Friday, May 30, 2014

A Photo for Him


I am a terrible selfie taker, I never do it and feel very uncomfortable with the whole idea of it. But my husband has ask me to try and send him more photos of my day, This one he seemed to like so much it is now printed and framed on his desk at work, along with these photos.....




This is something my sister-n-law had suggested to me just yesterday, but something that my husband had ask for before I had a chance to do it on my own. I am sure he has other reasons for wanting the photos but the whole issue of him wanting photos stems from the fact that he recently came to me and said that he realized that unless someone pressed him for information or unless it was a co-worker that he spends time with outside of work, most of the coworkers that he talks to at work has no idea that he is married.  Neither of us are wearing wedding rings at the moment, I refuse to touch mine as I feel they were given to me under false pretenses and certainly meant nothing to him during the 7 years we have been married. I am insistent that those rings will never again touch my hand. If he wants me to be his wife and to wear a ring he will earn the right to place a new, designed by us, ring on my finder at some point, but today, for now we both have chosen to not wear a ring.  So I suppose in a effort to remind him of his family and a desire on his part to make it known that he is married he as placed these photos on his desk. 

I think it is a step in the right direction, but not anything that will sway me on my non ring wearing decision. It will take him some time to earn the right to put a real ring on my finger.  


On another note, tomorrow is my mother's memorial. I find it sad that I don't really want to go. I keep thinking I have been so blindsided by so many things in the past couple of months that I would be better off spending the day catching up laundry and cleaning house.  I can honestly say my reluctance has nothing to do with my relationship with my mother, she is not there and nothing can be done about that now.  But some of my family can be a bit difficult to deal with and I simply don't want to deal with them. 

However, my brothers need the support and my daughter wants to meet her uncles so we will be going.  Let's just hope I leave there without having to tell anyone off. 

Monday, May 26, 2014

Morning Bike Ride


Just a couple of the photos I took with my phone. The 10 mile bike ride has my knees and hips screaming. 

I refuse to be on pain management, but I do allow myself the relief of precription pain meds when I am not capable of dealing with the pain with over the counter medication. Rarely do I turn to the prescription  stuff, but today the bike ride beat me so I will shortly be in less pain but sleeping heavily. 

The photos I took with my camera will have to wait for another day. 

Another Day~More Choices



In a moment of anger I posted a blog about some of the things my husband has done. All very valid reasons for me to walk away from him and never look back.
Believe me I considered it. I know that walking away would be easier than staying, I also know from experiance that walking away would be the quickest way for me to close up a very painful chapter of my life and move on.

Contrary to some people's beliefs I don't need to stay for his pay check. Even in the last six months I have been offered jobs, good paying jobs in a field that I have a lot of experiance in. I turned them down because I want to be in this place with my husband and these children living this life, that despite all the bad things, does hold some good bits as well. 

There are parts of my husband that the cyber whores don't really know. They may have heard his version of our life, but they have never actually witnessed him with our children. They have never sat next to him while he played his guitar to a song that our kids made up.  

They have never cooked a meal with him by their side. Nor have they ever saw the excitement in his face when his hawk has a good day. 

Not one of them have been doubted by him and witnessed the complete awe in him when he realizes that you have actually done something brilliant even though he didn't think it was possible.

Nor has any of those women ever walked beside him with a camera and been completely smitten with the photographs he captured during your walk.

Those are a few of the things that keep me holding on to him and working through the hell that he has dumped us into. 

Maybe I am just that niev, maybe I am just that strong, but either way I love him like I have never loved anyone before, and because I love him I am still here and still trying to get through this with him. 

Friday, May 23, 2014

My Anger Feels Good!



This video sums up how I am feeling today. 

Over the last 8 years my husband has been pretty shitty to me. He admits this often these days. He appears to be truly remorseful for the things he has done.

To say he has been shitty to me does not cover the scope of what he has done. Unfortunately details ( and God knows I am all about the details ) are not something I can truly share because he is not comfortable with it. I personally have felt a need to shout from roof tops that I don't give a damn if he is ashamed, embarrassed or hurt by the world knowing what an ass he has been.

Just the tip of the iceberg…there have been 3 women that he has told exaggerated, half truths and flat out lies to about me. These fabrications of his fantasy world all came about in order to justify his own actions and to ease his guilt. 

These women all believed they were special friends and that because I was this horrible person who he had to put up with for our daughter's sake, then he needed someone to confide in.

His bashing of me ranged from me being uneducated white trash. See he took my own admission that I was born white trash and twisted that into me raising my children as white trash and being two illiterate to rise above my roots. He gave the impression that minimum wage or barely above it is all I am capable of earning. 

