Confessions of a recovering skeptic

Inside I'm screaming...

2013-03-02T14:09:00.000-08:00

Here we go with the first post of this new way to write. I’m flipping to the first page I find in the book…and writing about whatever comes to mind. Opening book now…

That’s ironic. The title of the post is “Courage” and it’s all about abandoning your strong face sometimes to admit that things really are a lot harder than you let on…and that you’re struggling a lot more than anyone realizes. This reading really kind of smacked me in the face. Funny how God plans stuff like that right? I guess this is as good of a time as any…to be completely honest with everyone reading this. As someone who prides herself on letting it all out on this blog…I will admit that lately I haven’t. I think I had this mental idea of a predetermined time for grieving. You get 2-3 months…and then it’s time to move on with your life. So after that time frame…I pushed it all back. Time to get back to working, school, daily life. Life wasn’t going to stop because I was sad…so it was time to stop dwelling.

After the initial shock wears off…people stop asking how you are. They too have that preconceived idea that after the mourning period…the pain goes away. You should be USED to dealing with it. But come on…how many of us get used to a family member being gone forever? It’s life changing. Especially one in such a strange and twisted circumstance. It still doesn’t seem real. After not seeing him for 3 years, and then not talking to him for the last year…it hasn’t fully sunk in. My dad is gone forever…and nothing is going to change that.

Some days, I actually forget about it completely. I will go all day without one thought about it. But other days…the pain is so crippling that I feel like he died yesterday. But I go on with my life. I force myself out of bed…and even if someone does notice that something is wrong…I brush it off with a “I didn’t sleep too well last night” or “I just have a test tomorrow I’m worried about”. But honestly? Pure brutal honesty? It’s complete bullshit. I put on a brave face all the time…because it’s how I grew up. But inside…I am SCREAMING at the top of my lungs out of pure terror and hurt.

The reading I flipped to says “In many a family with impending crisis, there is the self-proclaimed Pollyanna who ties to keep a stiff upper lip, a calm head, and an optimistic smile in the face of growing chaos.” Then further “What seems like courage may really be a form of evasion or denial…behind the mask of denial, the illusion of self-sufficiency, there really cowers a frightened, helpless child.” Hard words to hear when you know it’s true.

That reading was perfect. I am the constant martyr. I won’t admit when I need help…I’ll just work and push harder to handle it myself. A very self-destructive trait if you think about it. So from here on out I’m going to try harder to let others in. I’m going to try harder to be as honest as possible when something is wrong instead of just putting on the strong face. And I’m going to let people help. I’m not alone in all this…even though I try so hard to be.

New directions

2013-03-02T12:52:00.001-08:00

I have been a spaz lately…and completely incapable of forming any kind of intellectual post. I’m not sure what’s going on in my head…but I haven’t gotten the urge to write like I always used to. Granted I have a few papers laying around with ideas jotted down on them from being bored at work or in class. But even once I look back on them with time to write…suddenly my mind goes blank. All of my philosophical thoughts go right out the window along with the rest of my sanity. I’ve thought about making this like homework…and forcing myself to write during a certain time every day/week. But I also don’t want to do that to myself. This blog was for my own journey…and I can’t force thoughts to come. So I’m going to try a new way to go about this. I found my “Today a Better Way” book yesterday while I was cleaning, and was browsing through it. It suddenly got me wanting to write about topics in it. So the new plan…flip to a random page, and then go with whatever it sparks. There’s a page for every day…so this could keep me busy for months to come J

I hold myself to a high standard that my posts have to be long, and full of stories, deep thoughts, etc. But in reality, sometimes I just want to post “Today sucked. I missed my dad. I cried.” Because some days…that’s really all I can think about because I’m so tired. I was reading a post today about people who “Fakebook”…basically they make their lives look AMAZING on Facebook…when in reality, they haven’t showered in two days, and their house is in shambles (oh wait…that’s me…whatever). You get my point. I realized that in a way I was doing that with this blog. The point again of this blog…is to get my thoughts out…give people the real deal. And the truth is…maybe I’m finding it so hard to write because I’m holding myself to this standard that is just completely ridiculous. Some days, I’m not going to have anything to write about. Some days, it takes everything I have just to get out of bed because the grief is still so strong. So from here on out…this blog is taking a turn. I’m writing what I think, when I think it, and I’m giving up caring about what people “want” to ready about.

Happy Birthday "little" girl

2013-01-17T10:24:00.001-08:00

     So this is going to be a relatively quick post...as I'm on a strange computer, and have to leave in about 20-30 minutes. I haven't posted in too long...as usual. I've written posts, but it's on paper, and of course I can never find the paper once it's time to actually type it all up.
     But forget that. Today's post is focused on one thing. My birthday. Today...I turn 22. It's strange to me...22 SOUNDS old in my head...but in reality I know that I'm still quite the baby. However...I'm only that age physically. Mentally I feel 40. I know that sounds crazy...but I grew up quickly. And not only did I grow up quickly during early adolescence...I've grown up in a big way in just the last 3 years.
     In 22 years I've done a lot. I've been to 4 different colleges, dropped out twice, I got married, got divorced, lost a parent, lost children, and lost friends I considered family. But it hasn't all been negative. I've gained even more than I've lost. I've gained some really good friends...and although there aren't many of them...the ones I do have are true, and trustworthy. I saw parts of the world that some people never see...from Paris, to London, to Ireland, to Bolivia. I've gained a new sense of self...and the ability to just "be me" without worries of how it will affect my relationships. I've gotten closer to my family, and I finally feel like they are proud of me again. I've gotten myself back in school for good this time...and with a major that really fits who I am and what I've been through in my life. I started this blog...which has not only taken off in a way I never thought it would...but has also become a sense of calm for me...and somewhere to say what I want, when I want...without concern.
     I've been excessively thankful lately. I may be 22...but I understand the important things in life. I understand myself. I've learned so much in the last few years...and I'm comfortable where I am. I finally don't feel like I have to rush my life. 22 happened fast enough...and I did a lot of "living" in those 22. I'm ready to sit back and enjoy myself. I love my job, I love my friends, I love the man in my life, I have time to spend with my family and enjoy doing so, I love coaching, and I love my major. I can't wait to continue on this path at a slower speed. Things will get done in time...when they're supposed to. My degree will be finished...when I'm ready. I will get married...when it's the right time...to the right person. And then I can try again to have kids...and this time it will work out because of the timing and the person that will be right. (See what I did there?).
     I complain sometimes. Maybe too much. But in all reality...I am the happiest I've ever been...by far. I was happy before...but I don't think I quite understood what TRUE happiness was. The happiness that doesn't require other people...but is eccentuated by them. The happiness that you find yourself...and work for yourself.
     My other called me her independent and stubborn offspring the other day...and honestly it made me really happy. I know so many people my age who don't care that they're destroying their lives...and it hurts me to see them falling apart. I wish they could all have the peace I do.

     But anyways...I got on to rambling as I usually do. But my main point (as this blog was originally about my dad) was about the difficulty in getting through today. It is my first birthday that I haven't heard from him in some way. It's hard to know that he's gone forever. It's a bit of a reality check on days like today. But at the same time it's ok. I looked in the mirror this morning and my eyes were super blue (probably because I'm sleep deprived...but let's go with that there's some bigger divine reason for it). I thought of my dad. A few tears came to my eyes...but then I saw the pictures of my little sister and brothers hanging in my room...and was reminded yet again, of the beautiful things I wouldn't have if it weren't for my dad. And then looking at an even bigger picture...I wouldn't have my life without him. I wouldn't be me...and I mean come on...that'd be a damn shame...cuz I'm pretty freakin awesome.
     Kidding. Kinda.

     It's easy on a day like today to feel happy. All these people that NEVER talk to you suddenly pretending like you're still friends because it's more excitement in their day. But it's also just a reminder to me of all the people I've encountered in my life. Whether or not we're still close...whether or not we get along...it doesn't matter. At some point in time, some kind of impression was made on that person for them to remember and care enough to say something. Maybe it's just because Facebook reminded them...but it's still a good feeling. And if the 100+ posts/texts/phone calls/etc that I've already gotten are any indication...I've already lived a very full life. I read all the nicknames I have from the people in my life as they wish me a happy birthday and it makes me smile. All from different stages in my life so far...Kat, Katie, Kate, Kitty, Bunny, Little Sister, Sissy, Beautiful, Wifey, Auntie...just reminds me of what I mean to those people. I guess the easiest way to say everything I've been typing (very scatterbrained today) is that I'm thankful for the last 22 years...I'm thankful to have all that I do and those that I love...and I'm thankful to be loved in return.

     I have to go to lunch now...go get pampered...coach...and go to class before the big birthday celebration.

     Happy Birthday "little" girl <3

"You hit like a *****"

2012-12-07T13:56:00.001-08:00

I think I can honestly say that my father’s death still hasn’t hit me. I hurt more for other members of my family than I do for myself. I’m dealing with it, in a way…but part of me is still going my usual way and avoiding emotion. It was all so sudden…and so many other things were going on at the time. I never had a chance to sit and realize what happened.

It’s been really hard to write, and I think that’s the reason. I am fully aware that my father is gone. But I don’t really have emotions regarding the whole thing. I mean of course I have emotions, but I don’t feel much. I hurt for my little sister and the confusion she’s dealing with. I hurt for my grandmother who lost her son. I hurt for my aunts who were just as stunned as the rest of us. I hurt for my dad, who never reconciled with all the people he hurt. But I don’t hurt for me.

I have a very strange calm surrounding me with the whole situation. I’m not sure if it’s still denial, or if I’ve reached some kind of strange acceptance. I hope it’s acceptance…because I’m really not looking for some huge breakdown in a few months.

Maybe it’s my stubbornness…and my inability to ever let anything break me down. My boyfriend and I were talking last night, and he said that something he loved about me was the fact that I’m not a victim. It’s funny because my mom has said the same thing before. There are two types of people. Victims and survivors. Life is going to smack you around and break you down. It’s inevitable. Victims…let it. Survivors peel themselves off the pavement and reply with “you hit like a bitch.” Sometimes…an even bigger bus comes flying by and flattens you yet again just for fun…but survivors still don’t let it end them.

