Grace and Gratitude

Grace and gratitude. That is what was written to me. If ever I've seen a daunting challenge there one lies. As of late I've been considering the people I know that have already passed. I'd considered how some seemed to live and then leave in grace while others didn't. Can I choose grace? Can I choose gratitude? What if I become unable to choose those things? What if I can't control.... Oh life is very humbling. 

Very. 

But as I look at and roll over these words: grace. gratitude. They aren't sharp words. But in kind they are neither soft nor comfortable. They are words that evoke a sense of work; work before the tragic happens. Layers of thought, observation and perspective. These can't be borrowed, no one can share or give these to you. They are the deep and mindful words I sure hope I can hold. 

We have just have today. Be Brave.

Dark Corner

Fear. Fear. Cowering and Pain. 

Still Relief.

Unsure I stepped. 

The hatred dismissed me and it was if it hadn't happened.

Relief slipped.

Fear marked.

Unsure I stayed.

 

If you are being hurt please get help. Do more than survive. Your life matters, your health matters and both are in danger if you are with someone who doesn't hold you with value. Do more than survive. You will have time for grateful later, you will be grateful you left. You will rely on others grace and then you will learn it for yourself. Your life matters. YOUR life matters. 

-abigail

Fragile Limits

We like to believe that we are limitless. We can do anything we set our minds to do. "The sky is the limit" and "Oh the places you'll go." For most of my life I've believed that I was more, that I could be more, do more and go "to infinity and beyond". I believed this with great passion. It is an emotional cognition that fuels campaigns, wars, politics, religions and every senior educational class of students on the planet. A force to be reckoned with. 
And then comes along the fragility of life. Life so fragile that the toughest fall, the strongest falter, huge empires crumble and every religion in the world has a Thomas, a doubter, who still hangs on to belief. Every breath you take is not chosen by you. Every day you are awarded is not taken or even "lived" by your choice. Life is. And life is fragile. 

For most of the portion of my life in which I was married I wore fragility in bruises, bumps and fear. Sadly the bumps were mostly on my head. A bump on the head is not very easily seen by others and if you live in colder climates it can most easily be hidden by a warm fuzzy hat. A warm fuzzy hat that cradles what aches, that covers what hurts and carries what grows fragile. I had no idea that successive concussions were something to worry about. In eight years the numbers of blows to the head I took are in the high hundreds, easily estimated by more than 3 a week that caused symptoms of mild concussions- often purposefully in the same place as the last hit. My walls bore the dents and my children tell tales of my head being slammed into the floors. 
And now, the fragility of life has found me. This is years later, three years later as of yesterday since the last and eleven years since the first. 

If you are being harmed in any way please find help. EVERY TIME YOU ARE HARMED MATTERS. Every time. It might just be mild, a blow to the head that makes you see stars and makes you dizzy. But that might just be your life. Please find help. 

abigail

Noteworthy

There is a gorgeous fog that touches down around my house most mornings. The morning light filters through it softly, the tall grasses in the fields get touched with moisture and the cows and horses we love as neighbors look as magical as their fairy-tale cousin the unicorn, soft and glowing in the misty fog. The fog leaves by 8:30 or 9, the sun heating it up and demanding the dewy softness of the morning leave for the warmer, more realistic day to begin. The horses keep eating, the cows continue mooing and I sigh every morning as that is my cue to let "real life" start again. And yet, I like the morning moments far more than I like those that follow. I wonder why those magical still quiet moments are vanquished and sent away from my days. I do understand it is hard to feel mystical and special when cleaning toilets, doing laundry or frowning over my financial spreadsheet. Joy lost in the "Hurry Up" moments, lost in the language of "STOP FIGHTING" calmly muttered to my squabbling angels, forgotten in my quandary of financial statements.... Somedays though I pause long enough in the foggy quiet soft spaces of morning to let it seep a little deeper in. I breathe in a little longer, smile a bit farther inside.... Mercies are new every morning. There is nothing like setting aside worries, busyness and efficiency for a little wonder, a little joy and a quiet break from what ails us. I'm pretty sure it's there our brave grows. 

