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

Summer and Shadows

In the summer we see the sunshine, we see the bright sky and flowers. We see the fun and beaches and vacations. Tanned feet, flip flops and swim suits. Bike riding and time at the pool. Endless days of summer. But I pause here. My endless days have.... shadows. When I step into the sun I see my shadow. When I do all the summer things I see other shadows. Summer contains shadows. Somedays mine are dark and appear to be dark holes shaped just like myself in which I could fall into. And somedays they are cheerful flitting Peter Pan type shadows, full of memories and wistful wanting emotions. Today I look into a deep shadow. I hold onto my own hands and sit on its edge. I left worry out of the equation, I left the fear and the discontent. I wanted to see in, down the darkness, down the hole. As if sitting on the edge of a swimming hole from days long ago, I let my toes play along the top of the dark water, not willing to jump in, not wanting though to go. Maybe this is part of saying goodbye to the past, sitting with it. Maybe this is just settling into what is. I don't love this, my heart is sore but some things are best taken as they are. Acceptance and peace found at that shadow? A deep breath and the ability to sit with a shadow? I'm not sure, but I'm there. Be Brave, shadows and all. 

Dark Corner
He said I wasn't good enough and so I slept on the floor next to the bed. On nights when I was evil I slept in the hallway or back porch. On weeks that I was hurting I didn't sleep, afraid of what would happen when I slept. It took years for his behaviors to creep into the daytime. But they did....
My belly ached, so very heavy and large with another baby. I hurt everywhere, my right leg with deep brown marks, my back with the same. My eyes were so tired. I looked to him, hopeful for an easy day, a day that we could be distracted. A day with something planned, a day with his family maybe so at least it would be tempered a bit, for awhile. But.... no luck. He teased me about how slow I was. I wasn't feeling it. And that was enough. He grabbed an exercise roller stick, the wooden kind. It struck the back of my head before I even realized he had it. I stumbled forwards, and felt it again...

Domestic violence has a charming way of being brushed aside. What an uncomfortable thing to think about, talk about and consider. But we need to- if one in four women in the US is harmed at some point in their lives, we need to. 
Every nine seconds in the US a woman is assaulted or beaten. Everyday in the US, three women are murdered by their husbands or boyfriends. 
Please help end this by seeking help if you are being hurt! You are worth a calm, peaceful summer day, a life with care. Whatever kind of love you feel from the person who also harms you is but a shadow, it is not the real thing. Let it be the past. I ask you, knowing the hurt, knowing the confusion, pain and fear- please seek help if you are being hurt! You have my prayers as always, abigail

Mail and Running Off Fear

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

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

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

Something is going on......

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

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

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

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! 

The Great Spill

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

-abigail

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

TipToe

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

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

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

Solace

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

Figuring Out the Chaos

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

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

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

If I lay here.

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

If I lay here

If I just lay here

Will you lie with me and just forget the world?

Snow Patrol "Chasing Cars"

Dark Corner

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

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

Maria, Elsa and Cinderella

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

Dark Corner

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

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

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

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

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

Resentment. I carry it. 

Dark Corner

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

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

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

Tomorrow is a Mystery

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

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

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

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

Come hold my hand.

Hi. 

I have been without words this week.

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

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

I have felt alone.

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

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

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

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

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