Kittens and Echos- and a goofy mood! lol

I am smitten by a kitten. Just blown away at the tremendous amount of cuteness that is that little ball of fur? They mew, they have tiny little scratchy tongues and the most adorable little feet in the world. Needless to say I have, not baby fever!!! No more babies for me!!! Haha. No, I am fully afflicted by cat fever. I want a kitty cat to sit in my lap! I want to hold one, and scratch their ears and pet them all the while getting happily covered in cat hair. Oh geeze, yes it really is that bad. My neighbor's cat will simply not do any longer. My client's cat won't do either. I must get a cat! While this cat fever has been going on I've been noticing where it started. And I have decided- our lives echo. Our choices and thoughts and ..... all of it becomes an echo. The irritating loneliness echoes to the need for a cat. My desire to be whole and healthy and independently sound echo into my liking the idea of a cat. And my need to be reminded that relaxing is good for me, well that thought gets echoed in my desire for a cat. It reminds me of my mother, and it reminds me of my cat Punky from my high school years, and it reminds me of the cats on my uncle's farm and all of that makes for sentimental and emotional happy. So.... smitten by a kitten. Oh yes! (Please oh please don't quit reading due to my ridiculous phrasing today!!!) I'm proud to follow my echoes. They are some of the most interesting time occupying trails to follow. My echoes make me feel complete, satisfied and knowing. And that knowing is so powerful. It's me after all that I'm knowing. Be Brave, know you and all your echoes too! :-)

Dark Corner
He said no. He said no. He said no. He hit me. He hit me. He hit me. 
I cried. I cried. I cried. He lied. He lied. He lied.
I listened. I listened. I listened. Inside I died. Inside I died. Inside I died. 

With no patience today to tell a story- the above is that past relationship in a nutshell. Repeated by threes because in repetition anything can become normal- even really bad things. Domestic violence can become normal, can become just what happens. As long as I was not dead I felt I was ok, that things would change, that I could influence things enough to make it change. But that was myself believing the lie that it was all my fault, that I had caused his behavior, that this was ok and normal. If this is you, please please get help. Try to see you, try to hear your echoes, try to hear the last time you felt the anger feel chaotic and scary- that is not normal. That is not safe or healthy. Better is out there, I promise; a safe life is possible, it can be had. 
If you are reading this as one not affected by domestic violence- make a difference. Tell every young woman you know that they are worth love, they are worth being cared for, they are worth their own care. Support those trying to break free. And don't ever be afraid to throw your voice out there and offer help. 
Take care, abigail

Summer and Shadows

In the summer we see the sunshine, we see the bright sky and flowers. We see the fun and beaches and vacations. Tanned feet, flip flops and swim suits. Bike riding and time at the pool. Endless days of summer. But I pause here. My endless days have.... shadows. When I step into the sun I see my shadow. When I do all the summer things I see other shadows. Summer contains shadows. Somedays mine are dark and appear to be dark holes shaped just like myself in which I could fall into. And somedays they are cheerful flitting Peter Pan type shadows, full of memories and wistful wanting emotions. Today I look into a deep shadow. I hold onto my own hands and sit on its edge. I left worry out of the equation, I left the fear and the discontent. I wanted to see in, down the darkness, down the hole. As if sitting on the edge of a swimming hole from days long ago, I let my toes play along the top of the dark water, not willing to jump in, not wanting though to go. Maybe this is part of saying goodbye to the past, sitting with it. Maybe this is just settling into what is. I don't love this, my heart is sore but some things are best taken as they are. Acceptance and peace found at that shadow? A deep breath and the ability to sit with a shadow? I'm not sure, but I'm there. Be Brave, shadows and all. 

Dark Corner
He said I wasn't good enough and so I slept on the floor next to the bed. On nights when I was evil I slept in the hallway or back porch. On weeks that I was hurting I didn't sleep, afraid of what would happen when I slept. It took years for his behaviors to creep into the daytime. But they did....
My belly ached, so very heavy and large with another baby. I hurt everywhere, my right leg with deep brown marks, my back with the same. My eyes were so tired. I looked to him, hopeful for an easy day, a day that we could be distracted. A day with something planned, a day with his family maybe so at least it would be tempered a bit, for awhile. But.... no luck. He teased me about how slow I was. I wasn't feeling it. And that was enough. He grabbed an exercise roller stick, the wooden kind. It struck the back of my head before I even realized he had it. I stumbled forwards, and felt it again...

Domestic violence has a charming way of being brushed aside. What an uncomfortable thing to think about, talk about and consider. But we need to- if one in four women in the US is harmed at some point in their lives, we need to. 
Every nine seconds in the US a woman is assaulted or beaten. Everyday in the US, three women are murdered by their husbands or boyfriends. 
Please help end this by seeking help if you are being hurt! You are worth a calm, peaceful summer day, a life with care. Whatever kind of love you feel from the person who also harms you is but a shadow, it is not the real thing. Let it be the past. I ask you, knowing the hurt, knowing the confusion, pain and fear- please seek help if you are being hurt! You have my prayers as always, abigail

The Great Spill

Everyone knows what pain is, everyone hurts, everyone falls, everyone is spoken to harshly or unjustly. But not everyone knows what it is like to be physically harmed by another. It happens far too much, far too often and is disgusting but my point is not how few or how many know it. But rather that someone recently spoke of physical hurt. They had no personal knowledge or experience and that felt offensive. In that moment I was reminded of how I know, how I've had to know and how horrible it is. And I got angry. I don't tend to let anyone know when I get upset. I tend to be an internal processor, an over thinker, a muller. But this time I HAD to, I had to say something. I was so upset my words came out in such a jumbled mess- because something else- a deeper and much much more sensitive hurt came spilling out instead. I stood there irritated that I wasn't telling that person of my knowledge of pain, I didn't tell them much of anything I had intended to. I just opened my mouth and heard myself, heard myself exposed, real and hurting. Days later I am still mulling over what spilled out. Have you ever seen those practical joke cups? The ones that have a plastic puddle of coffee or soda under a glass? That is what this feels like. It is so thick, so solid of an issue that I'm sitting on top of my cup, looking down at the plastic puddle of fear, hurt and intensity of emotion. I cannot clean it up. No paper towel, no small words, no self medication of any kind is going to clean up this mess. Distraction therapy just won't work. And so, I sent a thank you out today. For the words that spilled this cup, the words that left me unable to even hear more- I'm thankful for them. I'm thankful for the patient and caring response my purely emotional response received. Thankful that my anger wasn't put down but merely heard. So..... I think I'm going to chose to be brave and maybe... do something about my spill. I'm not sure what it will be but I'm going to watch it until I know. I'm going to know there are answers, peace and a presence that cares. I have to choose this. My plastic cup with its plastic spill demands it. Be Brave, be kind, be what today requires. 

-abigail

And if you are being hurt please please get help. There are lots of kind people that can and will help you, so many resources- you can live. You can be safe. 

A little Seuss.

