most people would be thrilled with.
Then, my grandmother died. She starved herself to death. She no longer wanted to live once my little niece died, and she finally figured out how to make it happen. But her mind died before her body did. I think her mind went to the time when I was very small. Though she remembered our names correctly, she treated Megan as if she were me, and she treated me as if I were my mother. It was a horrible time. I was relieved when she finally died. I hated myself for that. She and my grandpa saved me from my mother with their love and support. I was so conflicted by my feelings at that time. Now I just remember her the way she was before her break. I know she loved me. I know she only wanted the best for me and if she had been in control, she would have never treated me so badly in the end.
I never strayed on my marriage, no matter how tempting the boy, and I never did, even when my marriage really started to fall apart after just a couple of semesters of classes. Lex was making up to $20 and hour at that time. He started coming home from work later and later. He was trying to start his own business, but he had absolutely no business savvy, so he was failing miserably. That was ok with some of his “friends”, because he was always available to get high with.
I used to get so mad when he didn’t come home. Zach remembers a night when I got the kids out of bed to go for a ride. I was going to hunt him down and beat his tramp girlfriend’s face to a pulp. I found him at the car shop he was using. He was alone and passed out. I really don’t think he ever strayed with another woman. I don’t think it was in him. Besides, he got to the point where he was only taking a shower once a month or so. He was a welder, and boy did he stink up the place. Eventually I got to the point where I prayed he wouldn’t come home. I hoped he had a girlfriend who was taking care of his needs so I wouldn’t have to smell him. I remember laying awake at night wondering how I could make it through the rest of my life like that. I was so miserable, I really didn’t want to go on. But I would never leave my kids like that. They needed me, they depended on me.
Then it finally happened. He pushed me too far that night. I was asleep when he came home. I woke up to find him masturbating over me. He had pulled my nightclothes high enough to expose me. When I turned to see what he was doing, he fell to the bed limp, like he hadn’t done anything.
I got up and took a bath to clean him off of me. When I went back to bed I told him I wanted a divorce. He laid there like he was asleep. This was back in the Lorena Bobbet days when women were killing and maiming there husbands. He used to comment frequently on how horrible those women were. Why didn’t they just leave? So I told him that night, “you know, Lex, you are one of the assholes who gets himself killed because he won’t leave.” He said “I’ll be out in the morning.” While I was doing laundry that morning, he left. It was February 12, 2004.
Two days later he brought me a plant for Valentine’s day. It was the first Valentine’s day he actually remembered.
So I fumbled around looking for work. I got a job at an elementary school in the preschool program. Then when summer came, I got a job at an insurance agency. I didn’t really like working with little kids like that, but they were sure a lot more fun than dealing with bloodsuckers. When school started up again, I got a job in my school district working with profoundly disabled children at the junior high school.
Most of them seemed fun to me, but there was a boy there who was blind, didn’t talk, sat in his wheelchair all day and had seizures often. I was terrified of him. On day I stood in the classroom looking at this little boy, yes he was tiny, and when I thought, why are you scared of him? So, I asked the aid who worked with him if I could take over. She was more than happy to let me. During the next nine months, this boy would teach me the real meaning of unconditional love and acceptance. It was then that I really started to see God for what He is, and not for what everyone said he was. It was magical, and every time I sit down with a person who is profoundly disabled, I feel that kind of unconditional love. For the first time I actually had hope that I would be ok.
The next year I had to come to terms with what was happening to my son. In kindergarten he seemed to be learning things that were being taught in the class, but he never paid attentions. I think I would have been totally ok with mental retardation, but everyone kept trying to get me to consider autism. I was completely in denial. After all, autistic kids wear helmets and beat there head into walls, right? One night Rainman came on tv. I couldn’t even sit through the whole movie. Rainman wasn’t wearing a helmet or beating himself senseless, and he could talk. As a matter of fact, when he talked he sounded exactly like Zach.
I got in the car and drove for the longest time. The next day I started making appointments with specialists. That year Zach was officially diagnosed with autism by a pediatric neuropshychiatrist in Salt Lake City. Unfortunately, no one knew what to do with it. The Dr. told me that Zach would either live his adult life in an institution, or live a relatively independent, productive life on his own, depending on how I handled it. What a mean thing to say to a mother with no resources, and no access to any real help. He did qualify for SSI. I hated them for not making me prove he was disabled enough to need that kind of help. But it did give me the option of working while he was at school and spending the rest of the day with him.
