Figuring Out the Chaos

The chaos. Do you know it? It blows in like an afternoon storm. It thunders as if the clouds were breaking the sky. Chaos cannot be measured, it is not given value or respect though we all fear it. We all attest to wanting to have drama free lives. We make claims to seeking peace, we use words that tame and lame what actually is happening. We survive chaos, we hang on through chaos, we wait for it to pass or sometimes we get caught up in it and become part of the chaos. And while the chaos is occurring we wish for the still calm of our soul at rest. We wish for a life of stillness. I've often in the last two years wondered when the chaos would end. It has ebbed here and there, it has moved away but continues to return. I thought for a long time that it was due to the five children that cry out "mommy" with chirpy little voices. And they do create a level of chaos in my life. But the chaos, the crazy, the swirl of events and people and struggle and worries.... they are just part of life. I've been fighting to find a still life. I've been striving to create a life that is measured, calm, describable even. But that is not what is here, what is real or what can be, at least for now. The still and the calm- it is inside. And knowing that, I think I might just be able to embrace and possibly enjoy the chaos. I missed a retreat with my church this week. I was beyond disappointed. I had looked forward to the night away, to the quiet, to adult conversations and to the early morning walk. Instead I had five chirpy kids that needed me here. But, I found, in the midst of a screaming match between my daughters over who had a fever (seriously as if we all didn't know that they both did ....ahhhh)- I found that the calm inside of me was somewhere I could reach. It is a place I can live out of. So chaos, you tire me but I'm so thrilled you live here- you certainly make my life interesting. And future, you scare me as I have no idea where you will lead me and oh I wish I did so I could be better prepared, but I will take you as you come as well. Take on the chaos, Be Brave!

Dark Corner
When he smiled he shared the sun. Have you ever met someone like that, that had the ability to make you forget everything bad with just their smile? It's amazing. It's amazing and dangerous. When he was happy my world was perfect. I wasn't deluded into thinking he would never hurt me again, I just was happy because he was. His happy made me hope. 
And then, he looked at me, his eyes lost the shine and seemed to become hard as if they weren't real. We were in the car. Two of the children were crying. Wailing actually. He yelled at them to stop and then turned and accused me of making them cry. To him they were upset because I was not happy, because I was irritated. I was irritated but trying so so very hard to be emotionless. His fist slammed into my left temple. My head hit the car window. And again. And again. My mouth was open, I looked down and saw the drool on my shirt. My head hurt. His eyes were small. He wasn't done. His fist hit me in the chest over my heart. I couldn't breathe. I doubled over and wondered if I just stayed looking at my feet it would stop. I felt myself breathe. We arrived where we were going. His eyes were small for me. He smiled at everyone else. 

If your chaos involves violence and being hurt please get help. Every nine seconds in the US a woman is assaulted or beaten. And that is the estimate. If you are being harmed please get help. An abusers chaos is not the chaos of life, it is not something you can or should embrace. An abuser creates danger and fear. You are worth a life that can be embraced, that can be lived and rejoiced in! You are worth a life that is whole and without secrets. Be Brave! 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

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!

Greatness after hatred

Welcome. It is an honor to have you visit with me. I tell my stories of my years living in domestic violence below in the Dark Corner. But more than those stories, greater than those stories, is the hope and the belief that we are all brave. That everyone needs a little courage, a shared perspective to remind us of how amazing a brave life is! Welcome.

