Karma (ahhh)

They say you cannot truly love someone else until you truly love yourself.
Today I can say with unwavering certainty that I love the woman I have become.

Physically I know I can survive anything as comparing the excruciating process of natural childbirth dwarfs anything else; however emotional pain was/is always an uphill battle like trying to gain control of momentum on a roller coaster. The name of my roller coaster was Husband. The terror of the ride still haunts me. I remember with perfect clarity so many times he stood over me laughing at his own destruction and making a mockery out of my pain. I would be curled up in a ball laying in the fetal position on the floor of our bathroom (the designated spot I chose and went to countless times) crying so hard I would vomit gasping for air barely able to breathe. Eventually 10-30 minutes or so later he’d come in laughing, pull me up on my feet, hug me, and then say a derogatory comment while still laughing condescendingly.

Then, with a smile on his face and amusement in his voice, he’d tear me down even further. It was almost like foreplay for him. He enjoyed it. Sometimes, he would even become sexually aroused, and it sickens me to think of what I unwillingly permitted more often than not to happen.

Looking back now, my own tolerance and permissiveness, sickens me. Why didn’t I leave?! Why did I stay? I tried to bury some of those atrocities deep down inside myself, in an effort to block it out and forget. But I didn’t forget.  His abuse planted seeds of self-hatred and self-doubt so deep in my soul…. seeds that I let him plant and I let grow inside of me. Then drastically grew into an overpowering entity of bitter resentment eating me inside and out. The longer I avoided facing the pain I’d been through, the more overwhelming the bitterness and resentment became. You never forget pain like that.

I realized, I don’t have to avoid it anymore. I can’t.

I do not wish to hate the father of my child and would never wish that upon my worst enemy, but here I was sitting 3 years post divorce letting his cruelty haunt my usually happy demeanor with flashbacks from the past. I have decided to accept what I cannot change and acknowledge my own fault in that I allowed myself to be abused so long without standing up for myself. Most people go into Fight or Flight response but instead I went into a state closely resembling a kicked puppy dog whimpering with a tail in-between it’s legs. I let it happen over and over again. I did allow myself to be demeaned, but Not anymore.

“The only thing that is ultimately real about your journey is the step that you are taking at this moment. That’s all there ever is.”
~Eckhart Tolle

Today the ongoing battle of custody/child support came to a climactic conclusion. The dreaded court case that made me lose so much sleep and gain so many new grey hairs is now finally over! I was petrified that I would fall to pieces and directly on my face. Not the case in this case however. I held my head up high even while being cross examined by the devil incarnate himself in the courtroom, and ended up winning everything I asked to be paid. Heck- I could have even asked for more and most likely would have been granted it, but I am perfectly content knowing that I finally got a piece of the delicious karmic pie I’ve been desiring to taste for so long now. Like a stranded traveler in the desert starving for water who constantly only saw mirages. Only this time I got to savor it for real and it left such a sweet aftertaste in my mouth.

Every single horrific experience in my past shaped me into a stronger person as I survived each and every single one of those moments even when doubt came to mind if I could withstand it all. Every so often I have those moments of clarity in life where the stars align and I can finally feel an overpowering urge of utter joy bursting at the seams. I want to jump up and down or twirl around dancing today knowing I took action and changed things for the better for my son and I.

My life is exactly where it should be and I am exactly who I should be. I know my strengths and I know my weaknesses. I know myself finally. Who could ask for anything more?

*Explicit* Read this if you Dare…

I have noticed that curse words tend to be 4 letters in length. More importantly I have noticed that every time I try to write rape or even abuse on my Iphone it auto-corrects it to say tape and abide. Even Apple doesn’t want to use or acknowledge these words. It seems to fall into a category of Hush-Hush, Shhhhh, and Don’t talk Don’t tell. Much like the now abandoned rule for homosexuals in the military. Why does this topic receive such little attention and awareness though? When there are murders, robberies, or even car crashes the media instantly leaps and bounds out of their chairs to report every detail of these crises, but in the event of a rape NO ONE bats an eyelash unless they are personally effected by this disaster. God forbid a celebrity were to get abused (like how Rihanna was physically assaulted) because then everyone has a loud voice and rallies for support. What about us commoners who are scared, alone, and have no means to receive any support? Maybe it is because the overall population seems wanting to remain blissfully ignorant and maintain their silence.