Eventually we did get help. The school district hated the idea of having private agencies come in and do what the school district should have been doing. The are still like that. I walked that fine line between being the hated mother and beloved employee. I compromised too much, and the gave too little, and in the end, he suffered. Oh, he’s ok, but he could have gone so much farther if the school district had done their job. I even wondered why it was that they were willing to take so much from me at work, yet give so little back for my son. Where was the Karma then?
After working at the Junior High for 5 years, I went to the high school, where I made a new friend. I really thought a lot of Cynthia. I though she was honest and trustworthy. We confided everything in each other. She was really athletic, and I wanted to be more like that. But something always got in the way.
I even believed for a time that my mother had broken my spirit and I would never be happy. Then it finally occurred to me that I would be dead now if she had. I realized that, somehow, I would have to find a way to be happy. Maybe if I could find a boyfriend?
In 2001, I started taking Zach to Astronomy meetings. One of the men there started paying a lot of attention to me. He was the manager of the planetarium and he seem like he was a really nice guy. In the summer of 2002, we started seeing each other. I thought I was falling in love with him, but he was so distant. I didn’t know why, but he treated me like trash. I finally had “the talk” with him about where our relationship was going. He said it wasn’t going anywhere. He liked me, but I wasn’t going to be that someone in his life. Of course, he couldn’t tell me why, I was a really nice person and all. That was a couple of days before my 38th birthday! It certainly didn’t help my self concept, and I fell into a terrible depression. Life really sucks sometimes.
I was riding my bike that morning, discovering all the secrets of Boise. I was in a bike lane in front of some little grocery store near Broadway Ave. There was a car at the parking lot exit with a little old lady behind the wheel. I slowed down, but she appeared to be looking right at me, so I continued. Once I got in front of her, she hit the gas and knocked me down. I was irritated immediately, and sure I would get road burn. Once I was on the ground, I thought I’d just get up, but it became clear rather quickly that she had no intention of stopping. In no time at all, I was under the car, my left arm was actually under the left front tire, and I was staring at the tire as it approached my head. I guess my guardian angel was there with me that day, because a woman working across the street saw what was happening and was running toward the car screaming and waving her arms. The car stopped, I yanked my arm out from under the tire, and I never moved more quickly than I did that day, crawling out from under the car. Once again, I survived. Why? Isn’t 3rd time a charm?
Ok, so that wasn’t even close the a defining moment. Just a story that I actually like to tell. My arm was all scraped up, but no broken bones, if you can believe it. My bike was totaled, they said they had to lift her car up to get it out, and I got a new one. And a couple of thousand dollars to boot. So, I survived again. But surviving isn’t special, it’s instinctive. It’s an instinct that nearly always trumps the desire to die. Surviving isn’t courageous, living is. But sometimes survival is all you have courage enough to do. And I was about to need more.
I had been in Boise for just a few months when I met Lex. We were a perfect match, messed up and partying hard. In June, I moved in with him. On the 4th of July, I got pregnant, and, though I didn’t know it then, that child would turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. I wasn’t married, and didn’t know whether my relationship with Lex would move in that direction. The only think I knew was that I was having and keeping this baby.
Pregnancy was not kind to me. I gained 100 pounds during my pregnancy, to the horror of my mother who had worked so hard to keep me anorexically thin my whole life. I still regret letting her back into my life at that time. She was a member of the audience I had during my very difficult labor. I was extremely emotional, and easily enraged.
One day I was moving from the couch to the bed. When I got there, I found that my 6 month old Doberman puppy and pooped on my bed. I lost it. I grabbed her and started to beat her while she lay on the floor beneath me. I had a sort of out of body experience at that moment. I was looking down on me beating that poor puppy, and I saw my mother. I was about to have a baby, and I was my mother. I stopped and got up off the dog who ran to another room. I felt sick to my stomach. I knew right then that I had to change. I couldn’t be my mother. I wouldn’t be my mother. I wouldn’t.
I don’t know if I ever made it up to the puppy. She grew up to be a really sweet dog. We couldn’t keep her, though. She need room to run, so I gave her away. I didn’t give my rage away, though. I have had to work hard not to lose control like that again. It can be so hard sometimes. I learned it was ok to just walk away and cool down. Today I don’t lose control like that. I still get angry, but I can control myself better. It’s ok to get mad, feelings aren’t bad, what we do with those feelings can be. It’s a process.
I knew Megan long before she came into the world. I knew she would have long blonde hair, lots of friends, love do dance, and brighten the lives of all who knew her. But I was caught completely off guard by the feelings I had for her when I first held her in my arms. She was so tiny and helpless and beautiful. I didn’t know a person could feel love like that. It is such a cliché, I know, but it is steeped I truth. I remember thinking I must have lost my mind, this was too much joy, surely I didn’t deserve this wonderful gift. I couldn’t be separated from her, I was terrified of losing her. Even though I felt that kind of love for her, I still would become angry with her when she cried, or tantrumed. Yes, I walked away. I never hit her or harmed her. Thank God!
