The Bubble

I have created a perfect, happy little bubble in which I call my own. 

I exist inside this atmosphere content yet all alone. 

If and when I wander outside its mighty walls, 

I tread carefully to and fro so as to not induce a fall.

I seem to wander aimlessly when sent out on my way,

For to leave the bubble is to face the crowd and all they have to say.

At times this crowd hollers angrily, and their words do surely pound

And others walk right past me - as if I am invisible - without even a sound.

To feel the judgment on my face, or the quiet words unspoken

Cause silent tears to fall upon my heart and more memories to become broken.

So I run back to my bubble,

At peace amidst my own rubble.

For here I know at least I am protected,

Even though I am completely unconnected.

Many may wonder why I use the bubble as an excuse –

Try the years and years of prior abuse.

Having broken free from the pain,

I am tired of always having to explain.

Let me learn to be my own foundation

And to come away from the stagnation.

This bubble is what I call my own;

I am so happy to be home.

Heart Particles

Sometimes our biggest fear is the fear of fear itself.  As a survivor, I can recall countless times that I did not do something because of the fear of the unknown.  Even though the past is completed and behind me, I still hold remnants of trigger points that can send me spiraling back to a previous moment in time.  To continue my journey in life is to continue on into the unknown, which can ultimately be the scariest thing – survivor or not.  I am a broken individual, but to some extent, aren’t we all?  Each of us holds pieces of our hearts that at one point or another have been smashed into nothing more than mere dust particles that could be swept away with even the gentlest of breezes.  We hold onto these heart particles tightly, envelope them deep within our souls, and do not want to let go in trepidation of what may happen if we do release our grip.  For to release our grip is in essence to let go of the control we all so desperately want. 

I am no different.  I grip and I grasp those buried, minute pieces of my heart until the breath is ostensibly sucked right away from me and I am left gasping for air.  The after affects can be monumental as I look around bright eyed at the authenticity of what is before me, which is nothing like the reality I once knew so well.  The truth of the current day is a stark and drastic difference to the life I left behind.  I struggle to identify myself as I am now, compared to the “I” I once was.  To be able to recognize and classify myself now, I must learn to let go of the particles of the heart that have been crushed beyond devastation.

Those tiny particles will always be a part of me, but the remarkable thing about dust is that it only builds up if you let it.  So, at least for today, I take a deep breath, and I blow.  I propel the heart particles that have accumulated throughout the years out as far as my breath can take them.  I watch as they drift and soar and disperse.  I exhale, and feel the gentlest breeze begin to float through my heart.  And I know the “I” that I have been looking for so long to return is finally beginning to reappear.

Exhale

Today was a beautiful day in Kentucky – fresh, crisp morning air, beautiful sunshine, and just that right amount of heat that can lend to taking off the long sleeves and sporting one of the first short sleeves of the season.  Driving to church this morning with the baby in the back, I had the windows rolled down and the radio tuned to an upbeat Christian station.  It was one of those mornings filled with promise, when you knew it could hold anything and everything you wanted it to and you felt as if you could conquer anything.  And then smack – it happened.  One of those moments where a memory of the past was triggered, joggled free from the brain bank, and the feelings and emotions of preceding times shot so strong through my being I felt as if I was back in that moment.  It rendered me speechless.  The entire switch of atmosphere was caused by…..a road sign.  Yes, I saw a road sign.  Advertising a bridal show.  The exact same bridal show in the exact same location that was pivotal in years past with my baby’s daddy.  And that one plain blue sign brought in a rush of emotions that caused my breath to suck, my heart to palpitate, and my brain to temporarily forget just where I was and what I was doing.  In just a few short seconds that felt as if they were a millennium, a cascade of emotions hit my soul.  From the euphoria felt at a new love, to the steady beat of the growing relationship, to the jolt of what happened and how it all ended.  In that short amount of time, the sun seemed to dim, the radio though playing could not be heard, and the road ahead of me seemed to blur into a colorless haze.