What he failed to say was that I was 4 classes away from a degree in Business when I met him. 

 He also failed to mention that when I met him I was raising my girls on my own with no child support and no government assistance. I raised my children by working my ass off. He also left out the fact that when I met him I worked at one of the better paying jobs in the area where I lived. 

Because of his need to justify his actions by putting me down,  these women believe that I get government hand outs in the form of disability. In reality I put 15 years into the military and would  have gladly put in another 15 years but the military forced me to take medical  retirement and in return I draw a monthly compensation for the injuries I left the military with. I EARNED every dime I receive.

Which brings me to that issue as well. It seems he liked to tell these women that I am lazy and like to exaggerate my pain in order to justify my laziness. Today I may be defiantly lazy because I am pissed. The truth is that before I ever met him I had gone round and round with several doctors, I had exhausted every medical option and the end result was pain management and prevention of further damage. I am OK with cation and preventing further damage, I am not and will not be OK with pain management. I am not willing to be addicted to pain pills or to be so out of my head on pain meds that I can't take care of my children.  So I opted to suffer in silence. If ever I say I am in pain, you can bet your ass that I am in enough pain that if it were my husband he would be knocked out on prescription pain meds. I made that choice because I do have children that need me. After I married my husband, in an effort to not be medically retired I again went through the hassle of repeating all of the previous efforts for treatment. My husband was setting in the office with me, watching me argue with the doctor when the neurologist flat told me that I would never be able to stay in the military because my condition would never improve but only get worse with time. He was also there when the second neurologist told he that he could not recommend that I stay in the military, in fact he couldn't recommend that I be allowed to walk let alone be a soldier. He was there when I sat and agonized over being forced to retire from the military because my body has failed to hold up to what ever I was exposed to on deployment.  However none of this mattered to him when he was telling these women how I was lazy and like to exaggerate my pain. 

These oh so special friends are either so stupid or don't give a shit that he has lied to them. Reality is that in the 7 years I have been married to him not one of those bitches have ever cleaned his dog's shit filled kennel, touched a dead animal for the sake of his bird, sacrificed any hobby they may have wanted to pursue, attended two extra years of college in order to support his dreams or climbed into attic less than a week after having a major surgery with a urine bag taped to their leg in order to help him in his goal to save the bees. I have never witnessed one of those pieces of shit scrubbing rabbit blood off of their counters while the dip shit dog drug all our dirty laundry out of the house and into the muddy back yard. Not one of those self riotous whores have ever scraped hawk shit off of their fireplace or scrubbed it out of their carpet. Not one of them have ever spent a day in my shoes. 

Not one of them have a right to judge me based on the utter bullshit that has spewed from his lying lips. Yet all three of them think they are special to him, even though all three of them were his cyber sluts at the very same time. Not to mention whore number 4 who knew the truth since she had been our neighbor,  she simply likes being slutty. 

I have been very understanding about a lot of stuff in our marriage, and I surprised myself with my understanding of his addiction to cyber whoring. But today I am mad, mad as hell that he robbed me of 8 years of being a real part of his daily life and mad as hell that he gave sluts the everyday part of his life that I should have been a part of. Really pissed off that he justified his actions by twisting the truth  until his indiscretions were my fault. Furious that he convinced me that I was insecure, that he told people that I was insecure. And royally pissed that he told people twisted versions of what he knew about my childhood. 

And to be honest, mad feels better than insecure and pathetic! 

Thursday, May 22, 2014

Life's Choices


Above is my Uncle Paul and my mother with my older brother and myself squeezed in between. All I know about their relationship is that they didn't grow up knowing each other, he found out about and located her when they were adults. I only know this bit because I heard the two of them talking when I was about 11 or 12.

I posted this old photo because today is the day that my younger brother will meet with the neurologist and sign papers to have her taken off life support.

For all the trouble we have had between us there are some things I have to give my mother credit for. 

She made some poor choices in her life but she also made some good choices.

She chose to divorce my father and do the best she could to remove us kids from a bad situation.

She chose several years later to marry my dad and take us to Arkansas. This was one of the best decisions she ever made for us. 

I can honestly say that because of my mother I know how to cook, clean and balance a check book. I also know how to make a dollar stretch when times are tough.

I went to beauty school after high school because when I was 12 my mother started urging me to go, mostly because I was cutting and coloring her hair when I was 12.  Even though I haven't used that skill to support my family it has came in handy over the years ( hence my own daughters have good childhood photos ) 

Over the course of my childhood I can not count the number of people that have staid with us. Some for long periods, sime for short stents until they had enough money to get back out on their own.