Life has flattened me many times. I’ve seen it try to flatten my mom, and I know it’s tried to take out Nick, other members of my family, and my best friend many times as well. But the wonderful thing about the people in my life these days…is none of them let life get the last word. They fight harder the more life throws at them. I’m lucky to be surrounded by such great people…and they’re keeping me going.

I have a lot to say right now, but have to go to work. I’ve been a little all over the place with my posts lately…but I’m starting to get back into a writing routine that I promise I’ll try to organize a little more.

All things change

2012-11-29T14:14:00.001-08:00

It’s been a long time since I posted. I feel like I say that a lot…but things have been very crazy. My best friend and I moved into our new house, I dropped out of school, then re-enrolled. Things have completely changed in the last month. I’m not sure if I ever really dealt with my father’s death…but I did as much as I could. And then I used his death to motivate me to change the things that needed to be changed.

I’ll get back into stories soon. I have so many things I’ve thought about since he died…experiences that I had forgotten about, but have come back up. Things that I never thought I’d be able to talk about…but somehow this blog has managed to open up.

I had a long conversation with someone at work the other night. A conversation I never could have anticipated. I shared things that I never tell anyone…and I was perfectly okay with talking about it all. It actually felt good in a way, to get it all out there…and share it with someone that hopefully found some kind of faith in it.

I don’t currently have internet connected at the new house, but I’m working on it. Once I do I’ll be able to get back to writing more often. But all that matters right now…is I’m still fighting. The last two months have changed everything in my life…and while it all seems kind of the same…I feel like a completely different person. My inner strength has been torn apart. My ability to help others even when I’m falling apart has been challenged. But I got through it. The struggle isn’t over, but it’s going to be okay.

Sometimes when I look back at the things that I’ve experienced in my life…it scares me a little bit. I start to wonder how I turned out normal at all. Then again maybe I’m not. Ok I’m rambling and starting to overanalyze so I’m ending this post. Normalcy…good topic for future.

Don’t give up on me…I promise I won’t quit writing.

Eyewitness to a miracle

2012-10-16T14:21:00.001-07:00

I’m currently beside myself. I don’t have much time to write right now…but I had to tell this story. It’s kind of ironic that just last night I posted and was really down on everything. I was trying to be positive…but having a really hard time having hope in my own life. Let’s face it…this month has been extremely hard.

Then today, my mom called me and asked me to go to Target to pick up some paperwork for her. She’s home sick…and was catching up on stuff that needed to be done. I was in a workshop for work…so I went after I was done with it. As I was walking out, I saw a man standing by my car looking at my bumper stickers. As I got closer, I started to unlock it, and walked over to the driver side. The man was still standing there reading. As I got to the door, he asked me how I got the one sticker, and pointed to the one that says “My Voice www.therecoveringskeptic.blogspot.com”. I explained that it was my blog…and that was a way for me to promote it.

I figured that would be the end of the conversation, but instead the man’s eyes filled with tears, and he just stared at me. He came over and hugged me…and started to explain that he’d been reading my blog for the last few months (actually since it appeared in the paper). And that it had helped him get clean…that he hadn’t used since he had started reading. He told me that it had become a sense of inspiration for his daughter, and a warning to him…that he was tearing his family apart. I can’t even type all that he said to me…because I was in such a state of shock and amazement that I forget half of it.

He hugged me again because at this point my eyes were filling with tears right along with him. He said how sorry he was that my father had died…but that I needed to know that my writing was helping people. He told me to “keep changing lives…you’ve already changed yours for the better”. He kept thanking me for changing him and telling me how happy he was that he’d gotten to meet me. Multiple times he told me how strong I was, inspirational, and said that the courage I’ve shown in letting people read about my life was amazing.

I have NEVER in my life felt what I felt as I was talking to this mystery man. In a way, it broke me a little bit. This hard front I’ve been putting on since my dad died…broke down a little bit. But at the same time…it gave me the positivity kick I needed. While he was telling me how thankful he was for me…all I could think was how thankful I was for him. He may have been a stranger…but I’m so proud of the person he decided to make himself. He changed…for his family. He saw what it was doing…and showed real unconditional love. If anyone in this situation has courage…it’s him.

I feel beyond blessed today. It seems like I got to witness a miracle right in front of my eyes. I may not have “seen” it…and I may never meet that man again. But at the same time…I now feel remarkably connected to this stranger.

As my mom said to me a little bit ago…”God puts you where He wants you to be”. And apparently He saw that I needed a little bit of help with all of this. I needed some encouragement…and I can’t think of any better way He could have sent it to me.

Chaos

2012-10-15T21:55:00.001-07:00

These past few weeks have been hard. Ridiculously hard. I feel like everything in my life went from picture perfect…to completely torn apart. I am fighting harder than I ever have to keep my head above water…and keep myself going.

It’s strange…I’m watching some of my closest friends go through life changing things right now. And they’re having a hard time dealing right along with me. But even as I’m struggling…I’m more concerned about them. I’m being my usual self and trying to fix everything for everyone else before worrying about myself. I don’t think I’m ready to deal with my own stuff…it’s some strange defense mechanism…helping others to keep myself busy.

I’ve noticed something. I have moments where I fall apart and can’t imagine how I’m going to make it through all of this. I get so negative and I worry way too much. But then when my friends are having a breakdown…I have this renewed sense of positivity.

I’m going to make everything ok. I don’t know how I’m going to do it…but I’m going to get myself back. My dad died…I didn’t. I’m still here, and I’m still so young. I can do whatever I want to with my life.

So many people tell me I’m strong. And even though I know that I am…I doubt my abilities sometimes. I’m so used to being superwoman. The girl who fixes things for everyone else…and I’m not sure how to fight for myself.

I’m having a hard time writing tonight. So much going through my head…I feel like it’s going to explode. I’m flying through these “stages of grief”…all while not grieving. I know that doesn’t make sense…but I’ll explain it another time when my thinking is clearer.

I can do this. And I need to keep reminding myself that. There are so many things I need to write about…about the restraining order, the pictures, music that keeps reminding me of things…hell, even about the encounter I had a few nights ago that set me back quite a bit. But right now my head is a little foggy and I could use some sleep.

2 weeks of change

2012-10-05T15:50:00.002-07:00

Life has changed like crazy in the past 2 weeks. It honestly seems like nothing is the same. My perspective has changed, my family has changed, school has changed, work has changed…hell, even the situation with my best friend has changed.

My dad died. I know I’ve been saying that over and over again…but it still hasn’t processed in my mind. My personality…sense of self…everything has kind of flipped since it happened. I rarely cry, to be honest, I rarely feel much of anything. But everyone once in a while in comes in waves and I find myself sobbing for no good reason.

Unfortunately emotions have found an alternate way to show themselves. Panic…anxiety…and not sleeping. I eat, and get nauseous almost immediately. I try to sleep…and it takes hours to drift off, and then I wake up in the middle of the night in extreme panic. I go from a dead sleep, to wide awake, not able to breathe, and disoriented. No idea what triggers it…and it’s been happening multiple times a night. I have random dreams of horrible things, flashbacks especially horrifying.

I went to the doctor’s on Wednesday. Went to talk to the same doctor I’ve had for years about the constant panic, and need for sleep. She had put me on an anti-depressant once years ago, when everything had gotten really terrible with my dad. I was on it for a few months, and then took myself off because I didn’t like the idea of taking them.

Now this is where I get super honest. More honest than I’ve ever really gotten. And it makes me really nervous to put this in the open. But that’s what I do. I talk about the hard stuff, and I admit that sometimes this whole process of recovery is a messy one.

My doctor put me back on medication. A lot of medication. I have Ambien to help me sleep at night, Zoloft to help with the PTSD that’s been popping back up, and Xanax for the panic. I took them for the first time Wednesday night…and ended up sleeping for 18 hours straight. To be honest…I didn’t realize how bad of shape I was in. After the anti-anxiety kicked in…my chest loosened, and I felt like I could breathe. I forgot to take it this afternoon…and already could feel my chest tightening up again. It’s amazing the difference it’s already making.

On the downside, this is going to take a lot to adjust to. I’m constantly tired, my head hurts, and I’m dizzy and shaky. Not good feelings. Doctor said it would take a few weeks for everything to level out and for me to start to feel normal again. I have a lot of work ahead of me…this I know. But in the meantime I plan to spend a lot of time on the couch and in bed…trying to get my mind somewhat straightened out.

I’m feeling like a burden to people right now. I don’t want anyone to walk on eggshells around me, but at the same time, I know it’s somewhat inevitable. I mean…I’m a walking nutcase. I’m completely unstable…and I can admit it. I’m short-tempered, I’m crabby, and part of me just wants me to be alone all the time. It’s a roller coaster that I seem to have no control over. Just call me a mental patient…because I swear I feel like one.

I need to work through a lot of stuff. Between missing my dad, grieving his death, trying to support other family members, feeling guilt for not keeping in contact, and being mad over his actions…I don’t know how I really feel. Even now, I usually write with such ease, and my brain is all over the place. I can’t focus.

I withdrew from this semester at school. I need to get my head on straight, and need to figure out where I stand in all of this before I try tackling all that schoolwork. I’m starting a new job, and considering going back to one of my old jobs to help soak up some time. Once I adjust to these medications, and get back on some kind of schedule, I’m going to work on getting my life back in some kind of order.

My mom keeps telling me one day at a time…one hour at a time…one minute at a time…whatever it takes. And I’m trying to look at it that way. Because the more I think about far into the future, the more I freak out. There’s so much to do…and for once I’m not feeling like superwoman. I’m not feeling capable of handling all the problems in the world like I usually do.

I’ll get back to normal eventually. At least I hope so. But right now…I can’t lie about how much this sucks. I want myself back…my fighting, bubbly self. My…never admit that anything is wrong self. The girl who could face everything…even if she was terrified and upset…and still get through it with a smile. No one ever really knew when something was wrong, and I was always able to fix everyone else’s problems…even when my life was going to hell. The more that went wrong…the better I got through. I worked best under pressure. Now…pressure is making me fall apart.

I would really love to know who the hell this girl is…and how I can get rid of her. I don’t like her. I want my fight back…and I want my stubbornness back. I just wish someone would please come snap me out of this.

