Familiar Ground

I trod over this ground, not sure if I am falling or lifting myself back up.
I look behind and see where I have stumbled and fallen so many times.
I remind myself, this is a new path. It may not have the same stones.
Yet I brace myself and stumble due to my own movement.

Fear of past pitfalls.
Fear of past boulders.
Fear because I am in the dark.
Fear because I am afraid to see clearly.
Fear that this is not truly a road.
Fear that it is a circle.

Trust.
I try.
I have.
I am.

Forgive.
The past.
The players.
Myself.

Love.
Unsure.
Frightened.
Hurt.

I cannot blame this one for the others.
I must look beyond these doubts.
Is anything else even similar?
Is there just cause for this?

I will never move forward unless I try.
So simple, yet absolutely maddening.
I profess to be here and now.
Yet, where am I?

Love Doesn't Always Hurt

I guess it is only fair to mention that there are positives in my life, currently, too. I don't want this to simply become a bitchfest or a place where I spill my anger. Even though there will most likely be a bit of it here, simply because I don't know what else to do with it. I attended Domestic Violence meetings through Crossroads for over a year and I tend to choose physical activity now when my anger becomes extremely overwhelming--but writing is still one of my favorite vents. And truthfully, I am still pretty angry about many of the events over the past few years. I don't wish to become bitter and resentful, so I need to get through these issues, in order to get passed them.

Anyhoo, back to sharing a bit of the positive. I have been in a relationship now for a while that I am fairly certain could be considered healthy. I can't say for absolute sure simply because I have witnessed very few (if any) healthy relationships and I have had very few myself and they were very, very long ago. Not sure exactly how this one happened, but I know I would not appreciate it nearly as much had I not had all the bad ones prior.

I must confess that there has been a distinct pattern to my relationships of past. I have been with many alcoholics/users; mostly angry, controlling men that tend to have one main focus during the relationship--destroying my self-esteem. Attacks upon my physical appearance, my intelligence, my abilities as a person--not to mention the black eyes, bruises, and general violation upon my physical being. No, it doesn't start like that--would I really choose that? No, they are generally charming, fun to be with, exciting and the other side doesn't come out until the relationship is well under way. It is a gradual process and often I have reached the "Oh hells! I am trapped!" point without even realizing it. By the time I realize I am dating a Jekyll and Hyde fellow, I have usually developed an attachment to them and believe them when they give their apologies and swear that it will never happen again. My faith and trust in other humans overrides my common sense from time to time...

So what makes me think this one is different? Yeah, that question scares the bejesus out of me, I must confess. Especially when I recognize how much of it is still based on faith and trust. For one, there are no insults or put-downs, even in a joking manner (since that is usually how they begin). The jealousy, the need to control me or my actions, the attempts to change me (from attire, which has been overwhelmingly common to changing my behaviors), attempts to reduce my activities with friends/family/anyone other than them; the common threads that later lead to evil, simply aren't there.

He is giving. He thinks of my needs. He knows when I am upset, encourages me to talk about it and doesn't become angry with me. He has never yelled at me. Period. I feel safe with him.

To me, he is one of the most beautiful people I have ever met--inside and out. I was at a point in my life where I was content. I was enjoying my time with friends, had rediscovered my focus and was stepping forward in life--something I hadn't been able to do for three years. The last thing I expected was someone walking into my life and me being able to let them. How to explain? It was like not knowing I was cold, until somebody handed me a coat. I had no clue that he would bring the things to my life that he does--I look back and wonder how I functioned before he entered my life. I know that sounds horribly unhealthy, and as I mentioned, mayhaps it is--but again, what do I know of healthy relationships?

Repost From a Friend:

We need to teach our daughters how to distinguish between a man who flatters her and a man who compliments her .... a man who spends money on her and a man who invests in her .... a man who views her as property and a man who views her properly ..... a man who lusts after her and a man who loves her ..... a man who believes he is God's gift to women and a man who remembers a woman was God's gift to man.

Insult to Injury

Last year, when I was going through the harassment, the PFA process and all of the other issues, I had some wonderful people on my side helping me through it. One being an ex-state police officer that knows the ins and outs of the legal system. Through out my father's threats of having me sent to a rehab, state hospital or just sent away in general, he kept reassuring me that it couldn't be done and that if anyone tried to take me away, it would end in a law suit big enough that I would eventually own my own island.