I was in Walmart a couple days ago, my kids were tired, I was tired. Whining commenced- from all of us! And then I noticed, there was no music on- none. It was almost Christmas time and there were no carols actually no music at all. I looked at my youngest, such grumpiness- kicking at her sister she fussed. I started to sing jingle bells. My children looked at me, they knew that song, they wondered what I was doing.... and then their eyes softened. They began to sing with me, some with words and the younger with just sounds.  I thought about being embarrassed but sheesh- the whining fit throwing that was the alternative was far worse! And so we sang. When we finished, one of my daughters shouted, yes shouted in her shrill little girl voice, "AGAIN! AGAIN!" Everyone in our vicinity turned to watch.... And so... I busted out with Jingle Bells again! Only a couple of people shot grumpy narrow glares at us. I didn't care at that point. I had remembered that I was teaching my children to be brave, teaching my children to look for fun and good instead of complaining, teaching myself to not worry about what other people think. 
You see, I have a purpose here, with my children but also in this life. At time it feels like greatness is busting out of me. Its there that I just take a deep breath and choose to be brave. This isn't because of me. If you've read any of my stories you will know that. I'm not even sure what my greatness is. Did it matter to someone that I sang in the store? Do my words reach my children? Is my intent and perspective important? HOLY COW!!! Those are not my questions. The answers aren't mine to have. I just am impelled to let this strength, this power, these bold and crazy ideas out. Greatness, Bravery... it comes from whom we come from. The connection of meeting a stranger's eyes and sharing a moment, a knowing look or a smile, a truthful conversation or generosity can change a perspective, change the course of a life or a way of being. Don't be afraid to be big. Take care of the impressions that you have of yourself, to see yourself as you are- there isn't enough time set before us to do otherwise. There is no normal, no small life. Live real, live boldly. Be BRAVE!

Dark Corner
He told me I had ten seconds to straighten up. He didn't need to express what he would do to me if I didn't comply... I was well aware of the heaviness and quickness of his feet, his hands. But... my mind went blank. I honestly didn't know what I was doing to straighten up from. My eyes looked back and forth, searching- as if I'd see something in front of me that would clue me into my bad behavior. His hand struck my face. And..... He told me I was lying. How could I agree with that? He took my frantic fear and not meeting his eyes as a sign of guilt. He hit my back. I felt his fury. Hatred, anger, a deep darkness struck me again and again. My backbone burned each time he found it with his hand. My right thigh stung, tears hit the floor. He told me to go to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. He told me to look at myself. My eyes were swollen with tears, my face was red, my hair disheveled.... He instructed me to tell the truth to myself. My heart and my head told me that there was no safe way out of this. From the bathroom, in front of the mirror, standing and shaking I was oppressed with the magnitude of hate. Like so many other days I cowered. I couldn't keep myself, his hate had too much fuel that day. 

I don't cower anymore. I'm not always happy, not always brave, not always thrilled with how things turn out. But it has been proven to me that who I am, what I do and how I chose to live should come from me- not anyone else. My dear friend sent me a magnet for Christmas that said, "Dance as though no one is watching you, Love as though you have never been hurt before, Sing as though no one can hear you, Live as though heaven is on earth." Souza
Can you do that? If you have the freedom to chose to live those sentiments DO! If you don't have the freedom to make that choice, if you are controlled, hurt... please please get help. 

Around the world, at least one in every three women has been beaten, coerced into sex or otherwise abused during her lifetime. More often, the abuser is a member of her own family. 
Domestic violence is ugly. The prevalence of it is disgusting. Live, be Brave because you can!

Sincerity verses lying

Welcome.

I wrote a song once. Well I've written quite a few... nothing spectacular but songs I liked. (I'm grinning here!) One of the songs was about sleep. And my favorite verse says, "I hate to be lit up at night, It invades what's inside, In the daytime I need clarity, But the night shall be sincerity." I love nights. A clear sky with lots of stars and good company is bliss. No facade. Our hearts just are. It is past the time in which we seek betterment of our circumstances or ourselves. We just are. 

In the years that I lived being abused the nights became a place of struggle and fear. Sleep was a delicate matter in our home. I was not supposed to want to sleep if he didn't want me to. If he was up I was supposed to be up working. Cooking, cleaning, laundry- it was all too common to finish my chores at midnight or one and then try to not act sleepy as I went to bed. I was to be tireless without laziness. But I was a human being and my body needed sleep. As everyone does I needed a time to just be.