Anyone who ever staid with us may have been required to work and contribute financially but no one ever had to live on the street or go without food as long as my mother had a home. No matter what your relationship was, you could fall out with her on Monday and move in on Tuesday so long as you were willing to pay rent and do some manual labor.

Over the years she became very involved in volunteering at food banks and clothing programs through her church. I never knew what drove her in this aspect, but I know that doing this has affected my brother ( Kelly ). He currently volunteeres at a food bank and will be working there this morning before going to sign the papers at the hospital.

And she chose to adopt two disabled children. No matter what her reasoning was I love those two kids to bits. When they were little people thought they were my children. Even my first husband questioned me a lot because he thought I had the kids at a young age so my parents had adopted them. This was not the case but my sibling bond with both of them was strong, especially with my sister. After about 15 years of not seeing each other, earlier this week when I went to see them it was like I had hugged sister just the day before. 


Earlier this week I read a blog where this person was questioning various decisions they had made over the years. Not regretting her choices but more wondering if her choices had of been different how would that have affected her life today.

Knowing the writer of that blog I have no doubt that the choices she made were good ones. I see it in her life, her marriage and her children. You can't expect anyone to make perfect choices all of the time. But when someone puts their heart into the life they build and the family they raise, the good choices will reflect in their lives. That is not to say their won't be bumps along the way or corrections to be made later, but as a whole, making the right choices in life is a difficult task and if we manage to make the right choices 90% of the time and our life reflects that, then there is no need to second guess yourself.

It is very much the same with my brother making decisions about my mother's care, the siblings that we love so much and the life that is still ahead of us.

Ten years ago I didn't trust my brother to make a half way decent choice about what underware to put on let alone the fait of our mother's medical care or the future of our siblings. But it seems that a few years ago he made a choice that changed his life in the best way possible. I know it wasn't easy and I know he had his reasons for the bad choices he made in the past. 

We discussed these bad choices a lot recently. He evenunderstood why I didn't want him to go to last summer's family reunion. Even though he was clean at the time I had no way of knowing that. I had heard he was clean so many times when it was simply not true. He talked about how He would tell you on he was clean while he was litterally getting high at the moment he was saying it. But I find it very important to recognize how far one good choice ( to get clean ) can go to outweigh years of bad choices.

Which brings me back to my mother. She may have made poor choices during her life, but she also made some good choices as well. And today, on the day that my brother will make the decision and sign the papers that will end our mother's suffering, I want to focus on the good decisions and hard choices that the made in her life. 




 

Sunday, May 18, 2014

Life Can Be Hard

I have taken great care to not use names or photos in this blog, simply because even though I am not worried about putting my name out there I don't want anything I say to later be used against some of the people that I care about.  But today I am wishing I could post a photo of a couple people. Instead you get to see the above photo. Stephen and I are going to get new wedding rings. I saw a ring online thatwhen you put the rings together the design forms a heart. I love the idea, but want to design the ring myself.  I have made a few attemps but not liked any of them until now. The cross represents the obvious, the design at the outer edges represents Stephen's falconry and the black ring in the middle of the heart is a camera shutter. I am not done and it may change but right now I am really liking this. 


I have avoided writing even though I had told myself that I wouldn't. I have good reason though. On Thursday I started receiving calls and text indicating that my mother had been taken by medical flight to OKC and was not in good shape.


Things still don't look good for her, and to be honest I was struggling to decided rather or not I even wanted to go to the hospital or not. I haven't spoken to my mother in about 10 years, and I wasn't sure if that was a box in my emotional closet that I cared to open. 


With a lot of urging from Stephen I made the decision to go to the hospital.  I needed to support my siblings in their decisions and the pain they are feeling at the moment.  I have my own regrets, such as I should have put our differences aside a few years ago when I heard that my mother seemed to be in a depressed and less than mentally stable situation. I should have forced myself to go and address the issues she had simply to avoid having my siblings end up stranded in life with no idea of what their future holds.


It has became clear that in the past 10 years my mother seems to have became a hoarder. It also seems clear that during this time she wasn't exactly making good decisions and  she couldn't seem to remember the decisions she was making.  As a result I have burdened myself with some more stress.


Things have been plenty stressful in the past few weeks, and as a result I am about 20 pounds lighter than I was a month ago. Stephen has even said he is worried I am loosing to much weight, he simply don't want me loosing weight in the wrong body parts lol. But I doubt with this added stress that I will be slowing down on the weight loss. I personally am OK with that part of things.


I expected the hardest part of this  mess to be dealing with some of my family that I honestly have avoided for a long time. I simply never wanted my children to be exposed to the life some of my family have chosen.


