Season of Tears

Just not sure if I am ever going to get it really right ~

This holiday season ~

This Season of Tears ~

She's been gone 19 years this Christmas Day ~

Seems like yesterday ~

The tears started earlier this year ~

Just before Thanksgiving ~

I realized on Thanksgiving that it is finally time to start my own traditions ~

So, yes, it is time to finally plan that getaway on Thanksgiving and Christmas ~

To just run away from it all ~

To not worry about trying to keep things the way they were ~

Because they have never really been the same since she left us that Sunny Christmas Day ~

I am tired of pretending that everything is normal when it's not ~

So away I go ~

But not this year ~ 

I wonder if Christmas will be sunny this year ~ 

I wonder if her light will shine down upon us like it did when she took her last breath ~

The aura of her spirit lingering with us as we said our final goodbyes ~

And thanked her for spending one last Christmas with us ~

The Last Best Christmas ~ 

Mama, I Miss You ~

Does It Ever Really Stop?

Calling the hotline after so many years makes me wonder if it ever will really stop.

The underlying flashbacks just waiting to erupt at any random trigger.

The lack of trust in new relationships.

The pain that never really left my side even though I moved on long ago ~

I still remembered the number.

1(866) 2 My Ally ~

And again, another young woman answered the other line.

Calmed me down.

Told her how taken back I was to have so much anxiety at work.

Needing to sneak in another office to make a secret call at work.

So familiar.

So reminiscent of my distant past.

I asked her how can this be happening when I am an advocate now ~ an online advocate ~ a writer for the abused ~

And yet I am riddled with anxiety ~ flooded with tears ~ remembering him and how much he once controlled me ~

He affects my present in ways I do not wish ~

He ruins my today ~

But not my tomorrow ~

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This Moment in Time

Never have been happier as I am right now in this moment time.

Sometimes, you have to simply let go of all the pain of the past for happiness to seep back in!

All in God's Time ~

So worth the wait ~

~ The Time of My Life ~

One Step Closer

The scissors came out.

And I got one step closer to getting back to The Original Me.

Put the navy blue hairband away.

Not going to need it anymore.

I looked in the mirror and thought, "There she is."

There I am.  Looking back at me. 

Eyes still the same.  Maybe a little more weathered.

But a lot more wiser.

And full of so much more soul.

The second half of my life now begins.

Chapter Three ~



The Third Character

I got nostalgic about the Santa Cruz Mountains today.

I spoke to a kind person on the bus about my time spent there and how Ben Lomond always felt like home to me.  I had started a new job at the local university back in 2000 and found a rustic little studio near Highway 9.

I think back to those earlier days of peace and tranquility and had one of those "Little Did I Know" moments that everything would change so suddenly after entering an abusive relationship so long ago.

In so many of my survival stories, the Santa Cruz Mountains is the third character.

These mountains witnessed my isolation.

My terror.

My tears.

These mountains wrapped me in their arms when I cried myself to sleep, hiding out in Lil' Red's room on so many nights when the end was near.

Theses mountains wept with me each time I called the hotline from behind the knotty pine walls that separated me from him during my times of crisis, the same walls in which my head was bashed into multiple times back in the Summer of 2003.

These mountains held my hopes for breaking free and seeing my family again.

These mountains held my dreams that could not be deteriorated by any amount of abuse.

These mountains watched me grow into a stronger woman that final year.

These mountains kept me safe throughout the whole ordeal.

These mountains bid me farewell that hot July afternoon when I hurriedly packed up Lil' Red in the old Camry, backed down the alley, and courageously left my life in San Lorenzo Valley.



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Where I Am At

Just when I get so discouraged from the layoff from 2 1/2 years ago, I am reminded I am supposed to be where I am at this moment in time..

Along comes a mother of a new student pleading with me to take care of her daughter ~ the first in her family to attend college ~ "Watch over her," she says, "Let her know that this is a place she can come for help."  I give her my card and tell her I will be here for her just like a second mother.  I step around the counter, and we have a group hug.  The mother cries softly.