I recently read an article that sickened me to my very core: “Fewer than one rape victim in 30 can expect to see her or his attacker brought to justice, shocking new statistics reveal. Although 90 per cent of rape victims said they knew the identity of their attacker, just 15 percent went to the police, telling researchers it was “too embarrassing”, “too trivial” or a “private/family matter”.
(retrieved via http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/crime/100000-assaults-1000-rapists-sentenced-shockingly-low-conviction-rates-revealed-8446058.html)

I knew the man who raped me. And the several others who attacked me. Did I receive justice? No. And I went through the heinous process via police and the emergency room in order to REALLY try to stand up this time. However it was to no avail and only kept things fresh in my mind. Hurting me even more profoundly was the morning I found out about his death (obviously no charges could ever be now) and saw his face plastered all over my Facebook saying what a “Great loss to our community and the art world he was. What a tragedy this was”- How about the tragedy of him violating me repeatedly?

The actress Teri Hatcher from the popular TV show “Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman” had the opportunity and gumption to share her story of sexual abuse on the United Nations day in November of 2014 that was called:

Commemoration of the International Day to End Violence against Women

She held back tears saying “I am 1 of 3 women who was forced to accept violence as a part of their life story…I am the one who yells from the rooftops until those numbers change, until every woman who has faced abuse, feels less alone and safe enough to find the courage to have her own voice. Until violence against women is not a part of any woman’s story. Silence will not be part of mine”! To her I can only say BRAVO!

1 in 3 women…. that could be your mother, sister, or daughter….
Let that sink in….

Later in the interview she goes on to say how she later found out her attacker not surprisingly continued this cycle of abuse with another victim (leopards don’t seem to ever change their spots do they?) and sadly this 11 year old girl had wrapped her head in a towel and shot herself in the head. In her suicide letter Teri’s attacker was revealed and implicated to having been abusing this poor girl for years. How could this have happened? Well society does cast a very unappealing light- using blaming questions like “What were you wearing? Were you drinking?”! “Shaming the victim by saying “Why did you stay?” or “Why didn’t you say something?” Instead of MORE importantly why did her abuse her?! Watch Teri’s inspirational speech I urge you! (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qFwXrBEQw1E)

The question MUST be asked why/how are there still hundreds of thousands of victims who remain silent for years missing the statute of limitations to press charges, but even sadder are the ones who immediately go and destroy all the evidence in the shower preventing any chance to find proof….?
….I didn’t…. I couldn’t even shower for days and then couldn’t sleep for an entire week.

Every 107 seconds, another American is sexually assaulted.

Here’s the math. According to the U.S. Department of Justice’s National Crime Victimization Survey (NCVS)–there is an average of 293,066 victims (age 12 or older) of rape and sexual assault each year.

For an eye opening quick read the above info was retrieved via https://www.rainn.org/statistics.
This is just NOT acceptable! Do you want to remain part of the problem by hiding away until something like this happens to you or someone you love? Or perhaps join a new movement of awareness and become part of the cure? I have the upmost respect for anyone who is not afraid to speak out and share their thoughts unabashedly… like one of my beloved heroes John Lennon. He openly and outright expressed his disdain for our society demanding to being heard and in doing so had a hand in forever leaving a change in the world. Only the good die young they say- I can’t help but wonder what else he might have had shined some enlightenment on? I dare say the world would be a strikingly better place….

The definition of Insanity – AGAIN

One would think that a person who was robbed and raped 2 years ago this month would have learned the lesson to not trust so easily. Yet here I remain an anomaly that repeatedly jumps into the frying pan time after time again. Putting your hand on the burner to test the heat is one thing however typically the act is not repeated….

