Thankfully Chewed Up and Spat Back Out!

Sleep is not coming easy tonight. There's just too much on mind. A lot of good things and then there are some worries that are weighing heavy. The #WhenIBecameFree project is doing well, actually better than I thought it would when earlier this summer I decided to give it my all. The survivor stories are forthcoming. The survivors are strong and organized to help others. It has been an amazing journey. I did have to slow down on writing as my fingers are not cooperating with me but at the same time the documentary part of the project is moving forward. Thomas Houy from iLead Charter School in Mauston is gearing up and surprisingly we may a media company jumping on board to help see this and that the documentary is well done. The support has been amazing. We're addressing some issues in my local community. This may not thrill some people but the focus is bringing awareness, filling in those gaping holes in the safety net for victims and breaking cycles of abuse, whether it

Simply put.... If a child is continuously exposed to domestic violence and you know about it and do nothing - you are part of the problem If a victim reaches out for help to leave an abusive situation and you don't do everything in your power to get them to the right people and resources - you are part of the problem. There has been enough coverage and public service announcements so if you ask or say... Why did she stay? Why didn't they report it sooner? It was just the alcohol talking not really him/her , they didn't mean it... Get over it and move on..... She's (he) asking for it by going back, they get what they deserve... She/he only wants attention ...... She/he is not innocent..... What did you say to make him/her so mad at you? Did you hear what happened over at ---- the other night? (whispering)??? You are part of the problem.  It is a problem plaguing our nation, our states, our communities, and our neighbors. Be part of a sol

Working with survivors and being one, I know that one of the greatest hurdles towards healing is the constant worry about what others say about us. Even more so, are the lies that are told.  If we grew up in an abusive environment (most of us have) and then continued that pattern of living in abuse as adults, we've been surrounded by pathological liars and have done absolutely everything we can to keep them happy so that we do not end up on the brown end of the lying stick. It is one of the ways they controlled us, that fear of what they would say to others and then, would all those others believe them. In a twisted way, some of us, felt safer living with the abuse than facing what life would be like with all those lies slapping us in the face, everywhere we'd go. My ex-husband was extremely skilled at lying. I even started to believe he was so gifted at it, he started believing those lies to the point he'd attempt to use them against me when he was drunk. They were p

Savannah working her magic at her first speaking endeavor.  In a few of my posts this week I've mentioned that it has been a very busy week. It was a week of meetings promoting the project and bring into focus community needs in helping victims of abuse become survivors, then also helping victims find resources and support to become those survivors and finally also watching some of the #WhenIBecameFree survivors blossoming as they share their voice publically for the first time. When I started the project I had no idea where it would take me and what it would mean to so many, including myself. I just knew that the stories were out there and they needed to be told to start the gears rolling toward positive change. Tuesday evening I held a speaking event at Beyond the Daily Grind in my little city of Mauston, WI. in rural Juneau County. Originally I had scheduled the event to tell my story and the story of the project, but the more I watched the survivors bond and work in c

Today I learned that my youngest son Kyle  has quite a bit in common with a couple of inmates who are incarcerated at the New Lisbon Correctional Institution - at a young age they all wrapped their hands around a baseball bat to protect themselves and their loved ones from the person they loved and all because domestic violence had taken hold in their childhood home. With the #WhenIBecameFree project I am not only collecting stories from survivors, I am also trying to get out into the community and share the message about the project and how embracing your story, owning your experiences and to then being open to let others know about it all, is healing - healing for you and also them. When I speak to a group at the prison I always open with the fact we have more in common than we have different. That common bond is our childhoods. I ask the group to raise their hands if they grew up with domestic violence, addictions and/or in a single parent family - all hands raise. That is m

Yesterday was one of those days where my fingers were so swollen I was making continuous typos. I sat in a meeting to present about the  #WhenIBecameFree  project. It was with the Juneau County Economic Development Corporation. Attending the meeting with me was one of the survivors,  Kelli.  I had her go with because I wanted her to speak about an offshoot from the project,  Kelli's Haven. During the presentation I highlighted the negative impact domestic violence and sexual assault has on the local economy and how it touches just about every aspect of our community from home, school, church and beyond. Thankfully, those present understood. I believe the meeting went well- the 15 minutes I was told I would have turned into an hour of basically a roundtable discussion with some positive opportunities opening up. Someone asked me to write my name and cell number on a piece of paper. Those damn swollen fingers made that task hard - typing is easier than wrapping my hand around

I dropped the phone and ran to the bathroom, just making it in time to violently vomit into the toilet. I couldn't breathe. I was shaking. My heart was pounding out of my chest. The boys were due to be home any minute, they had been at the park, it was summer and they were there for the free lunch program. I didn't know what I was going to do. I didn't know what I would tell them. I didn't know if what I just heard, was even true. All I knew was my life was out of control and I had no one to help me pick up the pieces. That was just proven to me by the person who had been on the other end of the phone call, it was an immediate family member. "You fucking bitch, you finally did it! You fucking bitch! Tim is hanging in a motel room in Monona! I hope you're fucking happy with yourself!"   That was when I dropped the phone and ran to the bathroom - A neighbor happened to be over when all of this took place. She witnessed it all. When that family member