Courage. Not a feel good adjective!

All of history has been marked by people; people who are moving forward to change things. We create, we change, we make things different. Whew..well I don't know about you but that makes me exhausted. My life is so full and so filled that I often wonder how I can make things better. Being a zealous person I'm not very easily calmed or squashed into accepting that I've done my job...I think there is more to do. But we need something to change our world.... we need something big.... we need COURAGE! Courage is one of those feel good words that we like to describe others with. And yet it DOESN'T feel good!!!! Generally to be courageous we have to have some sort of trial or tribulation in which to inspire us to courageous actions and holy cow who would seek troubles? Who would seek to have bad things happen to themselves or their families? Not I!!! And yet the last ten years have been one big trial. (Lumping it all together makes me feel better sometimes! ha!) And I am in need of courage!
Here is my problem: 
I am going to fight with everything I can to ensure that my children have the right to remain protected from an individual who is violent (this being their father). He pled guilty to more than three accounts of domestic violence and has never denied any of the abuse. My belief is that he should not be able to see his kids. Solely based on the fact that we don't demand that of adults. 
Let's just say my father hurt me today and hurt my mother in front of me. (I am 32 years old.) No judge would reprimand me for being afraid of my father. No one would try to talk me into visiting with him. And I wouldn't listen to any judge that decided that I should see him. That situation of course was fictional. 
Fighting this today means attorneys, judges and counselors. It involves saying no to people and institutions that we don't say no to. We are a democracy, we have these laws and blah blah blah. Regarding children they are wrong. There just isn't a better way to put that. The laws protecting violent parents are wrong. 
But I am just me.... I'm caught by that is ridiculous. I'm astounded that I have to fight for this. 
I'm also not sure how to do this. How do you fight "the man", the government, a scary ex husband with little resources and a (descriptions kept to myself) attorney? 
It's as if the enemy is so vague and unknown that I can't just reach out and kill it. A foe this large is a bit formidable...maybe my writing will be as David's rocks. I have to do something.  I've started writing two children's books; "The Dragon Inside" which illustrates the danger of secrets, and a workbook about how to re-label emotions after trauma. Much is coming from this...maybe that is why I'm walking it. Regardless I am attempting to build courage, find courage and the umphf to keep on.

If you are being harmed or in a violent or abusive relationship please get help. There isn't an excuse in the world that justifies hurting a woman or child. The manipulation and control exerted to create the atmosphere for abuse is as damaging as the abuse itself. Please get help! You are worth life. If you have children know that they can have better, they will have better! Be Brave!

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

Mail and Running Off Fear

So I had a conversation, a little chat and visit with myself..... "Abigail, "I said, "you should sleep more. You should work less as your work schedule right now is not anywhere near a healthy one. You should keep pursuing ways to make things easier for yourself because you are doing a big task. You need people and they need you so no hiding in a treehouse just yet, plus seriously can you imagine keeping up with an outhouse with all the kids.... Gross. And I'm pretty sure the friendly neighbors you have aren't going to move to tree houses around you so they can help you when a branch breaks or birds build a nest in your kitchen.... There is no way to tell what is going to happen tomorrow or in the fall or next year. Be brave, even with the mail." 
I hold so much fear- it is astounding the many things that I wish I could just pass off to someone else. Would you come open my mail for me? Oh yes, you have to actually go check the mail as well..... I laugh but seriously it is a very good example of another thing I am afraid of, fearful of those wretched bills, fearful of what unknown horrible news might come wrapped up in an envelope. 
Along the course of things I have often wondered about how bravery comes about. What changes us from sniveling, scared and hesitant beings to bold, confident and sure? I've seen so much of my life be marked by the tendencies to both. A blog named Brave, and yet far overworked because I'm scared of a possible lack in the future; a commitment to speaking truth and having conversations even if difficult, and yet a shy introvert that would love to hide; confident in who I am and yet I wonder if my loneliness says something about me.....
My conversation with myself was a commitment to be kind to me. Fear is never kind, fear is always harsh and uncaring, full of worry, full of injustice. And so, I do believe my battle with fear will continue in a kind hearted loving way. I will love me. Be Brave with me friends, be good to yourself and see how far fear runs. 