The money is tight ~ the hours are far less ~ in the job offered to me nearly 19 months ago.  But it is times like these that make me realize how much I make a difference in a simple moment in time ~ on a seemingly routine day ~ the gesture of reassurance to a parent who trusts me to take good care of her daughter.

 

 

 



 

 



New York

My Muse, My Hero

My Heart, My Soul

My Dreams, My Hopes

My Inspiration, My Determination

My Friend, My Soulmate

New York

Threshold

The mental block.  The emotional block.  The inability to cross the threshold of pain.

So much shared these past three years.  So much still hidden from the world.

The Degradation.  The Humiliation.

The Dehumanization.

I relive these memories in flashing images.  Winced away as soon as they appear. 

I block them out for the moment just to get through the day. 

But they are not really blocked out.  They are not really forgotten.

The stories unshared.  The stories unwritten.

The threshold of pain.

Peaked eight years ago.

The threshold of healing.

Uncrossed.

 

 

 

~ Dedicated to all the beautiful women I am helping to heal by sharing my story ~



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Atrocity

It starts to creep back in if I do not keep writing.

First the dreams ~ then the flashbacks ~ filling an apparently normal life ~ so many years after being free from abuse.

But there he is riding an old blue bicycle in my dream ~ my nightmare ~ of trying to hide from him.

There he is in my feelings of anger of not having enough money and remembering how much he extorted from me.

There is he in each double take I do on so many motorcycles I see each day.

There he is in my ongoing attempt to get my family to read my survival stories.

There he is in so many memories that I thought I had forgotten.

So many days that I thought were over.

So many years that I left behind.

The Atrocity that was once my life ~

There he is in my courage to heal.

My courage to share.

My courage to reveal.

There he is in my hidden truth.

My secrets and lies.

Now exposed.

There he is in my quest to help others.

My quest to share my hope for a better day.

I will keep his memory alive.

To help others live ~

Abuse free ~

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My Heart Weeps

My Heart Weeps ~ My Precious Aunt Sharon has passed away after enduring many long, courageous years with Alzheimer's disease.

She taught me how to jump rope in the living room in Oakland when I was five years old.  She always loved pink and yellow.  I remember she once had a room in her home that she called "The Pink Room" when she lived in Sonora, California.  I was so fascinated by a room completely decorated in pink and loved the pink plaid couch she had found to fill out the room.  I loved that pink room.  I loved how much she loved that pink room. 

She always told me the story of teaching me how to sing to the "Batman and Robin" soundtrack as a toddler, and I would stand by the stereo with her, singing "Baa, Baa!!! Baa, Baa!!!" while bouncing my legs up and down.

She was famous for her style of Spaghetti ~ made with the sauce already mixed in together with zesty parmesan cheese.  She lived by the pool, and her secret to staying young looking was putting Vaseline all over face.  When we would sleep over in the summertime, she would fix us a big bowl of peaches that she had coated with lots of sugar and left in the refrigerator to soak in overnight, so the sugary glaze had glistened to perfection by the morning.

She loved all sorts of childlike things like the Strawberry Shortcake girl, Care Bears, and any kind of teddy bear or other colorful stuffed animal.  She loved Dreamsicles and Blue Birds of Happiness. 

She dropped everything she was doing on her 37th birthday to rush to my family's side when I severely broke my jaw at age seven.  I bet she sped down those Sonora foothills just to get there as quick as she could.  She graciously took care of my brother and sister for days, so Mom and Dad could comfort me in the hospital.

She loved her family fiercely and was so proud of her husband and children.  She was a devout Catholic who prayed daily for her children's safety on the streets as police officers.  To this day, I do believe those daily prayers kept both of them safe from harm.  Her love and devotion for her family was truly boundless.

She was my mother's protector as a little girl.  Mama was five years younger which was a big age difference growing up together in the 1940s.  Mama would tell me how she would go down to Sharon's room when she had a bad dream as a little girl, and Sharon would comfort her by singing all sorts of little kid sayings like "That's the way the ball bounces" or "That's the way the cookie crumbles" ~ all in the middle of the night.

Somehow, I do not think she ever really ever got over losing her precious baby sister to cancer at age 54.  But she remained stoic for me and was my rock for all of those early years without her.