Now I seek out times and places to let my heart just be. The picnic tables in my backyard are a prime night location... My spot on the sofa after a long shift at work. Its as if there are secret places in time that we can just be. If I look for them I seem to find them. My kids sometimes just sit and snuggle with me. My youngest crawls in bed and sings with me. I'm not being anything in these moments- I take off the mommy hat, the advisor hat, the housekeeper hat, the friend hat, the writer hat and what is left is just me. I am those things but shedding the weight and responsibility in those moments I embrace the sincerity that is there. Its Christmas time. I think I shall go look for more moments. I hope you find some for yourself. I can't think of a better way to celebrate!

Dark Corner

Those that know me well know the extent I go through to live honestly and in an upfront manner. After years of secrets I despise them. I won't have them in my heart for myself or for others. 

It was a Monday, March 12th 2012 actually. The night before had been rough, not abnormal. But my broken lip and bruised and swollen chin were pretty ugly looking. Ninety percent of the time my injuries were kept to what couldn't be seen by others. This was the first time since I'd moved over to my company's main building that I had gone to work with visible injuries. I was nervous. Everyone asked. "I was chipping the ice outside the house and hit myself with the handle of the ice chipper." was my answer. 
When you lie- there is the pull from your conscious to look to your heart. Your eyes shift, your head lowers- everyone does this (even great liars "tell").  It was everything I could do to lie and not hang my head. One of my coworkers asked me and made it clear he didn't believe me. I had awareness for the first time that I was lying and the heaviness of that was enormous. All I could see were all the people I had lied to over the years and for what? For a man that thought it was funny to poke my injuries that he inflicted. That hurt me because he couldn't control his temper at .... God only knows what. I was frantic all day. I paced. I didn't get much work done. My lies felt like they were crashing in on me and I wanted out. I wanted out. My coworker went outside. I followed him, still unsure if I wanted to tell everything. When his eyes met mine tears were already threatening to overflow. When he asked me if I'd been hit, I paused. And then.... I nodded. (Emotion of every kind came crashing in. If I could put a sound track to this there would have been a great build up of strings and percussion and then crashing as great as of waves on rocks...) He asked me if I'd been hurt before. I nodded again. The best way to explain what happened next is just that I saw someone be angry on behalf of me- it wasn't scary but simply overwhelming. He was fuming but not at me. I wasn't sure what was happening. My ears and heart were still feeling the effects of the crescendo that brought me to that brave nod. But I knew, I knew I had to have help. I knew if I went home I'd die. I'd told his secret. So I didn't go home. 

Recently I read an article by Rachel Jewkes (Intimate partner violence: prevention and causes, April 2002). I appreciated the way that she broke down two factors that are always present in a domestic violence situation. These factors: unequal position of women in a relationship (and in society) and the normalcy of using violence in conflicts are both necessary to create an environment that allows domestic violence. Neither of these factors are easily changed as they are prevalent in our world.  
But- I am a mother. Are you a parent? Teach your children. The need to speak out against violence is so great. People in our world die over Air Jordan shoes, over the need for food, over the unaddressed anger of their spouse, and for a million other idiotic reasons. 

Be Brave! If you are in danger find help, Domestic violence escalates. It rarely starts with being killed. If you fear another person find help. You life is precious and worth you living it. Your life has sincere moments that you can find but you have to be safe to find them. Be Brave!

Ugly Shame and Living Vulnerable

Welcome. My words are a bit long today so my intro shall be short. I welcome you with a smile and hope you feel the desire of mine that all women, men and children know they can be Brave. 

