Saturday, August 19, 2017

In hope

It's amazing how things can change.

I truly thought my marriage was over.  All was lost.  Blah blah blah.  I am sure you have heard it all before....

And yet...

Things are never as done as we think they are, are they?

We have a long way to go, for sure.  But I am thankful for what we have been through, for it gives us strength to get through this now.  And it is.  Every day we go stronger....individually and as a couple.  Every day we learn to love each other all over again.  Or at least I do. 

I understand the point the vows now.  Better or worse.  Sicker or poorer. And so on.  I promised myself to this man...not matter what.  And him to me.  We and have stayed together because of those vows...because of the kids....

Vows make you stick with it.  Even when it's easier to just give up.  It makes you try, one more time, even if you're not sure what is in your heart. 

That is marriage.  It is the good and blissfully wonderful.  And it's also the bad, ugly, and terrible you don't want to live through sometimes. 

But your vows... keep you pushing forward in the darkest of times.   They keep a hope in your heart. 

I don't know what my future holds anymore.  I really and truly don't. But I am thankful for the reminders of vows.  I am hopeful for my future, my family's future.  And I am committed to taking life one day at time.... in hope.

Monday, August 7, 2017

A Letter to "You" :

Dear You,

All my worst fears have come true.   We have tried to save this so many times.  But it never sticks.  So when this ends, I don't think it will be a surprise to you.  Although I am sure to you, it will be all my fault.

A marriage cannot survive when only one person tries.  You were never willing to put forth any effort unless I did so first.  And when work and games got in the way, and I felt neglected, I no longer felt like trying.  So you would just give up too, instead of fighting for us.  I was never worth your effort. 

I have lived through you screaming at me, cornering me, throwing furniture, that one New Year's Eve where I was lucky to wake up, lucky to have lived.  Between you and Chris E. from my past, I no longer can stand anyone putting anything around my neck.  I do try and wear necklaces, but it's so very hard now.  And most recently, when I was pushed to the ground and into a parked car, for trying to help you, I think that was it for me. 

I am not blameless.  Our fights only escalated over the years.  But I can no longer be the only one willing to try or put in effort first.  I can no longer live with the constant fighting and immaturity level.  And yes, I fight back now.   Which only makes you dislike me even more.  I don't just take it and cry.  I will never cry again.  Not because of you.  And I haven't cried because of you in a very long time.  I will no longer be made to feel like I am worthless unless I am wanted for sex. 

I will no longer stand for you emotional blackmail when arguments are not going your way and you can't handle the truth in front of you.  I am tired of you saying you will kill yourself when you just can't handle the truth.  I don't feel bad when you say that.  All it does is piss me off, because I let it make me feel bad for far to long.  It's just something you say to emotionally manipulate me and the situation.  Which is why the last time you "threatened" it, I told you to go ahead and do it.  I called your bluff.

I will no longer be subject all your broken promises and things you said you will do, but never do.  You are not now, nor have you ever been dependable or a man of your word.

This is not the life I wanted.  I wanted a husband who put me and our family first.  Not just financially, but in all areas.  All you could see were the dollar signs, as long as you were providing money, you figured you were doing your job.  There is more to being a husband and father than making money.

Don't get me wrong, we were grateful!  And still are and always will be.  Your sacrifice allowed the kids and me to have a good life outside of you.  But you weren't there emotionally.  You came home and checked out on to your computer or work.  You never made any family plans.  You never put us first except financially.

Is it any wonder that I fell out of love?  And as the years past, you did too.  But honestly, I don't think you were ever in love.

Did we make a mistake all those years ago getting married?  No.  I wouldn't trade our children in for anything.  Did we make a mistake staying together for so long?  I don't know.

I know you know this thing is on it's way out.  And I know you don't care.  If you did, you'd be trying.  But you aren't.  You are just wanting the misery to end and be over with, same as me.

I thought we were staying together for the kids.  That's what we both tell ourselves.  But are we really doing them any favors?  Maybe we are.  They have a good home, great schools, and lack for nothing.  So, we both do our best to pretend.

I am exhausted and tired of pretending.  I am tired of trying.  I am tired of having to be the first one to try, when I feel in my heart it should be you trying.  You trying to show me you do love and care for me outside of being the mother of your kids, or wanting to have sex.  But you could never do that.  Ever.  In almost 20 years of marriage.

My 40th birthday is coming up.  And the biggest present I can give myself is the truth, to face it head on and quit pretending anything is ever going to change or get better.  It never does. 

I think we both know this is over.  It's only a matter of time.