I’m determined to come out of this stronger…but it’s going to take time. I am determined to turn this into a positive in my life…like I have in the past with all that my father has done. I need to prove him wrong, prove to him that I’m not all of the things he’s said I am. I need to prove to myself that I’m stronger than I think…and that this won’t break me completely.

RIP Daddy

2012-09-21T14:11:00.001-07:00

All of my posts usually have some strong emotions in them…and it takes a lot out of me to put it all out in the open. But that’s what I do…and this may be one of the strongest I’ve ever written. It’s most certainly the most painful I’ve ever typed.

My dad died, September 18^th. It was sudden to all of us, we wouldn’t have even known anything was wrong had some strange circumstances happened on Sunday. It’s a long story that I’m not going to go into at the moment. But someone wanted me to start asking questions…and when I did…I found out how sick my father really was.

It turns out that on Friday the 14^th, my father was taken from jail and to a hospital nearby in Florida, for stomach pains. It was a ruptured appendix, and after surgery to try and remove it, he developed sepsis. The sepsis took over his body, shutting down his organs, and put him into a coma. His condition was so extreme that trying to start him on dialysis on Monday only worsened his condition. He was not expected to make it through the night Monday. Tuesday I got the call, as most of you have read, that it was just a matter of minutes, hours if we were lucky, until my dad passed away. I said my final goodbyes in a way that I never thought I would have to…and waited for the final call.

At 4:30 my aunt called…he was gone. My instant reaction was stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced. I had to pull my car over to the side of the road, and found myself curled up in the seat dry heaving. I couldn’t see straight, couldn’t breathe. All I could see was him handcuffed to that hospital bed…with no one there other than a prison guard. Even as I think about it now it makes me physically ill. It shouldn’t have happened like that…no matter what he’s done on this Earth…it should NOT have happened like that. Once I finally calmed down, I pulled down the mirror in the visor of my car to wipe my eyes. I didn’t think before I did it…and the restraining order I have on him fell into my lap. Something broke in me. Something completely snapped…and suddenly I was remarkably calm. Eerily calm.

My father has been sick, mentally and physically for a very long time. Something that I am very aware of. But this was not expected by any means. I had plans of going to Florida in 2 weeks to conquer my fears and go to his trial. Anyone who has been reading knows all about it, and the battle I’ve been fighting within myself. The things that my father has done over the years are indescribable. They are horrible, and he has hurt SO many people that I love dearly. He has hurt me more than I can even begin to explain. But he is my father. And now he’s dead.

I spent 14, almost 15 years with my father. Going through the old pictures from when I was little have been breaking my heart. Remembering when we went to the horse barn with a bag of carrots and apples…and he taught me how to feed them without getting my fingers bit off. Riding around in his old green MG convertible that the floor was rusting out of. Going on the boat or to the beach and spending hours in the sun and water. The hours he would spend playing his guitar and making up stupid songs like “Ant Highway” and “Down by the Bayou”. How I wish I could remember the words to those damn songs…

I would be lying to myself and to everyone else if I didn’t admit to having an EXTREME level of guilt right now. I’m sure my grandmother will be thrilled to know that…as I can tell how angry she is with me for not maintaining a relationship with my father. But while I feel the guilt, I know that I shouldn’t. What I’m fighting the most with is that he died alone. It kills me…and I can’t help but feel that I should have been there holding his hand. At the same time…I couldn’t be. It’s not my fault, it’s not something I did intentionally. This was incredibly sudden for everyone involved…and God knows that I would have been there if I could have been. I don’t feel guilty for not speaking to him…I don’t have to justify it. It was for my own safety and protection…and whether or not others understand that…I do. Sometimes you have no choice but to “love from a distance”…and a part of love is watching the people you care about make bad decisions. Sometimes there is just strictly nothing you can do. This was that kind of situation. I couldn’t change him, God knows I tried. But I couldn’t. The other half of it…is the last time I spoke to him. I don’t remember it specifically, we had a lot of horrible phone calls all very close to one another around that time…but I do know that it ended in a restraining order. I made the biggest mistake of my life in that phone call…and I didn’t tell my dad that I loved him. I’m not sure I’m ever going to recover from that. I said it when the nurse held the phone to his ear on Tuesday before he passed…but it wasn’t the same. It’s been haunting me in the back of my head for days…and it’s something I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for. No matter how mad you are at a loved one…there should NEVER be a reason you don’t tell them that you love them.

I am still calm. Nights are horrible. I can’t sleep to save my life, and once I do drift off I have nightmares and wake up in a panic. I cry…a lot. Certain songs have been really getting to me, and eating just leads to getting sick a matter of hours later. I feel like I’m walking around in a fog, nothing seems quite real. I’ve got a crazy weekend ahead…and then a week in Florida…but at the moment, I’m a walking contradiction. I’m feeling five thousand different emotions whirling around at lightning speed…but at the same time I feel nothing. I’m numb.

I don’t know if I’m in denial. Or maybe this is just the calm before the storm. I really don’t know. I WANT to feel something. I WANT to break down and cry. But nothing is happening. Sure, occasionally it kind of hits me and I get upset. At night for example, or during one of those songs. For the most part though…I’m way too calm. It scares me a little bit. It makes me wonder if I emotionally removed myself from the situation long ago…and will never feel anything. Am I that cold-hearted that I don’t care?

Clearly, I don’t have a clue. I’m mad…at the world randomly…and then I switch to being bouncy and smiley like I usually am. One minute I find comfort in all of the good in my dad (which I’ve been fighting to remember him by)…and the next I’m furious at the fact that he never gave enough of a damn to be there for his kids. That he said the horrible things he did to me, and physically/emotionally hurt me just to gain power.

Writing this has made me feel so sick to my stomach…maybe that’s why I’ve been avoiding feeling anything. I don’t want to process this. I don’t want to feel anything…because the feelings HURT. Hurt more than anything has ever hurt before. It’s a level of pain that I didn’t know even existed. I’ve said this a few times in the past few days…and it still amazes me how true it is…but this is honestly the worst thing that has happened in my life. The hardest thing I have ever faced...and I can only imagine it is the hardest thing I’ll face in my lifetime.

I have lost loved ones, people that were extremely close to my heart. I have lost a child. I have lost a spouse. Yet somehow…losing the person that hurt me more than anyone else ever could…is remarkably harder.

It’s strange to me that I posted the picture of my father on Saturday in a post titled “The last time”. I was talking about the last time I saw my father…and when I wrote it…I had NO idea what was going on. Little did I know that that that picture really WAS the last time I saw my father…forever. It’s strange how God tries to prepare you for things ahead of time…and how you don’t realize it until later.

Dear Dad,

I’m still mad at you…I can’t lie and say that I’m not. You hurt me…you hurt my family…and worst of all, you created a situation where my little sister has to grow up without a father. I’m mad that you wore your body out with drugs, and that you chose to do things that kept you on the run, and then locked in prison. I hate that you weren’t there for my graduation, that you’ve never for a second told me you were proud of me, and I’m angry that you will not have the chance to be there for my wedding. I hate that one day I have to explain to my children who their grandfather was…and I hate that I honestly don’t know what I’m going to tell them…or how I’m going to explain that there was good in you…even though I refused to be around you.

I’m sorry that I wasn’t there. I’m sorry that I didn’t end that last phone call with an “Even though I’m mad at you, I love you”. I’m sorry that I wasn’t the daughter you wanted me to be…and I’m sorry I couldn’t bring myself to support you while you were in jail.

A part of me always hoped that something miraculous would happen and we’d have a chance to fix things between us. Reality told me it wouldn’t happen…but I had some crazy hope that we could.

I don’t know where you are. I certainly hope heaven. It would bring a lot of relief to me if that were true…and there was some way I could know that you were. I’ve prayed for you every day for years. I hope those prayers worked somehow. I hope you had some kind of a chance to come to terms with everything happening to you before you passed.

But most of all…my biggest hope, is that you heard me on Tuesday. I really really hope you heard the words I said, and I hoped you believed them. I hope you know that when I say I love you…I mean it to the deepest ends that I possibly can. I love you SO much…and I hope that in your head I am always that bouncy little blonde haired, blue eyed, little girl with the crazy curls.

I hope you can see me now, and I hope that your head is clearer. I hope you’re proud, and I hope you realize how wrong you were about all the things you said I was.

I promise to see you in every sunset. I promise to show my kids, and your kids the waterfalls, the creeks, and all the hidden spots we used to go to. I promise to use the good and the bad I learned from you, to be a better parent to the children I hope to someday have. I promise to think of you every time I hear a guitar, and I promise to never stop finding comfort in music. But most of all…I promise to never stop loving you. Even when I’m mad and hurt…I promise that I will never forget how much I loved you.

I will always be your QOTHB and you will always be my KOTDW.

-Your bunny (only because I remember how much you loved to call me that)

RIP Daddy.

Goodbye

2012-09-18T11:30:00.001-07:00

In an attempt to distract myself today I took myself to get my hair done and relax for a bit. As I sat in the stylist's chair...I got a call. The nurse I've been speaking with called me to say that he was at my father's bedside and that it wouldn't be long now. He gave me the chance to tell my dad goodbye. He held the phone up to his ear so I could say what I needed to. What was said will always remain between me and my father...and I hope he actually heard me.

I wish I could be there to hold his hand one more time and hug him...something I haven't done in 3 years. But at the same time...this gave me a small bit of peace. I was flustered...in public...and I'm sure I'll later think of all the things I could have said. But at least I got to say the basics. The 4 most important words. That's been a theme today...the hardest four words and the most important.

My father is dying.

But most importantly...dad,

I love you...goodbye.

The four hardest words I've ever had to say

2012-09-18T08:59:00.001-07:00

I’m probably about to share too much…and I honestly don’t care. Writing calms me down…and it’s pretty clear that it’s what I need to do. The past 48 hours have been some of the hardest I’ve ever experienced…and the emotional pain I’m currently going through rivals anything I’ve ever felt. I’m in the middle of a waiting game that no one should ever have to be in. It’s taking everything I have to type the next few words because it’s something that I can barely bring myself to admit. They’re by far the 4 hardest words I’ve ever had to say. My father is dying. Not in the sense that these are his last few days…but in the sense that these are his last few hours. I want to be there…but there is no way I could make it in time to say my final goodbyes. I am helpless…and completely heartbroken.