Some of my dearest friends, more like family really, and I were reunited after I found life again. It was the most precious thing in the world to introduce my children to them. But I remember wanting to crawl into a hole at the same time. My house was in shambles... I was so embarrassed. Odds and ends for furniture, walls that hadn't been painted in 10 years, holes in the walls from my head, holes from knives and chairs that had been thrown. I looked at my house with new eyes and thought I should never have asked them to come over. But while I'm sure, very sure, they saw my house- they came in and saw myself and my kids. It has taken a long time to shed the shame of living in a home that was overtaken by domestic violence. At times it leers at me now. But then, when I was just lifting my head up to see again, I was given such an amazing gift. Truly one that shared courage. I have been so blessed.- Oh Abby, hang on, you veer off into the "I am so blessed" so quickly. There was a point to this! - What do we see when we use our eyes? It was later that my friends started to help me put my house together. Until then I got to rest in the peace that they were there. They didn't rush in, seeing such a need for help and take over. My friends got to know me again, they loved on my kids, they made time for me to have a break, to get out and get a coffee. They saw me. Do we give that to people? Do we see each other? I am not overly gifted at that. Its so easy to see the situation and how I feel about whatever is going on. My children challenge me in this everyday. Do I see my son and his want to hear me praise him and listen as he rambles about the coolest thing to build with Legos or are the logistics of the other four and my work schedule more pressing? Do I share laughter with them and really let them know I'm there? Do I communicate empathy with the women I work with? Everyone in the world wants to be seen- as they are. It takes a lot of bravery to see people because it lets them see us. It connects us to another person and shares life, courage and hope. It isn't always pleasant, in sharing oneself we often get hurt and it can be an enormous amount of work to care. But sometimes that Bravery makes all the difference in the world for another person. It did for me. Be Brave!!!

Dark Corner
My head hurt and I felt the wall- it was cold on my skin. I had been sleeping in bed but after being lifted by my hair and slammed into the wall was now fully awake. My heart racing I scrambled down the hall. From sleep to fleeing I wasn't sure what had happened but I was running. An hour later I'd been outside for 40 minutes in the cold and now was inside in front of him praying for forgivness. He told me to get the girls. I cried and begged and then did as he instructed. The girls had been sleeping as well. He was yelling. I was a whore. They were whores too. They were just like me. He questioned them about if they wanted to be like me. My oldest daughter said no. I knew I was alive then because that hurt so badly. I was not what he said. They were not what he said. My daughter should have wanted to be like me. 
This story is so full of shame. I cannot finish without telling you that. I put the girls back to bed. They were not hurt physically but emotionally, spiritually... AHHH. I get so upset with myself that I allowed my children to be hurt and scared. I cannot ever explain to anyone the emotions that course through me as I tell these stories. Being awake now I look at what I allowed and I have no words for myself. Not only did the state of my house feel shameful but the things I allowed to happen to myself and my children.....

So why share my shameful stories? Because I don't believe in living in shame. Shame, and I'm going to borrow Brene Brown's definition here: is the fear that my actions or inactions make me not worthy of connections with others. And that is not how anyone should live. Regrets, yes I have them. But shame- no. I choose to live in hope. I offer my stories to inspire, to make others aware and to possibly reach someone that needs a little courage to live. I'm choosing vulnerability. Vulnerability like this kinda sucks though. This is not pleasant. But my vulnerability with my kids is what makes our love and bond so amazing- it is my greatest blessing to know their love. It is from me being me that the life I have now is being born. Shame no. Brave yes. Katy Perry's song Roar... my daughter loves it. And I love it that she does. Personally not a huge KP fan, but this song speaks of standing up and being strong (like a tiger). And for my daughter that is huge! So, my daughters and I sing Roar. My sons and I giggle at silly TV shows and build Legos- together. They know we were in danger. They know I was there and didn't and couldn't protect them. But they also know I got us out.

If you live a life in which you feel shame you can lift your head up. It is not easy, it is hard. But there is no shame in real life. Real life is living bravely, boldly yourself, its full of love and care. I am so glad that you have come today. Thank you for reading my words. I am so blessed! (I'm laughing at myself!) Yes, I am so blessed! Roar today and be Brave!

*If you are being hurt get help. Any help. Tell someone and if they don't help or listen, tell someone else. Your life is worth living. There are women's shelters that you can call, there is a national hotline that can talk to you about how. There are restraining orders and protective orders that you can get. It is not easy. It is overwhelming but talk to someone, find help. Your life is worth living!

Where is Waldo?

