Night Time Reminders

That white light I found would slowly start to brighten up every aspect of my life and come the fall of ’07 I would have enough support to leave everything I knew behind. Or at least that was what I thought. When I left my home in the spring of 2007, I was placed in a home about 2 hours away from where my mother lived. I continued to go to the school I attended before the move happened. But come the 2008 school year I would have to leave all my friends behind and transfer to the nearest school. One would have thought that I would have lived happily ever after, and miraculously I would be healed of all my past destruction. If you did think that, then you were very wrong.

     “People have scars. In all sorts of unexpected places. Like secret roadmaps of their personal histories. Diagrams of all their old wounds. Most of our wounds heal, leaving nothing behind but a scar. But some of them don’t. Some wounds we carry with us everywhere and though the cut’s long gone, the pain still lingers.”- Meredith Grey, Grey’s Anatomy

     I have no strength as if my body is being pressed to the ground by an unbelievable force of gravity. Like one of those dreams where no matter what you do you can’t get up? You can’t yell out, and when you try your words evaporate as they escape from your mouth. Flashes of images raced through my mind, my head bouncing off the wall, my legs kicking, my blood pulsing. “Shhh, shhh, shh…” I can hear him trying to quiet me. The carpet of the bedroom I shared seemed rough and coarse as it dug into my back or maybe it was just the broken perfume bottle that lay shattered across the ground. There was no use in trying to move, because no matter how hard I tried it seemed impossible. I turned my head towards the clock and watched as if someone wanted to torture me by letting that red number click to the next so slowly. In the distance I could hear my muffled cries, then “shut up!” as my head was slammed into the ground, and left to find something strong enough to lift me to my feet again. And then I woke up.

     Waking up screaming wasn’t something the people I lived with were fond of me for. I quickly got up and rushed to the other side of my bed. I grabbed the closet door handle, and opened the door as quick as I could, and threw myself to the floor and shut the door fast as if someone was chasing me. I brought my knees to my chest, and covered my mouth so no one would be woken by my uncontrollable gasps for breath. I told myself I was in a safe place, no one could get me, and he was hundreds of miles away. But after opening up about my past, and with court right around the corner it was as if the wall I had built just wasn’t big enough to keep the memories from flowing over. But the only thing I could feel flowing was the blood that was tracing the creases around my knuckles on the back of my hand.

     “What’s worse, new wounds which are so horribly painful or old wounds that should’ve healed years ago and never did? Maybe our old wounds teach us something. They remind us where we’ve been and what we’ve overcome. They teach us lessons about what to avoid in the future. That’s what we like to think. But that’s not the way it is, is it? Some things we just have to learn over and over and over again.”- Meredith Grey, Grey’s Anatomy

      RAINN is an amazing nonprofit organization that allows victims of rape, abuse, and incest to come out in a safe protected environment. They have a national hotline if you are in need please do not hesitate to call 1-800-656-HOPE or visit their National Sexual Assault Online Hotline which you can find at www.rainn.org  (24/7 free and confidential) Also if you or someone you know is having thoughts about committing suicide, please know that you’re not alone and there is help. Please contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline now, 1-800-273-TALK (8255): (Suicide hotline, 24/7 free and confidential, nationwide network of crisis centers)

My White Light

     My life seemed to take a turn for the worst after my 16^th birthday. I was always a good student in class, but my sophomore year in high school all my grades started to drop. For the longest time school was my safe place, a retreat from the everyday Hell that awaited me when I got off the bus. But I no longer yearned for the morning to come so I could get on the bus, I no longer cared about using the excuse I have to do my homework so I wouldn’t have to cook dinner, do loads of the laundry that was left on the basement floor, or take care of the 50 animals my mom and her boyfriend acquired over the past 3 years since we moved to Pennsylvania. I had stopped eating and weighed a whopping 75 lbs in 10^th grade and piled on the makeup until I looked like a drug addict. Because my mother refused to get a job, her boyfriend was unemployed, and my father didn’t pay child support I wore the same cloths I had since I was 12, lucky enough for me I still fit in them. I was still too scared to stop going to my fathers, in fear that he would do something just awful to me or my mother. And as much as I hated my mother on the inside, she was still my mother and I felt like I needed to protect her. I felt like I need to save my brother and my sisters from a life they didn’t deserve, they should have had the world offered to them… my brother should have been able to do sports, and my sisters should have been able to have friends. I had this unnecessary need to help other people when I couldn’t even help myself.

     Then one day, like the sun coming over the California Mountains in the morning, I found my white light. It was almost impossible to realize at first, but this light shined up over my wall like nothing I had ever seen before. It was my white light, my hope, my guardian angel the person I had been waiting for since that hot summer day, my 10^th grade history teacher. She was the first person who was able to chip away at my thick cement wall I had been building for 8 years. Mrs. Adams was her name. She taught (and continues to teach) my 10^th grade history class. And one day she pulled me aside and asked me to stay behind in class. She asked me about my bandaged up arm, about the bruises on my arms, why I wore long sleeved shirts all the time even on the hottest days of the year. We talked after class everyday for the rest of the year. I shared things with her I didn’t even know I could dig up again. And then one day I gathered up the strength and courage I had to tell her about the sexual abuse I had encountered; the time I was left crying in the shower, or the time I was left in the closet, the time when after it I thought about jumping out the 3^rd story window, or the time when he lived in the basement before the divorce. Till this day I don’t know what made me stay after but I did and my life would change. That white light I found would slowly start to brighten up every aspect of my life and come the fall of ’07 I would have enough support to leave everything I knew behind.