I believed him. I didn't think they could take me away. I thought I was at least safe on that end. So as my father came with his threats and sent other family members with threats, I stood my ground, explained that I knew my rights and I was not going to be signing myself in anywhere. I explained that I would gladly submit to any blood tests they desired but otherwise, I laughed it off.

Even the day of the PFA hearing when my father showed up at the courthouse, in his WCO uniform, and tried to persuade the judge to have me committed, I thought I knew my rights. When he called me later that day and told me that he wanted me to go talk to someone; again, I told him that I knew my rights and requested again, that he leave me alone.

Even when the Pennsylvania State Police arrived at my house shortly after, I thought that I knew my rights. As the two police officers approached me, I asked what I did wrong. I explained that I knew my rights, that they couldn't take me. Yet the two of them handcuffed me, took my purse from me, frisked me and placed me, with handcuffs behind my back, into the back of the police car. I thought I knew my rights. But apparently, this was acceptable because my father decided that it was and went to whatever lengths he felt appropriate. The truth is, my rights never existed.

Throughout the ride to the ER, I kept begging the officers to pull over and switch the cuffs to the front. I explained that I had a bulging disc in my lower back and was in significant pain. They told me it wasn't that far and that I needed to just deal with it. I explained that they apparently had never ridden in the back of a police car with a bulging disc, handcuffed behind the back and strapped in with a safety belt.

I arrived at DRMC in handcuffs, escorted by a police officer on either side of me. I was led through the hospital in this fashion and was then requested to lie down upon a bed, with the cuffs still behind my back until the doctors and therapists on call could perform a mental health assessment, draw blood and a urine specimen could be given. When the police finally removed the cuffs, I asked if I could keep them as a souvenir of what the PFA process leads to--they denied my request. They also refuse to provide you with a ride back to your home; they leave it up to you to figure that one out.

I went through the processes; the doctors and therapists apologized and again, I was asked why I didn't get a PFA on my father while I was getting one against the ex-boyfriend. They didn't fill out paperwork on me because they said the situation was too insane and they didn't even know where to begin with it. When I explained that I didn't have my wallet or insurance card, the doctor said that I would not be billed because it would only add insult to injury and I had already been through enough.

They sent me home because:
A) I wasn't on drugs.
B) I wasn't starving myself.
C) I wasn't homicidal.
D) I wasn't suicidal.
E) The 302 papers that my father filled out and signed were ludicrous.
F) There were absolutely no grounds to send me to a rehab or have me committed to a state mental institution.

My father was at the hospital as I was subjected to the evaluations and testing. The doctor stated that he didn't blame me when I stated that No, I did not wish to see him and please keep him out of my room.

This is what I got for refusing to obey my father's authority. This is what I got for obtaining a PFA on a man that wouldn't peacefully allow me to go on with my life--a life without him.

A false 302... including the discovery that my father did not know how to spell my name, did not know my birthday, did not know how old I was--plus all the delightful statements he made about me. Funny; the large, bold face notice:

"IMPORTANT NOTICE: ANY PERSON WHO PROVIDES ANY FALSE INFORMATION ON PURPOSE WHEN HE COMPLETES THIS FORM MAY BE SUBJECT TO CRIMINAL PROSECUTION AND MAY FACE CRIMINAL PENALTIES INCLUDING CONVICTION OF A MISDEMEANOR."

...this statement apparently doesn't apply if you are a WCO and have your own badge and name tag. If you are friends with the police, I guess ordinary laws no longer apply?

I got tossed around like some violent, escaped criminal--as a 115 lb female, you would have thought the officers were terrified of me. I got to wear shiny bracelets and was touched all over by two men at once. They took my bag and broke my things as they threw it in the trunk of their car. I got a ride in a police car, escorted by two officers sworn to serve and protect. I got to be a spectacle as I was marched into the ER with my cuffs and escorts. I got to answer a bunch of ridiculous questions to prove my sanity. I got to have tubes of blood drawn and I got to pee in a cup. When it was said and done, hours later, I got to arrange my own ride home.

You know what though? Somewhere, along the way, I was told that I had rights. That if they tried to violate my rights, that if anyone came onto my property and tried to take me away, there would be hell to pay. That if they forcibly took me off my property, there would be a lawsuit so big that I would own my own island and would never have to deal with the likes of them again.

So where in the heys is my island???