When I came out of the buzz of the past, my breath was shallow and my grip was locked on the steering wheel.  I had to force myself to concentrate on the roadway and the cars around me.  The sun, once warm on my cheeks, was blazingly bright.  I blinked, not only to take away the glare of the sun, but to take away the rushing, harsh emotions that had just radiated through my being.  I again heard the radio playing, and realized one of my favorite songs had turned into a commercial break.  I switched the channel to another Christian music broadcast to help bring me back into the present.  Still shaky, I realized I could let this throw me back into that time when things weren’t as bright or I could stand straight, pick myself up, and keep moving on.  Shaking the rocky breath out of me, I chose to conquer the past yet again.  Looking in the rear view mirror at the road behind me I realized it was just that – behind me – and as my gaze fell forwards I caught my baby in his car seat…and I smiled.  Focusing ahead, I was at peace. And I exhaled.

One in Three

After doing some research on the internet, and finding an improptu show on KET addressing domestic violence during a flip through of the channels, I must amend my last blog.  The correct statistic is that 1 in 3 women will experience domestic violence.  The state of Kentucky holds a higher level than the national average for domestic violence.  One in three - and remember - domestic violence is the most UNDERREPORTED crime; my guess is you personally know someone who is a victim but you may not be aware they are experiencing this penetrating crime.  Two websites I have found to be of help are: www.kdva.org and www.marybyronproject.org.  Tons of helpful information, resources, and links.

Living with Integrity (and Laughter!)

Ahhh, you think I'd be used to this single mom thing by now. But, I have found every day is different, and each dawn comes with its own challenges. A wise woman once told me the best I can do is to live each day with integrity.  For me, it’s not living with integrity – it’s surviving with integrity.  And a survivor I am.  As my journey is revealed throughout these blog posts, it is my hope that my words may speak and come alive for another. 

I am one, but I no longer stand alone.  I know that now, but for many years I thought just the opposite.  One in four women throughout their lifetime will personally experience or be exposed to some degree of domestic abuse.  Feelings of isolation and seclusion were prominent; living with an abusive man can be a very solitary existence.  Masters of control and manipulation, they are very adept at pulling you away from every comfort you once knew – including your own self-confidence. 

Many who have witnessed or experienced abuse do not speak up, fearful of what may happen if they do.  Because of this understandable fear, the statistics on abused women are not concrete, and many court systems as well as counselors underestimate the unyielding power an abusive man holds.  In turn, many therapists, judges, and law enforcement officials often do not give the abused the help they so desperately need in times of crises.  I know all this not only because I have been down that muddled path, but because I have learned through self instruction and through counseling with a local crises center the tools and education I need to move on, and to move up.

Some days this blog will be about my struggle or my survival, some about my past or educational tools for the future.  Others will be about the mundane and sometimes overwhelming day to day tasks a single mother faces, or even just the silliness of having a twelve year old, a nine month old, two cats, and a fifteen year old blind, deaf dog – all in the same household -  with only one woman coordinating it all.  (To confirm the silliness – I must share with you the afternoon the rice fell off the top shelf of the pantry, scattering all over the floor, right after we came out of hiding in the closet from a tornado warning with the electricity being out.  This was shortly followed by my oldest son dropping a can of root beer which subsequently exploded all over the tile.  In the midst of it all, the poor old blind, deaf dog piddled on the kitchen floor in the confusion.  True story.  I kid you not.  Welcome to my world!)  I do not want my journey to only be about the heavy or the oppressive, because there is so much more to it than that.  There IS joy, and there IS hope, and I want to convey that.  And when it is all said and done, the dry rice on the floor which is absorbing the root beer in the dark which is being spread around by the dog wandering around really is funny, if you stop and think about it. 

If you are reading this and are in an abusive relationship yourself, please use caution if you are using your home computer.  An abuser will check your activity, whether it be via phone records, computer history, or travel itineraries.  Make sure at the least to clear your computer’s history, cache, and cookies, and for your own safety, use a public computer or go to a trusted friend or family member for the use of their PC.  Many cities have crises centers for domestic abuse; if you are ready to seek help please utilize the wonderful resources they offer, or go to a trusted friend or family member to have them help you institute your safety plan as leaving an abuser can be a potentially dangerous situation.