Dark Corner
Guilt. My daily dose of guilt that day was that he picked up the house....cleaned some of it even. Hatred and then a blank stare that is what greeted me. I'd forgotten for a bit while I was at work that everything was my fault. It amazes me now that I let that move me, that I let my motivation be to make him happy. But that day I felt bad, I felt badly that he did "my work". He could see it on my face that afternoon- emotion from me, good or bad wasn't acceptable. Grabbing me by the hair he dragged me down the stairs, along the hall, my hands grasping for something, my knees running into every corner. I did not want to be pulled into our bedroom. Heart racing I pulled back, my hair ripping but he knew I didn't want to follow him. We both knew he was going to suffocate me, his hands already reaching for my neck. Later that evening, I stood in the bathroom- eyes bloodshot, face speckled with broken blood vessels, red scuff marks on my neck....I only looked for a moment. I was as ugly, broken and hurt as he had said I was. 

And yet the truth is that I wasn't ugly. Not ugly due to the bruises, not ugly any day. I have been as beautiful as the morning fog is everyday since I was born. We have the same creator after all. My insides are as fascinating as yours. My outsides can be an amazing mirror to my insides letting out life, beauty or being honest about the turmoil within. Just as I was made to be. That is where our beauty, our worth lies. We are as we were made to be. We don't belittle the lion at the zoo for being captive, we don't think him less because he was injured and rescued, we don't quit feeding and caring for him because he needs us to. Your worth is not dependent on whether you or not you need help. Your worth isn't dependent on whether or not someone else thinks you worthy. You are because you are here. Because you can enjoy the same quiet still foggy morning moments as I. 

You are noteworthy. This morning was noteworthy. Can't wait to see tomorrow.
abigail

If you are being hurt as always, I implore you to seek help. Emotional, physical, spiritual- any or all of those signify being hurt and needing help. You are worthy.

Joyous

Have you ever hoped for the illusive "something more". I have. I thought it was love; but truly know I've found that and still I've been wanting. I wasn't looking for God- he can't be found, he just is. I wasn't looking for money (though I'd love just a tad more for Christmas presents! But wouldn't we all!) - (And seriously that was NOT a hint Mom, I promise! ) No, I just needed to be reminded of the joy of work. Yup work! I find that peaceful joyous excitement for life when I cook- the aim for the perfect cookie has long been in pursuit! I find that fulfillment and awareness when I write a new song- expression mixed with work is amazing! I find that "something more" when I apply myself. Joy is made. Did you catch that? Joy is made. We've lost our ways of having a craft. We belittle the hobby with our busyness. We tire ourselves with "work" we care little about. We dishonor ourselves daily with nothing to aspire to. What are you working on? What is moving you? What brings you joy? My new hobby might be to free myself and my children from injustice. It might be to free you and yours too. Working for something, applying ourselves feels amazing. We were meant to work. Meant to build something meaningful. It takes a lot to build toward something. Its scary, its time, its...ourselves. Be Brave!

Dark Corner-
My face hit the wall. I knew when I'd started up the stairs I should be careful. The kids were very quiet. I could feel him before he met me at the top of the stairs. He told me to get out. He stood in front of the kids and I knew he was in a very precarious place, a dangerous place. I also knew my back was still purple along my spine. My ankle sore and my head hurt from last night's episode of anger. I'd had a great day, came home in such a good mood...to this. I wanted to make dinner. I wanted to live. But that want wasn't strong enough. He'd somehow taken me from me and I simply turned and walked back downstairs.

When you can't have joy; when you can't just be; when you can't find you- no matter what the cause you need help. You need someone to help you, someone to talk to- some good counsel. If you are also being physically harmed you need to become safe so you can think, so you can see. You can not think clearly or see anything while afraid for your life, well-being or the safety/security of your children. Please get help. There is no shame in this. Joy is out there to be had but you have to get free of harm first. Be brave, be very brave!

My Hair Is A Mess

I have been blessed with a fair amount of zeal. That is an understatement! 

I also, in a fun and carefree moment last spring cut all of my hair off... All of it off. And then the next month I went even shorter.....Holy Toledos, growing it out is awful. 

So back to the zeal, I often get so worked up. There is so much to get worked up about. Our country's imminent demise...or rather potential and probable and profitable and....Ok, this is not a political blog! I am extremely proud to be an American, what this nation was founded for and had the potential for is awesome. What we are today is so very far from that. Anyhow, my political leanings are easily backed with great zeal. As this trial with my ex-husband/former abuser looms I am FULL of zeal concerning the safety of my children and the life I want for them. FULL OF ZEAL. If I thought it would help to march from Texas to Washington DC I would start tonight. (Hmmmm that is a great idea....stay close, you might see me carrying a sign marching across America!) Forced interaction with a violent person just because they are related by blood is the most absurd idiotic and harmful idea anyone ever had. No one can tell me that they would like to be alone with a person they see almost murder someone else and be told its ok because someone will watch through the window at a visitation center. Yeah, that brings about great peace of mind. No one would force an adult to do this and yet everyday children all over the country are subjected to this violation of rights. AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! My war cries are continual these days. Ha, yep I do have zeal. 

