My Achin' Back!

Today was filled with all kinds of fun, exciting things to do!
First, last night and this morning, Wonderful Hubby (hereafter to be known as W.H.) and I pretty much had to dismantle the entire top part of the engine of my car to get to the broken Tie-Rod and replace it. Then I had to change my brakes, cuz they began grinding like mad on Thursday. And, YES, I did the work... and I have the broken thumbnail to prove it!

My next project was to mow our one acre lawn. Just picture dust, grass flying everywhere, sunburn and sneezes violent enough to cause me to wet myself. Loads of fun.

Then, this afternoon my friend came over and we painted the last room in the house that needed painting before we move next weekend. I WAS planning to box up most of the kitchen today also, but W.H. forgot to pick up another roll of bubble wrap for me when he went to Menard's today.

Then at about 6:00 this evening D walks in as I was giving serious thought to dying, and his face was white as a sheet.
"Mom, a deer just hit my car. I was on my way home and after I made the turn onto our road, this big ass buck jumped out from the ditch and hit the side of my car. It's wrecked"
"Watch your mouth please, and are you okay?" I asked (must have priorities here!)
"Yea, I'm fine... pretty freaked out though. It wasn't there! Then BAM!" (Which, if you have ever hit a deer, is pretty much EXACTLY how it happens!)
So I went out to look over the damage to the 1987 Nissan 300Z (which W.H. still drives (drove) back and forth to work until we move, then D was going to own it) and sure enough, it is pretty messed up. Apparently, the deer hit the drivers side front quarter panel, bounced out, then hit just behind the drivers door and slid down to the back bumper. Essentially the entire drivers side is wrecked, including the mirror (which is gone completely) except for the door. SO.
That vehicle will NOT be making the trip to Texas with the family. It is on its way to the happy junkyard in the sky, and we will give sonny the money from that so that he can combine it with what he has in the bank and get himself another vehicle once we make the move. W.H. is on the road again. Only this time he is headed west to Illinois. He left about an hour ago to take his boys back to their moms house. Ahhhhh... peace and quiet. Bliss.
Tomorrow I plan to go pick up the bubble wrap I needed today, and also some lumber so that I can build a new front stoop for the house, since the one we have is made of brick and falling apart. We are down to having only ONE room left to finish... hopefully we can get the drywall up monday and tuesday. I will mud it as we go along, and then the new owners, whoever they eventually end up being can slap some paint on it.
I am SO over this house. I can't even tell you. Have you ever seen the movie with Tom Hanks and Shelly Long "The Money Pit"? Yeah.
Enjoy the rest of your weekend...I need to go find the Ben-Gay.

Sad

Today is a sad day.
Today I became officially unemployed as I left my wonderful job in preparation for the move.
All my coworkers took me to a local Mexican restaurant for a lovely lunch, and went around the table each sharing something special about me that they appreciated.
According to them I am:
Very caring, dedicated, passionate, energetic, friendly, compassionate, devoted, assertive, a good listener, empathic, genuine, honest, organized, have a good sense of humor and a bizarre life that I share with amazing stories.

Then they handed me two bags of gifts; a book, a lovely CD, an absolutely gorgeous blown-glass ball with an adaptation of the "tree of life" in the center for our new home and a relaxation candle.
Each person had written a lovely message in the card. I felt so appreciated and loved.

I started at the crisis center as a volunteer Sexual Assault Response Advocate five years ago. A little under one year ago they hired me to recruit, train, and manage the volunteer program as well as spearhead the launch of the Stewards of Children child sexual abuse prevention program.

Now I need to break out my resume, dust it off, and hope like hell I can find another agency half as wonderful in Texas as the one I was part of here in Ohio.
I truly love these people I work(ed) with. I have made many lifelong friends, and I am sad to be leaving them.
I know that there are new adventures waiting for me in Texas... but for today... I am sad.

My First HNT

Okay... I am taking the plunge. But, not really... Just dipping a finger in to test the water. Because of my past history, I tend NOT to reveal a lot of skin... so, bear with me as I start slowly here. Plus, taking my time and showing teeny tiny bits gives me more time to get closer to my weight goal! ;o)
So, anyway...there is also this meme that fairyflutters did today, and I thought I would add it to my post as well. That's below.

Raw “I”s

I am: Frustrated with trying to buy a house from 1200 miles away.

I think: that I am a great mom.

I know: that I am smart and capable of accomplishing anything I set my mind to.

I want: to finally make this move to Texas happen and get it over with.

I have: Rheumatoid Arthritis.

I wish: that I didn't have Rheumatoid Arthritis.

I hate: that I let myself get this much overweight.

I miss: holding my children when they were babies.

I fear: spiders. Big, small, hairy, nekkid, doesn't matter. If it has 8 legs... GROSS!

I feel: tired, stressed and a little lost knowing that I will be unemployed as of noon tomorrow.

I hear: the movie my step-son is watching.

I smell: my shampoo cuz' my hair is in my face.

I crave: a romantic weekend away with my husband.

I search: for a new job in Texas.

I wonder: if anyone knows that I am not as confident as I appear.

I regret: not going to college after high school.

