Moving Forward

Lock the door?

Feel safe?

Carry the stone?

Trust again?

"Trust is letting go of needing to know all the details before you open your heart." ~Author Unknown~

"You can as easily love without trusting as you can hug without embracing." ~Robert Brault~

"One must be fond of people and trust them if one is not to make a mess of life." ~E.M. Forster~

Difficult in so many directions.

The wall is too high.

Yet not high enough.

Can't go over.

Can't go under.

Must go through it.

Three steps forward. Two back. I guess I must expect this. Truly, it didn't go so bad. But why am I still so shaken? And how long does this go on???

I still want to lock the door...

Tonight, An Encounter

A year and a half after the initial PFA, I run into him. Beyond the drive-by fingers that I get, beyond passing his vehicle at work and cringing, beyond the looking over my shoulder and praying that it isn't him...

Not a big scene, though I held my breath and stayed long beyond planning because I was still a bit timid... I didn't know he was there. It looked like his car, but it was dark and as I always do, I reassured myself that it wasn't. But it was.

He made a tiny scene. I don't know who spotted who first; thankfully, there was no eye contact. It lasted a grand total of ten minutes. Ten minutes... that if I could have run I would have; but I have come too far for that. He took enough from me--I refuse to give him that, too.

600 seconds. It shouldn't feel long, but it did. Long enough for him to make a point that he couldn't be there. Long enough that I felt every eye upon me. Long enough that the jukebox played three songs. Black Hole Sun. Ring of Fire. An unknown country song. But I heard and felt everything else in the room around me.

Have you ever been paralyzed? I was. The eternity for him to get a six-pack and leave. Good lords. But I survived. No flattened tires, no smashed windshield, no words between us. He didn't touch me. He did not speak to me. No more words, no more screaming, no more hostility. I survived. And it was a small victory. But much larger than anyone could imagine.

I still was frightened every time the door opened. I struggled with walking back out to my vehicle. A year and a half. Did I want it this way? No. Do I wish we could have parted as friends? I tried to give him that option. He chose this. Not me.

I know his family hates me. He blames me. My family took his side. But they don't know. Well, some of them did; but they painted a different picture. Two years with him. A three year PFA. A good judge that saw through him, saw through my father, saw through it all. Three years. He still has a year and a half to go.

I am still struggling tonight. I was scared again walking into the house. I was scared as I opened the door to come in. But this is no longer a daily occurrence. Most nights I can walk outside without fear. I can sleep without fearing every sound is him. This is victory. One night, one encounter--I must remember I am safe.

I am safe. He cannot touch me. Tonight, I won. Tonight, I survived.

Will I sleep? That is another question all of it's own...

Further Thoughts on Families

A main piece to this blog is to serve as a journal for my thoughts and experiences. For my own sake because writing has always been a way to clear my mind, vent and bring clarity to situations that I am struggling with. But to also share with others that are living through (or have lived through) similar situations realize that they aren't alone, realize that they can survive or maybe even serve as a motivator for individuals that are currently living in abusive relationships to take those extra steps necessary to personal freedom. And certainly, this is for the many individuals out there that don't understand domestic violence and what makes us stay with someone that hurts us. I was one of those women for many years, too. And then I lived through it, not only once, but twice.

For me, this is purging and healing, but as I discovered last night, still very painful. My post, yesterday, led to many hours of crying and feeling frustrated that my prior relationship led to the loss of my family, his family, and my path in life. My family not only took his side but pushed me out of their lives. I was kept from my nephews, I lost my brother/best friend, my father attempted to have me committed to a state mental hospital--I damn near lost my sanity through it.

Leaving an abusive relationship is very difficult to begin with--especially when they do not let go. As I was going through the horrendous process of obtaining a PFA; I had the added bonus of my family taking his side, deciding that I was on drugs (why else would I leave such a charming fellow?), and threatening/harassing me on top of what I was already getting. I actually entertained the idea of getting a PFA on my father, too. But that just seemed too crazy--who gets a PFA on their family?

Had I know then what the future held, I would have called the police and had my father removed from my property as opposed to trying to deal with it myself. With a PFA in place, he would have been forced to stay out of my life. He wouldn't have been able to show up on 4/22/10 and harass me as the PFA hearing was occurring against my ex-boyfriend. He would have been held accountable for making false accusations resulting in two state police officers wrestling me in my own driveway, handcuffing me and transporting me to the local ER for testing. But hey, it's just our tax dollars at waste. There is nothing wrong with father's treating their 36 year old daughters in such manners. Oh, hindsight. What a beautiful thing...

When Our Families Hurt Us

Sharing a response that was made to a friend that has been hurt repeatedly by her family:

Family sometimes consists of the people that we love, collect and decide are worth keeping in our lives. If those related to us cause us pain, they aren't worth keeping. Just because they are "family" doesn't make them good people or mean that we are obligated to keep them in our lives. If they are toxic to us, it is better to walk away and never look back. It hurts, but it also heals in the long run.

Sometimes our families hurt us more than anyone else--they are supposed to support us, stand by us and help us through hard times--sometimes, though, they are the creators of our hardest times. I have found that there are many of us out there that feel alienated from our families and at times, that pain can truly be overwhelming.

Holidays, birthdays, times that people traditionally gather with their families can be the most difficult. I have collected those friends and we have created our own holiday celebrations to help ease the pain. Zombie Christmas was perhaps one of my favorite "nontraditional" experiences. We cooked a turkey and celebrated by watching George Romero films. I also have several "adopted" families that I share holidays with. Too often, it is easy to sit home on those days and tell ourselves that we don't care, that we don't need them, that it doesn't hurt--but it does. Sometimes the best way to prevent that pain is getting out and being around others. Laughter and creating good memories are fantastic ways to move past the pain of having a hurtful family.

