I'm Sorry

An apology is the superglue of life.  It can repair just about anything.  ~Lynn Johnston

We met shortly after I began writing. She critiqued something I wrote online. Then we found out we lived 20 minutes away from each other. She wanted to meet. I couldn't....not for three months. A year later we have become the best of friends...talking every day....sharing our lives, our hopes, our dreams....our fears.

From the first time we met, she's been there....in my corner....supportive - encouraging me to tell what I never could. When I struggled to talk....and couldn't stand to have anyone look at me.....she sat - waited in the dark.  When I tried to speak...tried to tell what happened....the words getting caught inside - not being able to get them out....she waited....prayed...sat in the darkness with me. Over time I did share the worst....speaking in broken sentences....not finishing whole thoughts.....starting...stopping - my words faltering.....She waited and prayed and stayed.

Tonight she told me there was something she wanted to say.....something she had wanted to tell me since last year.....when she knew what had happened.
I'm sorry for what happened to you. I'm sorry for what they did. I'm sorry that P. held you down and let him rape you. As a woman I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. And if anyone ever hurt you now I would fight for you.  

Her words took me off guard. No one had ever said they were sorry for what happened. I had fought alone. I had fought hard to survive....with no one in my corner. No one helping me....only those who hurt me....holding me.....preventing me from being free. P was the woman who helped the rapist hold me in that place. She had the keys....the opportunity to let me go....she wouldn't. And she held me down and let him rape me. I used to think she too was a victim because I didn't believe a woman could hurt anyone the way she hurt me. 


I didn't know what to say to my friend, but in some crazy way.....her words are healing. I'm sorry for what happened to you....I'm sorry they hurt you. I'm really sorry and if anyone hurts you again....I'll fight for you. 

The Power of Kindness

 "Kindness is a language we all understand. Even the blind can see it and the deaf can hear it."  Mother Teresa

I slumped in the oversized chair and closed my eyes. I couldn't bear to look at the kindness etched on their faces. It hurt too much. I was used to fighting to get my needs met....fighting against people who used me...hurt me for their own purposes.   

You can come here anytime...no questions asked. And.help yourself to anything in the fridge or cupboards. I sat frozen in that chair....hardly able to breathe.....shivering even though it was warm in the room. It was because of their kindness.....their gentle words...it stunned me....took me off guard. I had no idea how to react to it. 

Kindness - it was something I hadn't known.....something I didn't understand. I sat in that chair holding myself rigid...on guard...suspicious of this couple who didn't want to take anything from me. Instead....they just wanted to show kindness. 

Kindness - it felt strange....painful.  I knew how to fight people who wanted something from me. I had become an expert at biting, kicking, running. I knew nothing about staying...nothing about accepting kindness. 

It's taken me a long time to trust the goodness from others. Even now, when I'm really tired....I can feel my guard go up....anticipating someone wanting to hurt me. 

That couple ran a drop in centre. They never put any pressure on me to do anything. They simply let me come and go whenever I wanted. When it was cold out and I had nowhere to go, they let me stay there. I couldn't talk. I couldn't even say thank-you. They accepted that....and never forced me to say or do anything....They never asked for anything in return. I've never forgotten them. I've never forgotten what they did for me. I don't know if they even knew the effect they had. I hope they did.

And there were others - a social worker, a cop, this guy who worked in a kitchen in a restaurent....when I wanted to give up...they reached out and touched me with their kindness.

I want to live my life paying forward the kindness that had been given to me...the kindness that made a difference. 

Youer Than You!

“Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.” Dr. Seuss

When he was hungry....he insisted I was too. When he wanted to sleep...he forced me to lie down with him. When he felt sad or happy or scared and I didn't feel the same....he screamed that I had no feelings. Whatever he liked, whatever he wanted, whatever he needed - I had to feel the same. I had no idea who I was - what I wanted or needed or liked or didn't like. I had no identity. I became whatever he needed.  

Being seen....being known has been my biggest issue. I've spent a lot of time hiding...I still struggle with being present. I feel safer alone even though I do connect easily with people. People tell me all the time I'm friendly, outgoing...fun. And they say they feel close to me.  But at a certain point...I stop being present.