Brave is the outpouring of my soul, my person, my pain and suffering. I am so glad you have come. I am so young, so little, so unwise and yet this is my attempt to share what I've found. To share what I see after I've been given another go at life. It takes so much courage to live thoughtful, careful and helpful lives. I am here and glad you are too.

Where Is Waldo books are so wonderful! I keep telling myself I need to order some for my kids because they are so timeless. And I think they teach us the value of seeking. The object is to find Waldo, to find his red and white striped hat and scarf and sweater and then to turn the page and find him again. The reward for finding him is.... Well there are no candies handed out, there is no monetary gain, there is no physical reward of any kind. Except that, we congratulate ourselves inside when we've found him. Achievement! I wish I would look for good and hope and chances to be brave in the same way. 
I probably wouldn't have minded when my daughter peed all over the dinning room chair AGAIN today (as in three times by noon....). Because we are potty training at our house- or as her sister says "on the potty train". I would have been thrilled that her big sister is "on the potty train" with her, running around in their panties together, cheering each other on when they get to the potty. I should have celebrated that their sisterly bond is so amazing. The potty train will arrive at some point! I can have hope because those two giggly sisters will catch the train together!
How much effort do I put into seeking to see what is amazing? If I created a  Where Is Brave book it would be amazing. Think of all the blessings I could hide in between daily life pictures. I have FIVE children! FIVE perfect blessings that all love me. I have a home to sleep in, I have plenty of food in my fridge. And then there are things like- I will not get hurt today, I will not cry due to unkind and hurtful words today, I can express myself freely and I can love my children, family and friends. Oh the blessings just go on and on! Waldo isn't wearing a red and white hat in my life, he is just the blessings I can choose to see! And when we know our blessings oh from there we can be so Brave.

Dark Corner
In the winter of 2011 I took a class at work to learn how to drive and operate a forklift. It was not a long class, the instructor showed us what to do and then let us have a few practice rounds and decided if we were a danger or whether we could operate the forklift without incident. The instructor of the class was fun, a few coworkers watched and offered humorous judgement and tips in regards to our progress. It was fun- and I wasn't as bad as I'd expected. I felt pretty good about myself that day. I went home. The house was tense... the air was stale it was that tense. It felt like the air was gone from the house. Gone. I did not want to be there. I did not want to go upstairs and see him, to try to get dinner made in the half hour he allotted, to try to nurse the baby while making dinner, to try to get my oldest to work on the school work they hadn't done.... I just didn't want to do it. I wanted to go back outside and pick up the "I had a great day" feeling again. But I'd shed it already, they all knew I was home. He was mad. He challenged my attitude the minute I got upstairs. I started to feed my daughter. He hit the back of my head. My daughter started crying, her food was being interrupted. I slid her to the couch as I was pushed to the floor. He hit my back again and again. He challenged my mood calling me arrogant and proud and continued telling me I should die. He made me tell him why I was arrogant. He decided I was being unfaithful and called me a whore. His foot caught my collar bone. Not hard but it was a pain I hadn't felt before. It felt like my chest was being torn off my body. I will stop my story there. I did not die that day. I was able to feed my daughter. We no longer live in that fear. That is the important part. The Waldo of this story is that I learned what Bravery is. 

Life is this big learning opportunity. This hope and bravery that I write about- good grief they are not learned lessons! I've taken big brave steps, I hold hope most of the time. But often as I write I am learning more, growing more and hopefully being more of what I write about! I want to be Brave! So what do we do? Look for the Waldo blessings in our lives. Look for the ones that sit right next to the hard things. Yesterday was hard- I had a friend to call, Two years ago on hard days I didn't have the ability to call anyone. YAY!!!! Be Brave! 