All I have are the memories, the scars, the added physical pain, a father that still insists he did what was right and he knows that I was abusing drugs, and this damn stack of bills.

Remember when I said that I explained that I didn't have my wallet or insurance card and the doctor said that I would not be billed because it would only add insult to injury and I had already been through enough? Yeah, not only did I rack up a bunch of bills as a result of the events from that day, but they still made me pay for that event, too. Justice, such a beautiful thing. Personal rights, freedom. Yeah, I almost believe in those also...

Questions

Sometimes I can't help but wonder why? What did he hope to accomplish? Did he satisfy himself? I'm sure it was easier to blame it all on me. But still, what the heys??? It is sad that my family thinks so little of me that they believed him--but I realize now that the ones that fed into that are better removed from my life and that they were not the people that I believed them to be.

One, I realize was never the friend I thought her to be and while I still sometimes miss the illusion of who she was--I recognize that she was a slow poison saturating my life and I should have known better than to trust her in the first place.

One, has mended but I am not sure I will ever feel the same love and trust that I once did. Love much, I still do and is still one of the most important people in my life--but words and actions can never be taken back. Calluses and scars remain, which I believe will probably always be the case. I am not sure that I will ever be able to look at that one quite the same.

One, I love but hate at the same time. It has been well over a year since we last spoke--I avoid family functions because that one hurt me most of all. There is no justification. There is no excuse. And while some of the others may believe that it was all done in innocence and love, they weren't there for any of the interactions, they don't really know. They have not walked in my shoes nor had the pleasure of having had 38 years worth of these interactions. I know what I can handle and what I can't. His lies hurt most. There comes a time when walking away is the sanest action.

His family. I still miss them. Can't imagine that will ever change. It hurts, but I understand. Was there ever a day that he wasn't coddled, given in to and had someone to cover up for him? He has never had to be accountable for his actions and it was horrible of me to challenge that. Of course, they hate me now. And lords only knows what he has told them. How skillfully he turned my own family against me when they have known me always--his only knew me for two years--what might I expect?

Most of all, I wonder if he took any lessons from it? Does he recognize now how it turned into the jacked up mess it ended as? Does he look back and wish he would have accepted parting as friends? Or is it just easier to hate and blame? Does he at least recognize the places that he broke us? Has he learned enough that he is capable of being decent to future ones? Does he make an effort to refrain from those mistakes? I am sure that somewhere deep inside he knows the truth, but does he still just drown it out and choose anger, self-pity, and denial?

Funny, but I still don't hate him even after everything that happened. I just want to be safe and free from further damage. I don't think that is much to ask.

Always in the Name of Love

When she refused to be a victim,
when she decided that her life was her own and she was reclaiming it,
when she realized that she was free of his grasp,
free to be happy, free to be who she was...

This is when they lost control and put up the greatest fight,
this is when they sought hardest to rein her in...

With silver badges and matching cuffs,
with a father's promise of truth,
more lies were spread,
her spirit broken further...

Isn't it funny the lengths a man will go to,
to break down the spirit of a woman,
when she is his property,
when she disobeys his command,
when he loses control?

As one's soulmate,
the one he could not live without...

As one's daughter,
and a claim of concern and love...

The two conspired and found a common thread,
one evil female that needed broken,
that needed to be taught a lesson,
too headstrong, too independent,
not the things a good woman should be...

Together, they pleaded with the judge,
one for freedom from scrutiny,
the second, much the same...

Protection From Abuse granted,
asylum denied,
she thought a victory won...

Uniform, badge and "father's concern,"
not one used to being told no,
not one willing to look the fool,
the one whom is always right,
and always knows best,
continued forward to break her...

The wrestling, the cuffs,
the humiliation, the added pain,
"she's too tiny, twist them farther"
the scars now hidden and yet still showing...

Hurt because they lost control,
hurt because of their fear,
hurt because women shouldn't be strong,
hurt because this is how men break women...

One more day in the life,
one more day broken by men,
two that claimed love,
two that claimed duty,
none willing to admit folly...

And so it stands,
these deeds of love,
she was still in the wrong,
for they all say so,
they all know best...

She is to accept, forgive,
and love again,
to trust again,
to extend her hand and say please,
please return to my life,
please continue this love....

Please continue to break my spirit,
to shake me with false hugs called love,
to tell me that you know what is best,
convince me I deserved it,
convince me it is love,
convince me I need this love of yours...

As your love has always been so freely given.