Dark Corner
He told me to get a knife. My head was swirling, my eyes already puffy and swollen from tears. I was hungry, I was really sleepy, I was.... I went and got the knife. He yelled that I didn't trust him. He lowered his voice and snarled that I was a disgrace, a woman who refused to submit to her husband, a woman that didn't trust her husband with her life. Knife in hand I kept my head lowered; I was unsure of how to proceed as this was a new behavior from him. I felt so often that I could manage or keep him from doing permanent damage, that I could make him accept my attempts to be what he wanted. But this day it was new and knives were... scary. Cut your palm, he said. If you trust me cut your palm. My eyes found his, questions and fear were in mine, I saw nothing in his. I pointed the knife at my palm but couldn't. Not knowing the extent of what he would do if I said no, I really wanted to be able to cut my hand. But... I shook my head no, I told him no. Mad, he filled the room with descriptions of myself.  Reaching over he cut my palms with the knife, both of them.... shallow, long cuts. He was disgusted with me, he was angry, he wanted dinner...... The cuts I could bandage, a butterfly bandage and some gauze and I was ok. I made dinner, and in those actions a new behavior was added to the list of scary scenarios that were normal. But that day, that was the day the last shred of trust in him died. 

Dear friends, my hope here is that you be encouraged. If you are being harmed please get help. Domestic violence is complex; emotions are manipulated, truth is twisted and fear conquers even those with great intentions. Strong, confident and sure women are bent by fear, by what looks to be love of their partners. But your love of someone that hurts you cannot change their behavior. Your love or care must start with you and letting yourself be harmed is not right or good for you no matter what lies are being told. 
Run off fear, be loving to yourself. Be Brave. - abigail

Tuna and the girls

Everyone and their puppy dog generally will have an opinion regarding your activities. Are you happy? Are you sad? Here is what they would do, here is what you should do. Add a past that includes domestic violence in the mix and it's amazing the advice you'll get handed. Some is well meaning, some is full of love and some is actually quite useful (though generally the most useful of advice comes when the other person doesn't realize they are giving advice, just words spoken that somehow finagle with something inside us and spur us on to a greater action or conclusion that we couldn't have arrived at ourselves...). Today I've been looking at the advice to appreciate and value where we have come from. Not necessarily digging up the past, just appreciating how far we've come. Blah blah blah blah. Sounds a bit like another platitude. But.... I made tuna last night for dinner. Tuna for dinner, on sourdough bread with barbecue chips. I made tuna fish sandwiches. And I wasn't afraid, I wasn't in trouble and no one accused me of not caring for my children. I gave them what I had, what I wanted, what they wanted and everyone was happy. Three years ago on a summer evening I had seen what was the consequences for thinking that tuna was ok for dinner- it wasn't pretty and I wore a turtleneck with long sleeves for a few days afterwards. So maybe there is something to seeing how far we've come. I wasn't triggered by remembering, I wasn't caught up in fear- I just smiled as I ate my sandwich. Thoughts like that bring a smile to my face. Thoughts like that make me remember I need to be grateful for today. Thoughts like that tell me it is worth hard moments to be Brave. 

Dark Corner
There are over 200 Nigerian girls that have been kidnapped. Taken from their school at gunpoint. Can you imagine their dark corner? Can you imagine what is happening to them right now as you read this? 

Everyone knows someone affected by violence. Just in the US alone one in four women are affected by domestic violence. Over 18% of women in the US have been through a completed or attempted rape. In 2006 78,000 cases of child sexual abuse were reported in the US.... reported numbers are thought to be 1/8th of what actually occurs. 
We may share platitudes, we may love on each other and care for each other- but there is so much violence in our world. Generally my Dark Corner is just what has happened to me, awful yes- but I'm alive. I've come so far. I eat tuna for dinner. The Nigerian girls, the children in the US, the women being hurt or raped right now.... they have a future. They need a future. They need our help.