     “At the end of the day faith is a funny thing. It turns up when you don't really expect it. Its like one day you realize that the fairy tale may be slightly different than you dreamed. The castle, well, it may not be a castle. And its not so important happy ever after, just that its happy right now. See once in a while, once in a blue moon, people will surprise you , and once in a while people may even take your breath away.”-Meredith Grey “Grey’s Anatomy”

     I encourage anyone who feels like they are stuck or lost or have let themselves disappear to reach out. The person you sit next to on the subway or that person you talk to everyday at the grocery store could be your white light. You don’t have to do it alone, no matter what age you are. It’s never too late. Visit www.rainn.org they have helped so many people like you get through difficult times, and given them the information that they needed to get their lives back on track, and regain control. You can do it too, there is always hope and there is always a way out.

Hide N' Seek

“Pain, you just have to ride it out, hope it goes away on its own, hope the wound that caused it heals. There are no solutions, no easy answers, you just breathe deep and wait for it to subside. Most of the time pain can be managed but sometimes the pain gets you where you least expect it. Hits way below the belt and doesn't let up. Pain, you just have to fight through, because the truth is you can't outrun it and life always makes more.” –Meredith Grey “Grey’s Anatomy”

     As I grew older, one would have thought I’d grow up, mature and come to a realization that I had to change my life because no one around me was going to do it; but I didn’t. I told myself that what I was letting myself go through was okay, that he did it to get out his frustrations he had with my mother. I told myself that he was just drunk, that he was never like this when he didn’t drink. I mean seriously what father would intentionally hurt his daughter? But still his voice haunted me in my sleep, the scratchy whisper of if I told anyone he would find me…he would hurt me. But I hadn’t told anyone, 7 years later I hadn’t told a soul of what happened that summer day, how he made me and my brother sleep in the same bed with him, about the time I was taking a shower and didn’t lock the door behind me, or about a drunken incident that left me with bruises, a broken lamp to clean up, and a possibly a fractured cheek bone that needed tending too. I hadn’t told anyone about any of it, I confided in myself and buried it so deep I slowly started to forget, but he still hurt me. Lying on the floor of my closet, playing his sick twisted game of Hide N’ Seek, listening for the sound of the door knob turning, holding the door shut with all the strength I had while he pulled on the other side, my cheeks wet with tears of fear and hatred. Having my head hit the desk and floor until I could feel the warmth of blood, being stranded on the floor of my room, legs numb, body shaking, and a feeling of worthlessness spreading through every inch of my body. I was 15 years old and still letting myself go through this, because all I was to the world was a bitch, a whore, a child that no one wanted, or at least that’s what I was told. I knew that everyone had pain, and thought that this was mine. I became a ghost, a body for my father to assault, and a walking entity for my mother to use and abuse. I fought through it, building my wall higher after each assault, becoming a man-hating-woman, a person who would have trouble trusting anyone with her secrets; secrets of abuse, alcohol, assault, and self-destruction.

      Don’t let yourself become your worst enemy. 7years is a long time to keep something like this to oneself, and there were many consequences in my life that came along with it. But as you continue to read my blog you will see I got help and you can too. RAINN is an amazing resource that can help you get the help you need. You can talk to them through their hotlines (I have) and I can tell you that talking to someone is better than not talking at all. If you or a loved one are being hurt or has been hurt, it’s never too late to get help. Visit http://www.rainn.org/ for more information on how to get help, volunteer, or even donate.

Bear Hugs

     "Deep down, everyone wants to believe they can be hardcore. But being hardcore isn’t just about being tough. It’s about acceptance. Sometimes you have to give yourself permission to not be hardcore for once. You don’t have to be tough every minute of every day. It’s okay to let down your guard. In fact there are moments when it’s the best thing you can possibly do… as long as you choose your moments wisely."- Meredith Grey from Grey’s Anatomy

      At a certain point in our lives we all learn how to become tough. Whether it means standing up for yourself in your work center, telling the mean kid on the bus to leave you alone, or learning how to walk away from an unhealthy situation. Through these learning experiences we not only become tough, but we learn how to build walls. No wall is the same. Some people build their walls out of sheet rock, easily knocked down. Others build theirs out of brick, slowly but steadily laying down a layer at a time. Walls help people to do things that they normally wouldn’t have the strength to do. I started building my wall at a young age, as I’m sure you can imagine. My wall was made out of cement, thick, strong, no holes or cracks. With this wall I was able to make decisions a nine year old girl should not have to make.