Lex and I did get married before Megan was born, and by the time we moved back to Twin we were already having problems. When Zach was born, Lex was working as a cook at a truck stop for very low wages. His self esteem was very low.
I was very sick throughout my pregnancy with Zach, and when he was born, we both had to stay in the hospital. He had pneumonia, so he stayed for a week. I had a wicked kidney infection an stayed for three days. When I came home, Megan refused to speak to me for two full weeks. My mother pounced on that. She saw it as a way to worm her way between Megan and me. It didn’t work, of course, but I never doubted that my mother played a major roll in the problem - all she wanted was to take Megan away from me. When Zach came home, Megan did eventually fall in love with him.
My brother and his first wife had a baby who was six months old at that time. She had an extremely rare condition that took her life. That was such a traumatic time for me. I couldn’t understand why such a sweet baby would be taken away from my brother who never did anything as bad as the things I did regularly in my teens. I became terrified that I was destined to lose Megan as well. I always had nightmares about Megan dying. The loss of my niece certainly didn’t help matters any.
Not quite a year after that, Lex did get a good paying job. We moving into a bigger house, and though we were still renting, things started to go better for us as a couple. The pediatricians kept diagnosing Zach with ear infections and on two occasions they put him on a maintenance antibiotic that caused him to develop seriously high fevers. The last time it happened I took him off and low and behold, he got better. He was behind a little developmentally, and could repeat commercials exactly, and spent a lot of time running in circles.
I had a tubal ligation and lost a whole bunch of weight. I was looking pretty good by the end of the summer, and my mother introduced me to Sophia. Sophia and I became quite close. My mother ended up doing something to make Sophia mad, and she became my biggest ally in breaking from my mother.
My mother was seeing a really nice guy at that time, and had decided to move in with him. She told Lex and me that she would sell us her house - the same house I grew up in. I had no idea what kind of effect living in that house again would have on me. I had never actually had forgotten the things that had happened during my childhood, I just didn’t dwell on them much.
Megan was four by then, just about the same age I was when those horrible things were done to me. I had hung a picture of my sister and me taken at that time on the wall where I could see it while I rocked Megan. I would walk around a corner and have flashbacks, full pain, smell, everything flashbacks. The scene would play out completely leaving me feeling as worthless and powerless as I felt then. But this time I had Megan, and I would sit and rock her until the little girl in me felt better. I kept telling her (the little girl in me) over and over that she didn’t do anything to deserve that, she was totally innocent and sweet, and only a monster would treat a beautiful child like her that way. And I would cry for hours.
It really helped, and I started to see myself in a different light. I started to see my mother in a different light. I hated her so much then. How could she do those things to me, and still look me in the eye and tell me she loves me? How could she continue to treat me with such disregard and still insinuate herself into my life and the life of my little girl?
I wasn’t terribly savvy or smart enough to realize how little regard she actually had for me, though. One fall, I went on a one week hunting trip with Lex and left both Megan and Zach with her. Mom’s boyfriend was there, and I was gullible enough to believe that she knew better that to lay a hand on my children. When we got back, she told me Megan was mad at her because she yelled at Megan for peeing outside - at the ranch. I thought mom was being rather irrational about Megan’s behavior, but I did believe her when she said she just yelled.
That changed at a baby shower being thrown for my brother’s second son. Mother was discussing discipline with my brother’s mother-in-law when she decided to tell about the time she spanked Megan. Yes, she spanked Megan that day. I was furious. Something was starting to happen inside me at that moment. Maybe I couldn’t protect myself from that monster, but I would protect my kids from her.
Her boyfriend died unexpectedly a few days after that. I put everything aside to help her through it. She started talking about how she had made a mistake selling her house to Lex and me, and reminding me that there was no contract. She abused me emotionally over the next few months. It was getting worse and worse, and I was getting more and more fed up. I finally made a decision to put an end to it. I told Lex what I was going to do, that it was the only thing to do.
We went to see her at the ranch. I told her I couldn’t take anymore of her abuse, and that I certainly wasn‘t ok with her spanking Megan for any reason. I told her she could have her house back, but in return I wanted my life back - without her in it. I don’t think she really got it at that time. She was combative and belligerent, and as I walked out the door I told Megan to say good bye to her grandma, because it would be the last time she would see her. A look of shock passed over my mother’s face, and I walked away. As we drove home, I felt the most intense feeling of relief and freedom. I have never regretted making that decision, not even for a moment.