I think the best way it was explained to me, years ago, was this:

"Your father is a man. He is human. Giving him the title of Father doesn't make him any more special than a stranger you pass on the street. It doesn't make him right and it doesn't give him the power to dictate your life. Would you grant that power to just anyone? Should you grant that power to ANYONE? You must base your self-esteem on your own worth--not what he believes or thinks of you--don't give him that power. And honestly, if I were you, I would put that power in the hands of a stranger before letting your father influence any more of your thoughts about who you are."

They were right. My father doesn't know me. He has never known me. He has never taken the time to discover who I am and has no interest in seeing the good in me. For so many years, I tried to stand out in his eyes--tried to please him--tried to make him proud of me. Sadly, it didn't work and the things that I did to please him lost their value in my eyes, too. A 4.0 in graduate school? First person in my family to even attempt college? Still invisible in his eyes. Compliance supervisor and third in command at the agency I worked for? He can't even tell you what field I have been in for the past twelve years. I allowed his disinterest to affect my own feelings of self-worth. Accomplishments that I should have been proud of no longer meant anything to me either.

How often do we do this to ourselves? Allowing someone else to determine our self-worth is a painful way to live life. Recognizing our own value and being proud of ourselves is the first step to healthy self-esteem and a happier life. Whether it is a family member or our entire family that causes us pain, once we recognize this is occurring we need to step back and re-evaluate our lives. If your family hurts you, causes you pain or destroys your feelings of self-worth it IS acceptable to remove yourself. Self-preservation is essential in life and removing negative influences is a key piece in leading a happy life. Don't allow others to decide who you are. Decide for yourself.

A Visit From the Sleep Fairy

It was suggested to me, Saturday, that I begin blogging again and share my story here. I didn't think too much more about it. Tonight, as my dreams of the ocean slowly changed to hiking up a stream so as to float back down to walking down a rural town street and searching for a computer to share some thoughts about domestic violence--suddenly, I realized that I was wide awake and sleep wouldn't return until I began. Such is the creative brain, at times... *sighs*

My initial sleeping thoughts were about how frustrating it is that so many parents are afraid to correct their children or implement consequences due to the potential for their children claiming that they are being abused and the police or child services becoming involved. Somehow, this correlated to my sleeping thoughts about my own childhood and our family pattern of "women belong in the kitchen, women care for their men, women are subservient." Confused by the correlation? So was I at first, but it was enough to wake me up and get me started.

My father's family was the only extended family that I had growing up. My grandmother was very religious and lived by the bible to the best of her ability. That included obeying the husband--completely. My grandfather was a domineering alcoholic. Perhaps not the best example for how to run a family, but not uncommon, either. They had three children together--the eldest, a son (my father) and two daughters. Not surprisingly, their children also adopted these beliefs and patterns. Women are meant to serve and care for their men--they cook, clean and make babies--they don't talk back, argue, or have views of their own--should any of these notions be challenged, necessary methods would be employed to put the woman back in line.

Childhood. The pecking order. Dad yells at mom, dad hits mom--mom yells at child, mom hits child. Early on, we learn that you listen to your man and do as he says or you get hit. Conditioned early that it easier to be quiet, do as you are told--avoid physical and mental pain. Is there a correlation? Maybe. Maybe not. This is just my story.

Before I get anyone's feathers in a ruffle, let me explain that I have my Master's Degree in the psychology field. I have worked with children, adolescents, and their families since 2000. Often, this is to assist the children and their families with behavioral and emotional issues. I have also done outpatient therapy with adults and adolescents since 2007. I believe that children need consequences to help curb negative behaviors. Sometimes that comes in the form of losing privileges; but as a toddler, a swat to the behind, may at times, work better. To some that is child abuse and never okay--a time out is the only way to go. Many of my colleagues have argued the point that hitting a child leads them to believing that hitting is how you get what you want. There may be some truth to that, I can't deny.

And such were my early morning thoughts. I was calmly walking upstream looking for a happy place to enter the water and float back downstream. Next thing I know, that stream is now a paved road and I am walking back down that hill looking from house to house for a computer. I have the perfect opener for this blog (which unfortunately I lost between sleep and awaking--instead you are left with this mess). All I remember was that the great opener started with children being conditioned to listen or get hit and perhaps for some of us, that is how we end up in situations of domestic violence. My cousin once told me, "It is no wonder we can't make decisions for ourselves--we were never allowed to growing up." She is a product of the same grandparents--her mother, my father's sister. She has found controlling men throughout her life that make the decisions for her--she never learned to. Attempts to change the pattern have led to her going back because she is afraid to be on her own.

My own story? True, enough. That is why I am here at 3:30 in the morning instead of dreaming of the ocean and floating in streams.

For six years, I lived with a man that physically abused me whenever he was drunk, yet was my best friend sober. Many years later, I had a two-year relationship with a man that I would eventually have a three-year PFA (Protection From Abuse) granted by a judge smart enough to see that not all abuse is physical. After a year plus of domestic violence counseling and much heartbreak related to those past events, I have picked up the pieces enough to share my story and hope that it helps people understand how domestic violence enters our lives (no, we DON'T like being hit) and to let other domestic violence victims know that there is hope. The patterns can be broken; there can be a happy future; there can even be healthy relationships in the future.

Mayhaps, this will follow the path of my other blogs... I type, share my story, it floats somewhere in cyberspace--unknown, unread. I am okay with that, too. This is also part of my healing and moving past those hurts. But if perchance you stumble across this blog, feel free to comment and leave feedback--positive hopefully, but feel free to share your own thoughts, experiences or stories.

As for me, this was just to get that ball rolling... Hopefully now I will be permitted to sleep. Until next time, blessed be! :)