"You'll miss the best things if you keep your eyes shut." Dr. Seuss I Can Read With My Eyes Shut
I am the biggest chicken when it comes to scary movies. There only needs to be the hint or anticipation of fear and I'm through. Obviously in the last couple years that has gotten worse. I remember two summers ago I was flipping channels and came across CSI, a show I remembered liking years before, so I paused and watched riveted as a woman had her purse stollen and in process was killed. And at that I was hyperventilating. Not only hyperventilating but sweating and caught up in what I can only call terror. There are so many scary things, so many disturbing things and they are everywhere. Songs on the radio, I think of Eminem's song that plays and says, "If she ever tries to leave again, I'ma tie her to the bed and set this house on fire." Oh wouldn't I love to bury my head in the sand like an ostrich and forget that there was violence in the world. "Don't hurt me!" my heart cries sometimes. BUT....... when I close my eyes on that and for my apparent protection I also miss everything. When I get wrapped up in my hurt or fear I fail to see what is good. I miss my children being sweet. I miss out on enjoying what is around me (there is a difference in eating ice cream by the gallon because it is trying to appease and eating it because it tastes amazing). I can't enjoy and make connections with people when I'm hiding. And I can't think of anything better than my kids, ice cream and good people! Dr Seuss you were so right. Though tempting as a siren's song I will never shut my eyes. Though the violence in the world surrounds us I will keep my eyes open. I may have a part to play, I may get to be a help. Now mind you, I still change the channel when I hear violent songs or see violent acts on the TV, but that is not the point. The big point is being brave. I will breathe through life. I will use my voice. I will see what happens around me. I will be Brave for I don't want to miss the best things. 

Dark Corner
I couldn't move. He told me that I didn't deserve to live in the house, I didn't deserve to be around the kids. You are death, he said as he shut the door. For three days I had been kept in my room or rather his room. On the third day he left for a couple of hours, taking the kids to his parents' house. I snuck to the window and watched them drive away, it was raining and the sky was low and a deep gray... The sky looked as I felt. I couldn't have him know I was out of the room. I didn't know how long this would last. I wanted to run, well waddle most likely as I was huge with another baby inside. But... the other kids, I couldn't see how to take us all. I couldn't see how to live like this but neither could I see a way out. 

To see yourself is not always easy. To look around and see where you are is near impossible sometimes. Part of that is an attempt to protect ourselves and part of that is just a deep wish that things are not as they are. I wasn't able to see for a long long time. If you are in a relationship and being hurt I implore you to find help. There are so many ways to do so- domestic violence shelters, the national hotline, churches and quite possibly good people around you that can help you. Be safe, be aware- getting out is not without great risk. But there is a life waiting for you. A life full of seeing what is best!  
And if you have what is best- wear a vest, or maybe just share and show those around you how dearly you care! 
Be Brave.  Abby

Come hold my hand.

Hi. 

I have been without words this week.

I have kept busy with my tears, with my nightmares, with the why.

I have waited out sleep, at times holding out and at times praying for it to come. 

I have felt alone.

In the middle of my being alone I was brought dinner. Another friend made me laugh by texting the most ridiculously silly information. And in the midst of my inability to sleep another friend came and read me a book in the late hours of the night. 

I tell my children that they have a voice and to use it. This is in the context of their animalistic growls, groans and incoherent cries as they argue with each other. "If you don't speak no one will actually know what you want or why you are upset" I tell them. Oh if only I lived as wisely as the things I tell my children! Today I was reminded that I am not the only person to feel alone. And that made me question why it is such a big secret. Why do I not ask for help more, why do I not voice that this is difficult, that it is so hard and that there are so many days that I think I will not be able to continue doing this? Secrecy is bullshit (pardon that) but it is. I gave that up two years ago when I left a controlled secrecy that almost cost my life. I believe with all my heart we were not meant to live alone. And while a bit scary, expressing myself means other people can come crawl up next to me and know me. It means they can know not only the superwoman (heehee) that cares for all these ridiculous and silly children but also me; the woman that is sad, hurt, strong, brave and who sings and cries equally well. I will ask those close to me to come hold my hand when my tears crowd me. I am not alone. You are not alone. Be Brave.

Dark Corner
When he was above me I looked up. His arm across my throat, his other hand holding grip on my struggling arms. His breath was hot, his eyes were dark and my breathing was so short, so shallow... I shook my head back and forth, I squeaked out a quiet "no" around the pressure on my throat. But my forehead was already starting to tingle. My eyes were not able to focus... and things... slowed... down. My thoughts moved to knowing this was it- I would get no goodbyes. The children were upstairs this time. What would they do? Oh, I didn't want this. I made my eyes look forward again and moved my head slightly back and forth. And that was it.
I felt myself breathing in- it burned. I opened my eyes. I was still on the bed, I could see his back as he sat at the computer- he was blurry. I sat up and immediately thought I would vomit on the floor but knew I needed to breathe. My body shaking, tears just flowing out. 
He turned and asked what I was crying about. I didn't answer, just got up to go make dinner. 

I think I most likely know more than I admit. We all do. If we would treat ourselves the way that we treat our friends or if we would follow our advice to our children we would be far better off. I am most critical, most unforgiving and unkind to me. And that is not how I was meant to behave. Be kind to you. You are not alone- even if it feels like it. Even if you are isolated and there isn't anyone to ask for help from.... you are not alone. You have a voice and that means you are not isolated. You are just going to have to be brave enough to use it. Other people feel alone, other people are nervous, anxious, unsure and awkward. Other women are trapped too. Get help. Speak. If you are being hurt please find a way out. There is not a reason in the world to spend another day being alone. Be Brave. Abby

Hello Hurt

I'm lying on my back, I see the sky above me but that isn't what I am actually seeing. I feel the grass beneath me, poking at me but that isn't what I'm feeling. I hear the quiet movement of the wind, whispering and doing princess twirls around me but that is not what I hear. I see no one. I feel the empty and yet somehow heavy heart, alone. I hear just my breathing, just myself. I want to scratch at my chest until I tear it open. I want to force my hands into my flesh to find my heart. I want to touch where I am bleeding. I want to make it all stop. The alone. The hurt inside. The weighted tasks and responsibilities. 
Now I know that I am not alone in this life experience with hurts- I know far too many women that are survivors of far too many things. I know that I am not actually alone. I have children, a loving extended family, a church that is the Samaritan herself and friends that surprise me in sincerity and kindness.  
But the emotions that lurk and tease me behind all my good days... they are still there. This must be true for others. I fell apart the other day. I could not contain what mocks me. And on that day, along with a whole lot of other days I wept. Knowing there are others who have pain does little to help. But knowing that there will always be pain here on earth and that now I am familiar and getting comfy with it- that thought actually helps. I cry real easy now with those that are hurting. I know an empathy for deep sorrow I never knew. I don't have an end to my thought here- but I think a hurt heart that does not pretend to not hurt, ache and struggle is the bravest and most beautiful of hearts. I so often want to just be strong, be "together" and just worry about my hair, my kids or how my jeans are too small. But I cannot. I cannot be so strong because I have been hurt. Its as if saying "hello hurt, I see you" is where our brave might be. Be Brave- in your strength or your hurts, either will do. Be Brave. 

Dark Corner
Why is your leg purple, Abby? he asked. I looked away as he pressed his hand onto my discolored thigh. Why, Abby? his voice growing darker. I looked back at him. He wanted me to tell him it was because I was bad. So I did. What did you do, Abby? he asked, snarled, growled- I don't know how to put words to the voice he kept for me. I could not answer his question. The answer was that I, had fallen asleep during the movie we were watching. I had resisted when he ordered me to bed after he woke me. Thus that bruise and a few others. I never knew how to answer him though. But as his fingers were starting to make my bruise throb I explained to him that I didn't submit, that I was arrogant; the "right" answer. He moved his hand as he laughed and told me I must like getting hurt. I was quick to respond, as always with this statement, that I do not like getting hurt. But his eyes were small and his voice mean when he answered that I did. I made no comment.