If you are being hurt please find help. -abigail

A Great Long Bucket List

Mountains to climb, countries to visit, degrees and money to acquire, inventions to invent.... oh the bucket lists go on and on. But what will happen to us when tomorrow is all we have? The last few months for me have been laced with thoughts of death. No- don't get scared, I'm fine. But as I watched what I've come to call, my "death date" come and go this year seems to hold for me a heightened sense of mortality. Now mind you I'm very aware of how fragile life is, all one needs to do is watch the news or in my case remember what strangulation feels like to realize that life is precious. (Please know I wrote that last sentence with a smile on my face. It almost makes me, well I take that back- it does make me giggle a little bit to think of the things I could write. Can you imagine  if I actually wrote all of what happened? I do fear that I would scare everyone off! And with my odd sense of humor that tonight is funny.... ah hum, ok... pulling myself together again...) Tonight after dinner I chased my children around with a light saber. Five giggly squirrely children running like crazy as their mom pretended to know how to wield a light saber.... It was awesome. I am so thankful for my children. They complete my bucket list everyday. My bucket list is kinda short- live bravely. There isn't a day that goes by that they don't inspire or require me to make a choice to be brave. Confronting the past must be done so we can live. Playing in the present must be done so we can live. Planning for bigger and better futures must be done so we can live. Death is so close but a brave life is here and somehow it takes both to keep us living. Be Brave my friends!

Dark Corner
We were at his family's home. Extra people around, laughter and talking. But I knew better. Every time he heard me or saw me his eyes would become hard. My heart was racing. I looked around and kept looking around but no one would have believed me. I am not sure why I was so sure he would kill me if I spoke but I was SURE. Well beyond my feeling- he had said he would and his eyes.... and I was so afraid.... The fear of being harmed is crippling- even the memory of it makes me shrink in my chair. A bit later he found me in the kitchen. No one was there. He slammed my head into the fridge. My eyes were begging him to stop. Someone walked in and he turned and smiled, making a joke as he walked out of the kitchen. I looked down, afraid of my tears, afraid of what the person thought and terrified someone might say something to me that would evoke a response. All of those things would bring an outcome I might not be able to manage or control, an outcome that would involve some form of hurt, some form of pain and crying.... always I had crying. 

Brave is not easy. Brave is not easy and Brave is not easy. This life does not seem to be made for us to embrace easy but rather the hard, the difficult and the great. If you are being hurt you are not living, you are just responding to someone else's misplaced bad behavior. And you, whoever you are, whatever you have done with your life DO NOT DESERVE SOMEONE ELSE'S BAD BEHAVIOR. Get help. There are lots of services out there, the best most conclusive seems to be domestic violence shelters- as they will assist you with information, counseling and all forms of advice for how to make your freedom permanent. There are also lots of amazing people that are out there that will help you on your journey- sometimes you just have to start looking for them and be honest in your need for help. Be Brave, it's the best way to be. - abigail

TipToe

"Sometimes the smallest step in the right direction ends up being the biggest step of your life. Tip toe if you must, but take the step." author unknown
I read this little "phrase of the day" and thought- I tip toe. I may write about being brave. I may talk about having courage and what we can do. I may challenge the silence that we so often live in.... but I tip toe. I tip toe through my memories, they scare me. I tip toe with my kids, they kinda scare me too or maybe just overwhelm me with the enormous amount of parenting I need to learn. I tip toe when I'm thinking and questioning what I'm doing. And I tip toe when I'm sad. Ok well, probably not the last one- I tend to sit down and have a little cry when I'm sad and then I tip toe. But you know what I've learned from all my tip toeing? That it is possible to keep moving forward even if the steps are so tiny you wonder if they are steps. That tip toeing can teach you to trust and teach you to be wise. And that there are lots of wonderful things that surround us. In the slow movement of a tip toe it is easy to see the care being offered, given and shared. After a moment standing/hiding on my front porch I get to see the mama bird that has built a nest right above the porch. Being overwhelmed with a lack of sleep at work I tip toed to a place where I could just breathe, breathe and know where I am. And today as I was consoling my tearful six year old I tip toed closer to her and there was a second that was unexplainable, perfect and ..... I don't know exactly even what it was but I do know if I hadn't been slow I would have missed that little second. I will always love running. I will always prefer to jump first and ask questions later but.... this tip toe thing might just be worth keeping. Be Brave!