Ok, lets jump back to my hair for a moment. You know when you have a bad hair day and you scowl at yourself. Well I also have been doing a fair amount of that. I look like a chicken on a good day and my bad hair days....well they require starting over. The other day though I simply did not have time to start over. Half mohawk, half chicken hair and a whole lot of scowling I had to run for the door with the kids. And then I realized all the zeal I had felt was replaced by this scowling disgruntled chicken head. It had vanished in my scowling at my hair. So I stopped real quick and said, "Embrace it" and I did- even threw on my favorite sweater and Hollywood sunglasses. I might have looked a bit crazy that day but I knew what I was about. I know what I'm headed towards (holy that might be a long walk or fight or whatnot). But my hair is simply not going to get in the way of what I need to do. 

Dark Corner

He hurt me, badly in front of my children. He threatened to kill them, in front of them. He hurt my children emotionally, spiritually, physically and verbally.

No big story today, no details. The basic facts suffice.

It's time folks for us to say no to the violation of children's rights. But no matter what you are about, what you need to stand up for- don't let your Brave get moved out of the way due to your hair. It can't be as bad as my chicken/mohawk hair. Embrace who you are. Wear who you are and be Brave! Be BRAVE!!!!

If you are being hurt please please get help. It will not get better. Do not stay hoping for your fairytale to start. Get help, be smart. If you can plan your escape- do that, but if you can't- just get out. Take pictures. Go to the police. No matter how scary get help. You can live!

-abigail 

Necessity

Necessity sometimes pushes us. Pulls us. Demands things of us that we wouldn't otherwise consider. A good friend of mine commented on how his life was so different than he ever thought it would be. Another someone commented on a distinct unhappiness they were surprised at. And yet another friend recently spoke of how we are able sometimes to power through what is difficult and when it is over we marvel at how we managed. Necessity....life.....God.....children......money......There are lots of circumstances and winds that move our lives. Some we know and some we don't know. Some we choose and can see coming from far off and others change our lives in a second. Over the last couple of years I've often wondered if my life would stop changing; if I could somehow attain a lull or a peaceful calm where I could experience the joy of sameness. I think my wishing is almost a joke. Everyday seems to create something new. And as I look forward to....well even I'm not sure what I'm looking forward to anymore...but as I look forward regardless, I'm certain that I'm not bored. I'm certain that somehow everything will work out- it always manages too. I'm certain of change happening. I'm certain I'm living. Be brave friends no matter what necessity challenges. 

Dark Corner
He was outside of where I worked. Again. The next day he called to tell me I was being bad and complaining- that I was in trouble. Being tired from his late night anger the day before had not made the day easy. And now somehow from afar I was causing him to be angry at me. This was proving to be an exhausting week. It felt like peering through a pinhole. I couldn't see anything. I couldn't see how to fix the problem, I couldn't even imagine leaving him and his emotional ups and downs. I squinted, hoping to see something but all I saw was that he was angry again.... And again I went home.

Necessity once meant hiding warm clothes outside in the shed just in case we got thrown out of the house. It meant wearing hats at work to hide the places my hair was thin. And it pushed me to lie about how I got hurt. I hated when he lied to me, lied for me. But there were lies and ways of thinking imposed upon me, accepted by me as I wanted to please the one I loved. Accepted by me because I felt I didn't deserve what was given to me and wanted to see if tomorrow I could show him- that maybe then he would see I wasn't so bad. 
I hope you see in my words that this is no way to live. If you are being hurt please get help. If you know someone who is or might be getting hurt find a way to help. We are all people, which means we interact, we are creative, amazing, interesting and full of life. We can help each other. Let necessity push you to life. Let it push you toward change so that you can live BRAVE. 

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

Something is going on......

