The Lotus Blooms in Mud

An order of protection does a few great things. First, it stops harassing contact. Well, as long as the abuser does not break the order or initiate third party contact to harass and stalk the protected party's social media. Second of all, I suppose it makes abuse and physical harm a little more illegal than it already is. Though, if the abuser decides to attack, the piece of paper held up in front of the victim offers in the way of physical protection. Finally, in my case, it hides my current home address from the abuser. Not switching the mailing address and being very careful about what companies and individuals are given my address helps keep it a bit safer as well. What an order of protection does not do, is offer any emotional support to overcome the abuse, eleviate the guilt of putting up with the abuse, or allow any explanation for why the abuse occurred. Most of all, an order of protection does not serve as a time machine to go back and change decisions so that I ...

It seems like everyone I know who has survived childhood abuse or neglect has an incredible fondness for animals. It seems almost universal, animals help people survive trauma. Today is National Rescue Dog day and I while it is great to promote adopting rescue pets, it seems right to also acknowledge how they often rescue their people too. The popular pro-pet adoption decals that ask "who rescued who?" is true. While I was young my grandparents had a little golden dog, half cocker spaniel and half golden retriever, that they had rescued from a shelter. They went in to get one of her puppies, but my dear grandma fell in love with mama dog eand named her Heidi before they even handed over their adoption fee.to take her home Heidi was an ornery dog who didn't care for strangers or children. She had been very abused and it showed in her behavior. My grandmother was scared when I met her as a baby, barely walking, but we fell in love instantly. My grandparents told m...

My oldest daughter's father was a recovered methamphetamine addict when I met him. He was not perfect. He had dropped out of high school, struggled a lot with his own childhood traumas, and had difficulty keeping a job. But he was a genius with a computer and he was sweet and he enjoyed nature and animals as much as I did. We had a lot of fun together and he treated me well. And then one of his buddies got out of jail and he reunited with meth. When you date an addict you date deception and pain. His personality changed when he was using. He was easily agitated, explosive when angry, he lied, he stole, and he was only able to focus on when he could get his next fix. Multiple times I left him, just to be suckered back in by his cries for help and threats of suicide. I tried to help him, I truly did. My daughter was not conceived consensually. She was conceived because of meth and me taking pity on an ex banging on my door in the rain one night. I almost didn't tell him I ...

Middle School health class, 1996. I was more interested in lunch breaks with my friends than I was learning that drugs are addictive and cigarettes give you cancer, but I was a good student in all of my classes. When it was time for sex ed I thought we were going to talk about periods, see a video about childbirth, and maybe put condoms on phallic fruit or vegetables. That's what I saw in movies and television shows, so that is what I expected, along with some likely classroom giggles at words like erection or intercourse. What I got instead was re-traumatization that affected me well into my adult life. My health teacher was an older, bitter, grouch. She was a strict, old-school teacher who liked to yell as a first resort for any behaviors she disapproved of. I remember nobody liking her much. She hadn't told us what our new unit was going to be when she stood in front of the class and dramatically opened a pack of gum. Wonderful, glorious, forbidden gum, the thing that yo...

When you aren't sure if this was hitting rock bottom or finally going up from it... I'm staying in a domestic abuse shelter with my two children. We abandoned most of our belongings and even our pets in order to come here. It is difficult to find hope during this time, but I'm trying. Years of an abusive relationship that I justified as being ok because "at least he didn't really beat me" turned into even more of a nightmare when my oldest daughter began opening up about abuse to her that I was unaware of. She did so to protect her sister and because she is far braver and stronger than I could ever be. Yes, he had a temper. Yes, he made threats. Yes, he was unpredictable and quick to anger. Yes, he was far too rough far too many times. Yes, he controlled and abused me. But, I had no clue just how bad it was for my child. He isolated me from my friends, he controlled all of the money, he verbally beat me down and gaslighted, he scared me with threats ...

I have written a few posts, but I have not posted them lately. It is not only on this blog that I have been neglectful of my need for reflection, I have been having a difficult time in general with this.  I can blame my busy schedule, my high stress level, triggers from the current state of the world around me, or any other number of reasons. It doesn't truly matter why I haven't been doing it, it simply matters that I haven't been. Part of dealing with my PTSD and overcoming my Adverse Childhood Experiences is that I need to reflect. I am attempting to discover myself after a lifetime of abuse and gaslighting. Being creative and writing is a vital part of who I am, and it is one thing that I completely stopped doing for a while. It isn't that I don't want to, it's that I often feel a sense of trying to survive rather than being able to live. At the first of the year I began bullet journaling. I use my bullet journal as both a calendar and a tracker. I ha...