I love: reading a good book.

I ache: for relief from the chaos that is my life at the moment.

I am not: happy to miss Thanksgiving with my family this year due to the move.

I believe: that I will lose weight this time!

I dance: rarely but slowly with my husband in our living room.

I sing: Alone in my car because it sounds like cats fighting when I sing.

I cry: rarely.

I don’t always: give myself credit for being a good person.

I fight: to end violence against women and children.

I write: because I love words.

I win: because this wonderful man loves me.

I lose: the ability to think straight when I get very angry.

I never: get enough sleep to feel rested.

I always: love my family.

I confuse: my stepchildren.

I listen: when a survivor talks and needs to be heard.

I can usually be found: reading or writing something.

I am scared: of spiders. Didn't I already make that clear? Sheesh! ;o)

I need: to finish packing up the house.

I am happy: when I am holding my husband's hand as we are walking along.

I imagine: the day when hubby and I have some time to ourselves.

Now it's YOUR turn... give it a try, it really makes you think.

This is SO Awesome!

Today marks an amazing day in American history.
Finally, love is accepted in all it's many forms and members of the GLBT community are allowed the same rights as the rest of us Americans.
YAY!
Up yours GWB with your constitutional amendment!
In case you have no clue what the hell I am referring to... Today marks the first day that gay marriages are legally recognized in California.

Ok... I feel the glares and daggers being aimed at me already. C'mon people! I work in the Social Work field, what do you expect? ;o)

I personally have no problem with homosexuality. In my life and in my career, I have seen more vicious abuse and destruction on the part of "traditional" marriages than I can relate to you, and have seen more true kindness, caring, and love between gay partners than I have personally witnessed in any marriage save my own to my wonderful hubby.

I believe that Love, wherever it is found, whether in a traditional marriage or a gay marriage is something to be celebrated, especially in a world so filled with hate and violence.

Ok... I'm ready... let the snark begin should you feel it necessary to castigate me for my sinful and liberal ways.

Avoidance & Silence; That's the Easy Way

Apparently, my previous post made some people uncomfortable, and I began to think yesterday that I really need to make an effort to not make people uncomfortable with my writings.

I have gotten so used to, and comfortable with, my childhood and the nightmare of it that it truly does not bother me (I speak publicly at seminars and trainings and public events) and I forget that it can be very uncomfortable for others when I suddenly just whip out a memory willy-nilly and throw it out there.

But, then I think...avoidance is what prolonged the torture.
Avoidance is what allowed my mother and several other adults in my young world to ignore the signs and allow the abuse to continue unchecked for more than ten years.

Silence (mine), the inability to use my voice, is what allowed the abuse to continue beyond the very first time he touched me in an evil way.

Avoidance and silence are what perpetuate the cycle.

I speak out knowing and understanding that I will make people uncomfortable. But it needs to happen. If we ever have a hope in hell of stopping this epidemic, survivors need to speak out. We can no longer bury our heads in the sand, pull the covers over our heads, or close our eyes and count to ten hoping that when we open our eyes again the boogeyman will be gone.

How can I remain silent when I know that 1 in 4 girls and 1 in 6 boys WILL BE sexually abused before the age of 18? I can't. Not and be able to live with myself.
If, by my speaking out about what was done to me and the nightmare I have lived, I can save even ONE child, then I know I have done right.

When I teach the class called "Stewards of Children" (check here for more information: www.darkness2light.org) One of the first things I have participants do is fill in a worksheet with the names of four girls and six boys in their lives that are under the age of 18. Most of the time, they have no idea of the reason for this until about 15 minutes into the program. Then I see the shock and horror on their faces when they make the connection. That makes it personal.

No one is immune. Child sexual abuse crosses all boundaries; social, economic, race, religion. No one is immune.

So, I will continue to periodically relate the story of my life as an abused child. All I can hope for is that someone will read a post pertaining to that aspect of my life and it will send up a red flag in their minds. All I can hope for is that once that flag is waved, they will find their voice and refuse to succumb to Avoidance and Silence in order to protect that child.

That said; I apologize if some of my posts make you uncomfortable. I have no desire to hurt anyone. Nor do I wish to alienate the few regular readers that I have. (all four of you)
But, as long as I know that there are children living in fear and shame, I will continue to speak out in an effort to save them. I have to.
How can I not?

A Letter To My Father On Father's Day

Neal,
Happy Father's Day dad.
How does it feel knowing that you will not get one single card today? Not one phone call? How does it feel to know that you were so drunk and vicious and horrid that not one of your five adult children gives a shit if you are alive or dead?

What you did to my four brothers and my mother was horrible enough. But what you did to me, your only daughter. There are not words in the English language to adequately describe what you did to me. But, finally, I need to try, and you need to know. So, if you have any balls at all you will read to the end. I doubt you will. You truly have never given a shit about anyone other than yourself. You ARE shit. You are pure evil, and you are the only person on the face of the planet that I truly wish I could kill. But, I can't. Because I am better than you. I am stronger than you. You are nothing, and not worth my time.