The sense that something is going on..... Mmmmmmm. Some people are enamored by this in the form of great smells. Yeast in a bowl with warm water.... then with some flour and a little heat and .... I can smell something going on. Some people are captivated by the seasons, the earth changing her clothing and the animals in movement. Change happening right in front of us, having nothing to do with us and yet it is something going on. Change is magical, it's huge and fills us with hope. Seeing people change is amazing, amazing in a way almost greater than seeing new flowers open, leaves changing colors and bread rise. The story of my life thus far holds a moment that was an epiphany. And that epiphany caused a movement of bravery. And that movement changed the course of my life, the course of my children's lives and is amazing. However my days are not always spent being amazed at this great change. It is tempting as I see problems and issues that still lurk around the corners of my life to focus on those dark spots. At times they are all I can see. After years of demanded unattainable perfection I see little but what needs to be fixed. I utterly fail at relaxing, at acceptance and at being ok with myself. I've had little uplifting to say recently as I've been caught up in my own failures, my own humanity, the great need to change. And then I thought- I have changed. Change continues to happen in my life and it is because I desire it, and because it just does. I do not need to be the catalyst creating great change. I can breathe. There was little leading up to my epiphany that hinted at change. I see now the indications but at the time it was a decision made over the course of a few hours. So, my big Brave right now is to applaud myself and sing in the face of my dark spots. To breathe and let all that is going on happen. Be Brave!

Dark Corner
His problems were my problems. His inadequacies were mine. His emotions were upon me. I was the focus, I was the problem, I was supposed to be the helper, the solution. But all I did was cause him pain, anger and distraction. He would have me live as he saw fit, as he thought God saw fit. Or else. The hyper focus and intensity of being watched exhausted me. His attentions made me weary, his actions confused me. His happy terrified me. How could he be happy? How could he act so right? The first time I knew that bitter tasting emotion of resentment I remember returning his stare with it in my eyes. I knew what would happen, I knew he would remove the look from my eyes. His eyes met mine and I held his. My heart aches with this memory, I just.... I just wanted to be more than his property, his emotional toy. He threatened to remove my eyes. Pressing them into my head until I was sure they would pop. It hurt. And it was scary. I hadn't wanted that, I hadn't intended to cause that. 

Today I am thankful to live without fear of being harmed. Today I am thankful that I can play in the rain with my kids, laugh, kick balls around, write, work and cook without fear. Today I am thrilled I have seen change in my life. Today is a great day. 
You are precious. You are worth more than being someone's emotional and physical property. If you are being harmed, please find help. Domestic violence shelters are a great place to start looking for help as they have lots of resources. If you are unable to find one that is helpful, keep looking. Seek help out from anywhere that will hear you, a church, friends, co-workers. But be safe, be careful. Change can be scary- leaving my situation was the scariest thing I have ever done, but you are worth it. You are worth saving. 
You have my daily prayers, 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

The Great Spill

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

-abigail

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

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 

If I lay here.

There is no easy way to write your feelings regarding yourself. Especially when they look less like a Nike ad and more like a sad song. Here are mine: I have no value. I am here for everyone. I'm an empty vessel, not important just useful. I am well used. My first request is that you don't comment on how unique, smart or valuable I am. The reason why I'm writing this is not to incite you to tell me how incredible I am. I know those things. (I am gorgeous and cheeky after all... hehee) This isn't body image, self esteem, qualities or character that I have a problem with. This is the math student who asks why- why does 2 plus 2 equal 4. How do we know that? And why are you sure? (I was not a favored math student because nothing is so simple.) I write what I know of myself because that is simply what I know of myself. Beliefs are built, shown and are learned. There are times when truth comes along and lights up something and what we believe shifts as if our gps kindly tells us to take a right at the next street and we do, changing our course. This week I saw my beliefs, I actually heard myself say them. If anyone else was saying them, I would be just as you are now- taking up arms to shoot down the lies. Bow and arrow, gun or hatchet raised- ready to slay the demons of darkness that spew lies. I asked you to not do that though. I am making my way to truth. This isn't a new lie, these were lies built long before I ever got married, long before I allowed myself to be hurt. But just because something is built, just because it looks to be true and even looks like it can be proven- maybe its not. Truth is revealed in moments. In amazing, creative, sunshine and stormy moments. We don't choose that, we don't always get to even be ready.  I lie down. I lie down and find someone to hold my hand these days when truth is hard. Because it is hard. Because change is hard. Because truth is hard. But truth is also awesome and fearful, quiet and real, brave and beautiful. Be Brave. 

If I lay here

If I just lay here

Will you lie with me and just forget the world?