A few weeks ago my “best friend” decided to rob and strip my house clean of everything with material value except for this computer I am typing on currently. All my incredibly expensive camera equipment, wall hangings, DVD players, 100’s of DVD’s, video game player and games, BUT worst of all my sweet son Lincoln’s Ipad (with his autism it has helped him so much to becoming more verbal plus semi easier to control out in public during meltdowns). An autistic child’s Ipad- How sick can one person be?? I had been oblivious and now horribly blind-sided to how much of a drug addict she was.
An unfortunate series of events went on these past few months when All of my prescription medicines would disappear. Stupidly I believed her when she blamed our other friend. Then it was her semi sketchy cousin next month. Then I caught her red-handed the following month but when I confronted her 3 times she acted like she didn’t know what I was talking about. I dropped it until the next morning and once again finding all my pills gone… ! This time I took a photo of all that was missing and sent it to her saying “How could you do this to me? I have PTSD for goodness sake?!”. Her reply was an immediate (seemingly) heartfelt response about how incredibly sorry she was since when she gets into that “zombie state” she doesn’t even remember how many pills she takes, and claimed to not remember stealing them even tho I assured her I had confronted her 3 times! “I’m so so sorry, I promise I will make it up to you” she says… And naively I believe her. Did that happen? Of course not.

The ONLY reason I had even let her back into my life after cutting her out for a solid 6 months after the rape was to angrily tell her off since I was shocked that she did not bother returning the repeated phone calls from the State Attorney trying to get ahold of her to corroborate my story. Since I had no memory of that night after being rufied (3 beers does not constitute a mind erase) my testimony was not enough because the grueling rape kit I underwent came back inconclusive…

My body told the story without any words needed from the fingered-tipped bruises all over my legs and arms I was covered in with a deep bruise on my butt. Which I was told later she heard loud noises coming from my bathroom so I can only assume I was pressed against my counter to explain that dark purple bruise. The shower curtain and towel racks were pulled off left on the ground. Piles of my puke covered the floor as well. My guest bathroom had indeed become a crime scene.

The night at the hospital getting that dreaded rape kit done I was thankful to have Christine from SPARCC (Safe Place and Rape Crisis Center for those of you that are not aware) come to my room and advocate for me helping me fill out the mountains of paperwork, and the scary stuff like stripping down naked being combed everywhere to collect any sort of DNA. I knew the chances of them finding anything there was slim to none since I do not have very much body hair, and even though I had not showered I did change clothes since mine had vomit stains. My nurse was a very kind woman but nothing like my fellow New Yorker Christine who helped distract me during all the antibiotics, anti-HIV shots injected, along with countless horse pills, and of course intense questioning. We had thought provoking conversations about philosophy, religion, and other topics to keep us entertained- even laughing despite the situation.
However when the moment came finally all prepped and ready for the doctor to come in for the pelvic exam, swabbing, and examination of my vagina the VERY moment his fingers touched me I instantly burst into tears. I hadn’t cried that entire time. The slightest touch from this male doctor (how insensitive in my opinion given the situation- couldn’t they have paged a woman?) sent me into panicked tears making my stomach heave so much that he had to stop momentarily until I could regain my composure. My nurse and advocate held my hands crying themselves and said “That is ALL the proof needed to know that you were raped”- you cannot fake an instant involuntary reaction like that.

Those words still chill me now even writing this.

In a former post about other details of that night I divulged the information that this guy had been a fellow photographer that I was close friends with for 3 years even while I was still married. Never anything romantic between us in the slightest bit. I knew him so well to know that he always had carried a condom in his wallet. So of course my kit came back “inconclusive” or rather an infuriatingly unfair insult to injury. My now ex best friend who just robbed me had told me that her boyfriend who was also there that night began to later tell her details… the heroin they bought with my money, stealing and damaging my new car, things he had done/joined in doing to me, but even more sickening is that he and this other “man” (I use that word with complete condescension) apparently both put me naked in the bath tub still vomiting profusely. The amount all over my living room, all over my bathroom, and bathtub is obviously what saved my life since the drugs were not able to stay in my system permanently- just long enough to completely wipe my memory and make me violently ill.

The silver lining to that is of course that I did not die. However waking up that morning can only be described as awakening in a foreign country with no idea how you got there and no explanation to the million questions whirling around in your head a mile a minute. If you have ever watched the show “The Living Dead” the very first episode the main character wakes up to walk out and see a desolate destroyed incomprehensible world, and that is the exact feeling I felt.

There will be no “Victim’s rights” brochures handed to me by the police again.
There will be justice this time. This I vow to myself.