Dark Corner
He spoke and told me he would rather die than live and that was my fault. So he wouldn't eat, he would just work "for me" and slowly die. For two days he didn't eat, didn't drink- just cleaned and remained emotionless. He acted as he expected me to act and yet he was .... well I never did figure out what the intention was. But my reaction was sympathy, guilt and a desire to do whatever I needed so as to not be the "cause". Somehow this hurt just as badly as any bruise ever did. I was just as afraid. The second night I sat alone, so scared of when he would stop and return to being angry, when he would not be able to go on and then kill me instead. I was right that he would stop but he chose not to kill me. "It isn't time yet." he said as he let me breathe again. He decided that my punishments would continue and that everything was still my fault. My mind couldn't follow his and yet that was the demand. I could not understand. I could not see my sin as he saw it. I could not see myself as he saw me. But I knew his hand was heavy, his feet were quick and he was coming for me again. 

Ignorance. It isn't a quality or word that we like to have. But to some extent there is so much we are ignorant about. It doesn't have to be negative but it does speak to so much that we need to learn. We need to know what domestic violence is. One in four women in the US will know domestic violence during her life. One in four. That is a staggering statistic. We can't continue to live in ignorance. Domestic violence does not adhere to laws, rules, social classes, economics, education or religious backgrounds. Dear friends lets help. Lets find ways to offer hope, to speak against abuse and assist those that need help. If you are being hurt please get help. You are not alone. Abuse doesn't end unless something is done about it. Even a tip toe is forward movement. - abigail

Solace

Solace is such an awkward word. It is sister to solitude and brother to peace. And it can be found. It is a way, a place and an inward outlook. Solace is quiet and loud, present and unattainable but always, always seems to be just there when things break. When things get hairy. When there is not a reason, a correct action or behavior or thing that you can possibly do- there will be solace. 
April 11th marked the date my ex husband had set for when I should die- or rather within this year. But regardless that date held a lot of chaotic emotions for me. Emotions that were surprising, unyielding and that I was truly unready for. Leading up to that date, which was also my birthday, my days were unsettled and frantic, my nights were distraught and fearful. I didn't sleep much. And then the week happened. My children and I all got sick, so very sick that there was a lot of distraction in the form of puking- so I did a lot of cleaning, mindless but careful cleaning. It was merciful, it was solace. My ever wonderful church kept close watch and was careful to remind me that they were there. My ever helpful neighbor was there to listen and never far. The day passed, the week passed and here we are. 
As this is Easter weekend I wonder how God felt when it was over. Had he found solace in the water? Solace in the midst of the trial? Solace just that it was over. Or maybe none of that, I don't know. Bad doesn't last forever. Eight years ended. These past few weeks were endured as will be this year. And we have a risen Savior. Be Brave my friends. 
abigail

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 

Maria, Elsa and Cinderella

Have you ever felt free? Uninhibited, fully alive and ready to dance on a hilltop? I see Maria dancing on the top of the mountain, Elsa creating frozen icicles that are swirly and Cinderella dancing with her prince. Free. Ice castles, sparkles, green grass and unicorns- that is what the picture of freedom looks like. Delight that is astounding, that is beyond imaginable and intensely fulfilling or maybe just being safe and happy. It's what we want. I want to ride on a unicorn under a starry sky. The truth is though that freedom also means you can know, feel and touch pain. It means that everything you avoided, that you coped with, that you shut out and set aside because it was too much- it means that those things are free too. Free. Darkness, death, nightmares and hate. Freedom means that everything must be dealt with- because the unicorn ride only will last if you also look at the darkness. The dancing ends at midnight and what was is still real.  The bravest moment of my life is when I left the man that hurt me for far too long. But this learning to be free, this letting go, this being- this is being brave. I don't say this to pat myself on the back. I say this to acknowledge that I can't have happy until I'm free. I am in the darkest place I have ever been. I am looking and feeling what I couldn't and wouldn't and I am overwhelmed by its volume. Be Brave, on the unicorn ride or in the dark- you can.

Dark Corner

I couldn't breathe again. But this time I didn't want to fight. This time I wished he would finish it. Tortured, that is what I had become.

"Domestic Violence is the willful intimidation, physical assault, battery, sexual assault, and/or other abusive behavior perpetrated by an intimate partner against another. It is an epidemic affecting individuals in every community, regardless of age, economic status, race, religion, nationality or educational background. Violence against women is often accompanied by emotionally abusive and controlling behavior, and thus is part of a systematic pattern of dominance and control. Domestic violence results in physical injury, psychological trauma, and sometimes death. The consequences of domestic violence can cross generations and truly last a lifetime." National Coalition Against Domestic Violence

If you are being hurt get help. It is not easy. Recovery is not easy- more than anything I wouldn't sugar coat that. But- even my worst and darkest day is better faced while being loved rather than hated and hurt. You can be free and you can heal.