Upon arriving at the hospital I quickly discovered that my brother who was an addict for many years appeared to be clean, level headed, grown up and making really responsible decisions.  I was in shock at first and was trying to process this information. I had heard so many times that he was clean just to find out that he infact was not, so I was a little taken back by the older wiser version of his pre-addiction self.  It is clear that addiction took a lot out of him but the current clean version of him seems very much like the personality that he had as a child. 


During my visit with him we briefly discussed this sobriety and the affects of his addiction.  He has for many years trembled, severely trembled. I have always contributed this to DTs because the horrible shakes came when he was coming down. I assumed his clean state was why he was not shaking on this day.  As it turns out, just a couple weeks ago after four years of sobriety and various attempts to treat his shakes, a neurologist informed him that the shaking was not due to the damage done by his years of addiction, in fact he  has a hereditary disease that is destroying his nerves. A trial on new meds and an almost instant result and I had no idea that he still even had an issue with the shaking. 


Just before taking him to lunch we were talking about the disease and the medication. We suggested he put his medication into a duffle bag full of clothes and necessities we had brought him, then we took him to get some dinner.  Unfortunately. all the catching up lead to him forgetting to take his evening dose of meds. About 20-30 minutes after missing his meds, we were waiting on our food to arrive and like a switch was flipped and he was shaking so severely that he couldn't hold his fork or answer his phone. We had not gone far from the hospital so Stephen quickly went back to get my brother's medication. It was one of the most interesting things I have ever witnessed. Within 10-15 minutes of taking his meds I watched as the tremors eased and disappeared all together.


He is supposed to get me detailed information from his doctor, because this is a hereditary disease. The more he and I talked about it the more people in our family that we could remember having an issue with shaking. It was always put down to one thing or another, but now I am wondering if this disease isn't fairly common in our family?


There was a moment with my brother that I nearly burst into tears, with sadness and a little anger and a whole lot of why??  From the time my youngest daughter was tiny I have always been in awe of the fact that she has my family trademark blue eyes, but one of them is half brown. I often look at her and try to reason where this half brown eye came from. Stephen always says maybe from his family because his father has two different colored eyes.  I however have often  wondered how to find out.  During my visit   my brother said how he has never met my youngest child.  So I pull out my phone and find some photos. As I turned to look at him it was like a ton of emotional bricks slammed onto me.  Both of his eyes look exactly like Katie's one half brown half blue eye.  I knew this, I always knew this, but for some reason, probably because I have put so much distance between myself and my family, I never thought about his eyes when I looked at Katie.


This made me sad because recently I said in one of my post that I was angry at my brother over his addiction, because there is so much of the child he was years ago that I can see in Katie, her nonstop questions, her need to be a peace maker and her need to please people and even her eyes, yet she had no idea that he existed. When she inquires about my family I always say that she has not met them because it was not safe for her to meet them. I have never even told her how many or who my siblings are.  She has met some of them but not all of them.  This in it's self caused me much emotional pain yesterday. I wanted to shake him and say " do you have any idea what your addiction cost you, she is a Minnie you and you have missed out on knowing her"  I wanted to say I was sorry that I didn't believe that he was clean this time, I wanted so cry because addiction and abuse should never steal people's life.


Instead I withdrew just a little, enough for Stephen to notice and take hold of my hand. Enough to control my emotions and move forward with things.  I am certain that withdrawing is not the best option for me, but more certain that due to some of the baggage that comes with deciding to be at the hospital, being an emotional basket case was also not an option. So I opted for a small withdrawal. The easy way out for me, but I am ok with that for the moment.

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Just Life



I promises myself to write a blog once a week about my childhood. Part of me wants to skip it this week because I have has a exhausting weekend and woukd love yo get an early night. But I know if I get lazy about this I will easilly close that little box up and not deal with it. However, I know it would not be good for me. So I am going to press on, but keeping on the easier side of this stuff.

So with that said, I have questions for my brother that will never be answered because he passed away a few years ago. Most likely he wouldn't have ever answered them anyway because I doubt he was capable of a real conversation. 

This wasn't always the case. When he was in middle school he had a pasion for writing, his imagination was pretty impressive. He had an oportunity to attend a private boarding school for young authors, but maybe we couldn't afford it, I suspect it is more that my mother was not about to let her son leave home. He never really did leave home.  He was also fairly artistic.

But mixed in with the talent was a very disturbed part of my brother. From the time I was starting to develope until he got married ( when I was 16) my brother spent his time doing things like drilling holes i the wall between our bedrooms so he could spy on me when I dressed. I discovered that he had been taking my dirty panties out of the laundry or cutting the crotch out of my panties. Seriously who does that?