If you are one of the 12 million men and women that are being hurt or controlled this year- be BRAVE! There is hope. There is help. There are other men and women that know the shame, know the fear and know that there is hope. Find them. That may be at work, that may be a local shelter or police station or maybe a domestic violence help line. I can't tell you the number of times I was going to just pull my car over to the side of the road and call the police- to show them what he had done the night before, to tell them I was terrified of going home. I should have. It would have spared me so much hurt, tears, time. It would have kept my children from witnessing as much as they did, from being subjected to watching violence to their mom and living in fear. I can't go back, you can't go back. Today though- there is help. I can't implore you enough for I know until you believe there is hope my words cannot persuade. But there is hope. There is HOPE! Be Brave! 

If you are in the US and need help: 
http://www.thehotline.org/
1-800-799-7233
They can help you with a plan or give advice or just listen. 

Fraudulence and a room for hope

Welcome to Brave. Bravery comes out of hope. Bravery makes us stand up and chose life. Bravery causes us to breathe deep when life shows us only the shallow. Thank you for coming. This is real thoughts on being brave, having hope and sharing awareness. The Dark Corner below is the place I'm sharing the dark stories of domestic violence as they happened to me. Thank you for reading. I pray you will find hope and bravery here!

There is a certain aspect of fraud that goes on in our lives. We live with smiles on our faces, happy Christmas cards, children who dress nicely at church and cars that have been through the car wash. What is on the inside very rarely lines up with what is on the outside. We may not be smiling, we may not be happy at all, our children may wish they were dressed in all black and they may have snarly mean attitudes. During the first few weeks of leaving the abusive home I'd lived in for years I was as high as a kite. I felt like I was free and truly I was for the first time in 8 years. But then reality started to sink in. Single parenting is not easy. Working full time and single parenting five is not easy. Working through years of traumatic events is not easy. HOLY COW!!!!! How was I going to hope in the face of all that? I confided in a close friend. I told him that I was giving up, that hope was the cruelest trick God put here on earth. His response came in a quiet voice telling me that his heart hurt over that and he implored me not to give up. My friend lived a life that was full of love, not easy but had lots of love. I, meanwhile, felt alone. But as I looked at him I knew he spoke the truth. 
Hope isn't cruel, it is the peace that makes the rest bearable. 
Now Hallmark says hope and love happen when I buy a card and get teary-eyed. Their movie channel says true love will come at Christmas. Hahahahahaha. Life is no card. Hope comes from life. I live and breathe and therefore have hope. Hope- you can live in my heart and be whats inside. In the middle of my kids needing a nap and when my period starts and I'm so grumpy I think everyone should go live with my aunt... Hope you can live there too. We are not fruadulant. We are not fake. We are people that need to keep telling Hope that there is room for her. Be Brave!

Dark Corner
The ground was so hard. My back hurt so badly. My pregnant belly was so big and swollen and not liking being outside on the ground. He had told me I could live in a tent in the backyard. That was just a few hours ago. I had set up the little tent we had... the tent that had been a wedding present. My heart was sunk. It was July so the sky was light even as it got later in the evening. I sat in the tent. I had to pee. The doors were locked. I relieved myself by the shed. I sunk farther inside myself.... I started looking around... it was so close to the neighbors house... The kids were inside with him though.  My mind raced but all I could see was that I had no job right then and four kids and pregnant with another... oh goodness... I was ok. The tent was ok. I tried to sleep.
The knife pressed my pregnant belly. The threat of dying while watching my baby die too was just too much. Tears spilled out of my eyes. His eyes were cold and hard. His voice full of hate. The knife he held was sharp- a nice Wusthof carving knife. Oh ....my..... I wasn't breathing. I couldn't comprehend living like this... living was a thing of the past. I hid inside myself. But... my baby, my only fear was for my girl that moved inside me. He threw the knife down and told me to enjoy the cold of sleeping outside. I cannot find words to tell you how I felt. I felt so little. Scared, terrified, small, fading, sinking, alone, cold, alone and alone.  I couldn't see hope. I couldn't see anything other than fear. I had married fear.