     It was just another night in my house hold, parents fighting, my mother threatening to leave my father, my little brother anxiously sitting on my bed while I tried to distract him by building forts, or constructing Lego’s with the estranged pieces that we found under my bed or in my closet.  The fighting usually continued for hours, as I listened to my mother tell my father to get a real job, or my father call her a bitch or whore because she talked to other men on the internet. Occasionally a glass item would get thrown across the room and smash into pieces. One night I walked out of my room, thinking that the fighting had stopped. I instructed my brother to stay in my room, or go to his until I came back. When I got to the living room I found my mother in a bear hug with my father with a knife to her throat. I remember getting the closest phone, and my nine year old self called the cops. I drug my brother back to my room and we sat there until I saw the red and blue lights flashing around creating an almost strobe like effect in my room. I didn’t see my father after that night for almost six months. My mother told me he went to a psych ward. Three months after I turned ten, only about a year after the “bear hug” ordeal, my mother finally filed for a divorce. I remember the two of them sitting me and my brother down on the concrete edge of our driveway demanding us to choose who we wanted to live with, and at age ten I learned how to choose. For better or for worst. 

     Like I end most of my posts so far, I urge any of my readers if you or a loved one have been abused, attacked, or raped please seek help. It’s never too late to get help, or remove yourself and loved ones from an unhealthy situation. Remember it is always darkest before the dawn! You do not have to go it alone. There is always hope.

This is my story.

Heat Rage

     It was unlike any summer, so hot you sat in the nearest shade just to catch your breath before continuing on. I was eight years old running around with friends on my block almost as if the heat wasn’t a factor. I remember so clearly running up my front cement stairs to an open door, watching as the curtains my mother had hanging up lightly blew around in the little wind coming through the windows. I made my way down the hall, noticing the silence in the house as I observed that there was no one in the house. I made it to the closet in my room when I had heard a noise behind me, but before I could react I was being yelled at and thrown to my bed. The man placed one hand over my mouth and told me to shut up as I tried yelling. The man who came in reaped the innocence’s of a little girl that day. After he was done I was tossed to the floor like one of the dolls on my bed, which were now scattered about. I walked away that day with a few minor scrapes and bruises but a lifetime of troubles ahead of me. As I made my way back down the hallway, the silence that followed the attack had become less peaceful. The curtains swaying in the wind became the only witness’ to my past, just ghosts mocking me in my own home. When I was eight I learned how to fear.

     This would not be the end of what seemed like an un-ending spiral of unfortunate events. I would like to share a quote from my favorite show Private Practice: “You ever been violated? Anybody rape you lately? Let me tell you what it’s like. You know those made for TV movies where some woman's crouched down naked in a shower holding her knees and sobbing because when she closes her eyes she can still feel the guys hands on her? How when they show the attack the woman's eyes go all blank and still and she goes to some other place in her mind just to deal with the horror of what's happening to her while some Lillith Fair song plays. It is nothing like that. He's sturdy and sweaty and he licks your face and wipes himself off in your hair and when you try to scream he punches you so hard you see God. And then he goes at you again reaping stuff you didn't even know you had because he enjoyed it so much the first time. I know you're trying to help but if helping me means that everyone is gonna be looking at me the way you're looking at me now please do not help me.”- Charlotte King played by KaDee Strickland

 As much as I love this quote at times, if you have ever been attacked, abused, or a loved one you know has been please do not feel alone. There are so many people out there that want to help. For instance my favorite site RAINN has helped hundreds of rape, abuse and incest victims as well as their families. I have a link to RAINN under my favorite websites sidebar.  Do not feel like you have to go it alone.  There is always hope. 

Just the Begining

     At the age of 8 I learned how to fear. At age 10 I learned how to choose. At age 15 I learned to hate. At age 18 I learned to forget. At age 20 I'm learning how to change.

     I am a daughter. I am a sailor. I am a friend, a creator, and political activist. At times I tend to be neurotic and overwhelming, and many times touchy-feely things just down right annoy me. I am rough around the edges, and tend to come off as heartless or at least this is what i have been told. But just like every other human being I have things that hurt me and things that enlighten me. When I'm sitting in my office in the begining of the day with a hot cup of tea, watching the sun rise  I think to myself  ' yea this isnt so bad.' 

     I am a 20 year old woman, who has been on more journeys in her life then any 3 men on the street have tied their shoes. ABC's hit drama, Private Practice, has oddly enough helped me get through some of the biggest ordeals in my life. For instance at the same time the character Violet, played by the great Amy Brenneman, was going to trial for her attack (she was attacked by a patient) I was going to court against my rapist.  Watching this woman who had been "literally and figurativley gutted" - Shonda Rhimes, muster up the courage to face this woman, helped me gain the strength to do the same.  I was even lucky enough to get the chance to talk to Amy B! After telling her that her character helped inspire me to be more, and go through with the trial as hard as it was, she responded with  "Thank you for that, and good luck with the journey you are on. You sound like a courageous woman."  I am and always will be a dedicated to the show that helped me turn my life around. 

     I have learned a great ability of being able to change who you are. Some say that people cant change, that they only get better at covering it up. But i have seen it, and it is possible. There is always hope. My lifes story is too long to write all in my first post, but for now with the help of the amazing Internet I get to share my story with you. And if this is all a little choppy hang in there with me because I'm still learning! I look foward to sharing, observing, complaining and all of the above!