I wish you no ill will.  You have been a big part of my life for almost half of it.  I hope when the final nail is put in this marriage's coffin, we can walk away friends.  For the sake of our kids, for the sake of all we have been through together.  I will always love you, as you are the father of my children.  But don't we both deserve some happiness before it's too late?

I just can't do this much longer.  And neither can you.  Let's stop pretending and be honest with each other.  We owe ourselves and our family that much.

Saturday, April 8, 2017

Rape and the way of the world.

God how I hate him.

Do you know?  Do you know or even care how you ruined my life?

You were like a brother to me.  And you knew it.  I called you my brother for Christ's sake.

When I was molested by the preacher's kid and his friend as a kid... I wanted to tell.  So bad.  But I was to scared and ashamed.

Then the marine at the party.... when I was in my late teens.  He didn't care to hear the word "no".  I tried to gloss it over.  But, it didn't work.  I tried not to believe it.  But which story was worse?  What he did to me?  Or the lie I told to try and believe it didn't happen?  When I finally tried to tell the truth, he didn't believe me.

Then there was you, Billy. My "brother", whom I loved as such.  You got drunk and smoked up that night.  I drank.  I drank  way too much.  I didn't do drugs and hated pot.  I went to pass out in my friend's bed.  A safe place.  Remember?  I know you do.

I remember you coming in and asking to lay down.  I trusted you.  How could you?  I remember we talked some... but then I went to sleep/passed out.  I remember waking up at one point, thinking you were touching me.  But you got still.  I thought it was just the booze messing with me and went back to sleep (passed back out).  I hazily remember you pulling out from behind cursing me under your breath.  Was that a bad dream?

No.  No it wasn't a bad dream.  I woke up... God only know when.... with my pants and panties missing.  Sore.

You raped me.  And you know it.

I screamed for help.  Mike came to my rescue and found my pants and panties.  Chris tried to get me to call the cops.  I called the hospital instead.  They wouldn't do a rape kit without calling the cops.  In my drunken state I thought I couldn't do this to my mom.  Her best friend's son.....  Chris finally let me shower, gave me pain pill and let me cry until I passed out while he kept watch.

I refused to give you a ride home the next day.  For the life of me I don't know why Mike gave you one.  When I got there, I was done holding my tongue.  Too many people in my life got away with hurting me.  Not just the one's named here, but a few others for other reasons.  I was done being a victim.  I finally confessed to my mom, and yours.  We lived together...all of us.

You had beaten me home.  You got them first.  You spun some kind of tale... I don't even know.  But they said you said you I might come home and blame you something.  And that you were too messed up.  And so was I.  I was literally told I may not be remembering things correctly.  And that whatever happened...IF... anything did (if... are you kidding me)....  it had to be my fault for drinking too.  They actually accused me of smoking up!  WTF!  Everyone knew that wasn't my thing.  It was the reason Lonnie and I failed.

Tell me this.... if you didn't do a damn thing wrong, why did you feel the need to go home and tell everyone something happened, but it wasn't your fault?  And why the fuck didn't anyone put that together?

You know what you did.  You know you raped me.  I was drunk. I was passed out.  And you didn't care.

You fucked up my life.  You were not some dumb kid.  You weren't a stranger.  You were my brother.  You lived in my home for a few years at this point.  Our moms were best friends.  How could you?

I forgave the preacher's son.  I have mostly forgave the marine ... the brother of a friend of a friend.  I mostly forgave my stalker who stole my car and my cat and threatened to rape to me and physically assaulted me and bullied me at school.  I have forgiven many people in my life... but you?  You I can't forgive. And I don't want too.  I trusted you.  I loved you like family.  How could you?

I tried to tell my story....and I wasn't believed.  I told my mom, yours (she lived with us and was there, but you got to them first didn't you?), and even my on and off again boyfriend.  I told him you hurt me.  You hurt me bad.  I cried each time I tried to tell my story.  It such a hard thing to admit too and tell.  No one believed me.

Congratulations.  You won.  Everyone wanted to believe you.  No one believed me.  Not one fucking person.  Except maybe Chris and Mike.  Mike being questionable...even though he was the one to find me in tears, screaming for help, and had to find my missing clothes.  The clothes I went to bed wearing and woke up missing.

The world... those I loved... wanted to believe you over me.  And the some still do.  Some still keep in touch with you.  But you and me?  We know different, don't we Billy Ray?  And deep down... so do some of them.

I understand why people don't come forward.  I tried, and no one believed me.  In my experience... I wouldn't advise any victim to ever come forward.  Ever.  Because if those who love you most don't believe you, who will?