Funny thing happened, I quit having nightmares about Megan dying. I’ve only had one since, and that was when my dad told me he was going to take Megan to see her grandma. I talked him out of it. It wasn’t hard, I just told him he had to spend a few months being my mom’s friend before dragging Megan into that situation. I think he actually gave that a shot, too. I knew she would convince him to protect Megan from her, even if I couldn’t.
Lex convinced me to take some classes at CSI that fall. After doing so poorly in high school, I wasn’t convinced I would have any success, but I decided to give it a shot. I signed up for a full load, and declared psychology as my major. A couple of weeks into classes, my psychology teacher asked us how many of us were there for intrinsic reasons. I raised my hand. He looked around the class and said, “only two of my A students?” I was shocked. No one had ever accused me of being an A student before. I really liked that label. I liked it so much that I vowed to make it true. And I did. It’s strange how one comment made for an entirely different reason can make such a huge difference in a persons self concept!
Another thing that took me by surprise was the way everyone accepted me as valid and valued. I was also getting a lot of attention from some of the young boys who were attending the college. I had no idea why they were so accepting, but I loved it. It was so nice not to be hated by classmates. I was riding high! I was on the Principals list the first 3 semesters and on the deans list after that. I’ll never forget my first B. I could hear my mother saying, “see! You really are stupid after all!” And then I cried about a grade most people would be thrilled with.
Then, my grandmother died. She starved herself to death. She no longer wanted to live once my little niece died, and she finally figured out how to make it happen. But her mind died before her body did. I think her mind went to the time when I was very small. Though she remembered our names correctly, she treated Megan as if she were me, and she treated me as if I were my mother. It was a horrible time. I was relieved when she finally died. I hated myself for that. She and my grandpa saved me from my mother with their love and support. I was so conflicted by my feelings at that time. Now I just remember her the way she was before her break. I know she loved me. I know she only wanted the best for me and if she had been in control, she would have never treated me so badly in the end.
I never strayed on my marriage, no matter how tempting the boy, and I never did, even when my marriage really started to fall apart after just a couple of semesters of classes. Lex was making up to $20 and hour at that time. He started coming home from work later and later. He was trying to start his own business, but he had absolutely no business savvy, so he was failing miserably. That was ok with some of his “friends”, because he was always available to get high with.
I used to get so mad when he didn’t come home. Zach remembers a night when I got the kids out of bed to go for a ride. I was going to hunt him down and beat his tramp girlfriend’s face to a pulp. I found him at the car shop he was using. He was alone and passed out. I really don’t think he ever strayed with another woman. I don’t think it was in him. Besides, he got to the point where he was only taking a shower once a month or so. He was a welder, and boy did he stink up the place. Eventually I got to the point where I prayed he wouldn’t come home. I hoped he had a girlfriend who was taking care of his needs so I wouldn’t have to smell him. I remember laying awake at night wondering how I could make it through the rest of my life like that. I was so miserable, I really didn’t want to go on. But I would never leave my kids like that. They needed me, they depended on me.
Then it finally happened. He pushed me too far that night. I was asleep when he came home. I woke up to find him masturbating over me. He had pulled my nightclothes high enough to expose me. When I turned to see what he was doing, he fell to the bed limp, like he hadn’t done anything.
I got up and took a bath to clean him off of me. When I went back to bed I told him I wanted a divorce. He laid there like he was asleep. This was back in the Lorena Bobbet days when women were killing and maiming there husbands. He used to comment frequently on how horrible those women were. Why didn’t they just leave? So I told him that night, “you know, Lex, you are one of the assholes who gets himself killed because he won’t leave.” He said “I’ll be out in the morning.” While I was doing laundry that morning, he left. It was February 12, 2004.
Two days later he brought me a plant for Valentine’s day. It was the first Valentine’s day he actually remembered.
So I fumbled around looking for work. I got a job at an elementary school in the preschool program. Then when summer came, I got a job at an insurance agency. I didn’t really like working with little kids like that, but they were sure a lot more fun than dealing with bloodsuckers. When school started up again, I got a job in my school district working with profoundly disabled children at the junior high school.
Most of them seemed fun to me, but there was a boy there who was blind, didn’t talk, sat in his wheelchair all day and had seizures often. I was terrified of him. On day I stood in the classroom looking at this little boy, yes he was tiny, and when I thought, why are you scared of him? So, I asked the aid who worked with him if I could take over. She was more than happy to let me. During the next nine months, this boy would teach me the real meaning of unconditional love and acceptance. It was then that I really started to see God for what He is, and not for what everyone said he was. It was magical, and every time I sit down with a person who is profoundly disabled, I feel that kind of unconditional love. For the first time I actually had hope that I would be ok.