You are a vampire sucking the life from everyone around you. You are a taker. You took innocence from me. You took the joy of childhood from me. You took my world, my life, and made it this dark, ugly place of fear and terror and filth. You made me dirty. You made me want to die. You made it almost impossible for me to ever have a healthy, normal relationship with a man. But I am stronger than you, and I now have an amazing, wonderful life in spite of you.

I will not write about everything you did to me in this letter, but dear God, You AUCTIONED your 17 year old daughter off to a room full of drunks and were proud that you got a sick fuck to offer you a month's salary for one night with your DAUGHTER! Your child. The person you were supposed to protect. Then you came back and told me about it with pride in your voice. I wanted to vomit. Even today, so many years later, I want to vomit whenever I think of that night at the Norwich Fair. I guess I can be happy that at least you did not follow through and force me to allow myself to be raped by more drunks than you.

It has taken me 20 years to get to a point where I can consider myself healed of you. I will never be whole. You took too much from me for me to ever be whole again.

Are you proud? Do you look back on the years of my life with you when you taught me so much about true evil and have fond memories?

Do you sleep at night?

Do you enjoy spending Fathers Day knowing that there is not one person on the planet who will shed a tear at your passing?

Do you look forward to your eternity in Hell? I do. I know that nothing I can do here and now will ever touch you or make you feel bad for what you did. But, I can look forward to the day I get a call telling me that you have died, and I can know without shadow of doubt that you are where you belong. In Hell. Burning for eternity. Feeling the terror and shame of your victims.
I will do what I have to to attend your funeral. I will spit on your grave. I will spit on you.

I only hope that I can see you one more time before you finally free the world of your vileness. I will spit on you.

Happy Fathers Day Asshole.

500 Miles & a Creepy Truck Driver

I drove 500 miles today, a trip I have made many, many times in the past eight years. I hate this trip.
When I left my ex-husband, I moved the boys and myself 500 miles away. He was mean to them, and it was escalating to what would very soon be violence.
I grew up abused, no way in hell was I going to allow that to happen to my kids.
So, I packed them up and moved 500 miles away from anyone or anything I knew. When we arrived in Ohio, I did not know a single person.
But, I hoped that with the distance between them, the boys dad might be nice to them when he did see them. For the most part, it has worked.
However, several times each year, I make the trek to the halfway point to take the boys to spend time with their dad.
I hate that damn trip.
I don't know if I have ever mentioned before, but I don't like to drive. Not because I am a bad driver, but because there are so many morons on the road.
They irritate me. Somebody does something monumentally stupid behind the wheel and the She-Hulk puts in an appearance.
I rant.
I rage.
I pound the steering wheel.
My face turns an unflattering shade of red, flames shoot from my eyes, smoke from my ears, and I grind my teeth to sharp little nubs.
And it's so bleeding boring!
Hours and hours just sitting, staring at the road, watching out for aforementioned morons, road construction, and tractor-trailers.
Today on my way to pick D up from a week at his dad's, I had a creepy trucker experience. Have you ever had one of these?
Fifteen miles from the house at about 6:00am this morning, a humongous orange rig pulls up beside me, and matches my speed. I look over and there is this fairly normal looking guy smiling at me and giving me "thumbs up".
I smile and wave, then return to focusing on my coffee and keeping the beat with the oh so talented Freddie Mercury and Queen. (The BEST band EVER, and I was heartbroken when he died).
As I switched CD's to the amazing Sarah MacLachlan, I realized that Mr. Trucker dude was STILL matching my speed, but now pulling slightly ahead on my right and waving to get my attention. When I looked at him, he made the "ok" sign with his thumb and forefinger, winked and got this really big, creepy smile on his face.
Then after a while of this (several miles), he grabbed a piece of paper, and fanning himself mouthed "your so hot". Still grinning like a loon.
Okay.
Now, lets look at a few facts, shall we?
I had been awake for exactly 45 minutes after about four hours of sleep. I was on my first cup of coffee and I am a 40 year old chubby chick, with my hair scraped back into a braid, no makeup, and a "comfy" dress designed to not make me want to rip off all my clothes and run screaming through the truckstop after being in the car for many hours with no A/C.
One word covers todays look quite well: EWWW!
HOT never even entered into the same solar system as me today.
And still, this trucker continued this charade for an hour and a half! This guy needs an intervention. Or a cell. Not quite sure which.
So, by this time I was fairly well creeped out, and when I saw a sign for a truckstop, I decided rather quickly that the time had come to end my lurid trucker affair, and dashed off the offramp, double checking that he did not follow.
Several hours later after I had picked D up from his dad and we were back on the road heading home, I told him about the trucker.
His response?
"Ya know mom, that guys probably a perpetrator".
I had to stop the car to wipe a tear of pride from my eye.
The only reason I could think of for the guys bizarre behavior was my bumper sticker.
You see, I have a sticker on the back of my car that reads "Well behaved women seldom make history".
So, all I could surmise is that this Neanderthal read this sticker and instead of correctly interpreting that I am slightly feminist and refuse to "know my proper place" as a woman, he probably read it and thought "Woo Hoo! a bad girl! I could get lucky today".
Ick.
Creep.