The Lotus Blooms in Mud

I don't even know how the conversation started, but somehow my teenage abuse survivor piped up with "maybe we can finish unpacking and actually decorate for Halloween and Christmas this year like we used to before him." She literally read my mind when she blurted that out. Fleeing an abuser does not come with neatly packed boxes, it comes with a few random items thrown together in garbage bags and boxes by brave friends. We couldn't safely return after we left, so friends went to the house for us to attempt to rescue the pets for us and to grab any of our things that they could. They found the house and many of our things had already been destroyed by him before they could get there. They gathered some clothes in garbage bags, managed to grab a few knick knacks and pictures, some books and movies, and the toys in a short amount of time. We pretty much lost everything we owned. Electronics gone. Furniture gone. Most of our clothes gone. Toys gone. My daughter...

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...

Post partum depression is supposed to mean you don't bond with your baby, you have thoughts of hurting your baby, or in many tragic cases you do hurt your baby, right? That's the post partum we hear about. We read shocking headlines about women drowning their babies or tales from our friends who know someone who thought about shaking their baby to death before she finally got help. We are told to try and understand these mothers. We are told that we need to raise awareness so that these mothers seek the help they need. But post partum depression is not always anger or difficulty bonding; it can look very different I learned. "There's no way I have post partum depression", I kept saying to myself. I knew that I would never hurt my baby, I loved her, I wanted her, and I never got angry with her no matter how much she cried or how tired I was. So obviously I couldn't have post partum depression. I was wrong. From the day I found out I was pregnant I worr...

I feel guilty. Especially when I was told that I had ptsd. Me? I haven't had a great life, but certainly it wasn't bad enough to develop ptsd. Yes, I have experienced many traumas, and yes, I am one of the many adults who have to recover from their childhood rather than being able to look back upon it fondly. But others have had it worse. I feel embarrassed to be diagnosed with ptsd because compared to many others it was really not that bad for me. There is one very special person who was in my life who I think of whenever I feel like my traumas have been too much to bear. I don't feel it's appropriate to use children's real names in my writing, so I'll affectionately call her Bluejeans. She was of the Muslim faith and wore a hihab, but where as the other Muslim girls wore long skirts or dresses she wore blue jeans every single day because, and I quote "mother hates it and I think that's funny". Teachers are not supposed to pick favorites, but...

There is an old saying, that you can't judge a person's actions until you've walked a mile in their moccasins. I believe in always trying to see other people's perspectives and trying not to judge. However, there's one thing I have always judged people harshly for, and that is getting rid of pets. I've always had pets in my life. My grandfather was by biggest influence when it came to animals. He was an old farmer, and he had the highest respect for non-human animals, be they wildlife, livestock and pets. He taught me that when you bring a cat or a dog into your home they become family. Family isn't just dropped off at a shelter or abandoned on the side of a country road when they are no longer convenient. Cats and dogs are family members. I'll admit that I can see rehoming certain pets: hamsters, fish, lizards... these critters don't care where they live as long as they are safe, clean, and well fed. Dogs and cats are far more sensitive and t...

While I was still with my husband I read an article about single married mothers. The article discussed two viewpoints, one about the challenges of being a mother whose husband works a lot or is in the military and the other stating that the true challenge is actually being a single mother. I remember immediately identifying as a single married mother, and feeling unashamed that it may offend some actual single mothers. The problem is that I didn't identify as one of the women whose loving husband was overseas or who works long or strange hours. In fact I couldn't understand their point of view at all. I had become the woman whose husband was often gone 120 hours a week or more, but  both for work and also for time to enjoy his affairs. Family was not a priority. He was the priority.  When he was home we never knew whether he would be in a good mood and act as the goofy playmate that we enjoyed being around or the angry person we feared. I kept hoping it would get ...

I have a baby daughter who was called a mistake. It breaks my heart and those words often replay over and over in an inescapable loop for me. Sometimes I just hold her and sob. I never want her to feel as unwanted as I grew up feeling. She's certainly no mistake to me, she is the beautiful rainbow after a tremendously bad storm. My pregnancy with my beautiful rainbow was terrifying and lonely. Though I had desperately wanted more children for many years, she was a surprise. I say surprise because surprises may be unexpected and sometimes even scary, but they are good. You walk into a dark room and your loved ones jump out with smiling faces screaming "SURPRISE!" and even though it startled you enough to make you jump back and gasp for air you end up smiling and laughing with joy. Surprise, not mistake. Mistakes are not only unexpected, they are unwanted, they are things you wish didn't happen. My little rainbow is no mistake, and no matter what I do I cannot con...

I've never liked the negative attention that being a victim brings. That tilt of the head, the wrinkled forehead over sad eyes, and the half frown/half apologetic smile that people give you when they find out you've been through something traumatic. The sigh and the "are you ok?" nauseates me and even the most heartfelt "it will be alright" sounds condescending.  Knowing that I've now become the "I know a person who..." in people's stories when tragedies are brought into a conversation is embarrassing. Having friends be afraid to vent about or share their personal issues without saying "I know it isn't as bad as your situation" is painful. Even worse is when those people who actually thrive on the drama and attention of being a victim suddenly have to one-up you every time you share a trauma you've been through. I just personally don't feel comfortable being the center of attention for negative things. I w...