The next year I had to come to terms with what was happening to my son. In kindergarten he seemed to be learning things that were being taught in the class, but he never paid attentions. I think I would have been totally ok with mental retardation, but everyone kept trying to get me to consider autism. I was completely in denial. After all, autistic kids wear helmets and beat there head into walls, right? One night Rainman came on tv. I couldn’t even sit through the whole movie. Rainman wasn’t wearing a helmet or beating himself senseless, and he could talk. As a matter of fact, when he talked he sounded exactly like Zach.
I got in the car and drove for the longest time. The next day I started making appointments with specialists. That year Zach was officially diagnosed with autism by a pediatric neuropshychiatrist in Salt Lake City. Unfortunately, no one knew what to do with it. The Dr. told me that Zach would either live his adult life in an institution, or live a relatively independent, productive life on his own, depending on how I handled it. What a mean thing to say to a mother with no resources, and no access to any real help. He did qualify for SSI. I hated them for not making me prove he was disabled enough to need that kind of help. But it did give me the option of working while he was at school and spending the rest of the day with him.
Eventually we did get help. The school district hated the idea of having private agencies come in and do what the school district should have been doing. The are still like that. I walked that fine line between being the hated mother and beloved employee. I compromised too much, and the gave too little, and in the end, he suffered. Oh, he’s ok, but he could have gone so much farther if the school district had done their job. I even wondered why it was that they were willing to take so much from me at work, yet give so little back for my son. Where was the Karma then?
After working at the Junior High for 5 years, I went to the high school, where I made a new friend. I really thought a lot of Cynthia. I though she was honest and trustworthy. We confided everything in each other. She was really athletic, and I wanted to be more like that. But something always got in the way.
I even believed for a time that my mother had broken my spirit and I would never be happy. Then it finally occurred to me that I would be dead now if she had. I realized that, somehow, I would have to find a way to be happy. Maybe if I could find a boyfriend?
In 2001, I started taking Zach to Astronomy meetings. One of the men there started paying a lot of attention to me. He was the manager of the planetarium and he seem like he was a really nice guy. In the summer of 2002, we started seeing each other. I thought I was falling in love with him, but he was so distant. I didn’t know why, but he treated me like trash. I finally had “the talk” with him about where our relationship was going. He said it wasn’t going anywhere. He liked me, but I wasn’t going to be that someone in his life. Of course, he couldn’t tell me why, I was a really nice person and all. That was a couple of days before my 38th birthday! It certainly didn’t help my self concept, and I fell into a terrible depression. Life really sucks sometimes.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Defining Moments 13-20
How long can a moment last? I wasn’t yet 13 when I transitioned from elementary school to Jr. high school. The next two years would have seemed completely unremarkable to most. Even I don’t remember much about those years. But they were far from unremarkable.
I had spent so many years being ostracized and tormented by my peers that I had come to know it as an integral part of my life. As I walked through the halls of that jr. high school, however, I found a solace - a welcomed reprieve. I was no longer the most despised among the mass. I was completely invisible. I walked through the halls, unnoticed, untouched, unseen. It was a wonderful experience. I was at peace. I was happy. I even made a couple of friends.
I was 14 when my step-dad finally divorced my mother. He was re-married in three months. He had found a new family that was happy to see him when he walked in the door. They showered hugs and kisses on him daily. He told me this like he couldn’t understand why I wasn’t like that. As if he wasn’t there for the previous 13 years of my life, and didn’t know how I could have come to be so reserved and emotionally undemonstrative.
My mother decided to give me some social freedom. I started roller-skating and started a friendship that I truly valued. I also developed the worst crush on the guy at the roller rink. He was older, and so graceful on the floor. He had long black hair and a beautiful face. I’ll never forget the first time he asked me to skate with him! His name was Damian.
I immediately told my mother about this god-like creature and she had to come and see him for herself. It wasn’t long after that she decided to have him for herself. He wasn’t loaded with immense morality, and thought it would be cool to have sex with an older woman. So that’s what she was to him. I don’t really know what he was to her, but she told me what he was to me. He was 21, and off limits. I was 15 then, jailbait, and she forbade from seeing him. That being said, did I have any problems with her seeing him? She actually asked me that. What could I say? I wish I could have said, “fuck you slut bitch!” instead I said no, she could have him.