The emotions going through my head are scaring me a little bit. These are things I didn’t even know I could feel for him. There’s sadness, anger, guilt, confusion…every emotion under the sun. There might even be some denial. My father is dying.

Sunday night I got a phone call from a blocked number…a man claiming to be my father’s defense attorney…and he told me that he had committed suicide and was no longer with us. I lost my mind…and shut down. Come to find out (after my mom and aunt made a lot of phone calls)…that it wasn’t true. My father was in the hospital, but he was alive, and it was for something unrelated. He hadn’t attempted suicide…he had been transferred there for stomach pains…but he was definitely still alive. I calmed down a bit thinking that everything was going to be ok. Throughout the day on Monday I made more phone calls…demanding answers. I finally got in contact with someone who told me the full truth.

My father was taken to the hospital last week for stomach pains. They did exploratory surgery…but were never able to get him off the ventilator. He then developed toxic shock, and his organs all shut down. His blood pressure is only being kept up by medications…and there was a good chance he wouldn’t make it through last night. I vowed to go down there…see him one last time. I was told I could have 30 minutes, no more no less…to say my goodbyes and attempt to make peace with the situation. They were going to put him on dialysis to keep him alive longer…and hope that somehow we’d get a miracle and he’d pull through this.

Dialysis didn’t work. It put him in worse condition…and there’s nothing they can do. I got word first thing this morning that my father will most likely die today…and I can’t do anything about it. I can’t make it there in time…I can’t tell him all the things I wanted to say…and I have to live with that.

I can’t put into words how much this hurts. I’ve imagined this day for a very long time…and always thought that I’d handle it better. But nothing could have prepared me for this. This has been such a long road…of horrible horrible experiences…and really tough love. Yet here we are…and instead of feeling the closure I thought I’d feel…I couldn’t be more thrown off. I can’t even think straight.

I am so mad at him for putting all of us in this situation. I’m mad that he wasn’t the dad he was supposed to be. That he didn’t see me graduate, won’t see me get married, will never meet my kids. I’m mad that I have to edit what I say to my siblings because I can’t tell them the full truth of the man he was. I’m mad that my little sister is having such a hard time because he’s never been there for her. It hurts me that she’s hurting…and it infuriates me that he’s the reason behind her pain. I'm trying really hard to remember the good times right now…but my mind is so confused and I’m struggling.

I’m sad that I haven’t gotten a chance to say goodbye. It’s something that’s going to haunt me for a long long time. I know I’m going to have to come to terms with it…but I guess I’ve been in denial for so long that I don’t really know how to handle this. This waiting game is beyond horrible. Having to just sit here and wonder when it’s going to happen. Is there a chance I could make it in time…should I try…I don’t know. So many unanswered questions that are hurting me.

I know I shouldn’t say this because I know it’s not what I should be feeling right now…but I’m feeling guilty. I know I had every right to cut him out of my life a year ago…but it’s bothering me now. I needed him out of my life for my own sanity…and it was his actions that caused it. There’s this deep feeling in me though that’s eating at me. If I’d taken one of those phone calls…if I hadn’t gotten that restraining order…I might have been able to say all that I wish I could have said now. This is a perfect example of NEVER letting someone leave without making peace with them…no matter how mad you are. I don’t even remember the last time I talked to my dad…but I know it wasn’t a good conversation, and it’s got me wishing I’d done things differently. It’s a very hard pill to swallow.

You never know when the people you love aren’t going to be there anymore. And when suddenly you’re faced with them being gone shortly…it knocks the wind right out of you.

I know people are trying to be helpful and trying to make me feel better. But with the next person to say “I know how you feel” or “I get what you’re going through”…I might lose it. I don’t even know how I feel right now. This isn’t just someone losing a parent…which is horrible all on its own I’m sure. This situation is absolutely insane. My father is an inmate…a felon. Someone who has terrorized everyone that I love, and caused my family mass amounts of pain. But again…he is my father. Nothing will ever change that I grew up with him. When he wasn’t being insane…he was my dad. He played his guitar all the time, he made a huge swing for me out of a tree branch in the front yard, and he gave me three siblings that mean the world to me.

I started looking through pictures…because I know it’s just a matter of time before we have to start planning a memorial service. I know that might be morbid…but I need to prepare myself, and I’ve gone into problem solving mode. I found a bunch of pictures of me running around with the curls he loved so much bouncing everywhere, and flowers tucked behind my ears. Pictures of him pushing me on that swing he made…and pictures of the baby raccoons we literally found IN our kitchen wall once.

I don’t know how to feel right now. All I know is this is some of the strongest pain I’ve ever felt…and the hardest thing I’ve ever had to face. These next few months are going to be hard and I know it. Yet again, I’m sure I’ll hear about how I’m sharing “too much” on the internet…and how this is private. But this is my outlet. This is what calms me down. And right now I really don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks. I’m doing this for me.

The last time

2012-09-15T16:54:00.002-07:00

I typically don't post pictures...but I came across the one the other day while I was cleaning out the memory on my computer. This was the last time I saw my father in person. I believe it was June of 2009...I hadn't seen him in 2-3 years at that point, and I was on my way back to Ohio from Florida. I had just graduated college, and was about to graduate high school. I was 18 and it was one of the most awkward lunches I've ever had. We met in the airport during my layover...and we sat in this quiet restaurant...both trying to fight the silence.

After lunch he walked me to security. He brought me a huge vase with flowers, but I couldn't take it with me on the plane. I handed it back to him, thanked him, and went to walk away. I held it together...until he yelled behind me how he loved me and missed me so much. Even now as I think about it, it brings tears to my eyes. I wish he knew what love meant...and that it was strong enough to combat all that he's done.

That was 3 1/2 years ago...and other than that lunch...it's been closer to 5-6 since I've spent any real time with my father. I think part of me always hoped we might get a chance one day to sit and attempt to work things out. But here we are...3 weeks away from trial...and we're more distant than we've ever really been. Granted that's my doing, and it needs to be that way. But it's still hard to process sometimes.

I miss him. I shouldn't...but I do sometimes. I hadn't planned on posting any more today, but then this picture was stuck in my mind. And considering I was CLEARLY already in the writing mode...this all just kind of spilled out. I've learned that one of the hardest things in life is watching someone you love self destruct...and not being able to do anything about it. But maybe the harder part is...realizing that you really can't do anything about it. And that sometimes you really do just need to learn to love from a distance...and learn to let go of the hopes you had for them to change.

*Serenity Prayer*

Kenny Loggins and the best days of my life

2012-09-15T16:29:00.001-07:00

I was within 5 feet of Kenny Loggins yesterday. I watched his sound check for a private show he was doing…and for almost an hour, got to just stare and listen. I’m still beside myself…and I’m counting myself lucky that I didn’t pass out when he walked into the room. My boyfriend is absolutely amazing and gave me a head’s up that he was going to be in Cleveland yesterday…so I hung around his work to see if I could get a glimpse. It was beyond amazing…to a level that I can’t even put into words.

I should probably give a little explanation as to why Kenny Loggins is someone I idolize more than I can say. Between Kenny Loggins and James Taylor…I have some crazy great memories of my dad. The good memories seem to be far and few between these days…except when I hear music that reminds me of him. Those are the few good memories…and something that still connects me to the dad I once knew. They remind me of days on the boat, crazy nights by the bonfire in the backyard, and the times where bands would practice in our basement. All 3 stories of his house would be SHAKING from “Footloose” or “I’m Alright” blasting in the basement.

His songs calm me down…and make me smile whether I like it or not. That is REAL music…unlike the crap they put on the radio these days. Music that makes you want to sing at the top of your lungs…and jump around dancing. I have an entire Pandora station dedicated to Loggins…and I’ve had it on in the car and at home for the last 24 hours nonstop.

I need to focus on those good memories and I know it. I can feel myself drifting farther and farther away from any kind of connection I held with my father. I can’t tell if it’s a defense mechanism or if I’m honestly just losing compassion for the situation. When I think about it, I get sad…but even more…I realize how exhausted I am by the whole thing. This has been a long long fight. People keep saying they can’t wait for the trial to be over…and it makes me want to scream. I’m sure they want it over like I do…but this is so much more to some people. It’s not just a trial…it’s a lifetime of hurt with no kind of validation. My father hurt so many people in so many different ways…and never had to face consequences. I lived with him for 15 years (give or take)…and never got any kind of justice for the things that happened. This is finally the chance to see that he isn’t invincible…and is finally being held accountable for what he’s done.

Oh well…I’m going in like 30 different directions on this post…and I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe the coffee…yea probably the coffee.

Anyways…there was something that I wanted to post about. It’s been on my mind since I was in class last Thursday. It’s kind of a long story, but the main idea was something a teacher did. I told her I needed to take a week off of class in October, and I didn’t tell her why. I said it was a family obligation out of state…because I didn’t see the need for her to know all of the details of my father’s trial. This woman went on a tangent…about how it wouldn’t be an excused absence for “vacation” and how I needed to take my classes more seriously. When I tried to (calmly might I add) defend myself…she flew off the handle. She told me that I was just a young girl…who was privileged and never had to work for anything because I was “pretty.” I wanted to lose it on her. Wanted to yell right back at her that the whole reason I had to take time off was so I could go to Florida to watch my FATHER be sent to PRISON. But I didn’t. I didn’t go on about always wondering if my father was going to make it another day without attempting suicide again, or getting calls from reporters who want to know about how much of a monster he is…hell I didn’t even tell her how it feels to have to lie to my little brothers and sister so they don’t know that their father is a psycho who had to be locked up. Instead I kept my mouth shut, and walked out of the room. I returned later with my card with this website on it…and told her to give it a look. If she still thought I was such a privileged little girl that had never had to work hard or fight for anything after reading it…I would be glad to withdrawal from her class.

I like to share what has happened in my life not only because it helps me unwind and process…kind of a therapy. But also because I hope that someone else will get some kind of help from it. Whether that is knowing what NOT to do…or taking inspiration from the fact that it DOES get better…I want to help. And I’ve gotten so many emails, comments, etc. from people saying that is has helped them in some way.