The Worst 4 letter word: RAPE

Why do we as a society keep brushing off the torturous atrocity of rape under the rug? I have noticed that this word falls into this sad don’t talk don’t tell hush-hush category. I find that appalling. Every time I go to write abuse and rape on my I-phone it auto-corrects it to say abide and tape. Is Apple too afraid to use unpleasant emotionally devastating words? Shame on them. It’s conceptual ideology such as this that guides this generation into hiding an epidemic that everyone is too apprehensive to acknowledge. I find that very sad. Not just being a victim of sexual abuse but as an empathetic soul touched easily by others misfortunes. The Bureau of Justice Statistics states:

Rape – Forced sexual intercourse including both psychological coercion as
well as physical force. Forced sexual intercourse means penetration by the
offender(s). Includes attempted rapes, male as well as female victims, and
both heterosexual and homosexual rape. Attempted rape includes verbal
threats of rape.

Sexual assault – A wide range of victimizations, separate from rape or
attempted rape. These crimes include attacks or attempted attacks generally
involving unwanted sexual contact between victim and offender. Sexual
assaults may or may not involve force and include such things as grabbing or
fondling. It also includes verbal. (retrieved via http://www.bjs.gov/index.cfm?ty=tp&tid=317)

I realized that I actually have been assaulted and raped before but didn’t process it besides the time in Italy I’ve yet to divulge. MULTIPLE times.
Even last year around this time last year I found myself in a situation where I was pinned down by my wrists and repeatedly penetrated with fingers begging him to stop as he lifted me up effortlessly while laughing dragging me into his bedroom where again my wrists were pinned over my head. “I’m going to rip your panties off…” he said with no emotion again seeming entertained and amused. I finally said besides the countless repeated “NO Stop Please” that I had been raped around this time last year so sex of any kind would be completely off the table and then immediately burst into tears. I sat there on his bed sobbing and shaking. He then realized what an A**hole he had been and let go then offered to hug me!? I said “NO, no thank you” and finally found the strength and courage to bolt out the door.

Unfortunately I have plenty more equally and worse stories than that. That is just the most recent…..
What is wrong with this world? Had that guy (who I had photographed for head-shots that day and thought we were cool enough to hang out afterwards) treated me respectably who knows he might have achieved his goal without assaulting and almost raping me. I can’t even look at the photographs I took of him because I am so repulsed- not just by his actions but also letting myself get into a situation that could have easily landed me back in the hospital getting yet another rape kit done. It is quite sobering.

Do actual men exist that don’t think that abusing women is as much of a normal pastime like baseball or football? I may never know as my guard of course is up now having made SO many mistakes in my little life. Will I ever learn the lesson? YES, yes I do believe I will finally. It has taken me an eternity having been first assaulted and almost raped when I was 18 years old during my dream vacation of backpacking Italy. Sad to think that experience pales in comparison to what I have been through now.
They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger…. Well I have to wonder if who said that actually went through any trial tantamount to paralyzing ones such as these.

Let it be…

Sentimentality…. Oh what a double edged sword you are. On the one hand taking a stroll down memory lane promotes smiles, belly laughs, and a sense of joy from familiar memories. However the flip side of that coin is seeing pictures of yourself remembering how you were faking that smile and vividly can see the pain in your eyes. Or seeing photographs where a series of events play out that led to an eventual disastrous course- the look of joy and happiness in your eyes was real; yet it was soon to be replaced with sorrow.

Friends lost and gained…
Lovers lost and gained…
Jobs, aspirations, marriages, pregnancies, and *fill in the blank of something meaningful to you*
Lost and possibly never regained…

It is all there on your Facebook for a nice emotionally cutting experience.
Why do I/we do it? I know that I have always been the nostalgic scrap-booking kind of gal who enjoys remembering days and evenings that burst and overflowed with laughter and adventures. Even when I was younger I would keep every little momento- down to my first reciprocated loves guitar pic he had flung at me during a “jam session”. The bad times of getting over him passed by long ago, and we actually maintained a friendship that when we talk we end up being on the phone 3-4 hours. Then there’s all my Italy photographs I am able to look at now and only see the beauty (not all the near death stuff) instead of being too afraid scared that all the traumatic scars will reopen.
I am still actively working on getting the pain from my ex-husbands abuse gone (including cheating on me with the teenage girl he recently married) after realizing recently that I am not 100% over it all. These instances however of having my home and body robbed are something that I just currently have no hope of ever being capable of letting go. The pain intensifies and resurfaces frequently and just trying to shove it down and ignore is like putting a band-aid on a bullet-hole wound.