So, while my mother was off romping with my first big crush, I bestowed my virginity onto the boy next door. I don’t even remember his name, but I do remember the event. I liked that experience for so many reasons. I enjoyed it and enjoyed him a couple more times by the time Damian was finished with my mother. Then I enjoyed him. He wasn’t as enjoyable as the neighbor boy, but, he was older, and much better looking. It was an on and off relationship that continued for several years.
Damian wasn’t the only guy my mom wanted to take from me, he was just the first. I was sweet 16, jailbait, competing with a 32 year old easy lay - aka mom. Sexual promiscuity wasn’t they only wonderful gift she gave me. She also handed me my first beer. Then, she exposed me to the wonderful world of drugs - handed me my first bowl of pot.
And so I spun out of control. I had so many sexual partners I can’t even remember them all. Most of them were direct results of a drug-clouded and hopeless, murky mind. People say the boys were all just using me, and they probably were. I was using them, as well. They made me feel important and wanted, even if it was for just a few hours. To this day I still find it remarkable that I lived through it all.
Especially since I almost didn’t. When I was 17½ I was drunk, high, and crazy mad about being rejected by a guy I thought liked me. I went home with another guy that I didn’t know. I drank so much that I passed out in his bed, and didn’t wake up until 7:00 the next morning. I knew my mom was home from work by then and that she was going to kill me. She almost did, too. She met me at the door with a broom stick, and proceeded to beat me with it.
The next morning I went to work with cuts, lumps and bruises all over my face and body. They asked what had happened and I told them I had stayed out all night and got in trouble. They all just looked at me and said nothing more. I don’t really know what they were thinking, at the time, though, I assumed the worst. I deserved it. The whole morning was just a fog. The guy who supervised me just left me alone all day, and I sat and cried and tried to come to terms with the hopeless mess that was my life.
I was sitting on a curb when the answer came to me. I couldn’t continue to live like this, I couldn’t continue to steal the air that I breathed. I had no value, no worth, no purpose, so I would have no life. I made a plan to walk to the bridge and jump. I walked through it in my mind. I thought of the people in my life. Only my grandma and grandpa would really care, but they would get over it. My life was so insipid that surely my death would go mostly unnoticed. The thought of not even being missed broke my heart into little pieces.
I sat watching my tears hit the ground when it finally occurred to me that I was 17½ years old. In 6 months I would be 18 and would be free from my mother. I vowed that I would never let anyone hit me again. I vowed that I would prove that children could turn out good even without being hit. I chose not to die that day. I continued to survive.
You know something funny? It wasn’t until I was 19 years old that I realized what she did to me was abuse. I was doing laundry one Saturday evening, reading a magazine that someone had left. It was an article about child abuse. I thought I was going to read about broken bones and cigarette burns. What I learned, however, is that if you hit a child, and there is still a mark 20 minutes later, that is abuse. How many times did she hit me and not leave a mark? How many fat lips did she give me, how many welts on my butt? I was in a state of shock. I couldn’t believe it! My step dad was right, she was abusing me. I must have cried for a week!
My mother and I were not speaking at that time. We had a big blow-out in Boise one night that ended in a drunken brawl. So she wasn’t one of the persons I thought about the on morning I thought I was going to die. I thought about my brothers, and my grandma and grandpa. It was their love that I clung to as I was being raped.
I used to leave the tv (MTV channel) on all night when I lived alone. I remember waking up just to watch Eddie VanHalen play Jump! I used to know what was playing the morning of June 11 when I woke up out of a deep sleep, but that knowledge is gone now. It was still dark and I remember being confused and a little alarmed. I looked toward the tv in the living room. I saw a shadow dart out of the doorway, and then back into view. Before I knew what was going on, he was on top of me, pinning me down. I started screaming, so he put his hand over my mouth and threatened to kill me if I didn’t shut up. He said he had a knife, and I could smell alcohol on his breath.
I struggled with him for what felt like forever. He tried to choke me, but I remembered my little brother telling me that you could get out of a choke hold by bending back their little finger. It works! I got out of at least 4 choke holds by bending back his little finger. I kept trying to get out from under him, but I was in my water bed and was absolutely unable to gain any physical leverage against him. I remember biting his forearm as hard as I could, which of course made him more angry. He grabbed my pillow and tried to suffocate me with it. It was then that I gave up and told him I would stop fighting him. I laid limp while he pulled off my underwear and began to rape me.
When he was finished, he threatened to come back and kill me if I called the police, and took the phone on the way out. I laid on my bed for a while, terrified that he was still there. I don’t know how long, but I finally got up, closed the door and made sure it was locked. I went back to my bedroom, in shock, and decided I should get ready for work.