I put on a strong happy front no matter what. Very rarely will people know that something is wrong. Hell…many of my friends have no idea what’s going on with my dad. No one in my classes knows, and I’m not one to go telling someone I don’t know. Those who haven’t seen this blog would have no way of knowing all the hell breaking loose in my family life. In a way I’m thankful for that…but at the same time it gets frustrating sometimes. I’ll go to give someone advice on something they’re going through…and they don’t want to take me seriously…because after all, I’m 21, what do I know? They have no idea that I’ve dealt with things and seen things in the last 20 years that many never do. Now don’t get me wrong…I’m beyond thankful for those experiences (as I’ve written about in the past) because it has all gotten me to where I am, and has made me who I am. I have inner strength because of it all, and it’s helped me fight through many situations that others would have given up over.

My life has been anything but perfect. Sometimes I forget (or don’t want to admit) things that have happened. I block them out, and looking back on it, I feel like I’m watching the movie of someone else’s life. But it was so worth it. Look at my life now. If you take out the situation with my dad, prison, etc…it really couldn’t be much better. I’m beyond blessed, and beyond thankful. A lot of people say the “best days of your life” are in high school and when you’re a kid. But I don’t believe it for a second. The best days of your life are when you find yourself…and are comfortable in your own skin. When you finally allow yourself to work hard, and play harder. Finding the balance between responsibility and the things that make you happy. The day you take risks because you see a better life around the corner…and you’re willing to fight for it. That’s when you’re officially in those best days…and for me…that seems to be right now.

I've found myself

2012-08-22T15:01:00.001-07:00

I feel like I’ve found myself. I’ve been working hard on getting everything in my life put back together…and I think I finally have. Things have been getting progressively better…and I’m at the point where I feel comfortable. All the things that need to be taken care of…are almost done. I’m back in school…or rather I will be in 6 days. I’m working enough to support myself…hopefully without overloading myself. The divorce is in the last stages, and it seems to be civil. Trial is only about 2 months away…and I’m feeling stronger than I ever have.

I’m going alone. That scares the hell out of me. It freaks me out to know that in less than 2 months…I will be face to face with my father again, for the first time in years. I’m not sure how he’ll react to me being there. You never know which Paul you’re going to see…is it going to be sentimental, loving Paul…or angry, psycho Paul? I don’t like the uncertainty.

What I do like though…is the renewed sense of self I have. I know that I can face him. I’m sure I’ll fall apart…I’m sure it’s going to be one of the hardest weeks in my life. But I know that the strength I’ll use to pull through it…is going to carry me for the rest of my life. It’s hard for anyone else to understand that idea. What they don’t quite understand…is it’s me completely regaining control. My father thrived on having control over people, emotionally and physically. He needed to have power…and he did. He controlled what I did, how I felt…everything about me in some way. But all of this time away from him has helped me regain that power.

I’m responsible for my own happiness…and I’m in control of my emotions (ok maybe not all of the time, but I am human). My life will go where I want it to…because I’ll make my dreams happen. I won’t spend time doubting myself…because that’s what he wanted.

Going to trial is me proving to myself that I can maintain my control. I can sit there, watch it all happen, and I will get through it. I know that I have backup at home…and an amazing support system. But when in a situation like that…I can take care of myself. I can stay strong against it all.

I’m thankful…and a little scared. But more thankful that I got a second chance at this whole life thing. Everyone deserves to be happy.

I always hated statistics...

2012-08-11T14:03:00.001-07:00

It has been an amazing two days. I can’t even begin to explain it. Yesterday was my great grandma’s birthday…and I think she may have sent me some relief from upstairs. I was at the end of my rope the past few days. I’ve been unbelievably bummed…and stressed out. But now…I’m starting to feel better. The simple things are making me happy again…and I’m ready to fight again.

Don’t get me wrong…this is hard. I’m not okay right now. I will be…but I’m not. I mean being completely honest…I’ve been torn down quite a few times this year. There is a huge level of stress trying to figure out where I’m going to live, how I’m going to work enough to support myself, and go to school full time. But I know I can do it.

I enrolled in school yesterday. I’ve been afraid to do it…and haven’t had the motivation or the inner strength to push myself any harder than I already was. Then something snapped…and here I am ready to get back into it. Part of me wanted to send out a mass email to a bunch of people telling them to go screw off the second I did it. There have been so many people who said I wouldn’t and/or couldn’t do it. I can’t tell you how many times I heard “you won’t go back.” Members of my own family made “I’ll believe it when I see it” comments…and “yea we’ll see” remarks. I know I’m not done yet…but this was the hardest part of all of it. So again…to all of those people…bite me. Tell me I won’t do something…and watch how fast I turn it around in your face.

Anyways…then I went to a wedding last night with a friend. And had an absolutely amazing night. I’m STILL smiling about it, and it’s been almost 24 hours. I forgot about my problems for a few hours, and my cheeks hurt by the time I went home from being so damn giddy all night. My dork true colors showed…and it felt good.

On another note…I’m trying to stay positive here…because in just 2 short months…is my father’s court date. I’m going…don’t care what it takes. I need to be there, and it’s something that I need to do on my own. I can’t really explain why…it just is. I think I need to prove something to myself…that he isn’t going to affect me for my entire life. Well…just not to the extent that he does now. I need to stand and look him in the eye…with no one by my side…and be able to handle it. I’m sure I’ll break down at some point…I mean if you’ve paid any attention, he’s headed to prison for the rest of his life. Watching that will tear me apart in every way I’m sure of it. Hearing all of the horrible things they’re going to say about him…will hurt me. But it will make me stronger. I will finally be able to see a judge stand up for what’s right…and some sort of justice can be returned to my life. Just two more months…and this whole ordeal can be over.

I know there will still be a journey ahead. That’s what life is anyways right? But this will bring some sense of closure…”every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” This can be the end of this chapter in my life. In many ways. Ironically enough…the trial will fall during the same week as what should be my 5^th anniversary as well. I guess it will be more of a closing of two chapters completely.

I’m one of the lucky ones. I get to start over…I get a second chance at this whole thing. Hell…I’ve been given quite a few chances. Statistics said that I would be a drug addict by 12…a deadbeat mother by 16…and then that I’d never finish school.

I always hated statistics.

Life in prison

2012-07-17T14:49:00.001-07:00

Life in prison. 3 words that are completely shaking my world. October 9^th is the new court date…and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I can’t decide if I’m going to go…or if it’s time to cut ties completely. Part of me needs that closure…and part of me wants nothing to do with the situation. It’s hard to look at the articles and pictures of what happened on that day and identify who I’m looking at. Sometimes I’m able to see my dad…the guy who was supposed to be my parent and love me unconditionally. But lately…all I can see is this monster that I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ve started to really detach myself from the situation or what…but I feel like I’m having a slight identity crisis.

The problem is I don’t know what I want. I don’t know if I want him to be my dad…or just another criminal in jail. Of course I want him to be my dad…but it’s starting to feel like he’s just another inmate. Maybe it’s because I don’t talk to him, and rarely get updates…but either way…I’ve kind of stopped caring. Well…I can’t say I’ve stopped caring because that’s not entirely true. I’ve just removed myself from the situation as best I can.

It scares me how calm I’ve been about this entire situation. My father is looking at life in prison. He’s going to get life in prison…whether I like it or not. In the latest case development…all of the experts who were supposed to testify for his defense…refused. His defense was insanity…but no expert will testify to that fact. Don’t get me wrong…my father is completely insane…but he knew what he was doing when he set that girl’s house on fire. It was premeditated…and he meant to do it. He is a danger to society and to himself, and he deserves to be locked up for the rest of his life. But that is still a hard pill to swallow.

I have spent weeks TRYING to detach from the situation. I pushed it out of my head when I thought about it…and I stopped writing on here. Apparently it worked a little too well. I haven’t dealt with any of this in a while…and now it’s building up. I’m afraid as to how I’m going to react down the line. While I know what’s coming…and I’ve tried to prepare myself for it…I’m not sure how I’m going to handle hearing those 3 simple words.

It’s amazing isn’t it? How something as simple as 3 words can completely screw with you. Hell…there are names that upset me when I hear them. Life in prison. I just keep saying it over and over to myself…this all still seems fake. Like some bad Lifetime movie or something. I mean who in real life has things like this happen. I know we all fight our own battles, and I’m not trying to have a pity party. I’m just honestly flabbergasted when I think about all of it. How crazy…that this is my life. I’m thankful for the lessons it has taught me…but enough is enough.

I am the daughter of a drug addict. It does not make me less of a person and it most certainly doesn’t define my future. I love my father and sometimes I hate him. I miss him and I’m mad at him. I hurt for him…and after those 3 simple words it looks like I’ll be living for him.

Life in prison.

Father's Day...the epitome of all sucky holidays

2012-06-18T16:30:00.003-07:00

Father’s Day…one of the days that I dread the most during the year. This year I wanted it to be different…and I didn’t want to spend the day feeling sorry for myself. After all, this year has been a year of new beginnings and trying to move on from the things that have happened in my life. Making positive changes and such. Saturday I spent the day with family at my cousin’s softball games, and then I spent the night with good friends celebrating my other half’s birthday. I was on a positivity kick. Then Sunday morning kicked in. I’m not sure if I was over tired, over stressed, or what exactly the issue was. But I was a crab ass. I went to more softball games in the morning, and then planned to spend the rest of the afternoon holed up in my room, doing laundry and packing for vacation.

I got home around 11:30, and decided to lie down for a minute. My head was pounding and I was tired as heck. All of a sudden I woke up…at 5 in the evening. I woke up with a start because of the dream I had…and I felt like I was in a total fog. I was upset, irritated, and in even a worse mood than I had started the day in. Splendid. I had had a dream that I went to visit my father in jail…and it threw me off. Usually the dreams I have like that are horrible because they always end badly. They end with him attacking me, or they slip into a flashback of something that really did happen years ago. This dream was different…and left me wishing I’d had one of the bad dreams.