Let it go… those words roll off the tongue so easily from someone who either has no capacity to emphasize or has no one to relate the situation to personally. I would not/could not ever wish this pain upon anyone else- I just wish there was more compassion and less judgement especially when ignorance is the only foundation for no awareness.

I am not afraid to speak now….

Time heals all wounds… Well when?!

“It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds.’ I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”
-Rose Kennedy

I have to share her sentiment as unfortunately I cannot shake these godawful wounds from having been robbed recently, and now this coming Thursday is when it will be the 2 year mark from when I was robbed and raped. It’s not about the tangible items that were stolen- it’s the part of my soul that feels it can never recover. I was violated in every meaning of the word. By people I trusted. How can I not feel to blame for being so naive to let myself get blindsided? I asked my ex-husband to take our son next Thursday so I can try my best to do some nice things for myself and stay busy so I can desperately try to keep my mind off of the tragedy. His response was “What are you going to make an anniversary out of it?!” laughing at me to my face. I said to him it’s called PTSD have you ever heard of it, plus what if this had happened to someone you actually still loved would you be so callous and have such unemphatic attitude …? His reply was less than cordial.

The wounds from 2 years ago are re-opened even further having recently been victimized. I despise how when you receive your police report and case number you are referred to as a Victim on tangible paper in your face and given information on your Victim’s rights. It’s like an extra jab into your already broken back and heart.

Sometimes I fear that I will never be able to let go of all my traumatic experiences…. Being attacked, nearly killed, and abandoned in Italy, my ex-husband who was abusive constantly but actually hit me for the first time when I was pregnant, and of course the robberies ESPECIALLY the rape. I was never able to press charges on my rapist because I had no corroborating witness since I was rufied, and then he died months ago. That is not justice. I wanted him to pay for what he had stripped me of literally and figuratively speaking.
I have tried everything… counseling, yoga, antidepressants, anti-anxiety medicines, positive reading, But it just isn’t cutting it. Hypnotherapy or Electric shock therapy sounds enticing at this point. This affliction can be debilitating to say the least, and I feel so much that NO one understands. No one that I know of has been through trauma like I have, so I feel absolutely lost most days and find myself just looking for ways to mask it.

Anyone remotely familiar with PTSD knows that anytime someone experiences a “trigger” they can be brought back to that place of horror instantaneously. Oh how I wish I could erase all of this from my psyche like the quote from Alexander Pope:

“How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d”

Perchance to dream. In the meantime I have no other choice than to take care of my sweet autistic son and eagerly await next week when I possibly will have 3 days to myself instead of the normal 1 & 1/2 day per week of freedom. Tie a rope and hold on right….?

Italy knows best

My favorite place in the world is anywhere in Italy. Every chance I get I reference how magical it felt being there, and so I squeeze it into conversation. Well my admiration and affection for this country grew even stronger after seeing this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b2OcKQ_mbiQ. An Italian director made a short film asking boys ranging in age from 7-12 to answer questions on various subjects, but then requested actions that inevitably is the focal point of the documentary. “Slap her” they say. “Slap her”. Even after repeated attempts of persuasion the boys adamently refused. Some looked shocked, confused, and even indignant. “NO” was the resounding answer across the board. It didn’t take more than 2 seconds for an affirmative declaration that violence against women is wrong. Here these children know more than grown “men” the fact that practicing abuse in any form towards women is despicable.
What does Italy know that America does not?

According to a 2013 review of available data “35 per cent of women worldwide have experienced either physical and/or sexual intimate partner violence or non-partner sexual violence. However, some national violence studies show that up to 70 per cent of women have experienced physical and/or sexual violence in their lifetime from an intimate partner.” For the full article read: http://www.unwomen.org/en/what-we-do/ending-violence-against-women/facts-and-figures#sthash.sMUUJBA3.dpuf). Also the article: World Health Organization, Global and Regional Estimates of Violence against Women, http://apps.who.int/iris/bitstream/10665/85239/1/9789241564625_eng.pdf,. I find these facts so bitterly saddening. Since I am a victim of domestic and sexual abuse my stomach churns thinking that these numbers are not even accurate as so many women are afraid to come forward. Afraid of the consequences and the social stigma. When I had my rape kit done I was told that one had not been performed in 10 years. That left me disconsolately sorrowful wondering how many women did not come forward and report the abuse since trust me going through that grueling experience was grievous to say the least.