Snow Patrol "Chasing Cars"

Dark Corner

I stood in the bathroom. In the mirror in front of me there was a woman, her face was puffy from crying, her eyes looked like she had a thousand freckles surrounding them- though I knew she only had a few. Her neck was red as if she had a carpet burn all the way around it. She turned and I could see the bruises on her back. As she faced me again I cried for her. I knew I couldn't do anything. I had to go. I had things to do and I didn't want to stand in front of the sad woman any more. 

Truth makes no apologies. It arrives to us as it does. I know God has a plan, I know He orchestrates our lives. But God is not always a 2 plus 2 kind of God. Help those around you, you most likely do not know the darkness they live in. If you are getting hurt please get help. My story is just my story. But yours belongs to you. If you can't get help, if you are too afraid or if that struggle is too much maybe its just time to know truth, to find it and see it. Maybe you just need someone to lie with you and understand- that is ok too. My hope and prayer is that you are safe today, 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

How do I come up with a title that says that my heart is sore, tired and doesn't want to carry this? There isn't a title that can capture how heavy and dead this is, and that this admission is so very difficult?

Resentment. I carry it. 

Dark Corner

I had always believed that God loved me, that he doted on me- my name meant Father's delight after all. He told me God hated me. That God despised me so much I was going to be killed. There isn't a darker place than that. Not only was I alone, not only was I not loved- God didn't love me. I fought the battle of truth for 3 years in my head and then I gave up. I remember that day. I think that is why I'm so sure I know God is real- because there wasn't a darker moment. Alone is an understatement. Hurt is an understatement. An ache that cried out for God and got no answer- that was my darkest moment. 

If you are being hurt please get help. Please know that there are so many people out there that will help you. Please know that sometimes we just have to ask and speak. Domestic violence continues because of silence. Silence and lies. That means we can fight domestic violence. It means there is hope. We can speak.  We can speak truth. 

My post today is where I am. I had a long post about something rather.... but it was just- not where I am at. I think where I am is at the very center of what keeps people from healing. And so, though I would much rather post my lighter, funnier and happier post, this is real. Be Brave. Be real and honest and messy and who you are. I hope you don't lose the battle I lost. I hope you don't carry resentment. I hope you know that to which you are called and are unshakeable. But even if you've lost, that was then. Thankfully hope never dies and every day is new. Be Brave. I hope you are safe. -abigail

Tomorrow is a Mystery

Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a present that is why we call it a gift. - Bil Keane

My history haunts me, it lives in today, it lives in tomorrow. Today I went to see a very wise woman who told me to let go. I laughed or rather kind of snorted (in a graceful feminine way) at the absurd and nonsensical suggestion. Let go. Let go of what? Let go of my problems, of my hurt, of my overwhelming situation? Well that is just ridiculous. They are fast and deep, long and here, aging and rooted, heart breaking and perpetually before me. But then... I'm the one that is a mess. I'm the one that went seeking help. You know what I have wanted? I've wanted to pull these pieces, the pieces of who I was together and glue them on. It would feel so much better. It would lessen that feeling of chaos, it would be rewarding, it would make me feel strong and prove I could do this... Except none of that is really true, none of that would happen. Pulling the pieces and gluing them on does not make things better. Like a vase that has been put together with hot glue- it shows little gaps, it will be evident that someone worked really hard to recreate what had been. And I don't actually want that. I've been quiet here lately because I couldn't glue anymore pieces on. Not that my work or efforts to heal is futile- its just not been very effective. Lately that ineffective work that I've done has been as clear as glass. As my children mourn and grieve and act out their pain I have been thrown back into a world of hurt. I get to see me. I have seen the gaps, seen the holes, seen the form I was trying to recreate. From that place of watching my kids hurt, of wrestling with my memories and own hurts all the pieces I've hot glued on have almost all fallen off. I weep for my kids, I cry for myself, I tear at my hair at the injustice of this pain and I hide- because a teary face is messy. I'm messy. My kids and I are getting amazing help. We are the safest, most cared for and supported that I have ever known. And here- we are a mess... But I'm going to let go. I'm going to let go of this attempt to get my life back, of my attempts at being everything for five small people, and of my attempts to do this myself. I am exhausted  If the present is a gift I want to learn to be in it. If letting go is the key to being healed I want to be in that too. Be warned, I don't know what will happen here, I don't know what turns my life will take and I don't know what will happen with this lack of holding my broken pieces. I guess tomorrow is a mystery. Be Brave.

