Love in a Nightmare

Focus.

I don't have time or the ability these days to put eloquent words together for the joy of language. I've always loved language. My mother bestowed upon me a great love of reading (library trips are essential to children!!!!). And so as I grew I fell in love with words. Deep infatuated love. They have a feel, a taste, a sound. Words are a sense- a sense for the imagination. But that is difficult these days. This is difficult these days.

As my doctors continue to run tests to be sure my physical and mental limitations that progress are indeed caused by the years of head trauma from domestic abuse I have found I need great focus.

There is much to love yet. Much love to be given and received. And yet my abilities are so limited. My independence dissolved and dissipated as if overnight. Everything I had is falling between my fingertips because I cannot hold my fingers together. I shake.

My head tips back in silent screams, deep cries and aching.

Focus. I must know what is wrong for sure. I must continue to do what I can. I must remember love. Focus.

All the support in the world cannot chose focus for me. I am but alone in the choice to live with focus.

You are but alone in your choice to live with focus. Whether you are choosing love in a nightmare of health problems and difficulties or choosing life and leaving your abuser or simply choosing to make a difference with your life by helping someone....Focus is a choice- a brave choice.

If you are being hurt please know every time you get hurt there can be outcomes you can't foresee. You are not in control, you are not keeping the abuse contained. You are being hurt. If you need help or assistance or a safety plan please click here. 

much love, abigail

Grace and Gratitude

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

Very. 

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

We have just have today. Be Brave.

Dark Corner

Fear. Fear. Cowering and Pain. 

Still Relief.

Unsure I stepped. 

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

Relief slipped.

Fear marked.

Unsure I stayed.

 

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

-abigail

Fragile Limits

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

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

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

abigail

Beautiful

Every story comes from the echo of a trouble in our soul. 

My echo is dark. I'm quite accomplished at keeping it tidy in wraps for myself and you. I keep those stories in the Dark Corners. Because I can see twinkles and lights and sunshine and fog sitting beside beautiful old oak trees. I can see my children, their eyes and their amazing bravery. I can see a life without this burdensome story. I can hear music, love songs and childish ditties. I can draw monkeys that swing from the ceiling near humongous palm trees that I've stapled to my ceiling. 

I hate, HATE, that my children have seen with such young eyes violence. I hate that my sons have seen their father attempt to take my life, stopping short for who knows what reason. I hate that my daughters have been called ugly names; that they heard me being referred to in undeserved and disrespectful ways. I will forever hate the day my oldest daughter cleaned up my hair off the floor after her father had pulled it out, handfuls and handfuls of hair up off the bloodied floor. 

How do my two perspectives live? How can we hold both? Like a trapeze performer swinging back and forth. Like a glorious sunshiny day that also has a forecast for a storm. My heart is full but I'm afraid forever heavy.

Sun and rain equally bring life. I chose to make joy. I chose to live in the glory of a life without harm. Its simply beautiful. I breathe without my back hurting. I walk without feeling the raised bruises on my legs. My head never aches anymore from being hit or slammed into whatever was near. My life is beautiful. 

I have for the last year implored everyone who reads this to get help if you are being harmed. I will forever continue doing so. I also beg everyone who reads this to see the stars, feel the wind and enjoy everyday we have. Life is beautiful. My hands though empty hold my children and I need your help to keep them safe. Please share my story. Please help not only my children but all the other children who find the terror of a family member's anger to be normal. Recovery from abuse is not easy, be brave with me. 

My Hair Is A Mess

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

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

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

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

Dark Corner

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

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

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

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

-abigail 

Necessity

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

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

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

Happy

Its been a little while since I've posted anything. A cat has found its way into my house, residing as a true king, not impressed with the antics of the many hands that seek to pet his mane and yet regal in his kind eyes. A song has come out of me as well. So my efforts of late have been devoted to my guitar. Words, happy words have been pouring out. Even last night as I was washing dishes a song was there and I had to stop  and scramble around for a pencil. Is this for real? Can happy be good? Can happy..... and the overthinking of course is there. But I can quiet it, as this happy is just me. This happy is just finally having less emotional binds to what has happened to what is happening. An insightful friend recently looked at me and noted that I seemed healed somehow. When that happened, I'm not sure. Why that happened, I don't know. Maybe the recognition of late to "let it go" or the pursuit of taking care of myself or the enjoyment of what I have....? Maybe its all of that. People have long pursued being happy and I finally seen why. The calm of my cat, the delight of my children, the joy in my songs.... This is good stuff! This is good stuff! Be Brave my friends, be happy!