Every 9 seconds in the US a woman is assaulted or beaten. Those women do not like getting hurt. Regardless of all the reasons or excuses that women continue to be hurt- help them. Hear them. Support them. Please. If you are being hurt, look for help. Ask for help. You have a life to live, a story to tell and people to love. Be Brave. Be Brave. Be Brave. 
With plenty of tears, smiles and hope, 
abigail

First a whisper

All we need is love...All we need is love! So it's the week that outside of Christmas ranks the most depressing week for people in America. Yay for Valentine's Day! I've been caught a bit lately in the circular thinking of "poor me". And thus Valentine's Day felt like it would be one more poor me moment. But, when I came home from work this morning I had a bit of an epiphany. I think it will change not only my view of Valentine's Day but maybe me as well. As I checked on my still sleeping children I realized LOVE my children, in a sky shaking, whole heart effort kind of way. I also love my babysitter- in a truly grateful for a trustworthy sitter kind of way. I love my friends- they are amazing people and holy cow have they been good to me the last couple of years. And my mom loves me and my aunts and uncles and sisters and.... Are you grinning yet? I am dearly loved. Oooo.... I got a huge smile on my face and tears in my eyes just typing that. I think I'm going to do that again. I am dearly loved. I get to love and be loved. No matter what I struggle with, no matter where I've been or where I'm headed. No matter what I have- I am so very rich, so very blessed so very happy with that. I can say it like a secret to myself, I can shout it out as I hug my kids, I can sing it as I'm driving- I am dearly loved. I get to love others and they love me back. That doesn't mean I'm not lonely, that doesn't mean that I am relived of all sadness and stresses and most certainly doesn't mean everyone loves me or that I love everyone- but... We can enjoy love. I can be purposeful about loving my kids- almost selfish in it doing it because I love it. I felt a bit silly sending out Valentine's Day cards but realized I was going to send them because I wanted to- it brought me loving feelings to send them! What a blessing to be free to express our love for each other, to tell each other we care. I am loved by my God and He put all these people around me and my kids, so we would know the joy of loving them and the delight of being loved- DEARLY LOVED! You should try it. Whisper it first. And then say it for real like a fact- cause it is a fact, cause you can say it, cause you can know it. Let your heart feel how loved you are because there are some that can't. I am dearly loved. I bet your heart felt that too! Be Brave and enjoy your Valentine's Day!

Dark Corner
I wanted to be pretty but he called me ugly. I wanted to buy my children something, anything, for the joy of providing but he called me wasteful. I wanted to have friends but he called me unfaithful. I wanted to cook food that would be really tasty but he said he would buy the food. I wanted to watch a movie but he said to do my chores. I wanted to sleep but he said I had to cook. I wanted to walk but he said to run. I wanted to run but he said I was selfish. I wanted to be alone but he said I should love him. I wanted to disagree but he said I need to learn respect. I wanted to do something good but he said I should be humble. I wanted to be seen but all he saw was stupid. I wanted to be loved but all he said was why. 

Domestic violence is not always physical. Lies and manipulation within a relationship can be more damaging to a person's well being than the physical harm done. We crave belonging because we were meant to belong to God, to be cherished and loved by the people around us and to love them back. Domestic violence in any form crushes and destroys the people involved. If this is you, Be Brave! Get help. There is hope, there is love and life for you. Whether you are being physically harmed or emotionally you most likely need help. Talk to someone, and keep talking until find the help you need or until you can take steps to make it better- you are worth it. You are dearly loved. The darkness you walk in will not last forever. Be Brave, and strong, and wise and as wonderful as you are. You have my deepest sympathies and hopeful prayers.  -abigail

Kermit, kids and a trail of........

Its not easy being green. Kermit was so very right. I have never really struggled with comparison of stuff- maybe a bit envious of charismatic people, or the women that make beauty seem like something they just can't help. I've never had very expensive tastes or been in love with my belongings. Ok, well I have fallen in love with my cowboy boots. They are perfect- they look so cute with jeans, dresses, leggings... (Oh my goodness I can't believe I wrote that. Should I delete that? I am blushing with embarrassment.) Back to the point- today I got green in the face, or heart rather. I was booking a client and offering to work with her schedule. She, a mom of three young children and I were comisserating on how exhausting it is to take care of kids all day. And so I was offering complete flexibility. Until she let mention that her Monday thru Friday day nanny also stays over on Friday nights and generally Saturday nights so as to ensure she can go out or at very least sleep well. I looked at my coffee cup in hand, there to keep me awake as I had slept my usual four hours the night before. As I listened I realized I was standing in water that was now leaking from the dishwasher. (And this part is no joke- no joke at all.) I politely excused myself from the phone call to attend to the puddle at my feet at the same time my youngest daughter came into the kitchen. Except she wasn't there.... her smell had come before her. I laughed, laughed a huge laugh even for me. A couple of seconds later my daughter arrived saying "STINKY" with the predicted explosion in her diaper... leaving a trail of brown foot prints down the hall. I laughed at her wrinkled nose and then.... I used the leaky dishwasher water to start cleaning up the mess. Every woman that I know of has struggled with being green. Believe me wishing I had a nanny was not far from my thoughts as I cleaned up the brown floor.... The survivors of domestic violence that I know look at the seemingly ambivalent world around them and stay silent in the shame of what happened to them... and then often crumble a little more facing the unfairness of life. It is so very slippery that slope of envy. Life after domestic violence is not easy. But life in any situation is not easy. My advice, laugh. Laugh bravely and then use your leaky dishwasher water to clean up the mess you are standing in!

Dark Corner
The knife soared past my head. I was not practicing for the circus. I was running down the stairs. The chair came crashing down the stairs. It caught my calf and I fell down the last three stairs. Why I wasn't faster I couldn't figure out. After years of this you would think I would have evolved. I could read the imminent anger better but I had not gotten faster. The reality at the moment was that I was reeling. After hours of trying to be "submissive" and "good" my eyes were swollen from the amount of tears I had shed and my head hurt. He had spent the last hour hitting my head with his fist every time he deemed that I needed it. My thoughts were that I needed to feed the kids. They were watching cartoons ignoring the scene in front of them. I needed to get them ready for bed. The knife had scared me. It had been pretty close and I couldn't think anymore. I just had to get them fed. I was so fixated on the fact that I was persistent in returning upstairs. Each time I came up he hurt me again. And it got late. He took a break from whatever he was watching and went to play on the computer. I fed the kids and put them to bed. The night was far from over for me. Worn out, a house that was messy to which I "had no excuse" for and an angry husband waiting for me. Silently I cried over the dishes.

It is often that we can only see to deal with now. No matter what kind of family that you have "now" is what is most necessary. But if you are being hurt, if you are in danger please think with me ahead. Your "now" may not be the same tomorrow. Most abuse escalates- as in unless stopped by an outside intervention or the removal of yourself or your partner it is most likely going to get worse. I didn't have the time or ability to plan ahead. But you might be able to and if you can you should. Make a plan. Find resources. But be safe. If you can't make a plan safely just leave. I did. You can and will make it. Be Brave! 

Moving Stones

I heard recently someone use these words, "Have no fear for God is with you." It took a lot for me to stay in my seat. Warrior Woman emerged from the dark corners of Abigail's heart.... "Go ahead- tell me to be fearless. Tell me to be strong.  Challenge me to a fear competition. I wonder who will win." I know that the majority of that is my pride, that I don't like to be "wrong" and that those sentiments feel like judgment. To a former abused wife words that speak to bravery are like salt in a wound- they are judgement itself. Have you ever been strangled until you passed out? Have you ever been beaten until you bled internally? Have..... and down the road of saddled judgement we go. Big sigh as I put away my own defensive weapons. (I should someday paint a picture of myself all ready for war- its such an intense emotion filled with fight!) People that know fear know fear. Fear is almost a being, a presence. Once fear is known its stays by the power of familiarity and in a circular fashion only a lie can create- by fear. But hold on here for a minute, "Have no fear for God is with you." Now I am telling you that. It doesn't have any more or less truth coming from me. That isn't the point. I am saying those words because they are true. 