He seemed to be obsesed with the idea of making me have sex withhis friends. Luckily for me none of his friends were willing to force me into sex. That is not to mean that him and his friends didn't find it fun to spy on me, "accidentally" come in on me while I was dressing or bathing. I had burses on my rear end and my tiny breast from them always pinching me. 

Yes these were mintor issues compared to the big picture, but things that made my life hard and made me grow up to not like being touched. 

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Some of The Good


I have talked a lot about the bad bits in my childhood, but not much about the good. There was some good aspects. 

Moving to Arkansas meant living on a dirt road that was primarily occupied by my dad's family. My grandparents made sure that each of my dad's siblings owned a piece of land along this dirt road. They also raised their children to work hard for what they have. My dad also did his best to teach my brothers and I the same work ethic. His favorite saying was " if you don't work you don't eat" . That work ethic is something that has stuck with me. For about 7 years after going on deployment I fought the national guard and civilian doctors to let me stay in the military. In the end the military forced me into a medical retirement based on a civilian neurologist's recomendation that not only should I not be in the military but he couldn't, on the best of days recomend that I so much as walk across the room. They even told me to prepare to be in a wheel chair within five years. 

 I ask for a second opinion and the military did allow me to see a few of their doctors but in the end not one of them were willing to say the neuroloigist was wrong. I thought I would miss the military but I honestly don't. I do however refuse to accept that I should just buy a wheel chair and sit on my rear and let life pass me by. So I made a decision to folow my dad's example and slow down when they put me in the ground.

I shreaded the forms that the neurologist urged me to use to appy for disability and I  kept raising my chdren and working with very little medical intervention.  I have learned to live with the pain, I have ignored it and I have pushed through it and rarely mention it. If I ever I say I need my medicatio. Then you know I am at the end of the rope.  But I live my life free of being hooked on prescription pain meds and most days I am able to be there with a clear mind when my children need me.
I am grateful daily for the lessons my dad taught me about not slowi g down.

Another thing that living on that dirt road brought to my life was gardening. My dad claimed to be too busy so my grand parents tilled and planted a half acer garden that I was largely left to tend. To this day I still have a garden! 



Monday, May 5, 2014

Odd Dreams

This is one of my favorite everyday photos. I love it because I was simply sitting on the back patio and this little bird was gathering up stuff to build a nest, completely oblivions to me. I often feel much like that little bird, going about my life and shutting the world around me out. I am often happiest when I am able to focus on my little world and ignore the things that are not necessary to my daily process.

I have taken a couple days off of the had blogs because I needed a break and I needed to work up to this blog.  I mentioned before that my older brother had became a sexual predator at a young age. six or maybe 8 but certainly not any older than that.

Many times in my life I have wondered what happened to him that he changed from protecting me to abusing me. I have no idea, much like a lot of my childhood I simply can not account for a lot of time.

From the time that my mother caught my brother until we were living in another town across the state I honestly remember very little. I recall my cousin coming to my house every morning before school and after school, I remember getting my ears pierced, I remember convincing my mother and my cousin's mother to let us wear dresses to school in the middle of winter, I remember living in another house where we had ducks and my brother-n-law digging us a pond for the ducks to swim in, I remember walking to the store to buy my mother cigarettes and I remember having a dog. The dog was amazing, he was a huge lab and would encourage us kids to get on his back and ride him. He came to live with us because he had been drinking soapy water from a bucket at the gas station and everyone thought that he had rabies due to the foam coming out of his mouth. I was getting dressed to go get 100 shots in my tummy when the cop told my parents they caught the dog and a store worker had verified that he had been drinking soapy water. He was one of the best dogs ever. He eventually died when a poisonous snake came out of the field and was about to bite my little cousin and the dog laid on the snake, which bit him, he was dead before anyone could help him. 

I also remember going to buy goats milk because I was allergic to cow's milk . The man lived on a real life farm, and  had old cars all over the property and  his daughter and I plaid in the cars while my mother talked to him and bought my milk.  Oddly I remember the man's name and I remember him coming to our house once. I remember him having long hair and picking me up while he was at our house. He told me what seemed like a million times that I was the prettiest girl he had ever seen, he always said I looked like an angel.  The odd thing is that by this time in my life, men creeped me out, I always felt like every man that talked to me or touched me in any way was going to try and touch me in the wrong way, but this man never made me feel that way, he may also be the only person in my life that has ever given me a compliment without me cringing inside.  To this day I don't have a clue how to respond to  a compliment, I just stare like a deer in headlights.  I also recall that  While we were at his house I got a tick under my arm, by the time we drove back to town I was laying in the floorboard of the car throwing up  with a  fever and barely aware of what was going on around me. I spend a few days in the hospital but eventually got over tick fever.