The CDC has labeled violence, threats of violence, stalking and rape by an intimate partner as Intimate Partner Violence or IPV. According to the CDC on average, 24 people per minute are victims of IPV in the United States- more than 12 million men and women over the course of a year. Something is wrong with our moral alignment when 12 million people in our nation are facing Intimate Partner Violence every year. Regardless of the severity this is a huge problem in the US. My situation went on for 8 years before anyone knew or recorded it as part of a statistic. Domestic violence continues because of the silence that the "intimate" partner creates. 

Make room in your heart for Hope. You may identify with the fraudulence of looking as if you have hope- that is ok. Just make room in your heart for hope. Ask for hope and create that room. If you find yourself in a difficult or threatening situation have hope. Keep your eyes open and look for hope! Hope is not cruel, it is God's gift to make everything bearable. If you are being hurt, find help- I promise it is there. You can hope. Be Brave! 

Wonder

Welcome. I am so thankful of your time. I am so glad that you've come. The holidays can be so busy, it is an honor that you are visiting. I am creating a place here of hope, of courage. I am creating a place where stories of darkness can inspire because they don't last forever. Today the Dark Corner below is kind of raw, not painful anymore to tell but raw nonetheless. I am sorry. I include it with hesitation, but I so seek that hope would shine. Light shines brightest out of the darkness. The Dark Corner is no more. You have my permission to skip this one, but if you read it- remember The Dark Corner is no more. 

It is definitely Christmas time. Hope is in the air. Children are dreaming of all the toys that they will find on Christmas morning (or wailing, whining and begging for everything in the store). But it is the season of delight. It is the season of stories of Jesus and the three wise kings, the story of Mary and Joseph's journey. I think children and their wonder at life is what really makes Christmas though. I watch my kids and their eyes shinning as we talk about how the star shone brightly over Jesus, how the wise men knew to follow the star, how Santa Claus finds our chimney and how we can give a little present of cookies to the neighbors. They love all of it. Its the wonder and majesty of the unknown happening, the impossible coming true, the extravagance for everyone. What makes your eyes shine with wonder? I was dancing in the kitchen the other day to a Mumford and Sons song. My daughter asked me why I had my arms in the air. I told her because that song makes me feel alive. Since then its come on a few times. She told the other kids each time, in a rather conspiring voice that "This is Mom's alive song." I had death and now I have life. I know now what I'm supposed to be. I am supposed to be alive, brave and bold. I am supposed to dance, to wonder at life and all of its pieces, even when my kids refuse a nap and are cranky. The season we are in fosters so much wonder. Lets be Brave in it!

Dark Corner

I stopped crying. I could not come up with any more tears. If one can become dehydrated by crying I had done it. I felt so dry, my lips chapped and it had only been a couple of hours. "Submit." he said.  I hung my head again. I was shaking knowing what was coming. He hit my arm again. I looked up, "I do, I do." I said. Silence. His eyes held mine, I dropped mine and watched my hands shake. He hit my arm again. Why my submission wasn't enough I will never understand. How does one submit any further? Everything I did was under his control and according to his wishes. But he was insistent that I wasn't submitted to him and that I complained inside my heart.  "Submit" he growled. Tears poured out of my eyes again, surprising me. I did not look up this time. After two hours my arm was already swollen. Swollen and purple. He declared I wouldn't make it much longer and left me there. What do I do with my arm? I was worried about how to get my shirt off it was swollen so much. The next morning my arm had purple lines leading from elbow to my wrist. AHHHHH! Long sleeves, how was I going to get my swollen arm that I could barely move into a long sleeve shirt. He thought it was funny. He poked my arm asking if it hurt. My eyes welled up with tears for that hurt my heart as well as my arm. I didn't understand anymore what was expected of me. I didn't know how to be whatever it was he wanted me to be. 

One in every four women in the US will experience domestic violence. That is a quarter of our female population. That doesn't exclude anyone, not the women that are churched nor the women who are highly educated. Rich and poor alike will experience domestic violence. My Dark Corner is no more. Yours, if you are in one, can end too. There is hope. You are supposed to be something. Hurt is not it. I pray that you will find hope, courage and Bravery to be who you were meant to be!