In fear and lies we make a prison, the walls are high with lies, the walls are thick with evidence supporting the lies and they get higher and higher all the time. It would have been nearly impossible for me to be fearless while being beaten. I could not have listened to him describe what he would do with my body after he killed me and not been afraid- you did not hear the evil in his voice, scary is an understatement. I had an enormous stone prison of lies to live in and to keep the fear in. The day I ended my relationship with him I told one of his lies. It was the easiest to tell- He. hit. me. And I didn't even speak at first- all I did was nod my head when asked if he had. But regardless that truth moved ONE, just ONE stone. But it let the person I gave the stone to see in. They spoke truth and I gave them more stones. And then another friend spoke truth and I gave away more stones. The prison is coming down. After almost two years I look at my feet and I still see stones. I cannot even see the end of these stones, but that is ok. I am intimately aware that the stone prison I was in was a lie. And that I can fearlessly take the stones away. I am still familiar with fear but it needs no lies. I starve it of my attention and it lessens. I'm just moving stones. And obviously I've moved a stone that was fearful of judgement this week! <big smile> Be Brave friends, there is much to live for!

Dark Corner
When speaking with me his voice turned. Gone was the smile that he showed everyone else. Just his dark small mean voice was left. He spoke of the garden, of draining my body and cutting it up. He spoke of how he would do it all during the night or two nights. No one would notice- he had often had me do the gardening at night with a headlamp. I was so tired. I couldn't wrap my head around his words. Why did he have this plan? Why would God really tell him to kill me? But his explanation included that- I was evil. I was teaching the kids to be evil and they would be better off without me. The hurt surrounding the word kids coming from his mouth was as a knife to my heart. I was so so tired. The fear had bred an exhaustion that I cannot describe. I did care about my life, I did care about my children. I was just ... so so tired.

I want domestic violence to be spoken. I want all the lies that keep women in these prisons to be shown as lies. Too many women are living in fear propped up by lies. If you are being hurt, get help, accept help, find help! Your life is important and you can live. If you can be a truth speaker do that! Speak what you know, speak what you see. With kindness and a careful understanding that you may be "judging" the women that so very much so need your help. Move stones. Abigail

Shaking Skies

Brave is a place in which I share about domestic violence, my experience and my delight in the strength and bravery of humanity. Sometimes in my journey and writing there is much that is of delicate nature. Normally I reserve that for the Dark Corner below. But today my tears extended beyond just that Corner, today my tears touched the sky. And so, read for understanding, read for courage to face your challenge, read with sensitivity for what I hold dearest is below. 

I am watching my children hurt. There is nothing that I have experienced thus far in my life that would prepare me or equip me for the emotions of seeing my children ache and face hurt. Suffering is not new to anyone- certainly not to us. We all to some extent will suffer, walk through difficult circumstances or have extremely difficult tasks that we are called to do. I might complain and groan about my faulty tv, my washing machine that has an airplane complex or my lack of sleep... but none of these holds a candle to watching my children hurt. This week has been difficult. Our counselor has often reminded me that at times going backwards is the only way to move forward. My children are going backwards- looking back on their own. Oh it makes me want to shake down the skies. I hurt for them. And as they hurt every trigger that I have is in full blown "thrashing in the wind" mode. Shaking down the skies sounds pretty good right now. Believe me each hand would hold on to those clouds really tight and I would not let go until I'd shaken every answer,  and a whole lot of peace and hope down on my kids. Down on myself. Memories are disgustingly hard. I've known that at some point my kids would and will struggle. I have approached my own healing with an intensity and urgency because so much time has been wasted already. But we are moving backwards. This is not forever, it is just right now. I am however surprised at what we can handle. My own hurt and seeing my children hurt is bigger than the sky I would like to shake. And yet- so is my love for them. So is my tenderness and complete enjoyment of snuggling with them on a Saturday morning or after a nap. I love being able to wipe their tears away, to hold them, to sing them to sleep. I wouldn't trade that for the world. So maybe while this is so very hard- maybe it is the greatest gift I have- to get to be a comfort for my children. To get to be love to them. To be brave and share courage with my little babies. Be Brave my friends. There is so much to live for.

Dark Corner

I lay on the floor before him, my two daughters beside me. My hands shaking with the desire to cover their ears, to shield them from his words. 

I stood next to my son. His chin was lifted in defiance. My breathing shallow as I shook my head. Knowing I would get hurt at my defiance. Screaming inside for this to stop.

On the floor I clawed at his legs, reaching for his arms. He has taken my son, my baby son away from me. No, No, No, No, No I yelled as he threw him outside. 

These are just the beginning of three stories. Three stories that were "normal" life. Three stories that are so sensitive I cannot tell them well. Our lives are precious and yet during that time were not valued and that thankfully occurs no more. 

Violence that involves children is abhorrent. Studies suggest that nearly 10 million children witness domestic violence annually. That means EVERY YEAR. That is an enormous number of children that are hurting, children that have seen trauma or felt trauma. Children that were supposed to be cared for and held and loved that aren't. Children that aren't sure what is safe, that are fearful of the future and nervous about the past. Memories are forgotten but the emotions and senses always remember. My children do.  

If you are being hurt let someone help you! You are worth the life you were given, and the fear you live in is NOT that life. The US has a wonderful hotline that can help you make a plan, connect you with resources- anything you need. Call the police. If you know of someone being hurt help them. Be the friend that stands with them, that doesn't give up even when they act weird and distant, that helps them get out. Be Brave. 

Treasures and My Friend

As of late I've been toying and rolling around with the idea of a life lived privately. It is attractive to me and yet still ambiguous. How do I hold deep inside me that which is now beautiful and free and good- for just me? I question if I've forgotten how to hold moments and truths inside. I know  bad was stamped, marked and remains like scars. But does the good? The small place where Abigail resides within me, in that place have I forgotten how to have for myself? In the same ways that the evil I have seen would haunt me from those hidden places wouldn't good arise if I hid it as well? I'm turning this idea over still as I write. In now living with the option to have no lies, no secrets I question my quickness to have no secrets. Might I find a place for my own safe and beautiful treasures? A private life and yet a life lived for a purpose-  I wasn't at first sure that both of these could exist.  I write this blog that spills more than my guts sometimes and yet I know I've begun already to craft a place for myself. My conclusion is that the loving care of oneself will look different for each person. That the private people don't have a better viewpoint than I- but I will borrow some of that truth to foster this private, gentle and beautiful place with cherished pieces of myself, with truth, with moments. As if to decorate my insides, to hang art and colors and tapestries on the walls. Maybe it is here that my granola side will shine, that my love of diamonds and pastel pink puffy dresses will adorn my heart. I MIGHT just hang a turkish lamp at the entrance to my heart- someday it might greet someone that I'll let see it or maybe it will just remind me that I belong to no one. But that is my Brave secret....

