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

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. 

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

Hulk Talk

My boys have spent the last two days running around the house yelling "HULK SMASH" in the cutest little boy sort of way. I love boys. They are so squirmy, quietly almost secretly giggly (don't ever tell them I said that!) and tough. I love that my boys still come cry to me. That they still know they need comfort and care. I love that they aren't afraid of that. But you know what? My kids get angry sometimes and that as I'm sure you are guessing concerns me. How do we teach anger? "HULK SMASH"? We don't teach how to be angry. I didn't mean to give you the answer so very quickly (sorry!) but we do not teach how to be angry. Anger is depicted as shouting or hitting or a silent lack of response. We, as a whole are afraid of anger. But anger isn't bad- we all feel angry sometimes. Good grief, God feels angry sometimes. I get angry at my own journey and life sometimes and that is ok. I get angry at the one that caused so much hurt in my life, in my children's life. So I'm back to teaching the value of words. How words can express the strength of what we feel, how words can let others know how we feel and the enormity of that. Words can help us find our frustrations and address them. Words can remind us to breathe. Words can speak to the hidden fears that light up that anger. Life doesn't have to be "HULK SMASH" nor were we meant to be a people that stand quietly as horrible things occur. There isn't room for rage in our world- we don't need another pair of Hulk hands. I've been overwhelmed this week at the prevalence of violence. The reports on domestic violence have been popping up everywhere- almost everyday I've either been sent another report or seen another article citing statistics that turn my stomach. Or you can just turn on the local news. So what if it was you? What if it was your children being hurt or hurting someone else? What is your response then? The world waits until it requires a response- but we shouldn't. Be Brave. Don't wait until you see uncontrolled anger, don't wait until you or your children have to deal with someone that is angry. Address it now. Talk about violence, talk about anger. Talk about the Hulk. Talk about how to be angry. Be Brave the world needs you.

Dark Corner
I heard him coming. His steps were loud, he had shoes on.... bike shoes on. My eyes were wide, I was just making dinner. I was just making dinner. I was just... I was... As he came close I was already shaking my head and cowering he kicked me. I was on the floor as he pulled me by my hair to the other room, well almost. Around the corner he pulled me up and shoved me against the wall. I cried. Both of his hands were in my hair. His bike shoes kicking at my legs. It hurt. I could feel the anger and heat coming from him. He let me go only to backhand me into the wall again. My glasses flew off- just a drop of blood fell to the ground. I bent over, almost in a fetal position as he kicked me. He yelled how he couldn't even bike without my complaining ruining it. My inner voice screamed HOW????? How was anything I was doing causing this? And he continued kicking me. I began to scramble away. His foot met my throat. It hurt very badly, like the seeing stars and into tomorrow kind of pain. I heard him return downstairs. My body ached, I wanted to make myself feel better. Needed to look at the cut by my eye. The need to attend to the hurt was overwhelming. But I turned around to four little faces watching me. Four little faces without any expression that returned to watching their cartoon. And I froze. 

The world needs you. Whether you are in a domestic violence situation or not, please know the world needs you. I'm not sure for what task, for what purpose or what your great and epic journey is. But the world needs you. Be Brave.
If you are being harmed, you have a life to lead. It is not one to waste in the clutches of someone with an uncontrolled anger problem. Get help. Be Brave! Be Brave, it will probably be the bravest thing you do but you can. Be careful and 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

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

A Beautiful Photograph

Last summer I had my picture taken. The photographer that I used encouraged me to have my hair done, my makeup done and to be as rested and ready as possible. My response was to roll my eyes and think that there was no way. I've never been a big fan of makeup and had never had it done..... It made me embarrassed and left weird feelings to even consider it. I had never and would never be fashionable. But I found that inside me- there lurked a girl, a girl that had always wanted to be a princess. A girl that had spent far too long being named ugly and doing nothing to be anything else. So, I decided to let that weird hesitation out- to embrace what I didn't know. I was after all getting my picture made, had been so sure that I needed to, that I wanted to, that it was important.... So I went to a salon the photographer suggested. My words to the makeup artist- "Make it look like I am not wearing makeup!!!!!" My words to the hair stylist- "Make it look really natural, maybe just blow-dry it and let it be!!!" Both listened and then did far more than I thought I wanted. The most surprising part of all of that was, I looked amazing AND I saw myself. The photographer knew I wanted my photos to be ME. And now I see a beautiful photograph, and it is me. I see what was created to be lovely and to love. It was one step in this journey to embrace me- me unknown. It is so scary to know oneself sometimes; to live and love and be with ourselves. It requires that we acknowledge our pains, our failures, our loves, our hair and our goofy noses (the weirdest body part we have!!!!). My name is Abigail. My body is the home to my soul. Sometimes what is farthest away and most distant in our journey is really right there with us. Be Brave- be brave with yourself!

Dark Corner
I know what it is like to be hurt. I know what it is like to be scared. I know what it is to be scared for my life. But the following is part of how I disengaged. It wasn't just the violence, it wasn't just the threats or the controlled lack of sleep. I lost sight of how wonderfully I'd been made, I lost sight of the love that had been put into myself because he swore I was a mistake, a problem that would be blotted out by God. 
You are so ugly, he said. Look at how fat you are, he said. Why should I love you, since you are so ugly- look at yourself, he said. 
The sinking and disappearance of myself occurred slowly and yet it happened. I closed my eyes. I quit smiling. I was married. I loved him. I heaped praise on him hoping he would feel better about himself- that maybe that was the reason why he thought such bad things about me. But I remained ugly. I remained the most horrible woman on the earth, one that would be punished and reprimanded. One that would be killed for her ugliness and harmful ways. And in that I, Abigail, became too far away from myself to see myself.

Lies from a loved one are like tar. They stick to us and trap us. Lies spoken or inferred by someone we are close to hurt. And that hurt can make us forget or discard truth. My niece and her friends are always saying online "Truth is...." and they finish their statements with things like "I like you"  or "you are beautiful" or "I like being your friend." I love the boldness and strength of their statements. The pictures I have of me are an artful expression of myself, my body expressing my soul. And truth is... I like that. I like seeing myself being honest, knowing myself and being with myself. If you are in a situation in which you are hurt or being harmed remember truth. Take a deep breath and know truth or just try to see yourself- who you really are. It is to that person you will want to be most kind to, who your significant other should want to be most kind to. If you are being harmed please get help. You were made to love and be loved. Be Brave. Be brave and know truth today!
Sincerely, Abigail

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

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. 

First a whisper

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Moving Stones

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

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

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

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

Shaking Skies

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

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

Dark Corner

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

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

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

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

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

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

Treasures and My Friend

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

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

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

Sincerely, Surviving with Tears

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

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

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