She was a power shopper and could find the best deals everywhere.  She loved Gemco.  She would always stock up on dish towels and bath towels and pass them out like candy to us whenever we would visit.

She loved to talk on the phone, and I remember Mama having many long distance conversations with her while making dinner.  After Mama died, I took over the role of regular chats.  Seems like both Mama and I always ended up talking a lot about Nanny with her!

She always ending our conversations or letters by saying, "I Be Lovin' You!!!"

My Heart Weeps ~ for her ~ for us ~ for the lost years without her ~

My Heart Weeps ~ for the joyous reunion of two Soul Sisters and the parents that brought them into this world ~

Sharing a glass of wine ~ and a good dose of gossip ~

Remembering those days so long ago in the middle of the night on a Chicken Ranch ~ when big sister put her arm around her little sister after a bad dream ~ making her laugh ~ with singsong sayings ~

"That's the way the ball bounces...That's the way the cookie crumbles...That's the way...."

Soul Sisters



In a Heartbeat

 

 

In a heartbeat

 

Two lives were lost

 

Two futures taken

 

from them

 

and their family and friends

 

In a heartbeat

 

Two families

 

became

 

Fractured

 

There will be no father to walk her down the aisle

 

To watch him be sworn in as a police officer

 

There will be no mother

 

To hold his hand on the first day of kindergarten

 

To cheer for him on the sidelines of the soccer field

 

There will be no husband or life partner

 

to be greeted at the end of the day

 

and ask how your day went

 

In a heartbeat

 

Two lives were lost

 

Two heroes saved us

 

One last time

 

Two Heroes

 

Served Us

 

Protected Us

 

Shielded Us

 

from harm

 

In a heartbeat

 

 

 

 

 

In Loving Memory of Our Fallen Officers

Loran "Butch" Baker and Elizabeth Butler

 

 

 

 

 

 



The Sisterhood

One by one, they left.

All of the women I met along the way.

The women who knew I was being abused.

I met some of them in domestic violence support groups. I remember one woman came in to the night group with half of her face completely bruised.  Her face had been slammed between one of those little sliding doors that separates a kitchen from a family room.  I bonded with her instantly.  We started weekly potlucks at her house with a handful of other participants.  She had two little girls.  I treated her and the other ladies to lunch in the dining hall at my work place. 

But as my abuse worsened, and she remained free, she began to distance herself from me.  She told me to stop calling her in crisis.  She called the Sheriff's Office to have them do a "welfare check" on me instead.  She soon forgot about me.  

I then tried to form friendships with the women from his A.A. fellowship.  I was not a member but accompanied him to all of his weeknight and weekend meetings.  I remember they let me in the women's only group as a "friend of A.A." and also since alcoholism had been rampant in my family in previous generations.  I met Charlotte there.  She came in as a newcomer during a huge crisis.  If you took the "alcohol" reason away from her situation and substituted "domestic violence" instead, we would have had so much in common.  I instantly liked her and wanted to be her friend.

She was the first person I called at dawn on August 22, 2003 ~ a mere two hours after my head had been bashed into the wall three times, and he had been hauled off to jail.  And all I remember was how angry she was at me for waking her up.

She later publicly ridiculed me for going back to him.

I was so alone those four long years ~ alone with my secrets ~ and alone all over again each time I revealed them to another woman.

But this time, it's different.  I have been free for 7 1/2 years.  And I finally have found The Sisterhood I had always wanted and needed during my years of abuse.

I have found other victims and survivors around the world simply by sharing my story.  My story of hope.  My story of survival.

I have helped other woman know they are not alone ~ women who are fresh out of an abusive relationship, women who are thinking about leaving, or women who have been free for years.

We found each other on the internet ~ where stories can be shared ~ where voices can be heard ~ where survivors can support the victims and help them gain strength ~ so that they, too, can one day leave.

And soon we will meet.  My dream is coming true.  We will unite this summer ~ sharing our truth together ~ encouraging others to begin their freedom journey ~ to begin to heal ~ to begin to thrive.

The Sisterhood ~ all now Advocates for the Abused!

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