Dark Corner
You don't need anyone but me- he said. We again were having a "conversation" regarding my want of a friend. My secret prayer remained for a friend. Two years before I left him this prayer was answered much to his chagrin. Allowed only if it was for running purposes- I loved, loved feeling less alone. He made sure I knew she wasn't really my friend, that she would never be my friend, that I was just convenient to run with.... I ignored most of these comments although the words still found their twisty dirty ways inside me. Running was enforced so I ran. I grew to love it- I felt free if I forgot what would happen when I got home, I felt free if I wasn't hurting because of bruising on my legs. I felt free if I ignored the feigned proud demeanor I put on so as to not give hint to what was my life. Too much at stake for that, too much at stake for truth- since his truth wasn't truth. I wore pants to hide the bruises, I wore long sleeves in the summer when I was really hot. I envied and despised and loved her company. I started to believe his lies since I found it so hard to have company and yet not be real. It hurt. His words hurt. His lies changed my behaviors and I knew that- I could see that. Was I crazy? What was happening to me? Why couldn't I find my own voice, my own thoughts, my own self? I wondered these things constantly, from inside, from my subservient self that hung my head. 

Abuse is damaging. All abuse is damaging be it physical, emotional or verbal. Be Brave. You have worth, you have a life that can be lived. 
If you are being hurt or abused in any way get help! It is not enough to simply wish, to think that others will see the clues you try to leave or to think you can just get by. You will need support and it is there- please just ask! There are counselors, attorneys, survivors and friends that wait for you. You can do this, be Brave. 
- Abby

Sincerely, Surviving with Tears

My TV has decided not to play sound from my DVD player. I have checked every setting, I have reset the TV and reprogramed the DVD player. I took the DVD player back and was given a new one... I have been working on this for over a week and I hate, wait did you catch that word?, HATE, really truly hate messing with electronics. I've felt like a small child stomping my feet, balling up my fists and scrunching up my face into contortions that I'm sure will leave unsightly wrinkles... WHY WON'T IT JUST WORK? (This is a plea for help as well, if you can fix my tv please contact me asap!!!!) This however feels like the saga, yes I am far from having a story, of my life. Why? Won't? Anything? Work? And while I probably did overdue it on the question marks- my question is beyond frustrating. No area of my life seems untouched by chaos- I mean, well quite possibly that is just my little kids. But there are days where all fails. Where I cannot complete one load of laundry, where I don't get dinner made and we eat my "fail" meal of hotdogs, where I am simply in a state of frustration about everything. Even writing this I can feel the build up of stress in my shoulders, the familiar grimace returning to my face (boo- all you wrinkles!!!) and the way it shortens my breaths. Sweet Jesus, why? The spiral quickly becomes why me, why this, why why why why? And my soul feels the pull of the negativity and despair. My logical side kicks in and I evaluate: have I eaten, have I had at least 3 hours of sleep, have I had chocolate today, have I smiled recently, AM I BREATHING? See- we were created to survive. I will survive my tv troubles. I will survive my messy, noisy, chaos inducing children. I know this because I've survived far far far worse. I will breathe and then, as now, step back, handle the yelling children or washing machine that is making the grinding noise. My blessed TV is quiet.... We all were created to be Brave, to survive - not just traumatic circumstances but our lives. 

Dark Corner
The year my youngest son turned two was by far the worst winter I can remember. Far too many nights I was cold. Far too many times the kids were in danger of the cold and anger. Well, .............. Ah. I was going to share a story with you about how he threw a magnetic shapes ball at me from just two feet away, how it broke open into all the pieces as it hit my cheek bone, how it hurt but more that it wounded me so deeply as I was holding a kid in my arms. I didn't move for fear it would hit them. And when he yelled at me I cowered, how he kicked and.... I was going to tell all of that and a bit more- in a very readable way. But the actual memory has flooded my heart and I'm stuck. Stuck in place with my memory, with my hurt out in the open air.  To be hurt in front of your children is the very worst. I cannot find a way to explain that shame and fear. Every "bad mother" feeling in the world rushes in as you cower on the floor and you can't grasp how they can watch, how he could not care about the feelings and power that violence carries with it. Being hurt physically by someone else is shattering, being hurt and shattered in front of your children is devastating. The harm is far worse than what the body sustains. Sometimes the open air to a hurtful memory stings, sometimes it lets it heal and sometimes it just brings me tears. I'm not sure what this is today but I'll let it sit. Maybe I will finish this story another time.

Whether you have tears for today, a celebration or a challenge- there is always room to be Brave. Say words of truth, cuddle and kiss those you love, chose what is best to your best ability and survive! 
If you are being hurt- oh please get help! Hear my story or saga and know you too can live. You too can get help! One of the hardest things is admitting you need help- but if you are being hurt you do need help. Let someone in, let someone help you to plan, to prepare and be safe! 
Sincerely, though today with tears, abby

Sunsets, sleep and being normal!

I have been searching for the words to explain what I have seen this week. I write and then rewrite and then rewrite because I can't find them. Over and over they have slipped away or felt so much less than what I've seen. This happens when I take a picture of a spectacular sunset, one that has taken my breath away with the vast expanse and explosion of color, and then I see the picture and the let down of expectations is a weight. I almost never take pictures of sunsets as I cannot capture what I see, I cannot make the copy as good as what is before me. My words this week have felt like that. And so I'm going to borrow some words! Words we all know, so you can sing them if you'd like. 
"I see trees of green, red roses too, I see them bloom, for me and you, And I think to myself, What a wonderful world. I see skies of blue, and clouds of white. The bright blessed day. The dark sacred night. And I think to myself, What a wonderful world.  The colors of the rainbow, So pretty in the sky. Are also on the faces, Of people going by. I see friends shaking hands, Saying, "How do you do?" They are really saying ,"I love you." I hear babies cry, I watch them grow. They'll learn much more, than I'll ever know. And I think to myself, What a wonderful world." Bob Thiele and George David Weiss. Today, be Brave! Our world is so wonderful, so rich and full. No matter what we have or don't have we all share the amazing potential for love, the sunsets and the skies. In this world made for us, be Brave! 

Dark Corner
My head hurt, mostly from the lack of sleep I'd had the night before- the quiet pain I generally carried of a husband who gained a lot of control through keeping me from sleeping. But the new dent in the wall at the bottom of the stairs had also occurred that evening- a dent that later I would grow to despise as I had to see it every time I came downstairs- a constant reminder of what he seemed to enjoy. It was really cold. There was cushions from a porch swing and a tarp and an old blanket in the shed- I made a bed. At three am I woke up, I remember this really clearly as I was cold and wondering if the doors were still locked. I would have to get up for work in a few hours.... I turned over on my makeshift bed- my knees touching the wood of the shed floor. I sighed, letting out all my air. No, I wouldn't move. My head ached, I didn't want to go inside. I wanted... well I wanted nothing. I wanted him to see me. I wanted him to not be angry and to not be so sure of my sin. I wanted him to not think everyone in the world was evil except himself. I wanted him to quit lying. But more than anything I wanted to quit hurting. I was so tired of hurting.