You ruined my life.  I trust no one.  I can't watch certain movies or scenes because of you.  It brings back flash backs of spotty memory and pain.  I wake up from nightmares...even to this day.  I am scared to death for my 3 girls.  I try to warn them never to trust anyone...they think I am crazy.

You got the people I love to believe you over me, because you got them first.  And they never stopped to ask why that was.   My relationship with my mom and sisters is forever changed because of you.  You ruin lives, Billy.  That's what you do.

Am I crazy, Billy?  Am I?  The world was outraged at the guy who raped the passed out girl behind the dumpster.  Are you any better?  For raping a passed out girl in the bed next to you?   How come the world hates him, but loves you?  Wish I had some Swedish people to have saved me that night.

You are a fucking rapest.  Period.  The end.  You know it.  I know it.  I no longer need the world to believe me.  Because here's the thing... The truth is truth.  It doesn't change.  No matter what.  And you and I, we both know the truth.

I hate you.  I will always hate you.  I am suppose to forgive.  But I can't.  And I don't want too.  I want you to die a slow painful death.  But I'd settle for a long miserable life.

You are a monster.  You know it.  And I know it.  And no matter what the world chooses to believe, we know the truth.  You can't out run it.

The world is better off without you in it.  It's people like you ... you are the reason why people don't report more incidents of sexual assault and rape.

You are scum, a piece of shit.  You will never amount to thing because you are a loser who has to fuck passed out girls at parties in order to... what?  Get some?  Feel manly?  What?

Yes, Billy.  You fucked up my life and relationships (past and present).  But you weren't thinking of that were you?  Not when you had your dick inside a passed out girl.

I pray that your daughter never ever has to live through what you have put me through.  I pray she never knows the pain.  And never has the fucked up life that you have given me.

What would you do, Billy Ray, if someone did this to your daughter?

My life is forever changed because of you.  And not in a good way.  I pray I can teach my daughters so be more vigilant and never to trust a soul.  And I pray your daughter never knows this pain.

Fuck you Billy.  You spineless bastard.  You coward.  You rapist.

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

TMI: Venting

Ever just feel alone in the world?  I don't mean a life without people who care or love you.  I have that, or at least I believe I do.  I mean feeling like those around you just don't understand you.  You have those that put you in box.  And if you act outside that box they put you in, it throws them. 

Over the past few months I have noticed a trend in my life.  That I am put in a box.  I am expected to act a certain way, and if I don't, it throws people.  Even if other people we know act the same (or even worse).  Why is it okay for some and not for others? 

Sometimes I feel older than those my own age.  Other times I feel way less mature.  I never claimed to have it all figured out.  And sometimes I don't understand why others act like they do.  But I try not to judge.  I don't walk in their shoes.  Other times I just need to be a little less mature and more crazy and just let go some.  Sometimes I feel trapped by life.  Not that I don't love my life, I do.  But I think we all feel trapped every now and again.  And sometimes being a little less reserved helps to let off steam.

Things in my life are changing.  My relationships are changing.  Even those that I never thought would.  I was looking at a home for sale tonight that showed up in one of my feeds.  My daughter questioned me and asked if I would actually ever really leave our area and those we love.  There was a time in my life when there was no way I would ever consider such a thing.  Now, well.... My answer to her question was a resounding yes.  I'd leave in heartbeat if the opportunity presented itself.  I'd have no problem leaving.  And honestly, I don't think those who "closest" to me would have much of an issue either.  I can count on one hand those that would be hard to leave.  And doesn't cover the whole hand. 

Maybe I am just in a funk.  But lately, I feel like a change is needed in my life.  In ALL AREAS. 

I am ready to move to another city, state, country.  Whatever.  I don't think my absence here would make much difference to others.  But I think a new adventure might be good for me.  I don't know.  Sometimes I just need to talk it out and vent.  And I have no one in my life I can really do that with.  Not any more.  There is one amazing lady whom I just love.  But I find myself still somewhat guarded because of past experiences.

 I don't know.  Maybe it's just life again.  Changing.  I am no longer close to those I once was or understood by them.  My kids lives are jumping into major mile stones.  Maybe it's a midlife crises.  OH GOD!  LMAO

Truth is, times are changing.  Relationships are changing.  Everything is changing.  I am up to where ever the winds blows us as long as my husband and kids are by side.

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

True Randomness

I have so much going through me right now.  So much I can't give actual details too, and yet.... I have to get it out.

My family is going through so much right now.  We are in a time of turmoil, healing and growing.  And it sucks and yet, I have the highest hopes.

