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Showing posts from July, 2018

Savannah's Journey - #WhenIBecameFree

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Earlier today I sat down with a young survivor of child sexual assault and a rape facilitated by the date rape drug. Her name is Savannah and this wasn't the first time I heard her story. I met her a few months ago when I did an article on mental health awareness. Savannah told her story to me then, but at the time we kept her identity confidential, this time she's claiming her story. Savannah is in the early years of her healing journey and like most survivors at that stage that I have met, shares the frustration with wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible. One of the hardest hurdles to tackle while healing is learning patience, patience with yourself. It took me many years to be able to step back a bit and give up control. I had to learn to trust and love myself, even today there are times I still struggle with that issue of trust. I have no doubt Savannah will get to that point, she's already claiming her story, sharing her journey, and willing to allow h

Observations - #WhenIBecameFree

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Today has been a day of physical rest. The last couple of weeks have been a whirlwind and I've been fighting a massive autoimmune flare for about a week. I hate that my body doesn't always keep up with my mind and all of the things I want and need to accomplish. For instance, right now, my fingers are all over the damn place, they're hitting the wrong keys and I am needing to backtrack and edit as I type. The joys of Rheumatoid. I think soon I will have to swallow my pride and stubbornness and get my butt to a doctor, again - but, first,  I need to finish up this project, sell my home and then move to be closer to my boys - then it will be time for the doctor and the rollercoaster ride of tests and treatments. That's the plan and it has to work out that way- it has to as my gut tells me I will need their help...even if it is just laughter. I don't handle doctors well. I am getting close to the final stages of the #WhenIBecameFree project. I have collected quit

#WhenIBecameFree is when I stopped comparing myself to others

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We sabotage ourselves when we compare our lives, our healing - ourselves, to others. Remember that while many of us may have survived through trauma and we can bond over that fact, the road leading up to that pivotal time in our lives was uniquely our own, as is the path and interactions we have on our healing journey. Do not compare the rate you are healing with another person's journey - when you do, that is your lack of self-esteem trying to control you. I truly believe the path to healing is a lifelong endeavor, and that is okay. If you can welcome and embrace that concept, you will make strides. Do not place expectations on what you think being healed from trauma means. I once did that and when I was unable to achieve what I assumed being healed meant, I tumbled down a rut that I had to claw my way out of, again. Healing is knowing you are worth the effort to grow beyond your past. Healing is an action, meaning you are taking care of yourself. Healing means you are r

Shame Shifting - Society's Dysfunction #WhenIBecameFree

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"You need to forgive him and let him see the kids! He's not a mass murderer!"  Those were the words of one of my siblings to me - they came via a phone call about 5 years ago. They hit me like a punch to the gut. The "him" was my ex-husband who was sitting in prison for 8 years on a plea agreement conviction of 2nd Degree Sexual Assault/Use of Force and Battery. Both under the modifier of domestic abuse as a repeat offender. Crimes committed against me and in front of our children. Immediately I found myself trying to explain how I wasn't keeping him away from the children, the prison and his probation agent was. I can remember shaking like a leaf, even though anger was building in me - two sides of me battling, the once victim vs the healing survivor. I didn't know then there was a term for what I was experiencing and what that sibling did to me, I did know it was wrong and I felt betrayed by a member of my own family and it wasn't the fir

Attempted Murder/Suicide - Rob tells his story of growing up in the aftermath #WhenIBecameFree

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This story is a hard one for me to tell. Rob is a dear friend of mine. I met him when I was just 17 years old. It was back in the days when I was struggling with my own secrets. One of my brothers introduced my friend Carla and I to a little dive neighborhood bar in Schiller Park, IL. Behind the bar was a retired cop named Bobby. He knew we were under-age but he didn't care. Rarely did we drink. We just went there for the atmosphere and to socialize. Carla and I claimed one of the tables by the dart machine. It soon became known to others that no one else should sit there - it was our spot. A part of me remembers those days with fondness and another part of me has some regret. It was not the place for a young girl, especially a young vulnerable girl with little to no self-esteem. That bar fed a false confidence in me, as rarely did Carla or I had to spend money - our drinks were bought, pool and dart games were paid for, and men would give us money to play the jukebox. For the