Understanding Domestic Violence
In the kindest, softest way another person this week spoke the oh-so-familiar words, "Wow, but you are so normal." Domestic violence does not just cater to drug users, alcoholics or the poor. My ex husband preferred to do all his damage sober, clear headed and purposefully. To become an abused it is really simple. You have to believe a lie from someone that seeks control. The lie is that one person causes the other person to hurt them. Abusers first and foremost convince their significant others that what they do is "because" of the other person. The truth is that you do not chose another person's actions for them. You might read that again, The truth is that you do not chose another person's actions for them. You therefore are not responsible for or at fault for harm another person causes.
If you are being hurt be strong. Be BRAVE. And get help! This world is wonderful. Be Brave and you will see there really are bright blessed days and dark sacred nights. 
- Abby

Tumbled Fears

The hidden fears that tumble out are like perfectly polished stones. They are the fears that we tumble inside ourselves until they are almost pretty, we've spent so much time swirling them around within us that we cannot see them any other way. And then we get real and plop, plop, dump and thump.... crumble. I am so alone. What am I going to do? Where should I go? They are going to hurt me. No one is going to accept me. I will not make it. I cannot do this job. My children are eating me alive and soon there will be nothing left. I am not happy. What if they know? This string of fears are ones that tumble from time to time out of my mouth. I am always shocked at their presence. I am brave after all. Heehee. We hide our fears from ourselves in the same way we apply makeup to our most gorgeous faces everyday. Its just to make us prettier, right? But our fears come tumbling out. Well, mine do anyways. I am so perfectly bad at keeping secrets anymore, everything seems to tumble out. And I just have to laugh at myself sometimes. My dedication to not having secrets is one I encourage but I do so wish I wouldn't sound so crazy when my fears or worries or over-anylyzing comes out. Thankfully there are people around me that don't seem to mind it. Now, they may laugh at me when I'm not in the room but overall, I think most people appreciate honesty. We all identify with weakness- because we all know it. We share the greatest feelings of connections when we are weak, in need, open and very real. Kind of odd, since we go through so much effort to hide our pain, fears, sadness, anger and the emotions that are all so unwelcome. Maybe its time to just feel my feelings and then get on with this big Brave life! (after all, a quick cry doesn't take much time and there is so much to do!) 

Dark Corner
I was fearful of the man I had chosen to love, that I assumed would love me. I had found out early on that resistance only brought an enormous amount of pain along with days of being poked and reminded of my lack of submission and so I adopted, as you would a child, the action of cowering. Except I was the child that I curled myself around. I closed myself off around myself, closed my eyes when objects or arms, legs, feet and hands came flying at me, I thought this was protecting myself. The fetal position is not one I had to learn in a yoga class but one that I instinctually found myself in so often. A look from him and I would shut down. My brain literally ceasing to think thoughts- it was simply all about how to keep breathing. Fear caused a cease of movement in me. Unable to fathom what was happening, why it was happening and who was causing it. My beloved hated me enough to harm me. That alone was my opening knowledge that led to my shut down, my refusal to comprehend or acknowledge what was happening. Frozen in a place that to my ears was the most shameful, sad and despised location. Like a mime in a box actually- I couldn't get out. Though literally I most likely could have most days- running away was always an option but not one I was able to see. I couldn't comprehend how to hide, how I would have to be alone and hope for someone to help me. Fear and the deepest of hurt created a standstill of enormous magnitude, eight years in length. 

When I tumble fears I damage my insides. I have greater scars from the fear and hurts I held inside myself than I do from what physically happened to me. We are not built to tumble stones. A friend of mine put this quote up on Facebook today. It made me remember what fear looks like. It made me remember that I looked in his face one day in court and had no fear, instead I didn't look away. For why should I? "You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, '...I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do." Eleanor Roosevelt
You can do this. Whatever it is that causes you to be fearful, you can be Brave. If you are being hurt, be Brave and smart. Make a plan. Get help. You were never meant to live in fear. Today be Brave.

Abigail

A Little Foxy

Welcome! Brave is a wild true reflection of myself and my thoughts. I share my experiences with domestic violence to encourage and make aware.  Be Brave- this is a brave and marvelous life. And so in honor of feeling amazing in this new year- and because one of my favorite animals is a fox.... 

The movie Fantastic Mr. Fox, which is rather loosely based on the Roald Dahl book, is a pretty amazing movie. It features Mr. Fox who wants to better his life for his family and instead ends up endangering them and all the other animals. Mr. Fox has a trademark whistle and clicking noise he makes in the movie. His whistle is a very real and clear representation of himself. It gains attention, gives one the feeling that you need to smile and shake your head, and keeps Mr. Fox from fading in your memory. And that IS Mr. Fox. He IS fantastic. We as people spend a large part of our life finding out 'who' we are. We try to balance ourselves, love ourselves, get to know ourselves. But Mr. Fox has me wondering. Mr. Fox just is. Kind of like the I AM. (no- Mr. Fox is not the equivalent to God) But aren't we all just as we are. The hats I've worn or wear are just that- hats. We all know the feeling and imagery of wearing hats. But they don't make us different. Thus I still feel the same as when I was twelve, or six. I am. I am now just the same as when I was born and most likely just the same as when I will die. My thinking and attitudes may change, my heart can change, my clothing, loyalties, friends, spouse can all change but who I am is still the same. I think that is the essence that we are created like God. And this intrigues me. So my little, probably not completely correct, thought today is that I can breathe in being...just being me. I don't have to figure all of me out. I am the same person, changed, challenged and sleepy- but still Abigail here. My soul that is reflected in my actions. My soul that sings, speaks and whisltes (though not a trademark whistle, sadly- as that is pretty cool!). My friends, lets all just be. I can be Brave there. I can be anything there, cause that is me.

Dark Corner
His name calling grated on my insides with the equivalent pain that was in my head from it being hit repeatedly with his knuckles. My left temple throbbed and was shooting pain down my neck as we drove down the highway. A whore, a disgrace, a complaining lazy person, a disgusting human that didn't deserve to live.... and it went on and on with colorful and sadly not creative language. My head hurt, my eyes longed to just close. He turned the car around and pulled to the side. He told me to get out of the car. I became very scared- I had on a long black down coat- not reflective at all and it was very dark and icy and... He got out, came around to my side of the car, pulled me out and shoved me. It was then I realized it was a bit of a drop into the ditch... I fell backwards, down and down and into the dry cold arms of a dead spruce tree. Detangling myself from the tree I crawled out. He was gone already. The car taillights indistinguishable within the traffic. Shaking but not crying. It was too cold, too icy to not pay attention as traffic whizzed by me. I started walking, my attention I gave to my feet... Just keep moving, just keep moving. He came back for me after awhile. Furthering the humiliation before the kids. Marking what belonged to him with his hands. 

Domestic violence slipped into my life under the guise of ownership. I was owned. Who I was didn't matter, because he owned me. This is a lie. Ownership of another human being is simply cowardice- a lie to protect, deceive and hide who the abuser is. If you are in a similar situation and being "owned", don't believe that lie. If you are being hurt and the situation is completely different, still don't believe lies. Get help. Your life has value. Be Brave. Be Brave today.

There is lots of help available. Churches, aid organizations, the US National Hotline for Domestic Violence. Please, please see your value, see your life- it is yours! Be Brave!

Feathers and Prayers

"You could NOT knock me over with a feather." Susan Zanner
There is so much bravery in our world. We are an amazing people. So often we look at all the horrible things on TV. I actually tend to just shy away from most media updates as it is either gloomy or depressing. So much evil in our world. But considering that this world is the devil's domain I wonder why I'm surprised. Why am I surprised that evil found my life and made a big mess? Why are we shocked to hear about wars, poverty or starvation?  It isn't as if we live in Heaven. We could rid the world of poverty, starvation and probably all the hurts and sicknesses there are. I'm convinced there are cures for diseases as readily as there is enough oil underground and food for everyone to eat- however, money drives this ship. But- again this is a world that has a ruler. That hasn't changed. 