That is about all that I remember until the 2nd grade. We had moved to Hobart OK because my uncle (mother's brother ) and his family lived there, I barely recall my mother saying she had lived there when she was younger, but my mother was from Amarillo TX so I don't know how Hobart OK plaid into her childhood.

I remember very little from Hobart. I recall that we didn't have a car and my mother would walk to the store with all three of us kids and pull a wagon to bring the groceries home in. For some odd reason I remember an Easter egg hunt at a park but I don't remember having an Easter dress. I just remember that it was a community hunt where everyone was suppose to bring eggs but we couldn't afford eggs. 

I remember my mother taking me to someone's house to get a free hair cut and I cried for weeks because the woman cut all my hair off. I had hair down the middle of my back and for some reason they cut it really short. I hated it!

I also remember being on a soccer team while I was there but I didn't get to finish the season because I became ill.  I don't remember much about my brothers during that time. I don't know if we had a normal childhood during that time, the only real memory I have of them was me and my little brother on the front porch and I was cutting his hair, the neighbor saw me and I got the tar beat out of me for it, mostly because I denied it at first.

I remember that my mother was friends with an older man who owned a second hand store where he also did auctions. My mother was at his house late one night playing cards, us kids where with her but I have no idea what we were doing. I just remember my mother at the table with this older man ( I remember his name as well ) and another man. The other man who I had never laid eyes on before came home with us. The next thing I know my mother was getting married, my new step-dad was buying a very old truck and we were moving to Arkansas.

At this point my memory gets a lot better. It was the summer between 2nd and 3rd grade, we moved into a house that my dad's family owned. It was on the end of a dirt road and his family lived in most of the houses on that road. I remember arriving there and sleeping in borrowed sleeping bags because all of our stuff was packed up. I remember having a wood burning stove for the first time ever and I remember thinking this was a fancy house because it had vinyl siding! Vinyl Siding for God sakes, I hate vinyl siding now. It was mint green vinyl siding and I thought it was great.

I remember a lot of good things about living there and for the most part my life was good there. My dad was the best thing that ever happened to me and to this day even though I have very little contact with his family I love everyone of them dearly. That family is the only real example I ever saw of a family.

I probably could have lived the rest of my life in that little green house at the end of that dirt road, raised my children there and never looked beyond that hill. To bad things don't always work out that way. My mother moved us there when I was between 2nd and 3rd grades and took us back to Oklahoma between my 10th and 11th grade years. In between those years were the best and worst years of my life.

Obviously my brother already had some issues, but instead of counseling, my mother always insisted that if you ever saw a counselor then you would be marked for life as being crazy.  Things were good for the first couple of years. I don't remember my brother messing with me at all and we seemed to be back to a normal brother sister relationship.

Then when my brother was in 6th or 7th grade I loose a bunch of time again. What I do remember is that my brother came home talking about how his science teacher was taking a bunch of boys camping and he wanted to go. I remember him leaving on the trip and I remember my parents being very upset when he returned with poison ivy all over his ass and announced that it was only the teacher, my brother and my brother's friend that went camping, none of the other kids showed up.

I also remember that my brother came home very angry and very distant and very different.  The only thing I know for sure is that there was talk about the teacher and unappropriated behavior with the boys, the teacher moved shortly after that and a few months later was arrested for molesting some boys in a boy scouts troop that he was the leader of. What happened to my brother and his friend on that trip I do not know as he never told anyone, ever! 

It wasn't long after that, that I started having the oddest dreams. I would dream that I was at school walking around naked, I would dream that I was walking naked on the dirt road we lived on, I dreamed I was at a friend's house in her front yard naked and everyone was asking me why I took off my clothes. I had these very vivid naked dreams for weeks. Every single time I would wake up in the middle of the night and find myself naked, missing my panties, missing all of my clothes. At first I thought I was undressing in my sleep, this is possible considering that my brother had been a sleep walker for years and often peed in the corner or a closet in his sleep.  

I couldn't sleep because of the dreams and when I would finally sleep I would have the dreams again, but I started waking up easier and faster and finding myself only half naked. I grew suspicious when I realized that every time I woke up only half naked my older brother would be in his bedroom with the light on looking for something, reading or watching tv. Now my brother was never one to watch tv with the light on, he always watched tv in the dark.  I knew something was not right but I didn't want to accuse my mother's favorite child of anything. Life was good and I didn't want that to change, and if my mother was mad it would change I could guarantee that! So I started wearing sweat pants to bed instead of night gowns, I wore shorts under them and then my under clothes, I wore tank tops under my shirts and a bra with a sports bra over it. I layered my clothing so that if I did fall asleep hopefully I would wake before I became naked. 