We are expecting visitors in a month's time.  And I am so excited to see them again.  Truly.  But They also have ties to someone who abandoned us and hurt us, with no just cause.  And as excited as I am to reconnect, I am also very weary.  It sucks to feel like this.

Then there is this amazing young women.. the daughter of an old childhood friend who lost touch with in the past 10 years or so.  This girl seems so amazing.  She reminds me so much of one of my own daughters in so many ways.  And love I have always had for her is still there and just as it has always been.  Thank God for the internet.  For I am finally able to see what a wonderful person she is.  I miss her mom terribly.  And yet I am so happy at the woman I see her daughter becoming.

Like I said, my family has our own issues.  And I feel torn between loved ones.  I pray I make the right choices.  I pray for healing in our home and family.

Life is crazy.  That's for sure.  It's a very bumpy, curvy ride.  But I am in it for long haul.  And I am all too thankful for those who are in it with me.

Monday, June 13, 2016


I am so ... ugh! I don't think there are words accurate enough to describe how I am feeling. Sad? Outraged? Angry? I just can't pick one. 
By now everyone has heard about the shooting at the night club called Pulse in Orlando, FL.  The last time I checked the press reported 50 people dead, and 53 wounded.  When I found out about the shooting, my heart sank.  Then I found out why the shooting took place, and my heart broke (terrorist hit targeting gays).

And as if this tragedy wasn't horrific enough, people decided to go online and start tweeting about it.  And it was ugly.  Click Here to see what I mean  I am sitting here blogging this because I have so many thoughts and emotions on this, and I need a way to unjumble the mess of thoughts and emotions going through me.

One of the thoughts flying around my mediocre brain is this:  Doesn't everyone know that it isn't just the gay community at the gay clubs?  Back in my clubbing days, straight people went to the gay club all the time.  It was a place to dance and not get hit on.  It was a place to enjoy your gay friends.  Just like how any club not deemed a "gay" club has gay people in it on any given night, the gay clubs also have a straight people in it.  Because so many people don't care about labels.  We judge people on their personalities and whether or not they are good people, instead of lifestyles, religion, or anything else you can discriminate against.  

But it goes deeper this.  The hate, the absolute abhorrent hate and lack of compassion make my blood boil, as if it is okay it kill people because they are gay.  What if someone who's religion decided that all blonds had to die, that they were instruments of the devil to seduce people?  Would that be okay?  Or what if someone decided Jewish people were a stain on the betterment of mankind and had to be killed?  Oh wait, that happened.  Or what if people decided that the color of your skin decided your place in society, and if you were not white, you were a lower class and had no rights, and could be killed just because you weren't white?  Oh, wait.  That happened in our history too. 
You see, there is no difference between the scenarios I listed and what happened at Pulse.  It's plain hate.  And what really gets in my crawl, is that some people don't even realize that.  They feel justified and hide behind religion.  You know, kinda the same way the shooter did.  In fact, this kind of religious "justification" makes those people no different than shooter.  

You don't have to agree with others to show kindness and compassion.

Since we are on to religion, I will say this:  The God that I worship did not rejoice in these killings.  He wept.  And he continues to weep at the lack of love and compassion humanity has.  
The shooting at Pulse gives us a very sad look into the pulse of humanity.   And I am troubled.  I am saddened.  I am enraged.  I am so many things.  

My heart goes out to all the victims of Pulse shooting and their families.  I pray they find some comfort in the days ahead.

Wednesday, June 8, 2016


In the headlines again is another sexual assault case.  The Brock Turner case.  In case you aren't aware of it yet, here is the summary:

Stanford Party.  Girl gets way too drunk and passes out behind a dumpster, where Brock Turner finds here.  He takes off her cardigan, pulls up her bra, and throws her panties to the side.  Two men on bikes pedal by and and see him on top of her thrusting away.  She has no memory of it.  She awakes in the ER to be told what has happened to her.  She has injuries.  Brock Turner only got 6 months in jail and probation for his crime.  The country is horrified.  His father said it was a tough sentence for twenty minutes of action.  Seriously.  He said that.  Brock was athlete, a swimmer.  He lost his scholarship too.  The whole thing has everyone talking.  To read all the articles online, you see how the woman was victimize and yet the court was more worried about this young man's future than what had happened to her.  It's terrible.  And you know what?

I feel for her.

I was her.  Only I didn't press charges.

