Twisted Glass

I have a small whiskey glass. Its footprint is a square, the edges of the glass are pinched just so slightly...it cradles itself in your hand when you hold it, feeling as smooth as the whiskey I put in it. But it isn't the smoothness that I love so much about my glass. I like to look through it. It changes the picture of what is behind it just ever so slightly. I can still see what is there, it doesn't hide or disguise anything. But most certainly it changes what I see. 
This morning I woke up feeling I might be alive. This winter so far has been difficult, lots of being sick and the flu and this horrible deathly cold I've had the last couple of weeks. To say I've been under the weather would be an understatement. A snowy icy thunderstorm had found me. Today however, I woke, still aching with a sore throat but alive and not quite so sickly. I got up, smiled at my whiskey glass as it distorted and swirled the photograph that sat behind it. Last night the whiskey stopped my throat from hurting and this morning the glass reminded me of my perspective. 
Thankfully we all have a whiskey glass. We all have a perspective. We all have stories. Our lives are lived and seen, sometimes with a whiskey glass and sometimes straight on and sometimes there is beauty in both. I've had a shift in my perspective as of late. The amazing part in that was that those perspectives were never challenged. Being loved, truly loved seems to let us see things differently, without holding quite so tightly onto what we thought we knew. Maybe love is the glass, maybe love turns the glass, maybe love fills the glass or removes it all together. I'm not sure. I don't know. Maybe whether you have a whiskey glass, orange juice glass or a soda glass it's time to turn it a bit, look at it while tilting your head or just with a desire to see what else there is. Brave the twisted glass. Brave the possibilities. Brave today. 

This blog was started with an intent to let people in and give understanding to what it is like to live with abuse. One in four women will experience abuse but that means three in four don't know, don't understand and probably can't imagine how it is possible to allow someone to harm yourself. It happens in a moment, a moment that gets brushed off, ignored and left. But in that moment the door opens for more. Just like a little lie always leads way to a bigger one and a bigger one. Abuse functions the same way. Within eight years time my marriage to my ex husband went from moments of confusion to emotional seclusion and abuse to physical harm. The physical harm escalated to life threatening situations that occurred often, not everyday but certainly every week with the constant possibility of death. Abuse that started with a slap in the car, next occurred at home, then at my in-laws home when they weren't looking, at Costco, at Beluga Point.....and on and on. 
I wish I could gather up all the women that know these truths and give them a new life. Give them perspective to see differently. Perspective to know they can get out. 

To those that might be being hurt or harmed: 
One of my favorite women offered perspective when she wrote, "I don't trust people who don't love themselves and tell me, 'I love you'. There is an African saying which is: Be careful when a naked person offers you a shirt." Maya Angelou. People that are abusive do not love themselves. Don't believe that they have a shirt for you, love for you, care for you... Their words are lies. Let that shatter their lie and get help. 

To those that aren't in a harmful situation:
Love. Love yourself. Love others, fully and completely. Look to be Brave because you can.

abigail

Tumbled Fears

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

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

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

Abigail

A Little Foxy

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

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

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

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

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

Feathers and Prayers

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

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


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

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

Amen

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

The Race of the Rabbit and the Comfort of My Hat

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

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

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

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

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

-Abby

Wishbones, Sparkles and the Practical

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

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

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

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

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

It's here.

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

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

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

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