I'm used to reading people instead of relaxing....and just being. I can only just be for so long and then something happens inside me. There's a restlessness...and a detachment...I stop paying attention. I want to leave....get away....withdraw.....write. 

When I write I can be me. Writing gives me a freedom  - it makes me feel connected....it lets me be real...I can say what I want....I can say the truth.  And I write in the dark...with the lights off.. The darkness helps me to feel....it helps me stay connected to me.

When I had my youngest daughter....I asked my oldest who was then five...if she was jealous of the baby. She said, 'No I'm not jealous because she is the best she is and I am the best I am.'  Pretty powerful words. I've never forgotten them. 

Being real...being seen. I'm still working on this...

Hope

"I simply can't build my hopes on a foundation of confusion, misery and death... I think... peace and tranquillity will return again." Anne Frank

Faith, hope....the ingrediants to live....to survive...to move forward. I wonder why some are able to do this....and others are not. I woke up this morning...remembering a close friend who couldn't fight the darkness anymore, who let go and gave in to it. She overdosed....ended her life. And others I know live on pills....tranqualizers...popping them like candy....not wanting to think....living in a state of numb.

I don't know how I came to have hope....hope that things will work out....Maybe because I still remember when He touched me....when nothing else worked. It was instant. Lying in a hospital bed under oxygen - I felt His touch.... I sensed chains falling off. I've never touched any chemical since.  I had been shooting up three and four times a day for 14 years....since I was twelve. In an instant - one touch - freed. 

I still couldn't stop throwing up or cutting, but the drug addiction...the needle - gone. Without the drugs....I wasn't so sick....but I was afraid my heart would stop from the eating disorder. I was dizzy all the time....and cold even on the hottest summer days and my legs hurt with terrible muscle spasms. I wanted Him to take it away instantly like He did the drugs....but it didn't work that way. I had to fight...to struggle...I wanted to give up....to let go...to let the addiction have its way.  I got mad at Him....really mad...and I got mad at me...I ripped my arms until they bled. I didn't know what else to do with the building frustration.

He waited. I didn't want to face what happened. I blamed myself....The anger and self-loathing and hatred made me lash out in ways that nearly killed me. He waited.  Another friend died. Lost her battle...gave in....gave up....Still He waited.  
Hope - without it there's nothing to hang onto.

Yogurt Tubes, Ravioli & Confidence

"Part of the secret of success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside." Mark Twain

My nine year old is not crazy about yogurt. I tried the cups, tubes and drinks....The only time she eats them is if there's little else in her lunch bag.  The other morning I sent her to school with a sandwich, a yogurt tube, some cookies, fruit and a drink. As soon as she walked in the door she blurted out, Mom, I'm starving. 
I guess you ate your yogurt? I said.

Uh uh.  
What?  
Uh uh. I put it back in the fridge.  
You starving? She nodded.. Then go have the yogurt. 
Uh uh. 
My older daughter came down the stairs and hearing the conversaton said...Bet you ate the cookies. 
Uh huh. smiled my youngest.
Go eat the yogurt. I said.  
Nope. I want ravioli. 
Ravioli? 
Yes. 
But it's only 4:00 p.m. Go eat the yogurt.  
Nope. I won't.  
Then I'm calling Nanny 911. 
Grinning at me with her chubby little face all lit up, she answered...She won't just come because I won't eat yogurt. 
I cracked up. Eat the yogurt. 
No. 
Eat the yogurt. 
No.  
Who'se stronger me or you? 
By now she was laughing so hard. Me.

You bet I told her. Go have Ravioli. 

How does she do it? How does this little person have the confidence to stand up for what she wants. I love that. I love that she's not afraid to hold onto what she wants....and go for it and not back down.

Watching her....listening to her....makes me feel good - because in her...and in my older daughter...I know the cycle of abuse has been broken.  They're not growing up afraid to speak....to say what they think...to own what they want. They trust life....they trust me....and mostly they trust themselves. 

They're my best teachers....how living free should be....My nine yr. old knows what she likes and doesn't like. I on the other hand, still struggle knowing what I want, what I like, what I don't like....And I do things because I think I should, not always because I want. 