The days of wholesome values seem to have evaporated into a wave of accepted cruelty. The media portrays role models with absolutely no morals or integrity; i.e. musician Chris Brown who beat up girlfriend Rihanna yet still sells his CD’s left and right. NFL star quarterback Michael Vick and three of his associates operated “Bad Newz Kennels,” which housed and trained over 50 pit bull dogs, staged dog fights, dog killing, and they ran a high stakes gambling ring. Convicted of federal and state charges related to illegal dog-fighting; however he remains a star playing in the public eye where idolizing sports figures is dominant in our culture. The connotations examples like these showcase to our children is an appalling impression to ponder. No more “Leave it to Beaver” or “The Waltons” portrayed on TV. Instead we have shows like “Family Guy” where one of the main characters constantly schemes to murder his mother, bestiality, alcoholism, and prevalent violence subconsciously is promoted by the acceptance of this behavior. Sadly this is the horrific and sickening version of society we live in now.

The shame game

Today I had a long discussion with my Mom (who I previously mentioned is my best friend) and I’m lucky because some kids are cut off completely from contact because of deciding to leave the religion or (egads!) getting into any trouble (the religion forbids it). You would think the friends you’ve known since childhood would or rather should stay in your life so as to help/support you! That is not the case 9 times out of 10 however. Shunning I believe to be despicable, and even parents and siblings are forced to with the threat that they will be publicly punished/humiliated for breaking their rules.
Hmm… Didn’t Jesus preach forgiveness all the time? Talking to harlots and tax collectors when elsewhere the Bible says to not even look such sinners in the eyes… Hmm

I ended up getting into semantics of why she believes how she does and try sharing my opinions on such matters. For example: Lot having sex with his daughters- that was fine and dandy never addressed with God- however condoning homosexuals to die is one of the most heinous doctrines contrived from the interpretation of scripture that we supposedly should adapt into our psyches? I said to her that I believe in karma and everyone I know that shares my faith truly does try to do a good deed whenever possible. Whether it’s thinking to pay for someone’s coffee, donating whenever possible to causes when asked, tipping well, and buying something from a homeless man to support his endeavors (who knows those palm frond flower creations I bought may have given them enough money to get their own booth in an art show…?) *scoff scoff* from her- so I posed the question “Karma is more or less the same principle as the teaching by Jesus of “The Golden Rule” so how many Christians do you think always follow that whenever possible…?”- Silence. I said to her that my personal favorite small piece of positive karma is finding someone once a day to compliment- Especially someone who looks upset. You would be surprised how quickly their face lights up! That makes me happy to impart some positivity out there even if it may seem trivial to some. It’s free and it’s powerful. I urge you to try it since smiles are contagious after all.

Unfortunately the old premise of DON’T TALK TO ANYONE ABOUT RELIGION OR POLITICS still rings true. In an age of ever shifting equality this makes me incredibly sad to think about. Walls were instantly put up even though I repeatedly said “I’m not saying that I am right and you are wrong” probably about 20 times to try dismantling the bomb I set off.
However this particular day I noticed a shift in myself to not “pussy out” and actually state my feelings clear and for the record. Leaving a religion that is so cult-like is an incredibly difficult task in itself; but asserting your opinions is even worse as they talk down to you claiming that you are going to die at Armageddon. Sad. That’s the only straw you have to grasp onto… That your “loving” God (who is also quoted to be a “jealous God”, isn’t that a weak human trait?) will deem you wicked and have you eternally dead while your family lives on in paradise forever…? Cruel mind control much…?

I get exasperated to say the least when I think about all my regrets on the matter. Previously stated on one post I described the fact that I earned my high school diploma @15 years of age and if I had started college then I would have a Phd. instead of working on my associates now @30 years old. But I am making a conscious effort to let go of the many pains, past and present, from my little life.
All I want is to be the best person I can as a mother, daughter, sister, girlfriend/eventual wife, and humanitarian as I can be. One of my favorite books is called “The Four Agreements” by Don Miguel Rodriguez- I beg of you to read this. It was the first book that cracked my brainwashed head open and made me finally realize the fact that I do have the power to change anything in my life; However scary it may be it is worth persevering for. Here is one of my favorite thought provoking quotes from his book: “Humans are born in truth, but we grow up believing in lies. one of the biggest lies in the story of humanity is the lie of our imperfection.”
 Before the world indoctrinated us we had an empty canvas free to be happy and color as we choose. However we allow ourselves by other people’s opinions to make agreements in our minds and souls that are not necessarily accurate. Every time you prove that old replaying negative tape in your head is indeed a fallacy you discover emotional space for altruism. Choose to as Albert Einstein references do the same thing over and over again expect different results, or you choose to change your thoughts which lead to behaviors which lead to habits.