This didn't work, the dreams got worse and I was still waking up with at least some of my clothes missing.

Then one night when I was about 12 I was outside where we were burning brush during the night. My dad had left my brother and his friend to tend to the fire and they didn't realize I was walking back to where they were. My brother thought they were alone.  I walked up and was there long enough to hear my brother saying that if he really wanted to F*** me then my brother would make me do it. His friend was insistent that he couldn't do it if my brother forced me, he wanted my brother to talk to me and get me to do it willingly. My brother told him " man look she is all into this church and God crap, she isn't going to do it, but I will hold her down if you want it, I am telling you it is the tightest P**** you ever had" they boy looked at him oddly and said "how would you know? she is your sister"  my brother went into detail about how easy it was to slip pills into my drink, how the pills were easy to get because our dad had been having surgeries on his ears and just a little piece of one of his pain pills  and how all you have to do is take it slow and easy  undressing her,  slide it in and from there you just screw until you are through.

It was like a light bulb went on, everything made sense and I was just frozen in place and didn't know what to do.  My brother was still trying to convince the boy force himself on me but the boy was stunned into silence. Eventually I turned and ran back to the house, the last thing I heard was the boy sternly telling my brother he would never rape anyone ever!

From that night on I watched my drinks and I never slept very well, and for years after that if you touched me at night I would deck you like a grown man in a bar brawl. To this day, at times Stephen rolls over and touches me and I fight him off, not nearly as fiercely as I did as a teenager but still there are mornings that he ask what I was dreaming about because I fought him in my sleep when he touched me. 


Sunday, May 4, 2014

Exceptions to the Rules of my Life

Stephe. Has ask for me to remember to add some posative posts as well.  Appareny the negative posts get a bit hard to handle.

My life is not all bad and I see his point. Not to mention that my own story and the clear picture of my family and some insite into their lives can beccome overwhelming for me. 

I started this blog by saying that Stephen clearly violated my trust and exposed my childhood to people who had no right to know about it. So today I want to focus on why I did not choose my very comfortable reaction to his actions. My life long protocal has always been that if someone hurt me I first explode the  after the dust settles I walk away, place them and that part of my life in a tightly closed box and move on.

My children have always been the exception to this rule, when as adults they hurt me, I may shove things in a mental box but I never close it.  Until recently I never considered Stephen to also be an exception to this rule. It was 't until I had already made the decision to walk away that I realized that maybe he should be an exception to my rule.

I can honestly say that I didn't choose to stay because he makes all the money, yes he makes a lot more than I do, but I currently work a crap pay job because I want to. I wanted a job that made a difference in people's lives, a job that allows me a lot of time with my children and a job that I wanted to go to every day. I have and still could make a lot more money. I posses an education, work history and skills to work in the corprate world and support myself and my children. His pay check means nothing if I wanted to leave that would not be a henderance for me. 

I didn't stay because it is best for the kids. I am well aware that an unhappy marriage is a lot worse on a child than single co-parenting. 

I chose to stay because under the deception, behind the lies and beyond the broken trust is a man that I truly love. I love so much about him that I know that the good in him out weighs the bad.

I love his talent for photography, his ambision when he wants something, the way he is with our children, the goals that he has for himself and our family, the support he has given me and somethings better left unsaid!

I don't need his pay check but I do need him. I need the feeling of knowi g that he will be there at night when I go to bed, the comfort that comes when I hear him sleeping, the patience be has with our children and the children we have brought into our life and home. I need the emotional support he gives me and the love he brings to our family.

I can honestly say he may have given me a box full of reasons to walk away but he has given me a life time of reasons to stay. 


Saturday, May 3, 2014

Ripples

For obvious reasons there are not many people in my family that I can say I am truly close to. I find it diffict to bond  with family who know but refuse to address the issues of sexual abuse that has gone on in our family for years. 

Judgemental, yes,  maybe even hypocritical considering that I have closed off that part of my life for so long. In reality those people who have shoved this giant pile of poo under life's rug and ignored the stinch of abuse and trauma are doing pretty much what I have been doing my whole life; putting it aside to survive.  The affects of Their own abuse is like ripples on water, it spread from them to us and could have easily kept flowing to our children. 

I also know that some of the women in our family seem to think that silence is protection. For them maybe but for me silence is stiffeling and silence leads to visious cycles of abuse. 