I used to work with this older man; a recovering alcoholic - he told me all the time....inch by inch it's a cinch..yard by yard it's hard. I still hear his voice...those words in my head.....simple words...yet powerful. 

I'm watching my girls....listening to them...learning how to live free.

Strange....

"Leaving behind nights of terror and fear....I rise." Maya Angelou
 
My books have been selling...sold four yesterday...two more today. Sold almost 100 copies since it was released last month. And they're getting into bookstores. Four stores are carrying them now. 

It feels strange...strange to read people's comments...to know they're talking about me... Many have emailed...telling me what they think of the book....what they think of me....They're saying what no one ever said. You went through so much. Too much. This is amazing. You survived!  

At first their words shocked me. I had always thought it was normal, no big deal....not that bad. Maybe because I went through it alone...maybe because I never told anyone. No one ever knew. I didn't want anyone to know. I thought what happened was my fault. I thought I was bad, wrong, different...I thought I caused those things to happen in some weird way.

The words of kindness and affirmation that it was bad...are taking away that need in me to fight...to be on guard. I can feel something in me relaxing...softening...I don't want to fight anymore.

And something else - people are saying, If you can do it...I can too. My book is doing what I wanted. It's giving hope. It's pumping people to reach for their own freedom. That humbles me. I think He knew. He knew I would tell. He knew I would stand up. He knew I would give back. I feel scared and excited at the same time. I listen to Maya Angelou over and over...Her words 'and still I rise' empowering me...helping me know - I am becoming strong!

He is the core of my story. He is the One who broke chains when nothing else worked....I don't know how He did it....but He did. And if I can help just one person find freedom....find their way out of the darkness...than maybe everything I went through was all worth it.

Honoring Truth

"I can be changed by what happens to me, but I refuse to be reduced by it." Maya Angelou

When I first saw her....I was drawn to the softness in her face....and to her smile. There was a warmth, a kindness, a gentleness about her. She had been admitted to the hospital after falling and breaking a hip. I knew she was from Poland. I asked if she had been through the war. 


Putting her head down, she let the tears fall and began to tell me the horrors she had lived. As I listened....I struggled to stay present. I found myself wanting to close my eyes and go away. She talked quickly, wanting to get it all out....she knew dates, places, times, names.....She wanted to be accurate...she wanted to say the truth. 

I asked her how she managed to live all those years with what had happened to her....She shook her head and cried unashamedly. I don't know. I think God let me live to tell....

I went home that night....detached...like I used to be....feeling separate from myself...that 84 year old woman's words echoing in my mind...I think God let me live to tell.....

When I got home...my friend called....two people her husband works with bought the book. Two other people ordered it online. And a bookstore in the city next to where I live asked me to bring some books to place on their shelves. 

Writing this...I feel sad...I don't know why. Maybe sad for that woman...that  survivor who knew at 84 God let her live to tell her story....Maybe because in some way that lady gave me a message today...a message to be strong...a message to tell the truth of what happened...to not be afraid....It wasn't my fault...and what happened doesn't define who I am today. 

And maybe by telling my truth....I can show there is a way out of darkness...a way out of hopelessness. I think of friends who died...who took their own lives or died by accident because of the damage they had done to their bodies...and I think of the many times I tempted death......Yet He let me live - Maybe He let me live to tell. 

There is still a part of me that thinks what happened defines who I am....In my head I know that's not true...but somewhere inside me....it doesn't feel like that's completely true.

I want to be strong...and give that strength to others. I want to use what happened and give hope. And I want to show the gentleness of His power is able to break through any darkness.

Dignity

"One's dignity may be assaulted, vandalized and cruelly mocked, but cannot be taken away unless it is surrendered." Micheal J. Fox

She was the first-born of triplet girls and weighed only 2 pounds. Her parents wanted to prepare her for marriage...not a career. They refused to support her decision to attend university...She chose to go anyways....without their support. 