I picked up my brush and stood in front of my mirror. I didn’t recognize the girl in the reflection. It was at that moment that I broke down emotionally. I sobbed uncontrollably, while I tried to brush the rats out of my hair. I finally realized that I had to call the police. I went to the house in front of mine and got help from the neighbors. The policeman who drove me to the hospital kept looking at me and asking me if I was ok. I kept assuring him I was.
My first request was to call my mother to have her pick up the dogs so they would be safe. I told her I had been raped, and her reply was “who was it, Cheri?” she kept asking it over and over like I was lying about it or something. I visited a rape counselor who told me I shouldn’t feel guilty. I wasn’t feeling guilty, I knew I had done nothing wrong. I thought she was trying to tell me I had, so I didn’t go back.
They never found the guy who did it. I didn’t look at his face - if I had I’m sure I wouldn’t be here to describe him now. My mother tried to take care of me for a couple of months, but that didn’t last, of course. I haven’t lived alone since then, and I haven’t left the tv on all night since. There isn’t anything I could tell my 19 year old self that I didn’t already know then. I did survive.
What is really sad about that incident? It won’t even make the cut. I can only choose 10 defining moments, and that didn’t define me. But it definitely left a scar and affected some of the decisions I would make in the future.
And that’s the sum of events that took me to adulthood. I used to apologize all the time for some of it. I don't now. I was doing what I had to do to survive. Survive. I don't know why I have survived. There must be a reason, I must have a purpose. I hope to find that purpose before it's too late. The clock never stops ticking, and I never stop hurting.
I had spent so many years being ostracized and tormented by my peers that I had come to know it as an integral part of my life. As I walked through the halls of that jr. high school, however, I found a solace - a welcomed reprieve. I was no longer the most despised among the mass. I was completely invisible. I walked through the halls, unnoticed, untouched, unseen. It was a wonderful experience. I was at peace. I was happy. I even made a couple of friends.
I was 14 when my step-dad finally divorced my mother. He was re-married in three months. He had found a new family that was happy to see him when he walked in the door. They showered hugs and kisses on him daily. He told me this like he couldn’t understand why I wasn’t like that. As if he wasn’t there for the previous 13 years of my life, and didn’t know how I could have come to be so reserved and emotionally undemonstrative.
My mother decided to give me some social freedom. I started roller-skating and started a friendship that I truly valued. I also developed the worst crush on the guy at the roller rink. He was older, and so graceful on the floor. He had long black hair and a beautiful face. I’ll never forget the first time he asked me to skate with him! His name was Damian.
I immediately told my mother about this god-like creature and she had to come and see him for herself. It wasn’t long after that she decided to have him for herself. He wasn’t loaded with immense morality, and thought it would be cool to have sex with an older woman. So that’s what she was to him. I don’t really know what he was to her, but she told me what he was to me. He was 21, and off limits. I was 15 then, jailbait, and she forbade from seeing him. That being said, did I have any problems with her seeing him? She actually asked me that. What could I say? I wish I could have said, “fuck you slut bitch!” instead I said no, she could have him.
So, while my mother was off romping with my first big crush, I bestowed my virginity onto the boy next door. I don’t even remember his name, but I do remember the event. I liked that experience for so many reasons. I enjoyed it and enjoyed him a couple more times by the time Damian was finished with my mother. Then I enjoyed him. He wasn’t as enjoyable as the neighbor boy, but, he was older, and much better looking. It was an on and off relationship that continued for several years.
Damian wasn’t the only guy my mom wanted to take from me, he was just the first. I was sweet 16, jailbait, competing with a 32 year old easy lay - aka mom. Sexual promiscuity wasn’t they only wonderful gift she gave me. She also handed me my first beer. Then, she exposed me to the wonderful world of drugs - handed me my first bowl of pot.
And so I spun out of control. I had so many sexual partners I can’t even remember them all. Most of them were direct results of a drug-clouded and hopeless, murky mind. People say the boys were all just using me, and they probably were. I was using them, as well. They made me feel important and wanted, even if it was for just a few hours. To this day I still find it remarkable that I lived through it all.
Especially since I almost didn’t. When I was 17½ I was drunk, high, and crazy mad about being rejected by a guy I thought liked me. I went home with another guy that I didn’t know. I drank so much that I passed out in his bed, and didn’t wake up until 7:00 the next morning. I knew my mom was home from work by then and that she was going to kill me. She almost did, too. She met me at the door with a broom stick, and proceeded to beat me with it.