I don't know how the Dark Corner stories fit in with letting go. I know that letting go does not mean ignoring or forgetting the past. But I am unsure of the direction this place will have yet. So for today they are set aside. If you need to be reminded of how bad and ugly domestic violence is read my previous posts. Or just take my word for it- domestic violence is terrifying, ugly, demeaning and.... life shattering. (If you haven't noticed I tend to almost overuse that word. But I can't find a better description than shattered. It captures somehow to me the jagged brokenness of watching someone else destroy you, of holding the glass pieces of yourself and watching those pieces too hurt you.... Shattering.)

Get help. If you are being hurt get help. If you aren't being hurt but struggle with whatever it is you struggle with- get help. We are all in life together, kinda makes us a human team. Look up, look around- I'm very sure help will come. abigail

Come hold my hand.

Hi. 

I have been without words this week.

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

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

I have felt alone.

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

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

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

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

Love and Grocery Stores

Hello,  my name is Abigail. I am so honored that you have visited with me today- or rather that you are letting me visit with you. This is Brave- it is my hope of freedom for women stuck in situations of domestic violence, it is my belief that all people need to be reminded to be brave and my story- as I have been in both places. If you are a woman stuck then please accept this as a hug. You are okay and you can also be brave. 


I have a very simple story to share today. It begins on a trip to the grocery store. I am a mother of five and I only had four of my children with me on this trip- truly a luxury! But my four were acting slightly rambunctious in the van... as in there was no small amount of squealing, giggling, yelling, hollering, teasing and poking going on in my rather small mini van.... My level of usable patience was decreasing by the second. I admonished, I breathed deeply, I reminded myself that nap time would come, I prayed a little prayer and I still felt the bristle of irritation with my angels. Like the grumpy old troll (yes that is a Dora reference) I had small eyes and a serious lack of smile. Three of the wriggling, squirming, jumpy children piled out of the car continuing this childish behavior as they waited for me to unbuckle the youngest. She too had not a still or peaceful inch about her- just squirmy! Squirmy! (Can you hear me say "ARGH!!!") My youngest wanted to jump from the van, I breathed deeply and let her hold onto my finger as she took a flying leap... right onto my naked toes. My silent grumbling became vocalized. My toes hurt! And, and, and, and, and...... My two year old squirmy daughter bent over and kissed my toes. She looked up at me and flashed me a giant smile while saying, "All better!" While I was grumbling they never stopped loving me. I hadn't stopped loving them. And she kissed my toes- right in the parking lot, right next to my van. I scooped all the kids into a big hug and we as a big squirmy group went shopping. This is love, a Brave, true and simple love. I'm not sure if I need to be willing to kiss someone's toes or just remember to not lose sight of the love I have with my family... Maybe both! Be Brave today.

Dark Corner
Another grocery store tale:
Four children, pregnant with another and I walked to the grocery store and then back home. Four hours later I was ready to fall apart. There had been no big loving moments- we were walking because I was in trouble. We'd figured out how to pull the gallon of milk and our other small items in the wagon with two of the kids- they had been done with walking long before we were even close. It was dark before we were close. I was stuck between two emotions- I had done what he had made me do, I felt a weird distorted pride that I'd done it. But at the same time I, on the brink of melting into my tears, wondered why I had to do that. Why didn't he go get the milk? Why was he "teaching" me lessons? But those questions only brought the tears closer to my eyes- and that was not allowed. That would be dealt with in a way I was trying to avoid. I breathed deep, I cleared myself of all of those emotions and removed myself from any care- or tried to. He hurt me that night anyway- I couldn't hide my dislike.

Love is amazing. What I described in the Dark Corner is not love. Love has actions, love has care. Love has forgiveness and humanity's imperfections covered; reality enjoyed and a longing to share life. If you live in a situation of love be so very thankful. I am astounded with the stories from women that are in abusive relationships- it is an evil that is rampant in our society, in our schools, in our churches, in our - it happens everywhere! I cannot tell you how many times I was hurt outside of Costco on Dimond Blvd, or REI or Carrs or Hilltop.... I cannot tell you how many times I was thrown out of the car on O'Malley Road. Violence and verbal abuse does not always happen behind closed doors but it takes mindful watchful people to see it, to be brave and find a way to help. It also takes a woman who has lost hope to wake up enough to accept it. Be Brave. Be the one that helps. Be the one that wakes up. Be Brave! 

The US National Hotline for Domestic Violence Victims.