The evil that I'm reminded of every time the weather changes and my right side aches from old injuries, the evil that changed my son's perspective on being safe so that he has to remind me nightly that he can be a ninja if I need him to... just in case someone bad comes- that evil affects all of us. Evil keeps us distracted from doing good with lies about our bodies, lies about what will happen if we tell the truth always, lies about what other people think of us and lies about our importance. Those are just lies. Bravery means doing the right thing. Bravery means being true to yourself and true to God. Lies are shady, slippery and keep us from our goal. They keep us from standing up. They are the disgusting mess that brings harm to people and fosters fear. 


However, they are but a feather. I know God was there. I know God hated what was happening to me. I felt a few times his very face turn from me and I thought I had been left. I thought that that meant my ex husband was correct in his lies. The truth is that God was there, God turned his face and allowed what he did. He did not save me then. I asked. I believed and trusted for a long time. And then I despaired for a long time. And then I waited some more. In that last season of waiting I woke up and knew it was time for me to move. Why then, I don't know. My first thought is always my children. I protect them now with everything I have as I believe there is a reason for their being. But all children have a reason for being. God GIVES us each one. We all have a part to play. I have a part to play.

So with my rambling of strength today, be Brave. Be Strong. It isn't so much that life is all about what you can find to enjoy. But rather you have a part to play. This is not our world. God masterfully created it with so much beauty and comfort and amazing things- so that we might find and look to Him! In this battle of good and evil I know what will win. But even so, may I gracefully and purposefully add in my strength. The Bravery that we are capable of is immense. That strength is the only fear outside of Heaven that evil has. And I get to be part of that (Can you hear my war cry? Can you feel the strength of passion here? Can you see this is not a place of just words?). Make this world a better place, be Brave, be strong and be amazing. Evil in our world is but a feather when we are sustained by the strength of God. 

Amen

(It just felt more like a prayer today and certainly spurred on by the bravery I saw today in a very strong lady fighting a very real battle)

The Race of the Rabbit and the Comfort of My Hat

Hello. Welcome to Brave. I write to help remember how important it is to have courage and to share courage. I write to put a voice to domestic violence. Domestic violence is ugly, there is no part of it that is attractive or that can withstand the scrutiny of truth. And so this is my attempt to help break the silence that holds so many. 

There is so much to do! I often feel like the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. Thankfully bedtime for my children comes everyday. Lullabies. The sweetness of cuddling, the softness of kisses for my children, singing them to sleep.... Fostering the sweetness and joy of getting snuggly and comfortable. Comfort. We crave this. Thus chocolate, puffy sweatshirts, down pillows, leg warmers, coffee (with lots of cream and sugar), soft blankets, warm food, holding hands, loving smiles all exist to comfort our soul. Where is your comfort? In a beatuful chapel, or just a folding chair before a good God? Sitting outside on a beach, feet half buried in the sand, hair wild and carefree, skin warm with sunshine? Thick sweaters, wool socks, hot cocoa and a plate of cookies, a fire in the fireplace and a shoulder to lean into? Mine rests with the little hands that pull my head closer so they can kiss my cheeks every night. And then breakfast burritos, my purple hat, flip flops and trees! Oh yes, I hold to finding comfort. There is so much that is harsh; our emotions are so wild, our circumstances and futures unsure, our relationships complicated. Breathe. Take comfort and then stand up to do and be Brave again!

Dark Corner
I saw my sillouete in the snow just feet away from where I was headed. The snow crushed into my face again. It was dry out, the snow was not new, it was neither light nor fluffy; but cutting and sharp. My face burned, my shoulders would shake but I could not move them being fully weighed down. My hands flailed.... the hole where my hands moved snow did me no good but I struggled anyway, unable to breathe as the snow crowded into my nose and mouth. I let my body stop fighting. I half wondered if that would make him stop. I had no air and I saw lights in the snow though I knew they weren't real. He moved off of me. I raised my head up an inch, drawing in a measured breath. It was not as measured and silent as I attempted. My gasp caused him to turn at the door. He growled at me not to move, went inside locking the door. I had little care for his threat- my body had to get up. The snow had started to cut into my skin. My arms and legs burned. I stood. Later he went to bed, unlocking the door as he went past. Entering I let my body adjust and slowly quit shaking. I stood there hoping he would be asleep when I reached the bedroom, knowing if I didn't go in he would likely come looking for me considering that to be disrespectful. I took a blanket from the hallway closet and curled up on the floor in the bedroom. He wasn't asleep. 

I see the sharp contrast in my thoughts on comfort and the fear and control in the Dark Corner. Two drastically different lives. One full of life and love, the other was death. Having lived both I am passionate about two things (well actually lots of things but....) One is that people are people and have the right to make choices. Our choices do not have to be right they just have to be our own. Secondly is that life is meant to be full of joy. My life is not easy now- but it is overflowing with joy, comfort and love. I look for these things, I seek them out- I find new parks and places to enjoy with my children, I snuggle before bed with my children, I find solace in my place of worship and wear my purple hat as often as temperatures allow. 

There are so many people that live without fundamental human rights. I don't think I will ever say it enough to myself and everyone that will listen: Be Brave! Your life is worth living. Find a way to get help if you are being hurt or controlled. No one has the right to take away who you are. Be Brave!

-Abby

Wishbones, Sparkles and the Practical

Hello! I am so honored you are here reading my words. This Brave, is a blog about being brave. The Dark Corner below is part of my struggle and story of living in domestic violence. I hope that you find courage, light and hope today.

"Stop wearing your wishbone where your backbone ought to be." Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray Love.
It has occurred to me that my life has been full, at times overflowing, with wishful thinking. I lived in books as a child, wishing to live and see places I knew nothing of. I wished when I was older Prince Charming would arrive and be on a white horse so I could tell who he was! I've wished for health, I've wished for peace, I've wished for love. When I was married I wished to be seen and then saved.
As I've been reading so much on the New Year, everyone's opinions on resolutions or diets or what everyone else should do as they start the new year... I've been looking at how many years, probably, I've wasted wishing. As I've mentioned in my last post- this year feels huge for me. I have some big choices to make, a lot of bravery to actually be. There doesn't seem to be a place for wishing here. This year is a "take life by the horns" instead of a "go with the flow" sort of season. (Can I put anymore cliches into one sentence? lol) My favorite song has always been Somewhere Over the Rainbow- it captures my wishing and puts images of Judy Garland, rainbows, red lipstick and sparkles all over my wishfulness. But wishing hasn't been overly helpful to me. While I can't see my backbone I can feel it when I sit up tall, when I take deep breaths and when I remember it is there. Be Brave!

Dark Corner
I sat on the front porch. My hat on my head in a futile and almost idiotic attempt to distract from my black eye. I've long hated the term black eye- my eye wasn't black. It was swollen and purple with greenish puffiness. I had worn my hat all day, at work and at the store. A couple ladies at work had looked questioningly at me, asked about it- it certainly wasn't the first time. And still I came home after work. An hour after arriving home, I sat still on the front porch, in trouble for the usual unbeknownst to me problems. My wishing for help wasn't useful. And so I prayed and asked God to make me better, to make my heart cleaner or purer so he wouldn't be mad, so I wouldn't dislike things I saw him do. I could feel the fading of myself. Disappearing into my covering, sliding into the idea of what he thought I was, letting my eyes glass over as clarity seemed to provoke only anger, resentment and hatred. And so I sat, on the front porch aware that he would hurt me again, aware that I couldn't bring myself to move off the porch...