She became one of the most loved and respected psychiatrist of our time. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross...well known for her work on death and dying...practised psychiatry at a U.S. facility early in her career. It was there she tested her theory.....if you show compassion, kindness and respect to even the most disturbed patients.....they will respond positively.  It worked. No drugs, no force, no punishment...  
"Patients with even the most severe illnesses seemed to respond to Kübler-Ross's compassionate approach. The indifferent and even inhumane treatment of patients in psychiatric hospitals appalled the young doctor, and the more freedom she was allowed in treating patients, the more successful results she achieved......

When I think about the 'professionals' who used force.....tying me to a bed, locking me in a closet sized room, pumping me full of sedatives that gave me horrible side effects...I still get angry...I want to strike back at them....hurt them the way they hurt me. Why did they think it was acceptable to treat anyone like that?  And that type of 'treatment' goes on all the time in government run homes and institutions. 

The dictionary defines dignity as - a term used to signify that a human being has an inate right to respect and ethical treatment. 

Some of those professionals claiming to 'help' me - stripped me of any shred of dignity I may have had. They said they were simply trying to stop me from hurting myself.  Their force, their control...their methods only pushed me to lash out more....and intensified my self-hatred.  What they did...was reinforce what I had already learned growing up in a violent home....


Dignity....He touched me....and showed me a different way. He showed me compassion, kindness....gentleness. He changed me like Kubler-Ross's kindness changed her patients. Dignity - I never want to take that from anybody....

Facing Fear

"Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live." Dorothy Thompson

I talked to myself all morning....telling myself not to be afraid... not to worry what anyone thinks. This was the day I planned to go market my book. My daughter had made up some cards for me to give out...4X6's that had a picture of the book cover and my website. 

I dropped my daughter off at school....I was pumped...and ready. Let's do this. I drove to the first place really confident. I went in. The woman in charge was off sick. Got back in the car...losing courage. 

I started having all kinds of doubts...wondering what I was doing...and why. It was only a year ago...not even....that I didn't want anyone to know all those awful things that had happened. But things were changing. I was changing. It had never dawned on me how much He had done in my heart, in my life....how far down He had reached to pull me out. He had given me so much. I had given him nothing. I needed to show my gratitude....for what He did....for letting me live. 

I kept driving....out of the city....lost in my thoughts. I owe Him. I can do this....I need to...I need to tell. 

I stopped and walked into a sexual assault centre. I started to blurt out - I wrote this book...
The woman took me in a room, picked up my book, held it gently and then, we had a staff meeting this morning...talked about doing a fund raiser....finding women who wrote their story who would be willing to come in and share. Can I tell them about you? She took all my cards to pass out. 

I drove home...stunned. It worked. Courage....Faith....I had stepped out of my comfort zone...trusting I can make a difference...Something's shifted in me. I can make a difference....No more secrets!

Conflict

"The mother-daughter relationship is the most complex"  Wynonna Judd

I rarely argue with my daughter...but tonight I got angry at her....angry because of my own dumb fear. 

She started a new school last September. She's the kind of kid who needs one best friend. Thankfully she and two other new girls ended up in the same class. The three quickly became good friends...hanging out together, sharing secrets....having fun. 

A few weeks ago she told me one of the girls had applied to go to another school next Fall...a school for advanced kids. I asked her if she wanted to go also..she said she didn't know and besides the other girl would still be at this school. Tonight she told me the other girl has applied too. I asked her if she wanted to apply now. She kept saying she didn't know. She's worried about another change....she's worried about the two kids she feels the closest with leaving. 

When she's worried, she can't think....she starts saying, I don't know a lot. I kept thinking about her feeling lost in the school without those girls. The more she said she didn't know....the more my fears escalated. And then I got angry.

She's a great kid....a thinker...and pretty smart....usually scores high marks....but she's shy when she doesn't know people well. Once she does....she's a ton of fun. 

I thought of her on the first day of school last September. I had dropped her off and watched her. You scared? She nodded and then tears rolled down her cheeks. I won't leave you. I walked to her locker and hung around and met the teacher, and then those new girls came in and the three sat together. I left her that morning feeling like my heart was being crushed. 

My daughter's an awesome kid. I hate that I got angry. She was already feeling scared and I made it worse. After a few minutes - I told her I wasn't mad at her....I was just afraid....and that somehow it'll work out and be ok. I want to protect her....I don't want her to hurt...to feel pain...or fear...or worse - have that awful feeling of being lost...