If you are safe and have a unicorn- share your joy. Help those that don't have and haven't had the safety and care you have. Alone is the most common feeling of those abused and yet one in four women in the US knows abuse. That means they aren't alone in the situation and they don't have to be alone because you can care. Be Brave. abigail

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

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

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

Lions and Bears Oh My!

This seems to be the outpour of myself looking at a bigger picture. My past is disturbing but it appears that our world is at a climax.... Its as if we are close to an epiphany after which the world will end. I am so very irritated with the people that seems to sit in complacency- and yes that is myself and yes, we all know the world is ending. Yes, we all know that people are suffering from the effects of wars, famine and violence- oh and of course over-eating and not taking care of our bodies.... Yes, we all know that the lions are going to die out- just like polar bears and all the sea life.... But Jesus is coming, the world wasn't created to last forever, of course its bound to happen. But were we supposed to ruin it? Are we going to get to live with the consequences of this planet that is hurting before He comes back? A friend of mine has been posting some very thought provoking articles lately, my favorite being this. After I read this I simply wanted to shake someone. WHAT DO I DO THEN? But that is the eternal question. What do we do? I know how to end domestic violence- awareness and training for people on how to be brave, moral and to have boundaries. This would end it. Women (and men and children) would or could stand up and say NO. And they wouldn't be silent and it would end. But if our planet's distress increases its possible that none of that will matter. If the lions all die and there are no plants left and I am surrounded by a desert with no food then.... Well Bravery will matter but my survival skills might matter even more. 
My children and I held a discussion last night. What do we do if our world becomes a desert and there is no food or water. My eight year old son said, "Mom, we will save enough water now- do you want us to get in the car?" Insinuating that we go to the store to buy water to keep in our garage.... My six year old daughter said, "No, lets move to the Norway mountains and keep Lena's sheep." Hmmmm.... but Norway and the Arctic cannot support all the people that will attempt to get there... My five year old son said, "I'm a ninja." to which my eight year old added, "Oh, teach us to shoot guns!!!" (I'm leaving out my youngest daughters because their comments were scattered regarding dessert not deserts and princess castles!) But is that the answer? Am I too going to become a doomsday prep-er? How do I protect what is mine- because I'm sorry in the big scheme of things my children would have very short lives if it was up to just myself- I actually, (oh the Alaskan in me is dying of shame) don't know how to start a fire without a lighter and while I'm pretty good with my .38 I do not want to kill game in Houston with it .... (that is a joke- no big game in Houston...) And so I'm left with this. Be Brave, I'm sure what that means today, not sure what that will mean tomorrow. But I know for certain my children and I will face the future with eyes open and for God's sake if there is a way to further our future we sure will. Living a long Brave life is actually something I want for my kids.

Dark Corner
Violence happens. Stories of violence are full and long with elicit details of death and harm to people. I remember one night being strangled. It was particularly scary and humiliating and ...well it was terrifying as I thought that time might be the last time. His accusation was that I was complaining in my heart  while... well we were in bed. My children were conceived not in love but in misery, hurt and pain. This is the first time I have put these words outside of where they have hidden, and I won't probably ever have need to say them again. I put them out for a reason today though: there are too many that know of pain like this- but our pain, though great is but a drop in the bucket. Humanity cries with the atrocities that we commit against ourselves. As horrible as I know were the actions against myself it is certainly not the worst humanity has inflicted upon another person.

Two more thoughts. One: WHAT DO I DO THEN? I cannot save the world. I can only be Brave and share courage. If you are being hurt make it stop by saying no. Do that by getting out any way you can. There is no wrong way to leave an abuser, the best is to put them behind bars, but any way you can preserve your life and leave them is good. 
Two: WHAT DO I DO THEN? I cannot save the world. I cannot replant forests or provide new ice for the polar bears. What difference can I make in this world that is already dying and from the looks of things going to get pretty ugly before my kids are all out of high school? Well, I answered the first question- what are your thoughts on the second?

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