The one difference is that myself and one other family member that I know of ha e , when needed, stepped outside of our own pain for brief moments in order to protect the chdren in our family that we see being put anywhere near the path of sexuall abuse that we walked our childhood. Did we save them all or prevent any harm to them? No, but we saved and protected the ones we were capable of. even if those children never truly understand it we have put our darkest secrets out there in order to protect them. That for me is something we should be proud of.

I often struggle to comprehend how the mothers of the little girls in my family failed to protect us. I have only recently realized that they to were abused as well.... physically, mentally and sexually, I knew this but never looked at it as the reason they were unwilling or unable to protect us. they too were locking away their secrets and pretending to not know that the men they  chose as fathers to their children, their brothers and fathers were bastards and sexual preditors. I obviously can not excuse their actions but I can for the first time really begin to understand and accept the fear that lead to their choices.

In a rare moment here I have to give my mother credit, which she has earned very little of in my adult life. For all the things she has done wrong, she did move me away from most of the preditors. 

In the last few weeks I have been very open about my past. It has not been easy for me but it has been very therapeutic for me. Our marriage counselor questioned my need to write a public blog, but at the end of the session did say that transparency leads to healing, closure and freedom. I have noticed that in my exposing my past someone I care deeply for has found a strength to share their similar secrets with me. 

The emotions involved with sharing of these hurtful things can be very mixed up. On one hand being trusted with this personal information is an honor.  I also find comfort in knowing that my own emotions and insecurity is normal and justified. I have always had a special bond with this person, we could go months or years without speaking and pick up like it was yesterday. I was damn near 30 before I really ( and unexpectedly ) had a friendship like that with onyone else. 

On another hand this person has a similar story as mine. Our stories are simar because some of our preditors are the same people  and knowing that, the details hit very close to home and stir up a lot of my own memories.

Just this morning reading just a few details of her story and I was spiralling right back to my own familar history. It completely changed the direction of a blog I was intended to write tonight.

This morning I am filled with memories of the lesser invasive yet uneasy moments that the men in my father's family imposed on the little girls around them. 

I am talking about men having young girls give their errections a squeeze, fully clothed, yet still tramatic  all the same. 
Moments when these men make little girls set in their lap, again fully clothed, but with errections pressing into the girl's bottom and a way to uncomfortable hug that last way to long. Most often ending to quickly for the preditor because there are people around. It is almost like they needed a moment of inappropriate contact to excite them enough to tide them over until the next opportunity to fully molest a child. Mabe the rush of knowing they could get caught excites them as well. What ever the reasons these men seemed to lurk in our lives, popping up in the middle of what ever we were doing, to get a little grope and feel as often as possible.

Two such events stand out the most in my mind. This is what I remember… it was a rock house, there was a dark basement or room that no one used, I feel sure it was a basement. A lot of our family was there. My uncle, I know for sure he was my uncle, my father's brother, but not one of the uncles that were in our daily life, this was an uncle that I was not around very often. This stranger of an uncle and the uncle that fondled me at the pond, they had me in this dark basement. I knew who they were but they seemed to prefer to do their deeds in near darkness. They discussed me, would I tell, how much did I know ect. Why do preditors do this? Why discuss you like you can't see and hear them? Like your a trinket to look at and play with but not a person with a mind, emotions and life? Probably because you are nothing more than their sick version of a porn magazine.

In the end the two men decided to start by exposing themselves. Why they got a thrill out of a first grader looking at their manhood is beyond me. This was the first time I understood an errection, not that I knew what it was called or used for, but I understood the idea.

I don't know what happened beyond my viewing of the stranger uncle'e errection.  This is one of the memories that have haunted me for my entire life. What happened, did someone stop them, did I do something to make them stop, did they finish what they started and I just blocked it out and can't remember? I did a lot of mental spinning and singing during thise years of my life.

The other memory was in Arkansas, my father and uncle, the same uncke who took me fishing and was in the basement had came to Arkansas to live for a short while. My dad ( lets clarify father = biological   Dad = step father ) My dad had offered my father and uncle some cash work, some how I ended up riding in the back of my dad's truck with my uncle. He insisted that it was dangerous for me to ride in my usual seat over the wheel and forced me to sit on his lap. He spent the whole ride pressing my bottom into his errection and fondeling my no existant breast. 
I was so uncomfortable and upset that I became physically ill when I got out of the truck.

I have never dealt with any of the abuse in any way, except to become physically ill and throw up and to do a lot of mental singing and spinning. I often wonder how much I don't remember due to all the mental spinning I did.....