The dream was nice. My mind went and created some alternate reality where when I went to visit my father, he was nothing but sweet and kind. He spent our visit telling me how proud he was of the woman I’d turned into, and how sorry he was for all of the bad times. He seemed to really see all that he had done…and seemed to honestly feel bad about it. I woke up missing him horribly…and wanting nothing more than to drive to Florida to see him. Thoughts flew through my head, maybe he could change…maybe he did see all the wrong he’d done…and maybe he was truly sorry. Of course reality set in, as it usually does…and smacked me in the face. My father will never change…because he doesn’t want to. I want that dad…that tells me I’m a good person, and is there to support me no matter what. I want the dad that people celebrate on Father’s Day. Unfortunately that’s never going to happen, and it’s yet another reality that I have to learn to accept.

Sometimes I wonder if my dad did the best he could. It’s hard for me to figure out if he was trying…but just doing a terrible job. He’s so mentally ill that it’s very possible…he did all that he could for his children. It’s very possible that he just wasn’t capable of loving like a parent should. And that makes me sad. I don’t hate my father. I hate the things that he’s done, and I hate that he’s hurt so many people that mean so much to me. I hate that he’s hurt me the way he has. But I don’t hate him. I feel bad for him. It must be a very lonely life to not be able to love the way a person should.

While I feel bad for him…it also makes me incredibly thankful. I’m thankful for the family that I do have, and all of the amazing father figures that I have in my life. Mostly I’m referring to my mom’s brothers and brother in law. My uncles are amazing men, that (even unintentionally) have gotten me through a lot. They’ve shown me what a real father should be, and have helped me create high standards for the person that I will one day have children with. I live with my aunt and uncle currently, and have at least a weekly check in with my uncle. He watches me make mistakes ALL the time, and never judges because of it. He gives advice, but doesn’t push. And I’m so thankful to have that in my life. I don’t talk to my other uncles all the time, but I know they’re there. They create such an amazing example for their own children, and it makes me happy to see what an amazing family I come from.

Most of all though, I’m thankful for my mother. Father’s Day sucks…don’t get me wrong. But at the same time, I see it as a day to honor my mom. She was a mother and a father…even when she was going through hell herself. Sometimes I get caught up in thinking about what I could have easily become with a father that acted like mine did. And she didn’t let that happen. Even when I made stupid decisions and took the wrong path, she pulled me back into line. Am I perfect? Absolutely not. I’m in the middle of trying to recover from decisions I’ve made that threw me off track. But she didn’t let me become a statistic. I’m not just another “drug addict’s kid”. I’m a fighter, and I’m a lover.

So Happy Father’s Day mom…even without my dad around…I’ve got everything I’ll ever need in a parent. These days are slowly getting easier to deal with…because I have you around. I don’t see you as much as I wish I could…but I hope you always know how thankful I am that you never gave up on me.

I’ll post more soon I’m sure. But this has just been on my mind the past few days.

I'm back!!!

2012-06-13T17:17:00.001-07:00

I know I haven’t posted in over a month. I work too much, I had my tonsils removed (which knocked me on my ass for weeks), and I’ve just been a little overwhelmed. At the same time, I’ve been truly enjoying my life for the first time in a long long time. I have fun whenever possible…just because I can. I’ve gone to the beach, I’ve gone to parks, I’ve spent hours just sitting on the patio talking and relaxing.

You ready for really exciting news? I haven’t heard from a reporter since the last time I posted something. Not ONE. Not one phone call, not one email…nothing at all. Now when I say a reporter, I do NOT mean the people who have been doing stories on the blog. I appreciate those people, and I’m flattered that they think enough of it to want to publicize it. It makes me feel like all that has happened is worth it. The reporters I’m talking about are the ones who are down in Florida. They want the “dirt” and they want an entertaining story because they’re too lazy to broadcast about something worthwhile. They want the drama and the “excitement”. They…piss me off. More than I can say. People tell me to take the interviews with them strictly for publicity…but I can’t. The attention would be great to get the blog out…but I don’t want it under those pretenses. “Hey everyone tune into Channel 5 tonight to see the famous arsonist’s daughter get her personal life thrown in her face”. No thanks. I know how they can twist the things you say into what they WANTED you to say, and what will get the most viewers. But back to my point…it’s gotten better. There were weeks of my phone ringing off the hook, and on rare occasion, people showing up at my listed address just begging for a comment. (Trust me…they didn’t want me to comment).

I’m getting back into my writing as soon as possible. May 3^rd was my dad’s birthday…and for the first time in years…I didn’t even think about it. It was nice. That sounds terrible…I forgot my father’s birthday. But…you have to understand my life experiences to understand why it was actually strangely liberating. Days like that typically haunt me…and it didn’t this time. It felt good to look back almost a week later and realize that I glazed over it without a problem. He’s very slowly losing his control over me…and I’m very slowly gaining that level of confidence that I’ve been missing.

Found out something interesting today…after all this time of not checking the court website…the trial has been rescheduled. October 9^th of this year…only a year and 9 months after he got arrested. Ugh. It also happens to be the day before what should be my 5^th anniversary with my husband. Splendid. Sounds like such a blast of a week. On the plus side…hopefully by then the divorce will be finalized…and I will finally be getting closure in two big areas of my life.

I have been so positive lately. I guess I always kind of have been…but there’s always been a deep dark side to me that people rarely saw. It’s not like that anymore. I am truly happy most of the time. I have hard days like any human being, but I get out of them quickly. I still get overwhelmed quickly, and I still panic on occasion. But it’s rare. Really rare. I can’t remember the last terrifying nightmare that woke me up, and I can’t remember the last time I had a full blown panic attack because of something that reminded me of him.

I took a huge step the other night. Sunday night to be exact. This may sound minor to anyone who doesn’t know me…but in reality it was a giant leap. I went out on a boat. I’ll post more about the days on the boat another time, but know that it’s definitely coming. I grew up on the water. My father loved his boat more than anything…and we would spend EVERY day on it…until he finally had to take it in to get me home. We slept on it occasionally, we would take trips down both sides of the lake, we would waterski, tube, parasail…you name it. They were some of the hardest times of my life…but also a lot of the best memories I have with my dad. But I haven’t been out in years. The last few times I went out on the boat with him…I was 13-14, and it never ended well. His binges had become a lot worse at that point, and a lot of the trips ended up with him getting violent, or threatening to drown me (more on that later as well). They were some of the scariest days of my life, and the memories of his actions over those nights still catch me off guard sometimes.

But back on track…I haven’t been back on a boat since one of the last times I saw my father in person. I’ve had offers…but I have not set foot on a boat in our area…and gone out on the lake. I haven’t gone down the channels and seen the restaurants on the river we would go to, the islands he would drop my friends and I off in to go run around, or the beaches he would pull the boat up to. Sunday night…I did. I got on a boat, and spent hours sitting in the middle of the lake. Jumping in the water, driving around, talking and just enjoying the night air…and the sound of the water. (Now the night didn’t end very well in other aspects…but it was all still a very large step for me).

Best part…I didn’t get upset. It made me SMILE to think of the happy memories from years ago. Truly happy. No forced smiles, no hidden tears…just fond memories. I’m not sure if I’m forgiving…or if I’m just growing stronger as a person. But I would like to think it’s a little bit of both.

I promise to write more…it felt good to get all that out J (PS- It started as a quick 3 paragraph update. Now who thought it was a good idea to give me a keyboard and internet access…?)

Victim my ass

2012-05-05T12:02:00.001-07:00

So I mentioned the word victim in one of my last posts. It’s been on my mind since the article hit the newspaper a few weeks ago. My mom had reposted the link to the article on her Facebook and mentioned how she didn’t agree with me being a victim like the article said. It got me thinking about how people label “victims”…and I have to say…I don’t like it. Many times when I’ve told someone about the things I’ve been through, they assume I’m less of a person. They assume that I’m damaged, and can’t function like any “normal” person. It drives me absolutely insane. I have been through hell and back…there is no question about it. I was victimized by someone I should have been able to trust. But that does NOT make me a victim. It makes me a fighter. And that goes for anyone that’s been through hard things in their life. No matter the outcome…whether it led them down a bad path or a good one…they’re still fighters. They survived it…and they learned from it.

A coworker of mine apologized to me the other day…saying she was sorry I’d been through all that I have. I get that a lot…people apologizing for something that they had nothing to do with, and couldn’t have changed anyways. I used to say thank you…and then would go on my way. But this time I told her not to apologize. Not only is it not her fault…but I also don’t want sympathy. You ready for some real crazy talk? I’m GLAD it happened. I’m THANKFUL it happened. I would not be half the person I am today without it all. I have bad days sometimes where I throw a pity party so large it rivals the Royal Wedding…but in the end I snap out of it. I’ve learned so much already in life…and I love it. One of the best parts is I know life can’t throw ANYTHING at me that I can’t handle. Even when things seem impossible and I’m hurting…I know that nothing can hurt me like my father did. If I could make it through the 14 years with him, and the continual hardships he throws at me…I can make it through anything else with flying colors. I told my coworker all of this, and I swear I thought her head was going to spin off. Thankful for the hard life I’d lived? Seems insane…and maybe it is. I don’t pretend to be normal by any means. My life is perfectly imperfect. It’s MY life. It was planned out and created only for me.

It feels good to be able to look at it all like that. I don’t want to be depressed, I don’t want to dwell. I want to learn, and I want to enjoy every second that I get on this planet. Because quite frankly, we don’t get long enough. I want to be happy, and I want everyone around me to be happy. I want to be remembered down the road as someone who didn’t take anything for granted…and made mistakes. Someone that wore her heart on her sleeve, despite people trying to break it.

One of my favorite quotes (that happens to be on this blog) is “Life always offers you a second chance…it’s called tomorrow.” There are days where I feel like I can’t possibly get out of bed, and I can’t keep it together. But I can…and I do. I always will. Because I’m alive...and you can be damn sure I’m going to LIVE.