The next morning I went to work with cuts, lumps and bruises all over my face and body. They asked what had happened and I told them I had stayed out all night and got in trouble. They all just looked at me and said nothing more. I don’t really know what they were thinking, at the time, though, I assumed the worst. I deserved it. The whole morning was just a fog. The guy who supervised me just left me alone all day, and I sat and cried and tried to come to terms with the hopeless mess that was my life.
I was sitting on a curb when the answer came to me. I couldn’t continue to live like this, I couldn’t continue to steal the air that I breathed. I had no value, no worth, no purpose, so I would have no life. I made a plan to walk to the bridge and jump. I walked through it in my mind. I thought of the people in my life. Only my grandma and grandpa would really care, but they would get over it. My life was so insipid that surely my death would go mostly unnoticed. The thought of not even being missed broke my heart into little pieces.
I sat watching my tears hit the ground when it finally occurred to me that I was 17½ years old. In 6 months I would be 18 and would be free from my mother. I vowed that I would never let anyone hit me again. I vowed that I would prove that children could turn out good even without being hit. I chose not to die that day. I continued to survive.
You know something funny? It wasn’t until I was 19 years old that I realized what she did to me was abuse. I was doing laundry one Saturday evening, reading a magazine that someone had left. It was an article about child abuse. I thought I was going to read about broken bones and cigarette burns. What I learned, however, is that if you hit a child, and there is still a mark 20 minutes later, that is abuse. How many times did she hit me and not leave a mark? How many fat lips did she give me, how many welts on my butt? I was in a state of shock. I couldn’t believe it! My step dad was right, she was abusing me. I must have cried for a week!
My mother and I were not speaking at that time. We had a big blow-out in Boise one night that ended in a drunken brawl. So she wasn’t one of the persons I thought about the on morning I thought I was going to die. I thought about my brothers, and my grandma and grandpa. It was their love that I clung to as I was being raped.
I used to leave the tv (MTV channel) on all night when I lived alone. I remember waking up just to watch Eddie VanHalen play Jump! I used to know what was playing the morning of June 11 when I woke up out of a deep sleep, but that knowledge is gone now. It was still dark and I remember being confused and a little alarmed. I looked toward the tv in the living room. I saw a shadow dart out of the doorway, and then back into view. Before I knew what was going on, he was on top of me, pinning me down. I started screaming, so he put his hand over my mouth and threatened to kill me if I didn’t shut up. He said he had a knife, and I could smell alcohol on his breath.
I struggled with him for what felt like forever. He tried to choke me, but I remembered my little brother telling me that you could get out of a choke hold by bending back their little finger. It works! I got out of at least 4 choke holds by bending back his little finger. I kept trying to get out from under him, but I was in my water bed and was absolutely unable to gain any physical leverage against him. I remember biting his forearm as hard as I could, which of course made him more angry. He grabbed my pillow and tried to suffocate me with it. It was then that I gave up and told him I would stop fighting him. I laid limp while he pulled off my underwear and began to rape me.
When he was finished, he threatened to come back and kill me if I called the police, and took the phone on the way out. I laid on my bed for a while, terrified that he was still there. I don’t know how long, but I finally got up, closed the door and made sure it was locked. I went back to my bedroom, in shock, and decided I should get ready for work.
I picked up my brush and stood in front of my mirror. I didn’t recognize the girl in the reflection. It was at that moment that I broke down emotionally. I sobbed uncontrollably, while I tried to brush the rats out of my hair. I finally realized that I had to call the police. I went to the house in front of mine and got help from the neighbors. The policeman who drove me to the hospital kept looking at me and asking me if I was ok. I kept assuring him I was.
My first request was to call my mother to have her pick up the dogs so they would be safe. I told her I had been raped, and her reply was “who was it, Cheri?” she kept asking it over and over like I was lying about it or something. I visited a rape counselor who told me I shouldn’t feel guilty. I wasn’t feeling guilty, I knew I had done nothing wrong. I thought she was trying to tell me I had, so I didn’t go back.
They never found the guy who did it. I didn’t look at his face - if I had I’m sure I wouldn’t be here to describe him now. My mother tried to take care of me for a couple of months, but that didn’t last, of course. I haven’t lived alone since then, and I haven’t left the tv on all night since. There isn’t anything I could tell my 19 year old self that I didn’t already know then. I did survive.
What is really sad about that incident? It won’t even make the cut. I can only choose 10 defining moments, and that didn’t define me. But it definitely left a scar and affected some of the decisions I would make in the future.
And that’s the sum of events that took me to adulthood. I used to apologize all the time for some of it. I don't now. I was doing what I had to do to survive. Survive. I don't know why I have survived. There must be a reason, I must have a purpose. I hope to find that purpose before it's too late. The clock never stops ticking, and I never stop hurting.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