Of all the questions that I get asked about my past situation my favorite is the "Why didn't you leave sooner?" It is my favorite question as I think it is the most layered and emotional question one can ask. The quick answer is that I couldn't.  The long is that at times I didn't leave because of fear for my life, my children's lives and his life. There were days I didn't leave because I was ashamed, alone and as my mother likes to say "brain washed". That situation definitely had religious expectations that were unrealistic and not biblical. Sometimes I think it is because I refused to be a divorced woman. And on sad days I think maybe I was just too isolated. I do know that no one ever spoke about what domestic violence was- ever. I knew from movies that men hurt women; from books, my travels and life that horrible things happen to people. Those things are a bit removed. But what if they are happening to you? What do you do then?

What I had to do to leave was horrible and hard. Knowing what I know now I would do almost everything differently. If this is you, call the national hotline and let them help you with a plan. Involve the police. Records are important. Take pictures. These are practical things that might help you. I am so sorry. It sounds so ugly to me too. If you need help I'm sure you will be hanging your head and wanting to ignore or find a way that this doesn't apply to you. But if you are being hurt it does apply. Don't be wishful. Please find a way to be Brave. You have my deepest sympathy and hope. 
-Abby

It's here.

2013 I am so glad for you. You have taught me how to parent my children better, how to create better boundaries with others, how to cook yummy burritos, how to budget wiser, how to trust and speak with God again. I've moved my family, a major move that involved 9 hours on a plane, 13 plastic totes, and 4 car seats!!!! I've started a new job. I've gotten engaged and then un-engaged. I've stated this blog. I've started working on a business idea that could encourage others and could provide help to women getting out of domestic violence situations. I've made a couple of close friends. But you know what? 2014 makes me nervous. Really nervous. I will turn 32. The last couple days have been hard for me... I dread the year changing. I've wished I could skip to 2015. It feels like this is a final year of being haunted, this is the year that my death was spoken for. And it is a dark, heavy, oppressive .... ahhhh. How do I describe the years of waiting, sometimes wishing for, and watching this year come? How can I tell you how I wished it would come sooner just so I could be done being hurt, be done being so removed from my children, be done with the ups and downs of catering to someone else's fight with anger. The amount of fear I hold concerning actually dying this year is small. But years of it being predicted has left a scar- its still a little tender around it (obviously as I'm teary while typing). But beyond that, the fact of my death being spoken was so accepted in my former home that there was no more questions regarding it happening. So much so that I ran, hid and got my children away from him two years before this one.... this 2014... I know, my body knows and my life attests to a new life that has been given to me. A life that has no fear, that is full of hope, that is honest and without violence. So tonight... tonight I'm going to cheer, probably cry a bit, but cheer nonetheless- it's here. My year of life. My year to be truly brave. I am probably going to keep learning, failing, smiling and laughing my way through all of this- but I will live. And maybe just maybe I will throw the biggest birthday party the world has ever seen just so everyone knows how glorious and good God, life, new chances and hope is. (Invites to come later... lol)

Dark Corner
"I wish you would just die. You don't belong here. You don't deserve to be here. You should die so I don't have to see your ugly face. You don't have much longer, God won't be patient forever." 
Those are the words that went along with the pain in my body. I was to be perfect (his perfect) or he and God would kill me before I turned 32. I'm not going to say more today. To me, his words convey enough darkness and fear. Part of me is sorry to share those words with you. The other part of me is sure that the more I expose the lies the more I shed them and know truth for myself.

Whether it is physical violence or the threat of physical violence - that is abuse. Sometimes our minds accept lies as truth so that we can make things feel better for ourselves. I never would have admitted I was being abused. Yes, he hit, strangled, kicked..... and on and on and on- but.. that.. wasn't...abuse.... It was, it is. You can call domestic violence anything you want, but if you are being hurt or threatened by an intimate partner or family member- that is domestic violence. I am sorry. Don't spend another year there. Don't get hurt again. They have done enough, they have stolen from you- taken your well being, your security and most likely a long list of other things. Be Brave this year, be Brave now!

If you need help in the US:
The National Domestic Violence Hotline
1-800-799-7233

Balancing and Breathing

Welcome to Brave. I'm amazed that I've gotten to hear from so many of you. You bless me with your encouragement and stories. There is so much to learn in life, so much to sort through, sift through and consume. Its an honor that you read my small words. This is my place, a reminder of bravery in everyday life, my stories of fear and an encouragement to others to find hope and courage! 

There is a measure of confusion that comes with living. Our bodies live. We breathe, we eat, we sleep. Our existence is married to our bodies. We are. We think, we process, we judge, we feel. (Those, of course, are not in any particular order.) And then we do both with the seven billion other people on this planet. Personally, my body gets caught up with my existence's feelings and judgements. My accuracy and reliability in my thinking and processing are completely dependent upon my physical well being. (A sleepy Abby is a crabby Abby!) Even though I know that the two parts of me coexist- I really would rather they wouldn't- and that causes great confusion and stress in my life. I wait too long to eat because I'm working or thinking. I don't sleep because of (my children!!!) my stresses and little worries. I throw off the perfect balance that I could live in because I neglect the balance that is there. As I typed that I noticed my body taking deep breaths- as if being reminded to breathe to keep this thought process moving. 
All that to say, I was grumpy today. I, who am beyond blessed. I, who does not live in fear but knows what fear is. I don't have a lot of tolerance for grumpiness in myself- why be grumpy. Life is too good. But beyond that, today I should have slept more, I actually had the chance to. Today, I should have hugged my mom and just enjoyed that. Today I should have taken care. I was confused today. My body and self were not knowing the balance of contentment- and that sucked. ARGH! But sitting here now, I know that I will survive this too. Whether we are grumpy, smallish, a little fearful or just tired after the holidays, we can survive. When we look up we can be Brave! There is much to live for!

Dark Corner
"Breathe, Abigail, Breathe" my friend said. I was hyperventilating for the umpteenth time over the course of the week that followed leaving and then hiding from my husband. I paced. I cried. I hyperventilated again. "Breathe, Abigail, Breathe." I have heard these words pretty consistently during my first year out. It is a far cry from the screams of "I wish you would just die." that my husband liked to yell as he would strangle me. Once when I was actually fighting back, I saw his eyes change. I was clawing at his neck and back while his arm was pressed across my neck. I was losing feeling in my head, tingly all over and several times I pushed myself to focus my eyes. The look in his eyes changed, no- don't be hopeful here- I didn't see sorrow, or love or anything. I saw myself dying in his eyes. This might have been the lack of air- but my reflection in his eyes was a dead one. I quit fighting back. My arms fell to my side. I woke up a little later, head hurting, eyes red and puffy. No one told me then to breathe. No one told me everything would be ok. All I could see was the death I'd seen. And I made dinner. 

I have a little grumpiness left over. Next time I write there will be words of life and forgiveness- but today that grumpiness has bred a snarky attitude. No one should have hurt me. No person has a right to inflict pain and fear upon another. No person has the right to take another life unless their own is threatened..... I refuse the regret road. I won't allow myself down the "I should have done...." path, the variables of our lives are endless. We make choices everyday that change and impact everything we do- that change the course of our lives. So I'm just grumpily acknowledging that my life sucked, that violence was scary, that I hate dealing with the aftermath. 

Domestic violence is a prevalent problem in our world. The World Health Organization's 2013 report cites that 30% of women worldwide live with the affects of domestic violence. Their report also states that research shows domestic violence occurs in all social, economic, religious and cultural groups. There is no one exempt here. There is no "safe" group of people. No west, east, north or south side of town that is "safe" or above domestic violence. I say this a lot: Domestic violence continues because of the silence the abusers and societies create, require and enforce. Be aware. Open your eyes. Speak and be Brave!