A friend recently told me that my posts on Facebook are inspiring to her…and I about fell outta my chair. I ramble on Facebook and I put personal details on my page that irritate a lot of people (not that I really care). I do it because I don’t care when people see my flaws and my thoughts. They’re who I am…why shouldn’t it be public? You see what you get. She said that’s why she enjoyed them. Said that they were honest…and to be blunt…that made me incredibly happy. That’s exactly what I want…and that’s exactly what I am. I don’t pretend…and I don’t sugar coat. She mentioned the journey I’m on and wished me luck…and I appreciate it. This is a crazy new journey, a crazy new me…but I’m finally happy. Hard days? Yes. But overall happier and stronger person? 100%. I just hope my struggles can help other people find their happiness too.

Gremlins, knives, and government spies

2012-04-21T16:08:00.001-07:00

Well, I promised some stories for this post. I’m really exhausted…so I’m hoping my explanations of everything I’m about to type makes sense. I promised knives, gremlins, and government spies I do believe…

When you’re a child, your parents do things sometimes that don’t make sense to you. But you’re told to go along with it…and you do…because quite frankly, you don’t have much of a choice. My father did things sometimes that I questioned…but I quickly learned to not question anything. It didn’t matter how weird it seemed…there was a reason behind it. Reasoning that made some kind of sense most of the time. And considering asking him about his behavior usually led to anger…I stayed out of it.

One of these situations I’m referring to involves the vents in the floor of some homes. You know what I’m talking about…those metal grates in the floor? Well when I was about 12-13, we had a house with those vents in every room. My father used to pull the metal pieces out of the carpet, so it would just be these big gaping holes in the floor. It drove me nuts (I have a little OCD)…but I would leave them out. The one time I did ask my dad why we left the vents open like that, he explained that it was for “better circulation”. With the metal pieces not being in the floor, air could circulate faster…thus making the house warmer/colder faster. At the time, this made perfect sense to me! In addition he told me, with my asthma…that would help keep down the dust in the air. Without the metal at the end of the vent…less dust would collect and then get blown around. Again…what perfect sense! What a loving awesome father...so concerned for my health. HAHAHAHA. Right.

When my father would come off of a high (as most addicts)…he would get very honest. It was kind of nice, because before he would hit the “angry…need another fix” guy…he’d be the loving father we all knew he could have been. On the nights where he would come down…he’d put himself on a guilt trip, and feel the need to confess everything in the world. Whether it was how much he loved his children, or admitting to something he’d done…he would just talk your head off. It was one of these nights that I found out the real reason for the removing of the vents.

As I’ve mentioned, my father is an extreme addict. When he would be on the harder drugs, (cocaine, heroin, etc)…he would hallucinate. Apparently one of the more common things he’d see were gremlins. Tiny little beings that would hide in the vents watching him. He had himself convinced in his high state that if the metal vents weren’t there…the gremlins would be trapped in the vent. They’d have nothing to cling to in order to climb out. He was terrified of these little things that were “watching him” and thought it was impossible to get rid of them. They would continuously follow him from house to house, and keeping those vents out were the only way to protect himself.

And people don’t believe me when I say he’s insane…

So moving on. I was a big outdoorsy kind of kid. I loved spending time on the lake, at the park, in the yard. During the summer I would babysit my little brother during the days and of course I’d take him outside (he was little so he’d really only hang out in his bouncer/on a blanket). But while we’d be outside I’d plant flowers, work in the garden, or just play with him. I was going through the front flower beds the one day…when I almost cut myself on something shiny deep in one of the bushes. I carefully reached in to pull it out…to find that there was a VERY large butcher knife sticking up out of the bush…blade up. I was highly confused…but took it inside, and kind of forgot about it. A few days later I mentioned it to my dad…and he acted like it was this huge accident…he couldn’t BELIEVE he left that out there. After all, he just took it out there because he “couldn’t find anything else strong enough to cut some branches off the bush”. Now again…as a kid…this made sense to me. Seemed a little strange, and now that I look back on it, it seems completely insane…but at the time…it made sense. Now the real reasoning for the butcher knife I’ll explain in a moment. But there are some other details I should explain first.

Strange habit #3 of my father. He would take blankets/large towels/sheets, etc. and put them up over the windows. Every night he would close the blinds, and then proceed to cover all of the windows with darker material (including the bedrooms, living room, and so on). He told me that it was to help keep out the extra light in the morning, and told me that it would help me get a deeper sleep. And yet again…made PERFECT sense to my 12 year old brain. Now the real story behind the butcher knife and the blankets wasn’t something I found out until years later. In one of his “admission moments” he told my step mom all about the government spies watching him. Apparently these spies came at night…(what for, I still don’t know). They would go around the house peering in the windows…watching for him and just waiting to come get him. I have no idea what exactly he thought they were going to do to him…but he was terrified of them. If he blocked out the windows they couldn’t see in…and if he got lucky…they would kill themselves on the butcher knives placed strategically in the bushes under all of the windows.

I have these strange memories of those last few years with him. Memories in one house in particular of him creeping around the house at 3 in the morning. I remember there being nights where I would stir slightly in my sleep, and just barely open my eyes. But when I would…I would see him crouched down in the hallway, slowly going around corners, and staring into rooms. I would quickly shut my eyes, and attempt sleep again. Talk about drug induced paranoia.

It’s all completely crazy…and it still throws me off. These stories sound crazy to me…and I lived them.

Newsflash- I'm not perfect

2012-04-14T15:51:00.000-07:00

Next post I promise is going to be “fun”. Maybe not fun…but entertaining/possibly a little disturbing for all of you with naive ideas of what drug addict life is like. I’ve had some stories I’ve been keeping in my back pocket for whenever I feel the right time is. And for some strange reason…I’m ready to talk about them now. It may boggle a few brains…things including butcher knives, gremlins, and government spies. Do I have your attention now?

Anyways…I was looking at the blog today, and realized my picture was still anonymous. Kind of funny considering the whole “front page of the newspaper” and “full size picture on page 3” thing. But…it seems to be that part of me was still hiding behind the anonymity of the web. So…I’m done hiding. Pictures are being changed…my name is already out there…and as far as I’m concerned…I want these stories to travel. I’m encouraging gossip. After seeing how the newspaper article affected people…and all of the responses I got to it…made my heart happy. No one realizes how common some of the stuff I talk about is…because everyone is so damn SCARED to say anything. And there’s no reason for that. The entire point of this blog is to get people talking…get people thinking…(and help me express my sometimes unhealthy thoughts/emotions).

I’ve gotten a LOT of criticism for posting about all that I do. That I should stop “giving personal details” and stop “broadcasting my personal life”. After all…people might see my weaknesses and that’s just not acceptable! Oh BITE ME. Ya ready for this? I’M NOT PERFECT! I’m…stubborn, emotionally damaged, I’ve got enough baggage to fill a 747, I talk a lot, I don’t censor myself, I have a very LOW patience level…and quite frankly, I’m bitter sometimes! If you don’t like it…get off my page ;) I say what I think…and that will NEVER change. And to everyone who thinks I should stop talking about all of these “personal topics”…I hope you know that YOU are part of the problem. It’s people like you, that give victims the idea that they aren’t allowed to tell anyone what’s happening to them. It’s people like YOU that make them feel guilty…like the situation is somehow THEIR fault. Wake up!!!

I plan to go on a rant soon about the word victim as well. I’m thinking it all right now…but don’t really have the time to write it all out. It needs some more fine tuning in my head before it’s set in stone. Be sure to stay tuned for that one…it should get interesting.

Was checking into all the stats on the blog…and it blows my mind. 6 continents, 47 countries, about 5,300 hits…all in less than 6 months. Sheesh.

Random thought before I stop myself from babbling all night…I’m usually not a big Taylor Swift fan…something about her kind of annoys me. No good reason for it…and I’m sure she’s wonderful, but something just irks me. Anyways…heard her latest song today “Eyes Open”…and it’s been stuck in my head. Very interesting…you should check it out. Well played Taylor…well played.

That movie I saw once

2012-04-07T14:37:00.001-07:00

I haven’t posted in weeks…and I’ve gotten a lot of emails and comments since then. I haven’t been ignoring them, and I hope I haven’t lost any readers. Things have just been so busy and chaotic. Not to mention I’ve been really irritated with my father’s situation, and haven’t really wanted to talk about it. I know…weird. Me not wanting to babble forever.

Anyways, a lot of people have been waiting for an update pertaining to my father’s court date. And unfortunately, I don’t have any real interesting information. His court date was rescheduled…again. I spent days trying to get ahold of his public defender to get more information…and after almost a week, and multiple temper tantrums to his secretary, she patched me through to him. I found out a lot more that I honestly didn’t know how to take. If my father is convicted, he’s looking at (at the LEAST) 8 years in prison. I’m not even going to go into how much time he COULD be sentenced to. And as much as I hate to be negative…I don’t think he’ll make it out of there. Even with only 8 years…at his age and with his health…that’s where he’ll be for the rest of his life.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my life lately, and how the experiences with my father have shaped me. My mom put it really well the other day…we were talking about how sometimes it really feels like “why me?” Why were we put in such a terrible situation? Even if God wanted us to learn something by it…wasn’t there some “less dramatic” way to teach us? She said that after thinking like that for a while, she realized that maybe he wasn’t in our lives to help us grow…but we were in his life to try and help him learn. He had everything, a beautiful wife, a beautiful daughter (if I do say so myself)…and he chose to screw it up. He chose other things over this perfectly packaged family right in front of him. And then he did it again and again…with every new woman he was with. He had the chance at being in the lives of 3 wonderful kids…and it didn’t mean enough to him. God was giving him chances to get on the right path…and he continuously walked away from it.

That was strangely calming. But at the same time it made me sad. I hate my father sometimes…with everything in me. Occasionally I get so mad at him that I just want to drive the 13 hours to the jail and scream at him endlessly. But then there are other times where I just feel bad. I feel terrible that my father is most likely going to die in a jail cell. Granted he deserves it…and everything else coming to him…but it’s sad. It hurts me knowing how he must feel sometimes. Looking back with a sober mind (as sober as it gets)…and seeing the path of wreckage he left in so many lives. Knowing that he wasn’t there for my wedding, graduations, and will never meet my children. Knowing that he’s missing out on my little brother and sister’s firsts. I’m rambling on something completely off topic again…

I have a lot of questions now that things are at a bit of a stand still. Court isn’t going to be rescheduled until this fall…meaning I have a lot of time to think. Lately I’ve been really curious as to his mindset. He’s started attacking my little sister just like he attacked me…and while I know he’s completely bat crazy…I have to wonder what goes on in his head. He says that his children are his world…and the only things that he’s ever worried about. But I wonder how that can possibly be true when he treats us as he does. I know drugs are addicting, I know mental disorders are overwhelming…but I can’t see myself EVER choosing something over my family like that. Especially my children. I can be mean…I can be downright cruel sometimes…but if I ever am…it haunts me. And I could never do something to intentionally hurt someone I loved.