If you are being harmed by another know that they do not have the right to harm you. You can tell them that either verbally or by getting away from them. There is lots of help there but you will have to ask for it, you will have to seek out help. Please please get help if you are being harmed. There is a happy life possible for you, a truly happy life- a life that doesn't have fear, a life that can enjoy and delight in small and big things, a life not controlled or dictated. You are worth that. 
Many blessings, abigail

Kittens and Echos- and a goofy mood! lol

I am smitten by a kitten. Just blown away at the tremendous amount of cuteness that is that little ball of fur? They mew, they have tiny little scratchy tongues and the most adorable little feet in the world. Needless to say I have, not baby fever!!! No more babies for me!!! Haha. No, I am fully afflicted by cat fever. I want a kitty cat to sit in my lap! I want to hold one, and scratch their ears and pet them all the while getting happily covered in cat hair. Oh geeze, yes it really is that bad. My neighbor's cat will simply not do any longer. My client's cat won't do either. I must get a cat! While this cat fever has been going on I've been noticing where it started. And I have decided- our lives echo. Our choices and thoughts and ..... all of it becomes an echo. The irritating loneliness echoes to the need for a cat. My desire to be whole and healthy and independently sound echo into my liking the idea of a cat. And my need to be reminded that relaxing is good for me, well that thought gets echoed in my desire for a cat. It reminds me of my mother, and it reminds me of my cat Punky from my high school years, and it reminds me of the cats on my uncle's farm and all of that makes for sentimental and emotional happy. So.... smitten by a kitten. Oh yes! (Please oh please don't quit reading due to my ridiculous phrasing today!!!) I'm proud to follow my echoes. They are some of the most interesting time occupying trails to follow. My echoes make me feel complete, satisfied and knowing. And that knowing is so powerful. It's me after all that I'm knowing. Be Brave, know you and all your echoes too! :-)

Dark Corner
He said no. He said no. He said no. He hit me. He hit me. He hit me. 
I cried. I cried. I cried. He lied. He lied. He lied.
I listened. I listened. I listened. Inside I died. Inside I died. Inside I died. 

With no patience today to tell a story- the above is that past relationship in a nutshell. Repeated by threes because in repetition anything can become normal- even really bad things. Domestic violence can become normal, can become just what happens. As long as I was not dead I felt I was ok, that things would change, that I could influence things enough to make it change. But that was myself believing the lie that it was all my fault, that I had caused his behavior, that this was ok and normal. If this is you, please please get help. Try to see you, try to hear your echoes, try to hear the last time you felt the anger feel chaotic and scary- that is not normal. That is not safe or healthy. Better is out there, I promise; a safe life is possible, it can be had. 
If you are reading this as one not affected by domestic violence- make a difference. Tell every young woman you know that they are worth love, they are worth being cared for, they are worth their own care. Support those trying to break free. And don't ever be afraid to throw your voice out there and offer help. 
Take care, abigail

Something is going on......

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

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

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

Beautiful Motherhood

Every new mom is born just as their first child enters into the world. It is beautiful- the perfect picture of beauty. However, almost immediately a new mom is captured by an inability or the fear of the inevitable let down. The precious new baby, held so carefully, loved more absolutely than ever imagined creates in us the ability to fail. And to fail this new baby, our child- well it would be an epic fail. Welcome to motherhood. In my line of work I do a lot of reassuring to new moms. They are worried about breast feeding verses bottle feeding, worried they are "bad" moms for wanting sleep, worried for all the unknowns and possibilities good and bad. To be a mom is to be handed a task that appears to be a pass or fail. It appears to be a life long test of how "good" we are. 
The past two weeks I've watched myself fail epically in another area of my life. A fail that took a lot of my attention, a lot of my emotion and a lot of my logical thinking to step out of. And in the big scheme of my life it probably isn't epic though it has altered my opinions and thoughts and compassions.... Eh, enough on that though- sometimes too much introspection is just... too much. BUT, my point is that no other "fail" or "flop" or "flounder" holds as much weight for a woman as the fear of failing her children. My big fail this past week, I finally just breathed and thought- well it isn't the end of the world. It's ok. I have failed in far greater ways. I have failed my children in the past. That is my epic fail. And while I can remember years of failure I also know that now my children are in a way my greatest work. More time, effort and thought is put into my children than anything else I do. With research I plan balanced meals, provide exercise, play and learning. I hold them, I rock them, I listen to hours of Lego and Minecraft monolog. I play dress up and bake. I am a mother. My children have my best and my worst but above all they have me. They are totally and completely stuck with me. So regardless of whether you have failed or whether you will- you are a mother. This is not a pass or fail, it is an all-in life. Let's be moms, let's excel, let's fail- not because we don't mean to but because we care. Because we give our children everything we have. That kind of mothering is as beautiful as the day they were born. If you are anything like me all this "fail" talk might terrify you, bother you or make you that you need to tell me I haven't failed. But a failure is just an attempt at our best that wasn't best. Life is our attempt, we cannot even hope to get out of this life unaffected by failure. And there is my cue to tell you to Be Brave. Be beautiful. Be a mother. 
Happy Mother's Day

If your Mother's Day involves fear, pain and any form of abuse please get help. There could be no better day to reach out and honor yourself. Honor your mother, she wouldn't want this for you. Honor your children if you have them, they hurt seeing you hurt. Honor yourself- you are worth more than you can imagine right now. Get help. 

Many blessings- abigail

And Mom, you've given your all for 32 years to me and I'm deeply honored. Happy Mother's Day!
Oh and that lovely baby is my youngest...She is just too cute to not claim! 

TipToe

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

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

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

Solace

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

Figuring Out the Chaos

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

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

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

Maria, Elsa and Cinderella

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

Dark Corner

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

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

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

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

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

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.