I say we stand up for ourselves! Be your own hero! Stop looking for someone else to ride in on a white horse and save you! No be your own victor – The taste of personal conquest will be much sweeter than anything else in the entire world.

Food for Thought~

Irretrievably broken…

Those are the words used in divorce proceedings which are effectually efficient in describing the situation; however hearing it and reading it on signed papers is like a knife to the kidney.

My 3 years divorced anniversary was 3 days ago.

The late great actor Robin Williams spoke about it ever so eloquently “Ah, yes, divorce … from the Latin word meaning to rip out a man’s genitals through his wallet.” -Yet to me it has always been about the fatal damage my heart received. My illusions of what “happily ever after” meant were so distorted I may have well been on LSD when imagining them. In my case especially from the abuse I received those blissful dreams had been shattered long before I left and then drawn up those fated papers. How come there was no section to discuss reconciling the psychological damage? Only physical assets were of importance to him but all that mattered to me was my happiness and my sons happiness!

To my divorced friends without children I cannot stress to them enough how lucky they are to not have started a family with the wrong person. As you are still tied to this person until 18+ years you obviously have to continue having contact (which can bring up a lot of atrocious memories). Sometimes I find myself feeling bitter thinking about how I should have taken my entitled 50% of everything per Florida state law; however I just wanted out. I was thinking in a flight or fight mentality and I was too scared to fight… Too scared of him and how he claimed he would never see our son again if I did go after anything. So I didn’t and left the nicest of everything behind to live in squalor basically. The tiniest apartment, no cable, furniture from goodwill, and living on my credit cards since I couldn’t work due to all my sons therapies and the care he needs. I made my bed, laid in it, and grew into so much of a stronger person. And that is more invaluable than anything I had ever owned previously.

the daily struggles of a single mom with a special needs child

I love my son more than life itself despite the setbacks of having him not be able to communicate with me (which of course sometimes absolutely breaks my heart to shreds). Today however was rough. I try to not be bitter; However my lovely Ex-husband and father of my child is currently trying to reduce his child support payments knowing darn well that the 6 & 1/2 days a week I have him make it virtually impossible for me to work given Lincoln’s therapies, constant sicknesses, and the fact that I would need an impossible dream-like set schedule of when he is at school. Not taking into account the summer/winter breaks, the professional days (which he does not ever help out with), and the Incredible amount of sick days he misses school since his often stomach sicknesses made me decide to take him to the best gastrointestinal specialist in the area at All Children’s Hospital. So add in allergists, feeding therapists, and nutritionists (did I mention all by my myself again?), and basic speech, ABA, and occupational therapy I am basically up not just an unfair creek without a paddle but actually a winding river of rapids trying desperately to navigate myself with all the choices, incredible amount of paperwork, research, and etcetera that comes with the territory.

Sometimes I get quite resentful that he has his day & 1/2 of time when they just play and have fun, But then mommy has to be the mean one taking him for skin and blood tests, tons of evaluations to get him into new therapies, and other implementations from the therapies I have learned. Insurance companies don’t want to pay for these in case you weren’t aware. So it is a constant battle of phone calls, paperwork, faxes from specialists, and constant headaches basically trying the absolute best for your child who does not have his own voice but sadly also not another voice from his family. I’m not going to sugarcoat this- it’s disheartening, and some days I feel like throwing my hands into the air and saying “Forget it- he will just continue to exhibit behaviors of a 2-3 year old yet he is 6 & 1/2”.

My normally positive posts are not so glowing tonight instead there is a haze of sadness and hopelessness.

I know there are resources out there (Especially for single moms) but I have no clue where to look or where to begin. Anyone reading this in the Florida area please leave a comment to give me any advice since I fear I am fast approaching the end of my rope.

Yet I have to hang on as there is NO other option for my sweet boy.