I was at a party a while back.  I was a teenager.  I was at a close friends apartment and knew just about everyone there.  I even brought a friend with me.  He was more like family, than a friend.   I drank underage and drank way too much.  I went to my friend's bedroom to lay down.  I remember the guy I brought with me asking if he could lay with me.  I felt safe.  I passed out.

I woke up some time later with NO clothes on the bottom half of my body.  I was sore.  I started screaming for help and crying.  My friends helped me find my clothes.  We called the hospital to ask about rape kit.  I couldn't have one without filing a police report.  I was scared.  That was the last thing I wanted.  Police.  Court.  No.  I just wanted to shower.  It took some convincing, but my friends finally let me shower.

I don't think I ever scrubbed myself so hard in all my life.  I cried the entire time.

Afterwards I retired to another bedroom where my friend stood watch over me all night.  He gave me some medicine for pain, and I cried myself to sleep.  I left the next morning, and left the guy I thought was family there to find his own ride home.  Oh yeah... no one kicked him out.

I was a wreck.  I didn't know what to do. I told my mom,who was best friends with his mom, and she was there too.  I just kept crying and said he hurt me.  I was asked if I was sure.  I was told he admitted to partying too much that night (he not only drank but did some drugs as well.  Something I was not into.  And who talks to their mom about this stuff before hand if they don't think they did anything wrong?  Isn't that called damage control?)  I was asked that maybe it didn't happen like that.  That maybe my drinking meant that maybe I had consented and... ???   Yeah.  He was the one being defended.  I was the one no one believed.  Forget that I was wreck.  Forget there were witnesses who said he was the ONLY one in that room with me, and had to help me find my clothes, and soothe me.  No no.  It was my fault.  I should not have drank so much (forget he did too, on top of drugs).  This was my fault.  I must not be remembering correctly.  Forget those who knew... who were there...who saw my pain and panic and tears.  Let me tell you something... life's a bitch.

At first I had wished I had gone ahead and went to the hospital and pressed the charges.  But then I realized that if those closest to me didn't believe me, why would the courts?  To this day he is free man.

I HATE HIM.  I trusted him.  I thought of him like a brother.  And he violated me.  And no one cared.  No one but the two men who helped me find my clothes, watched over me, kept me safe and begged me to go the hospital.

The guy who did this to me has never apologized, never felt remorse, never looked backed.  He didn't care about how what he did affected me.  He doesn't care that when something triggers me it effects me for weeks.  WEEKS!!!  Even to this day!

After this assault, I thought myself a victim.  It took years, YEARS, to push past this.  To push past all of this, and realize I was not a victim.  I was a survivor.  I was actually stronger than I thought.  The sad fact is though, when something triggers me, I feel like a victim all over again.

This kind of thing becomes a part of you.  It changes you in ways you can't even explain.  It becomes a part of who you are.  It's a sick and disgusting thing.  And it's now a part of you.  It shapes how you see others, how you trust, how you see yourself and any self worth you thought you had.  It's sad when 20 years later you still can't see certain scenes in movies or shows because it triggers nightmares.  It triggers all the feelings of helplessness, pain, sorrow, anger,.... so many things.  It NEVER goes away.  Like I said, it becomes a part of you.  You can forget after some time.  But when you least expect it, something will trigger you again.  And it takes quite a while to get back to normal again.  First months, then eventually weeks.   It never really goes away.   I still have issues with self worth.

You see, what this poor woman went through with Brock Turner, is not an exception.  It happens every day.  Every day women are assaulted and no one believes them.  They make them out to be at fault.  IT'S NOT THEIR FAULT!!!  I was in jeans and shirt.  What a woman is wearing does not matter.  If a woman cannot talk, she cannot consent.  A passed out woman is not asking for it.  Neither is one who isn't passed out.

We have to stop blaming the victims.  We need to start holding these predators accountable for their actions.

I no longer trust people like I use too.  My now loving husband had to nurse me through my nightmares (which I still have when triggered).   Seeing all this in the news and on social media has brought back all the pain again.  I don't sleep (not that I was sleeping all that well anyway).  I wake up having nightmares all over again.  Feeling the shame, the pain, the panic, the anger.   I worry about my daughters.  Because I know all too well that those you trust can hurt you in the worst ways.  This is something I carry with me.  I cannot watch certain scenes in movies without flashing back to this night (and a few other assaults I have endured).

I hate what happened to this woman.  I understand her pain.  I hate that Brock Turner got a light slap on the wrist for forever changing this woman's life.  I admire her for having the courage to do what I could not.

Let's stop blaming victims.  Let's start really letting these perverts, these predators, know that they are at fault.  And that we as society will no longer stand idly by and just let them do this.