Remembering the burden - emotional abuse

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Ok, so you better get used to this - as I walk the #WhenIBecameFree project journey, there may be days where I feel the need to write more than one post a day. Hearing all the stories will no doubt bring back some memories. Just a little while ago I was walking the aisles at my local grocery store. I was trying to figure out something to make myself for dinner when all of a sudden I had a flashback memory cross my mind. I left for the store right after posting my last blog. I think the reason for the flashback was because I was thinking about all the physical abuse the victim endured, and I wondered about the emotional abuse that I didn't know about. Describing physical attacks can create a visual in the readers' mind and will more than likely get their attention to keep them reading. But often it is the emotional abuse domestic violence victims sustain that keep them frozen in place. One word kept playing over and over in my head, "burden." I hate that word.

She survived domestic violence and marital rape and now works with abusers #WhenIBecameFree

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I met her a decade ago. We volunteered together at a monthly endeavor where a free meal would bring together all walks of life in our rural community. I've always been drawn to her. She has an outgoing personality and loves to laugh. She's blunt and doesn't sugarcoat life, I appreciate those qualities in a person. I was reminded of that yesterday when we met to have some coffee so she could tell me her story for the #WhenIBecameFree project I am working on. We haven't seen much of each other since those days of volunteering, but when two survivors get together and speak openly, it is amazing the bond that is created. At this time I am not disclosing her name and her specific position, there's a reason for all of that - she works in the justice system and works with many abusers. Her safety and position could be at stake. We sat in a local coffee house and the time slipped away as she went into detail about her life experiences. Close to three hours of time

This is what I do...#WhenIBecameFree

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This morning as I sit here sipping my coffee and taking in the morning news, I am feeling rather hopeful. I know I am on the right path with moving forward with When I Became Free . I am glad I made the decisions I have this year - I am following a dream and a path that was laid decades ago and it feels good. The prevalence of abuse, whether it is child sexual abuse, child abuse or domestic violence and sexual assault as an adult, touches more lives than people will ever realize - I hope to change that, even if it is one person at a time. For years I've worked 1:1  with survivors. I am the ear and sounding board they need. I help find resources and provide whatever guidance I can. The most important thing I offer, in my opinion, is no judgments.  Their wounds are deep and the symptoms of their pain are very noticeable. For the most part, I keep their stories confidential. I do so unless they are taking part in #WhenIBecameFree  .  But, to give you an example of how wide-s

Being strong is not always what you think

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This past weekend I had a long discussion with my son Kyle. A discussion that quite literally lasted two days. He told me that sometimes he wished he had my strength, that I am Superwoman in his eyes. He wanted some of my backbone....etc.. "You can handle anything life throws at you, mom," he said. Here's the truth many people seen as strong don't always speak about. We're scared as hell. The outside world may see us as a tower of strength, but inside we're just as fragile, just as vulnerable,  as anyone else who walks this Earth. We have feelings. We cry.  We have self-doubt. We're fearful of failure.  We sometimes get angry that we need to be strong all the time. We are often tired and need a break more than anyone will ever know.  When you're a woman seen as a strong or confident personality there is extra added pressure on you - plus, then there are the labels that get assigned to you - bitch is at the top of the list. You&#

Facing My Past is When I Became Free

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A couple of days ago I had the opportunity to go back to the area where many of my childhood nightmares were formed. It is also a place that holds many cherished memories.  At one time I struggled with that fact, however, Monday proved to me that somehow I was blessed with a balance of experiences to allow me a foundation to step out on for my healing journey. The reason that opportunity came about was due to the fact I had to drive my two sons into Chicago so they could take a bus back to Memphis after a few short days home in Mauston for a benefit Kyle  performed at.  I was already in a fragile mood as I hate seeing my children leave - I so wished we could have had some more time together, but the whirlwind of the few days they were here wouldn't allow for that. Last Friday was when they arrived and I picked them up. On that drive, we stopped by the cemetery where my father is buried - All Saints Cemetery in Des Plaines, IL. We didn't have a lot of time as Kyle needed t