Funny think about love....sometimes it hurts. It hurts so bad.  I have to remember my daughter is growing up different than I did. She's got love and supports...and a family - she's not alone and doesn't have to fight to survive the way I did. And she's got a steadiness in her....an inner strength. I know she'll be ok and we figured out there are some options....there's always options.

Loyalty

"The trust of the innocent is the liar's most useful tool." Stephen King

His hook were his words....gentle, soothing...claiming love. I overlooked his rage, the beatings, the name calling.  He told me he loved me.....he told me I was the only one who understood him.....he said he  needed me. I was seven years old.

He poured out his heart...sharing things I didn't understand. And when he hurt me....using vulgar words or his fists....or locking me in the car for hours...I still believed he loved me....I didn't know any different and besides - he needed me. 

At eight....he beat me so bad I started cutting myself. I thought he was right - I believed I was worthless.  Nine...ten....eleven...at twelve I stole morphine trying to block out his rage and my fear....thirteen....fourteen I was shooting dope three and four times a day.

Loyalty.....I was loyal to him no matter what he did or how he treated me.  I tried to be what he wanted, to give him what I thought he needed. He spoke with kindness...tenderness but then in the same heartbeat he turned like someone possessed and I became the object of his hatred.

Loyalty - I knew more about what he liked, what he wanted, what he needed than what I did. I didn't exist near him. I couldn't. He couldn't handle that....so I disappeared. I went away. I got lost. I lived in my own world...

Loyalty....the rapist demanded loyalty just like my father. He said he loved me....that I couldn't live without him....and that God wanted me to be with him. Like my father, he hurt me and wouldn't let me go. I managed to get free...but I wasn't really free. Not for a long time....Not until I had falled so far down....not until I almost died - not until I felt His touch....and He showed me the power and truth of loyalty....

I learned I had trusted in lies, in deception. To trust from my heart instead of my head was too hard.  I screamed at Him to kill me...to let me go...but He wouldn't. 

I needed to learn to be loyal to myself.  I struggled with knowing simple things....like my favorite color or food or tv program. I had a hard time staying present or letting anyone get close and I couldn't stop hurting myself. He waited....with patience...with gentleness.

Loyalty - It's powerful. It determines the direction of life. 



 

Sisters

"A sister is both your mirror and your opposite." Elizabeth Fishel   

My sister and I were separated since we were kids. Our parents tried to turn us against each other and keep us apart. It worked. We lived our lives in different worlds...not knowing each other...not trusting the other.....
But the sister bond between us brought us together - strong and tight...in spite of what they did to keep us apart.

The two of us are different - I'm the youngest...a thinker - practical - cautious trusting people. My sister runs on her emotions...She cracks me up with her crazy adventures that always end in a cry for help. Impusive with money, she buys whatever she wants....never looks at prices. Me? I don't spend....I wait...I can't make up my mind. I never know what I want....what I like....I calculate the cost and often talk myself out of buying something. I'm physical...a runner...restless...always moving. She's a couch potato. As a kid...living with chaoes and abuse....she reached out to others....found support...found safe places to fall. I pulled inside myself...trying hard to be invisible.

But there are similiarities. She too believed she had no right to exist. And she hurt herself. Not like me....in different ways. She became addicted to food. Eating became her comfort. People didn't notice her pain. Overeating and weight issues were more acceptable than shooting dope...than throwing up...than looking emaciated....She laughed on the outside...hurt on the inside. And she recently told me she took burning hot showers that sounds similiar to my cutting myself. 

I never believed what happened in our house was bad. I didn't think it was a big deal. I acutally thought it was normal...that something was wrong with me for all the beatings and name calling. But my sister forced me to look at the truth.....forced me to see the impact it had.

Connecting with her has helped me heal...espeically from some of the shame. She knew the truth. I guessed at it. She confirmed what was in my head....I thought I had made it up. 

Recently she's been telling me she's sorry...sorry for not being there to help me...sorry for leaving me with him...for watching me fall so far down with no one to help.  She tells me I'm a miracle....her inspiration. I think she is too.