I’m really overtired at the moment. I’ve been working two jobs…70-80+ hours a week…and the exhaustion makes me really emotional and confused. I overthink things and second guess myself. I go from wanting to scream at him, to feeling bad…to wanting to cry for hours. This still doesn’t seem real. It’s been 14 months…and I still feel like I’m reading some screwed up thriller novel. I replay the morning I found out in my head constantly…and it’s like I’m watching it from someone else’s body. Opening credits to a young girl sleeping on the couch, getting irritated by the phone that keeps ringing. Finally waking up to read a message, respond, and roll over…grasping to those last few minutes of sleep. The phone chirps again…and again…and again…until she finally sits up extremely frustrated, and still half asleep. You watch her face go from confusion…to almost panic…to confusion again. She stumbles over to the other side of the couch, and pulls open the computer, still half asleep. Types something into the search bar of the internet, and looks away to stretch and try to fully open her eyes. She turns back to the computer and scrolls down the opening page still looking confused…until she freezes. You see the color completely drain out of her face, her hands start to shake, and you watch her knees give out. She struggles to breathe normally…until the choking breaths just turn to sobs. You see her husband come into the room, just as confused as she had been…and looking half asleep too. She points at the computer unable to speak…and you watch his face go from concerned, to angry. The scene closes to him holding her on the floor as she sobs.

That’s how I see that morning. I don’t remember my own emotions to be honest. I just remember thinking how it couldn’t possibly be real. That mugshot on the front page couldn’t be my father. That article with all the comments about how sick and disgusting he was…couldn’t possibly be about him. The phone calls from reporters, and hateful people couldn’t have been directed at me. It doesn’t seem real. Over a year later, and the more time passes…the more it seems like a movie I saw once. Yet here we are. I still see his blue eyes in the mirror, I still flash to him playing his guitar in the kitchen late at night every time I hear one…and I still struggle with missing him.

I’m done for now…I’ll try to get back into writing…it really does calm me down. And I promise to respond to all of the comments/emails that I’ve neglected. What can I say…? I lead kind of a crazy life.

Life is good

2012-03-18T14:21:00.001-07:00

There’s one more thing I want to clarify that I just started to think about. I’ve noticed that sometimes my posts, and the article…make it seem like every day is a terrible struggle for me. And I want to be clear that it’s not. I have my moments where I get upset…and some days are higher stress than others. But for the most part…I lead a beautiful life. Yes, there are hard times right now. Between my divorce and my dad’s trial coming up…it’s hard to get through some days. But for the most part…I am the happiest and strongest I have ever been. After I read the article today and saw all the comments and feedback from people it already seems to be helping…I literally ran outside in the yard and screamed. I danced around the lawn like some 8 year old. I’ve been skipping through the house all day…because knowing that the word is getting out there…makes me feel amazing. It puts me on this crazy high…and gives me hope.

I rarely have panic attacks anymore. Very rarely actually. My depression is essentially gone…and I can’t remember the last time bad dreams woke me up. I have this amazing family that somehow sticks behind me, no matter what knucklehead things I do. I have a large group of good friends that I know would be there if I ever needed them…and the BEST “best friend” a girl could possibly have. I am successful at work, and can honestly say that I love my job and my boss. I am truly happy for the first time in years.

Life is hard, but I’m thankful to have the life that I do. There are constant struggles…but I’m a lucky girl. The blog doesn’t really talk about that stuff…because it’s focused on the harder aspects of life. It’s focused on the recovery…and the hard work behind it. But just because those hard things are going on…doesn’t mean I’m falling apart. It just means I’m getting stronger.

Tissues for your issues

2012-03-18T14:07:00.000-07:00

So as I’ve made it pretty clear all over Facebook and Twitter…the article came out this morning. It was mind blowing to see my face right there in print. The response I’ve gotten from it already is absolutely insane. Hundreds of views on the blog…emails…comments…phone calls…text messages. Friends of mine that I rarely talk to are coming to me about abuse that they went through as children…that I had NO idea about until now. This is exactly what I wanted from this blog…and I am so excited that I got a chance to pair up with such an awesome reporter. It’s a great article, with so much helpful information for people. I really hope that it reaches the people that need it.

I keep getting a lot of comments from people about the picture…and my now famous kitty Gizmo. I find it funny because as I type this, he’s curled in my lap just like in the picture…trying to steal my hairband off of my wrist. Anyone that wants an idea of the “real me”…there it is. I’m just like anybody else…I write this blog from the comfort of my couch or bed, with two kitties fighting for my attention, usually climbing all over the keyboard.

Now for the real reason I started writing this post. I know that there’s going to be controversy over this article. It’s already kind of started actually. As it says in the article…people tend to view the victims of domestic violence as less of a person because of the things they’ve been through. They assume we’re “damaged” and that we basically can’t function normally. And as ridiculous as this may sound…anyone who thinks that way is out of their damn minds.

Victims of domestic violence aren’t weak. If anything…they are the strongest people you’ve ever met. Do they have issues? Absolutely! I’ve got enough baggage to keep Continental in business for the next 10 years. But in NO way does that make me weak. Carrying all that baggage around has made me stronger…and the more that gets piled on…the stronger I get. The more I can deal with. It’s like that for most victims.

You might be wondering where this is coming from. I was reading over the article again today online…and saw that there were comments. Part of me was tempted to ignore them…but “curiosity killed the Kat” and of course I read them. One was very supportive…and the other irked me a little bit. "Why follow someone's blog who hasn't overcome her own issues yet? If you have gone thru this yourself then please seek PROFESSIONAL advise from people trained to help." Now first of all…I have to say that I DO agree with the end of that sentence. If there’s a problem…and you need help…you should absolutely go for professional help. I’m not a medical professional in any way…and I’m not “trained” to give advice for any of this. But there’s a big BUT coming…I lived it. For YEARS I had “professionals” in my face, telling me how to deal with something that they had never experienced. And I HATED that. Reading about something in a book, and being able to “treat” something that you’ve read about…is completely different from LIVING it. I got more help and more support from support groups, and people that had been in my shoes. Sure, we all had different experiences…but we still understood. And that’s what a big part of this article was about…agencies in our area seeing the need for more programs to help with that. Now again…I agree with getting professional help, and will always push that. But sometimes “professional help” doesn’t help…it just frustrates.

And now for the first part of the comment. At first, I wanted to be immature and make some kind of snotty comment in response. But then I stepped back and thought about it. The blog is about overcoming issues. I’m not perfect, but neither are you. I don’t care who you are…we ALL have “issues”. I’m just very open with mine. I hope that the struggles I have, can help someone else. If something good can come out of the things that I went through…then it was all worth it. I’m sure there are other people that are going through something similar…and they need to know that they’re not alone. Not only that, but they need to know that the way they’re feeling, isn’t in any way wrong. There are two options in life…you can sit around, pretend you’re perfect and that everything is always good…but silently be miserable…OR you can admit that life is HARD, downright impossible sometimes. And you can learn from your mistakes. You can grow from your hardships…and you can help other people struggling with you.

So no…I haven’t “overcome my issues” yet. But quick note…I’m never going to. The things I went through, will always be with me. My PTSD…will probably always be with me as well. And I’m glad. I can handle anything because of it. I don’t want to overcome my issues…I want to grow with them. I want to use them to help other people. Putting my shortcoming out in the open doesn’t make me weak…doesn’t make me less of a person…it makes me ten times more likely to be able to help someone else. And that’s what’s important. Overcoming all types of abuse and domestic violence is the point…not attempting to make myself “perfect”. After all…I like my scars…they make me unique J

This is it

2012-03-14T17:31:00.000-07:00

Quite a bit has happened in the last two weeks. Along with the normal work, coaching, etc…there’s been quite a few random things to prepare for. First…trial is this month. 2 weeks from yesterday to be specific. It’s starting to freak me out a little bit. I know it probably shouldn’t…but at the same time, I know it’s only going to get worse once it comes time to actually go down to Florida.

Maybe I’m completely crazy for wanting to go to this thing. I probably am. But I am so ready to finally see him get locked up. While I know there’s a chance he’ll get away with it…I’m praying he won’t. I’m praying that there will finally be some justice in this “justice” system. It’s hard to say if it’s false hope, it probably is. But either way…I’m definitely going. I need to prove to myself that I CAN go.

On another note…the other big news has to do with this blog…and the newspaper. One of the reporter’s at the local paper was doing an article on the rise of a need for support groups for children that suffered domestic violence. I did an interview for it this week…and the article will come out on Sunday. It was a little terrifying to know that my face and name are about to be out there (as everything on this blog has been anonymous so far…well minus the people that know me personally). But at the same time, it’s a liberating feeling. Part of the problem with domestic violence is the fact that no one will talk about it. Everyone’s afraid of either the repercussions, or the idea that people will look down on them. I can’t tell you how many times people have seen me as “weaker” than a “normal” person because I went through the things I did. They assume I can’t handle myself or the struggles I face.

In reality…all of those people couldn’t be much further off. Because of what I’ve dealt with…I’m ten times more capable of dealing with the usual stresses of life. Not to mention the harder situations. There’s nothing this life can throw at me that I haven’t been through…and made it through. Even in moments of weakness…I’m stronger than the average person.

It felt good to say everything in the interview. Talk about how anyone who’s been through situations like I was…should talk about it. It’s not something to be ashamed of, or something to hide from. It’s something you have to take head on…and learn to live with. Plus it seems like this is what I've been waiting for. This blog has gotten pretty popular quickly. But this will reach so many other people...which was the whole reason for starting this blog in the first place. I just hope it helps someone. Watch for the article this Sunday online and in the paper J